little piece of heaven (tony stark's daughter)

24

Rosie's P.o.v

It takes me a while to compose myself after I vomit.

My head rests against the toilet seat, sharp words cutting their merry way through what's left of my sanity. Any chill I had about the Asgard situation has vanished along with any composure I possessed. Not only that, but I now have to worry about what my dad's going to say when Sam and Steve inevitably betray me and tell him about my wild paranoia. Cause that's all it is, right? Paranoia. It's all it can be.

My forehead is sticky as I remove it from the plastic, a mixture of sweat and pure desperation which makes me roll my eyes. Pathetic. I drag myself from the floor and push my way out of the cubicle, checking my face in the mirror before I go anywhere. Strangely enough, the amount of makeup has allowed me to conceal my mid to end life crisis; I walk back into the party as if nothing happened.

After a few minutes of side-stepping around heavily drunk, rich couples and smiling politely at snobs who stare rudely, I spot a comforting pillar of blonde hair. My favourite demi-god is pouring some form of alcohol into a glass, surrounded by older men. Steve is smirking as their conversation unfolds.

"Oh, no, no, no. See this, this was aged for a thousand years, in the barrels built from the wreck of Brunhilde's fleet, it's not meant for mortal men" Thor chuckles, handing one glass to steve and keeping the other in his hand.

One of the men smiles, his face mainly shielded by a baseball cap "Neither was Omaha beach blondie, stop trying to scare us, come on" He gestures for the drink with his hand as I slip into the crowd between the two avengers. Steve looks down at me, I refuse to catch his eyes. All the same, he places a steadying hand on the centre of my back and I'm grateful for the gentle contact.

I've never seen someone get drunk so quickly as that guy after he downed the shot that Thor provided, and a lot of my Dad's old friends liked to pretend they could handle more than they could. It was like I blinked and he had to be escorted out of the building due to his increasingly concerning behaviour. A satisfied smirk rests on the Asgardian's lips, an undeniable smugness that he radiates proudly, dropping his gaze to me "We Asgardians are superior".

"What do you mean?" I frown, raising an eyebrow.

Thor raises the flask containing the death juice, holding it up to the light so the metal glints and shines. "Our bodies can handle much more alcohol than humans, our blood is stronger" He announces loudly as if the drink is a trophy.

"So like.. if I drank normal alcohol I wouldn't get drunk?" the concept is intriguing to me, nobody's really told me anything about any differences in my dna, aside from the obvious.

"Indeed, young Rose, we are immune to the effects of Midgardian beverages" He booms, clapping a hand onto my shoulder that makes me stumble into Steve a little "Would you like some?".

I look up at Steve with wide eyes as he silently shakes his head. "Uh.. no thanks Thor, I'm good" I send him a small, polite smile, received by a nod of understanding.

Steve opens his mouth as if to say something, but he's cut off by a confident voice that causes me to whip around "Hi, excuse me if I'm interrupting, but I couldn't help but notice that you're easily the most beautiful lady in this room".

He has sandy blonde hair and bright green eyes, a tall physique which isn't too different from Thor's toned body. I'm pretty sure that he's not too much older than me, just a heck of a lot taller. His voice is reminiscent of velvet or milk chocolate, soothing and soft enough to make my heart melt a little. Jesus Christ he's stunning, and he's talking to me.

The warm sensation of my cheeks heating up is slightly unpleasant, but the smile that fights it's way onto my face battles it out until I feel slightly as though I'm floating. "thank you" I manage to say before Thor steps in front of me.

"Who are you?" The avenger asks, suddenly accompanied by Steve. Both of the 'heroes' form a sort of wall in front of me, blocking me from the eye line of the actual miracle who's trying to talk to small, dorky Rosalie Stark.

The boy chuckles before side-stepping Steve so our eyes are locked once more. He offers out a tanned hand to me, an award-winning grin on his face "Daniel, Daniel Clarke".

I place my much smaller hand in his, suddenly thankful that I spent the time on glueing fake nails onto my own, the metallic-silver making me look classier than I am. "Roo Potts" I lie quickly, suddenly feeling slightly guilty. I just met a hot guy who actually wants to talk to me and I'm already deceiving him. I can't exactly announce to the world right now that I'm not actually dead and I'm also the guardian of earth.

Curiosity washes over his expressions and he cocks his head to the side as our handshake ends "Are you related to Pepper Potts?".

"Distantly" I lie once again, scaring myself a little with how easily the stories seem to be coming to me. Maybe I should start lying for a living, it appears to be where my talents lie. "We're some kind of third cousins twice removed or something" I screw up my nose and the laugh that comes out of Daniel's mouth pretty much turns my heart to mush.

This is it, I've known him for all of thirty seconds and I think I'm in love. Get a grip, Rosalie.

"Well, Roo Potts, third cousin twice removed to Pepper Potts, how about I buy you a drink?".

The question sends a jolt of electricity through my blood, an overwhelming sense of excitement  taking over my body as I fight to keep a calm exterior "only if it's a lemonade".

If anything, his grin widens even more as he extends his arm towards the bar "gladly".

And that's the story of how I ended up dancing with the hottest guy I've ever seen for multiple hours at my dad's party, protective avenger eyes following my every move.