Chapter Text
Three Months Later
The air had turned colder, the months slipping quickly into autumn in Chicagoland, which meant it was warm during the day and it snowed at night. It was a far cry from the city in the summertime; rooftops were closing, fewer people meandered around just for the sake of being outside. If you didn’t have someplace to go, best to just close up and stay in. See you again in April.
You weren’t really afforded that luxury though, not that you totally minded. It felt good to know that you had something to do, someplace to be every day. You never would have done well being a kept woman anyway and fun-employment wasn’t as fun as it sounded. As you ran around your apartment, gathering your things and touching up your makeup, your mind couldn’t help but wander back to that day, months ago, when your life had been very different. When everything felt like it had come to a screeching halt.
Steve left not long after he helped with your luggage, the two of you just coming to an impasse in your relationship, or agreement, or whatever the hell you wanted to call it. The fact of the matter was that he had some growing up to do. He held this view that his money entitled him to whatever he desired and it seemed like you were the first person to go against that. In retrospect, the whole thing was doomed from the start. Relationships that start with an imbalance of power never work out. He needed to respect you as a person, and you needed to not be afraid of losing him. He was always going to leave, whether it was now or in five years. Hindsight is clearly 20/20.
Still, it was a blow. Endings always are, and the way that the two of you ended things, there wasn’t really any hope for a future. You couldn’t have him in your life and be expected to move on. He had left you with nothing by the end. No relationship, no job, nothing but some shoes and a broken heart. Thanks for the memories even though they weren’t so great.
The ten grand from Bucky got donated to various women’s shelters. You couldn’t in your right mind keep it and you felt that it could still do some good, even if how it was made was a horrible night. You had plenty to keep you going for a couple of months. The money allowed you to think critically about your next move; you didn’t have to take the first job that came along. You interviewed for a few IT positions but nothing felt really right. After about a month and a half of being unemployed, you got a job offer that felt less like mercy and more like a position that utilized the new set of skills you had acquired. The money wasn’t bad either, allowing you to stay in your apartment and buy a car. It was a no brainer.
Your new-to-you car roared to life as you got in, the seat warming and the windshield thawing. It was a bright, sunny day, one that should let you enjoy the final clutches of the sunshine on your lunch. Maybe you could get Maria to walk down to the river with you today, but then again, there was a very big meeting this morning and who knew when it was going to finish. Knowing how those things went, your boss would get crabby around 11:30 and by noon, Shake Shack would be delivered because… cheeseburgers.
Emo bands on the radio, the born and raised hometown heroes singing about the mausoleum made the stop and go traffic a bit better. The L ran on the tracks over you and you were happy to say that you didn’t really miss it all that much. It was much nicer to arrive at your own pace, knowing that your car was clean and smell free. The last time you were on it for an interview, someone decided it was a good idea to start smoking. No, thanks.
You had only been at your new job for a little less than two months but already your bosses were asking why you didn’t move closer. You could afford it now, they had made sure of that, and it was tempting to move into a place that was newer, more modern, maybe even had an elevator. You could even get a lake view, which had to be better than your current view of your neighbor’s bathroom window. But something inside of you didn’t want to move. You liked your old, slightly worn down apartment. You liked your neighborhood. And most of all, you liked getting to do this every morning.
You made the right on Marina and got up to speed, pulling onto Lake Shore Drive south.
Your heart raced as the speedometer went up, signaling to move over two lanes and passing up the slowpokes in the right-hand lane. The smaller condos whipped past you on the right, the park obscuring your view on the left. This first mile wasn’t much to look at, but it certainly felt like home.
The trees finally thinned and then broke entirely, giving you your first morning view of the lake that you loved. New York, London, Berlin, none of it really lived within you like the skyscrapers that started to appear from around the subtle curve. This was where you grew up, where your memories lived, where your ancestors died. This was where you belonged, no matter how much you wanted to deny it. This was always going to live within you, growing up just knowing what the Lake Effect was and dying on the hill that is the Sears Tower. This was a city that had to be felt, not just seen, and this drive was in your opinion the best way to feel it. The world could get your bones but Chicago got your soul.
Traffic slowed around the curve around Hancock, the Navy Pier Ferris wheel blinking with welcoming colors. It would have been a perfect day to play hooky, go for a walk along the river and maybe catch a boat. Sighing to yourself, you filed that idea away for another day, a day when your job wasn’t so crucial. You pulled off of Lake Shore Drive and onto Grand, into the heart of the city. That 20 minutes of pure driving bliss was quickly becoming the only way you wanted to start your day.
You parked your car in the garage, gathering up your bag and adjusting your outfit. Day to day, your new bosses weren’t super strict about a dress code, but on client meeting days, it was always best to dress to impress. You had opted for a gray silk v-neck blouse and a navy blue pencil skirt that finished just above your knees. You paired it with a thin silver belt, a black cardigan, and the silver Manolo Blahnik ankle-wrap stilettos from the New York party. Hey, not everything got sold.
The shoes echoed across the garage as you got to the elevator, holding your employee badge up to the reader to tell it which floor you needed. Within a few moments you were being whisked up to the 45th floor, a height that you still had some issues wrapping your head around most days. Before this, the highest you ever went on a regular basis was the L. Now you were halfway up the Hancock.
