The glaring sunlight streamed in as Betty slowly turned over...
Her long lashes fluttered open, the dappled light making her squint instinctively. After a moment, the room's interior came into focus.
It was a tastefully decorated apartment.
A mug of cold black tea sat on the nightstand. Two handcrafted wicker chairs were tucked in the corner, and a small table held a stack of books alongside a crystal ashtray shaped like a castle, its base inscribed with a Latin motto: 'Act resolutely, but with Gentleness...'
Looking up, the ceiling was covered in pale blue wallpaper depicting a whale breaching the ocean's surface, sending up a spray of white foam.
The brushstrokes were childlike yet full of whimsy, reminding Betty of her childhood, back when her mother was still alive and before her father became the stern General Ross. Back when their family of three had lived happily at a desert base in New Mexico...
A gentle breeze stirred the copper wind chimes hanging by the window, their delicate clinking filling the air.
Betty clutched the warm cotton blanket, her groggy mind slowly clearing. She glanced at the loose comfortable nightgown she wore, trying to recall what had happened last night and where exactly she was.
The room was silent...
Betty sat up straight, bare feet sinking into the plush carpet as she moved to the vanity mirror. Her chestnut hair tumbled over her shoulders, and the nightgown did little to hide the curves beneath, a sliver of pale skin peeking out.
Her delicate face was a picture of confusion. A slight dizziness lingered in her head.
She rubbed her temple, only to freeze when a faint noise came from beyond the door. A soft voice drifted in, followed by a familiar figure.
Sean pushed aside the curtain, carrying a tray of steaming breakfast; sandwiches, toast, and a glass of warm milk, which he set on the nightstand.
He smirked at Betty's stunned expression...
"...Why are you here?!" Her delayed reaction made her voice spike like a startled cat puffing up its fur.
"This is my place," Sean spread his hands, his smirk widening as if delighted by his own prank, "You got drunk last night. I was going to take you home, but then the ever-graceful Betty Ross decided to puke all over me. Pretty sure the General wouldn't want to see his daughter like that, so... here we are."
Betty's brain struggled to piece together the fragmented memories. After two full minutes, she buried her face in her knees, her cheeks burning crimson.
Like most people after a breakup, the fiercely independent Betty had gone through a rough patch. Though she hadn't sunk to weeping or despair, the abrupt end of what could have been something beautiful before it even began had left its mark.
She had hidden in her room, drowning her sorrows in literature until the memory of him had faded... or so she thought. Just when she had convinced herself she was ready to move on, that bastard Sean Cyphers had crashed back into her world.
At a DoD gala, General Ross had brought his beloved daughter along and, of course, run into the very man he'd been hoping to see. The General had thrown Sean a knowing look before laughing heartily and striding off, leaving Betty feeling utterly betrayed.
The sight of that familiar-yet-distant face had nearly made her turn on her heel and leave. She wasn't the type to share her lover, and while her feelings for Sean went beyond friendship, they weren't worth sacrificing her dignity over.
What followed was straight out of a soap opera. The two danced around each other... him with polite infuriating calm, her with biting sarcasm.
She even called him a greedy heartless playboy, and he took it all in stride. The bartender, playing audience to this spectacle, had mechanically served them martini after martini.
By the end of the night, the military-bred Betty Ross was slumped over the bar, utterly wasted, occasionally slurring out angry curses, all of which were directed at the man now carrying her to his car.
"And that's how it happened. I just changed your clothes– oh, don't look at me like that. Trust me, no one's interested in a drunk woman in that state–"
*Thud*
A pillow smacked Sean square in the face.
The fuming Betty chased him out of the room before glancing at the breakfast tray. Despite herself, a flicker of warmth stirred in her chest.
"Damn it! Don't fall for his tricks. This is just his usual MO, don't take the bait Betty!" she muttered, nibbling on a piece of toast. "...Huh. Not bad."
...
Sean lounged on the living room sofa...
Truthfully, nothing had happened between them last night. The whole scenario had been orchestrated by General Ross, who seemed very eager to make Sean his son-in-law.
Not that Sean minded. If he could win the lady's heart, great. If not? No big loss. Romance was just a spice to liven up life's monotony. Taking it too seriously only led to pain.
He flipped on the TV and switched to the Morning news.
Stark Tower filled the screen as Tony preened before reporters, proudly showcasing his latest masterpiece, a skyscraper powered entirely by his revolutionary arc reactor.
He declared it Manhattan's newest landmark, with plans to replicate it across North America.
The tower which was emblazoned with his name was a testament to clean energy's success.
Judging by his speech, the playboy had truly turned over a new leaf, channeling all his former womanizing energy into his work. A tragedy for the models who'd once vied for a spot in his bed, and for the Daily Bugle which mourned the loss of its most reliable source of scandal.
"Move over." Sean snapped out of his thoughts as Betty plopped onto the sofa beside him.
Dressed in an oversized white shirt, her legs curled beneath her, she was a vision that could make any man's pulse race.
"You're dangerous, Sean. I've always wanted to stay away from you, but somehow, I keep failing..." Betty bit her lip, her gaze conflicted, "You could've lied to me. Told me what happened with Gwen was just a moment of weakness, that it didn't mean anything... I wouldn't mind if my future husband had mistresses. Men like my father who are faithful to their marriages are rare in high society..."
"...I could tolerate flaws in a marriage. Just give me your real feelings. Let me be your wife in name, with all the legal privileges. Other women? Keep them as your dirty little secrets. It wouldn't matter..."
Her words tumbled out faster and faster until they became a jumbled mess. Even she didn't seem to know what she was saying, her emotions were a tangled web of longing and frustration.
Some people were like that, inescapable, pulling you in no matter how hard you resisted. Curiosity clawed at her, an itch she couldn't scratch.
"Enough, Betty." Sean cut her off.
He leaned in and tilted her chin up, his thumb brushing her lower lip before he closed the distance. He continued, "I never choose. Especially not when it comes to what I want."
Betty stared speechless as a warm hand slid around her waist, trailing downward like an unstoppable conqueror claiming every inch of territory.
"...Maybe you're just surrendering to this bastard. You tried to resist, but you failed. So now you have no choice but to let him take what he wants... None of this is your fault."
Sean's breath tickled her ear, and the last of her resolve melted away, replaced by a tingling numbness that spread through her limbs.
"You're forcing me, Sean." Betty met his eyes, her expression morphing into one of fragile vulnerability, like a helpless lamb cornered by a wolf.
Sean took a deep breath and said nothing. Actions, after all, spoke louder than words...
...
The sofa creaked like a ship on stormy seas, its rhythmic protests lasting an embarrassingly long time.
Afterward, the two lay entwined, the sunlight filtering through the curtains, painting the apartment in warm golden hues...