Animo - Avengers {Completed}

Chapter Fourteen: Yellow

*Hello my lovely people! I was expecting this chapter to be just over two thousand words, and it's actually over four. Well, that's just more to read then, I guess. So, there's two chapters left and an epilogue to look forward to, as well as an oncoming sequel that will be elaborated on after the prologue. I hope you like this chapter. I'm really depressed because it's almost over. Enjoy everyone!*

Chapter Fourteen: Yellow

Weeks passed. September had come and gone, and so had half of October. The original butterflies in my stomach that had shown up when I kissed Brendon were still there, but not as strong as they once were. Separation from him made me tense, and I often lashed out at Stark for calling me whipped. That made no sense at all; I’d only kissed him once. How did that qualify as whipped?

Despite my cheery mood that basically revolved around the tingling in my lips, I couldn’t help but worry a bit about Barton. He’d been really quiet ever since we returned to New York. I wanted to believe that it was because he was almost suffocated by that large woman that hugged him, as that would be so much funnier. But the rational part of me knew it was something else. I just didn’t know what that something was. I felt like a bad friend for not knowing.

I tried not to dwell too much on that, however, because I was really beginning to think there was something wrong with myself. I mentioned being tense, but that didn’t really cover it. Stark was just being his normal self, teasing me mercilessly. There was nothing new about that. But lately, my patience had been shorter. And once my fuse reached its end, I blacked out for a few seconds, and then woke up on the floor. There was nothing normal about that. I couldn’t explain it.

I was lying on Stark’s couch one morning, flipping through the channels on his television. It was a school day for people my age, but as I wasn’t really much of a student anymore, I had no learning to do. But that also meant that all the TV played from seven in the morning to three in the afternoon was little kid shows. I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t much into Dora the Explorer anymore. I was almost seventeen.

Groaning loudly, I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling, waving the remote around like it was a lightsaber from Star Wars. Words couldn’t describe how bored I was.

Stark’s bedroom door opened and he walked out, rubbing his damp hair with a towel. He was dressed down in dark jeans and an old t-shirt, a big change from the dress pants and silk shirts he normally wore to meetings and such. “Banner’s going to be here in about an hour,” he said to me, going toward the kitchen. “Try to make yourself presentable.”

I smirked to myself, as he couldn’t see me over the back of the couch. “Are you two having a date or something? Gonna spend some alone time in your lab?” I taunted.

“You’re sick, Mo.”

Laughing lightly, I got to my feet. “So, what’s the occasion? We don’t usually get friendly visits.”

Stark rolled his brown eyes and rummaged through the cupboards in search of food. “He wants to check up on you. See how you’re recovering from the attack and all.”

I crossed my arms. “Taylor already gave me the clear. She said my wounds are perfectly healed.”

“As much damage as was done to you, the healing process should have taken longer. But that’s not what concerns us the most right now.” I raised my eyebrows at him, signaling for him to go on. “Banner is supposed to be monitoring your mental recovery. You’ve gone through a traumatic experience. Most girls like you would have gone to a therapist right away.”

“Who needs a therapist when I can talk to your drunk ass every night?” I replied cheekily. “You don’t even remember the conversations the next morning.”