The doors opened and you let yourself through the glass partitions with your badge. Greeting the receptionist politely, you wove around the sea of desks on your way to your own. The energy on the floor was palpable, the buzz of people working, typing, making calls and securing deals. Everybody knew how big of a day this was. You had done a lot of prep beforehand, putting your skills to the test in the short six or so weeks that you had been there. You weren’t about to let anyone down.
Your bag unceremoniously hit the floor next to your desk as you got your laptop out of the cabinet. Even though you had sent the paperwork to the lawyers a week ago, you still felt like you needed to go through it with a fine-toothed comb once again. This was your first big break, your first deal, and in a way the proof to yourself that you did the right thing, you made the right decision. You couldn’t screw this up, not in front of these people. Not for yourself.
“They’re here,” Maria muttered from her desk next to your own and it was almost as if the news spread like wildfire. If anybody knew the goings-on of this place, it was Maria Hill. She wasn’t quite an assistant, it felt a lot more important than that. She was whom everyone trusted when the boss was gone.
“What? Already?” You asked, not really believing that the client would be so prompt. He was rarely late but… he usually wasn’t 15 minutes early to anything. Sighing, you rubbed your eyes, desperate for a coffee and a donut. Sadly, you didn’t have time for either of them anymore. With the client here, that meant you were “on-call” for any changes that may come up during the meeting, and no one cared to be kept waiting because you felt like it was a good time for a Starbucks run.
“Pain in my ass, you’re up!” Tony Stark called as he approached, heads swiveling to see who exactly he was calling a pain in his ass. You set your jaw and sighed as he took a casual seat on your desk, seemingly quite chipper for the early hour. Even though these were very important clients today, Tony still couldn’t be bothered to wear a proper suit, opting for slacks and a jacket over a Motörhead shirt.
“I know you’re my boss now and everything but you really can’t call me that…” you tried as you gathered up your computer and a notebook.
Tony just chewed on his gum, a habit he had when he was anxious, “Ah, but you’re wrong. You technically work for Pepper, not me. She runs the company, I just give the company something to run.” Standing from your desk, you adjusted your clothes one last time, “You look great, don’t worry, he’ll eat it up. Hill, you coming? This is a big get and I need my two best girls on this.” You were pretty sure he didn’t really know your name since he never, ever used it, and you didn’t fully believe that you were one of his best girls, but Tony always had this way of getting what he wanted.
Maria gathered her things and stood with you as the three of you made your way to the elevator. “You could use my name, you know,” you tried again.
Tony looked at you over the top rim of his glasses as he called for the elevator with his badge, “I know your name if that’s what you’re insinuating. But I also know that you’re the one who created this whole deal in the first place and are, as my nickname suggests, a pain in my ass. Maybe if everything goes smoothly today I’ll find something else to call you.”
“Like my name?” you asked as the three of you got in.
“No, never your name.”
The doors opened on the 46th floor, which had both Tony and Pepper’s offices and the main conference room. It was all very impressive, as it was designed to be, with each room having floor to ceiling windows that framed the view. The conference room enjoyed both the lake and the river, towering over most of the buildings in the area and perfectly embracing the sights of some of Chicago’s most famous architecture. Of course, it had a bar, state of the art video screens on the inside wall, and a huge white oval table that could easily fit everyone in attendance. It was all meant to be incredibly impressive and you were sure that if the city would have allowed it, Tony would have plastered his name in huge letters on the outside. Part of you was thankful that he couldn’t.
The clients were taking in the view of the tiny river tour boats so many stories below as the three of you entered and took your seats. Tony in the middle, usually Pepper to his right but today replaced by her number two Maria, his lawyer to his left, and you on the other side of his lawyer. Each place at the table had a copy of the contract you had written up, negotiating the terms of their agreement for the second time in their careers. Hopefully this time the egos of idiot men wouldn’t fuck it all up.
You adjusted your notebook to a clean page, your computer loaded up and standing by if there were to be any changes. Feeling his eyes upon you as they sat down, you did your best to just try to ignore it and set your mind to focus on the task at hand.
“I’m sure that we all know each other already, but as there is a new face amongst us and for the sake of the record, I feel that a few introductions are due,” the other lawyer started, briefly referring to you. You introduced yourself and your position to the table at large, finally letting your eyes slip up to meet his own. The steely blue gazed softly at you from across the table, the smallest of smirks on his lips. Part of you hoped that he was impressed with how you had landed since the summer, but you knew that was too much to ask from him.
“We are here,” his lawyer continued, “To finalize negotiations and to ratify the new munitions procurement and distribution contract between our clients. Representing Stark Industries is Mr. Tony Stark along with Ms. Maria Hill, standing in for CEO Ms. Pepper Potts. Representing Rogers Enterprises, I have President and CEO, Mr. Steve Rogers.”
Tony waved off the stuffiness, chewing on his gum, and Steve kind of shook his head a little, but a part of you liked all the formalities. Less room for loopholes. This way everyone knew exactly what they were getting from this deal.
Confidently, you picked up your packet, flipping past the cover page and looking Steve hard in the eye, “If I may direct you to page one of the contract, everyone, shall we get started?”
The End