om_main | Betsy and Tony, Backdated to 11/28

Betsy and Tony distract each other with a night out -- and in Tony's case, a whole lot of alcohol.

It frankly should have set off alarm bells, but frankly at the moment Tony couldn't bring himself to care. Betsy was British, she wouldn't give a shit about the holiday. And loathe as he was to admit it to himself, what he really kind of needed was someone who wouldn't put up with his bullshit.

Which was why he presented himself right at her door, with an apropos of nothing, "can I take you out tonight?" As soon as she opened it.

It was no surprise that Betsy raised a brow at the question. She gave Tony a quick look-over and forwent her usual dismissal. She didn't need to be a telepath to read his frustration, and she'd plenty of her own frustration lately. Out could be good.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere with alcohol," was the instant reply as he stepped out of the way to let her pass, without even a moment's consideration that she might disapprove. "Any preference?"

"No where too obvious and local. Only preference. Give me a second to put my hair up." She gestured that he could come into the room. If they were out in public the purple was going out if sight. Easier to avoid attention, mostly with Tony Stark as her companion.

"Into Manhattan, then?" Tony asked as he trailed her into the room, for once with a decided lack of commentary on his presence in it.

"For the best."

Betsy quickly grabbed a tie, some pins, and with the practiced ease of years of modeling had her up and under her standard black bob in little more than a minute. She slipped on her coat and grabbed her purse.

"I hope you have something nice for me to drive us back in." With her not precisely legal but Tessa quality license. Having to clear up her paperwork to fly home came with some extra benefits.

Tony just arched an extremely expressive eyebrow. "Do I have something nice. Have you met me?"

She grinned. "Your taste in tech and engines rivals your taste in all other things, hm?"

He moved to open the door for her with a mostly-mocking bow. "Naturally. What's the fun in being me if I can't have amazing cars while I'm at it? I only brought the one, though."

"Probably for the best. You don't want to know what these students get up to."

"...now that's just an invitation to share," Tony said after contemplating for a moment.

Betsy flashed him a smile. "I may be privy to too much information, but it's impolite to share details. Just imagine your own ideas for what might be going on near every nice engine, or every broom cupboard you pass."

"I can imagine a lot," Tony said, shooting her an entirely cheerful leer as they headed down tot he garage. "It's good to know that there's such appreciation of fine pieces of engineering, though."

"Of course," Betsy said wryly.

***

It had taken a bit of convincing on her part, but whether or not Betsy would get her way was something of a forgone conclusion. Especially given then private garage and private elevator and all around privacy that meant that they wouldn't be seen by a single human unless they wanted to. Which meant that soon enough -- and even though Tony was still vaguely convinced that Shaw would pop up out of nowhere simply for the sake of saying 'told you so' -- he and Betsy found themselves ensconced at a very nice table at the Hellfire Club. And being served by a waiter who was very obviously paying no attention to relative ages as he brought them a very nice Scotch.

Really, Tony had had worse holiday meals. He was even slouching a little.

Considering the conversation she'd had the last time she visited the club, Thanksgiving drinking with Tony looked like a lovely comparison. Warren was home with his family and she'd been texting him all day up until now. She sent one last text to explain she was 'babysitting Stark" before giving Tony her undivided attention.

"So," she asked. "Are you not big on American feast days, or are you avoiding the folks?"

Tony's eyebrow lifted just a little, but he made very sure to finish his drink and set the glass carefully down on the table before answering. "I was encouraged to stay at school," he said a little too evenly.

Betsy smiled one those practiced smiles, the kind that had always charmed the media, and blunted the true sentiment behind her words. "Your parents sound as lovely as the Worthingtons. I look forward to giving them my regards again one day."

He toasted her with his glass, never mind that it was empty. "Just so long as you don't expect them to care." Well, that wasn't entirely fair. His mother might. Maybe.

"I'm not concerned." She shrugged. "It's up to our generation to be better."

"Better, huh," Tony echoed dryly. "I guess we'll see about that."

She nudged him under the table. "Says the boy genius. Well, I for one intend to be amazing."

"But how could you possibly improve perfection?" Tony gave her a look of wide-eyed seriousness that was somehow more gently teasing than his usual protestations of adoration towards her.

"You're adorable," Betsy said, as condescending as ever, but with genuine affection behind it.

"I am," he agreed brightly as he reached for the bottle. "Drink?"

"One for now," she agreed. "I'm still getting used to this body. I discovered my tolerance isn't the same. Entirely frustrating."

