When Melanie read the text from Tony, she shook her head. That was her boss for you. You got it, boss, Enough caffeine to keep you awake for another six weeks. She texted back, only half joking. Melanie knew that Tony getting more than twenty or so minutes of sleep would be a miracle, and she practically had to strap him in bed and pump him full of Ambien to get him to do just that. She understood, though. Melanie had known Tony for the better part of a decade and she knew that he couldn’t just shake off what happened in New York. With Ultron. With Pepper. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the fire and flames that he’d left in his wake. And the bottle of booze that seemed to be Tony’s constant companion while Melanie was gone did nothing to help the situation. Melanie lost count of how many times in recent months she’d received a call in the middle of the night from Tony, who needed her presence to help lure him out of the fog of his nightmares. And to be honest, Melanie didn’t mind helping Tony. The two’d been through so much together, and if her boss needed her, then Melanie would fight through nighttime New York City traffic to get to him.
Melanie quickly threw on some makeup and straightened her hair. Tony’d told her multiple times he could give a rats ass what she looked like, but still. Mel liked herself better when she was wearing makeup. Once she put her face on, Melanie threw on a plain white t-shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans. Ever since New York, the dress code around Stark Tower had gone lax. Basically, ever since Natalie took over the goings on and Tony took his place as a figurehead. As long as people didn’t show up in pajamas (that often), Melanie didn’t care. She quickly put on a pair of Toms and grabbed her necessary items (keys, purse, ID badge, etc) before leaving the house and locking the door of her apartment behind her. The brunette quickly made her way down the stairs and out the front door of her apartment building, locating her beat up old Ford Escort. Tony had tried numerous times to pawn off one of his fancier cars on Melanie, but she refused to take it. This car was the last thing she had from her old life. She wanted to cling to it. But she still took it to Tony for repairs. “He’s the only repairman I can pay with food,” She often joked.
She climbed into the car and tossed her purse into the passenger seat, programming her iPhone 6 to direct her to the nearest Starbucks. That was one of the great things about living in New York City—pick any direction and walk a few blocks. Sure enough you would find a Starbucks. She drove for about five minutes before finding the nearest one, pulling into the drive through. The young woman really didn’t feel like getting out of her car quite yet. She ordered her normal drink (treinta iced coffee with a double shot of espresso and raspberry and vanilla flavoring), while ordering a plain black coffee with a quadruple shot of espresso for Tony. That oughta be enough to jolt him awake, and when he came down from his sugar high Melanie would give him an Ambien. Or something. She worried about him when he went on these no sleep benders.
About twenty minutes later, Melanie pulled into the Stark Tower parking garage. Good morning, Miss Wentworth. And how are you this morning? The brunette shook her head as she parked her car and got out. “JARVIS, call me Melanie. And I’m not doing too shabby. Did Tony sleep at all last night?” Melanie asked as she locked the door behind her and began heading toward the elevator. I’m afraid not, miss. He tried….and the results weren’t pretty. Melanie bit her lip and hopped into the elevator, hitting the button for the floor that Tony’s office was on. She let the elevator scan her ID (she was one of the few people allowed into that sanctuary) and waited for it to bring her up. Once it did, she got out and opened the door with Tony’s name on it. “Good morning, Sunshine. I got you a quad shot, so you should be good for now.” Melanie grinned as she sat opposite Tony, putting her feet up on his desk. “So what’s on tap today? I have to talk to Helen in HR about some fiasco with the janitorial staff, but then I’m free as a bird.”
--
Today was one of those rare days that Bruce felt like stretching his legs and taking in the scenery. Those days were few and far between, so the doctor jumped on it. He rose before dawn and dressed quickly, leaving before the other occupants awoke. It was the off season, so the crowds that were there were…. chattier, than normal. Bruce used to love to talk with people, learned what made them tick and their feelings and what not. But ever since Ultron was released upon the world, he’d drawn into himself and become a recluse. The doctor put on his shoes and laced them, grabbing a book and his wallet before leaving his room. He looked down the hall in both directions and one he saw no one, Bruce headed for the exit of the inn, carefully shutting the door behind him so as not to disturb the other residents. He surveyed the sky above him, a lovely shade of pink. The sun was a bright orange and he could hear the waves crashing against the rocks of the nearby beach. Normally when the good doctor wanted to escape for a few hours, he went to the beach. But his stomach was rumbling. So Bruce turned left instead of right and headed for the bakery that was a little way down the road from the inn.
He’d been in there a time or two before, and the croissants were simply to die for. Combine them with a piping hot cup of chamomile tea? Divine. Bruce gently pushed the door open and walked in. The only other person in the building (that if Bruce had to guess had been around since at least the early eighteen hundreds) was the old man who owned and operated the place. Bruce had heard other guests at the inn and some English speaking natives say that the bakery had been in the man’s family for ages—and there was no one for him to pass it on down to. That bit broke Bruce’s heart. He identified with the old man. The one thing he wanted more than anything in the world, he couldn’t have. And that was a family. Bruce waved at the old man (who, thank god, knew English), and told him that he wanted his normal order. He moved to pay for it but the old man shook his head, telling Bruce there was no charge. “Thank you,” Bruce spoke gratefully, taking his breakfast and sitting at a table in the corner, opening his book.
He must have really gotten lost in his book, because the next thing he knew the sun was in the middle of the sky and the bakery was starting to get crowded. Bruce shut his book and got up, silently exiting the building without being noticed. He enjoyed the walk back to the room, now that his stomach was full. Bruce was looking forward to the nap he was going to be taking, and then maybe once he woke up he would write to someone from home. Bruce was aching for familiar contact.
Bruce had just made his way back into his room when he noticed that there was someone in it—more specifically, a woman. She spoke in broken Norwegian for a bit before apologizing to him in English. A soft smile appeared on Bruce’s face and he shook his head as if to say it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s quite alright…thank you, Lyda.” Bruce spoke, setting down his things. “I’m Bruce.”
May 22nd, 2016 at 06:27am