"Seriously?" Tony arched an eyebrow at her as he poured her drink out, careful not to fill the glass all the way up. "I guess that makes sense, but. Weird. We'll have to get you trained again."

"There are drawbacks to a new metabolism. It's all very strange."

"You think?" He leaned back in his overly-plush chair, mouth twisting wryly. "What about this whole thing isn't strange?"

She tapped her temple. "Well, I'm very used to the telepathy at this point. That's just old hat." She took the glass and raised it to Tony.

Tony raised his in return before taking a good long sip. "So how is that going?" He asked finally, resting the glass against his chin.

"Which part?" Betsy asked.

"The reading minds in a building full of teenagers part."

"It was easier when Brian wasn't here. I'm usually very great at ignoring everyone's drama, but it's more difficult when it regards my twin. Be thankful you don't have a sister to champion for."

"Believe me, I am." For a whole host of reasons. "I think I might adopt Pryde, though, does that count?"

"Kitty is adorable. You should certainly adopt her. If anyone unworthy tries to date her, I'll help you dig the ditch."

"You are as beautiful as you are utterly terrifying," Tony declared, "but I'll take you up on that offer. And you can both help me put a lock on the workroom door." Although that was getting back into things he was trying not avoid thinking about, which meant it was past time for more drinking. He downed the rest of his glass in one go.

Betsy lifted a brow, but took a sip of her drink before asking. "What are we keeping out?"

"Oh, the common street rabble. You know how it goes," Tony drawled. But this was Betsy, and she could literally pull it out of his mind if she wanted to, so he just sighed and ran his free hand over his face. "One of the new kids decided to step to me, and that is an annoyance I really don't need right now."

"I know you have to share the lab space, but there's nothing that says you can't put up a field around your work table. Kitty phases. A little tazering now and then is healthy, right?"

Tony gave an entirely undignified snort and set his glass down on the table a little harder than he'd meant to. "I used to wire everything to zap the unwary back in boarding school. Guess I got out of the habit when I thought I'd be dealing with growups. Slightly-more-grownups."

"You're dealing with children," Betsy said simply. "Mutant children. Half of them didn't know how to behave around others before they became social pariahs. Now?"

"What, and I'm the poster child for the socially capable now?" Tony's expression said everything it needed to about that. "That's a terrifying idea, Braddock."

"You have a decent foundation, but I wouldn't say that you succeed brilliantly in the subject. You don't exactly excel at what you're taught--you rely more on natural talent, don't you?"

"Now you sound like my professors," Tony grumbled, unerringly reaching out to find the bottle again though he didn't look away from her.

Her lips curved in a smile. "Do they have anything to teach you?"

"Navigating academia, possibly," Tony said with a returned smirk, and leaned back against with his filled glass. "Can't be that different from the joys of bureaucracy."

"You do need to master 'play well with others'. I've seen plenty lesser men pull it off. You can be genuinely personable. I know fake when I hear it."

Tony promptly gave her an entirely fake pout in return. "I'm hurt. Or I probably should be, anyway."

Betsy reached over and ruffled his hair. "Uh-huh." She then delicately sipped her drink.

She got a slightly owl-eyed blink in reply, considering the whole thing had happened too quickly for Tony to even respond. Which was probably for the best, really, considering his thing with being touch lately. More things to be dealt with later. After booze.

"Are you planning to teach me, then?" He asked instead, the leer accompanying it entirely on reflex.

Betsy noted his reaction, but made nothing of it. "For all you know I've already started grooming you. When I'm able to go public again I may need company when Warren or my brother are busy. You're pretty enough, I think you'd work for eye candy."

"I am excellent eye candy," Tony agreed solemnly. "Even if I am coming in second to Brian and Worthington, which is just sad really."

"Twin status, everyone comes second to Brian. And Warren is tricky like that."

Tony made a face at her, but there was no real heat behind it. "Seriously, Worthington? He's pretty, I'll grant you, but. Or does everyone just seem more interesting after all the time spent with your brother?"

She flicked her fingers in his direction, and without touching him whapped Tony lightly on the arm. "Warren treats me well. And yes, he is pretty. You find your own angel, maybe you'll understand one day." It was so much more than that, but it was easier to jest.

"As long as there's a 'Victoria's Secret' in front of it, that's fine with me."

"Don't be so cliche, Tony."

"Cliches exist for a reason," he returned brightly, making serious headway into his newest glass. He couldn't actually remember how many that made, now, which...was possibly a problem. Or not.

Betsy was monitoring Tony more so than the number of drinks he was having. She'd make sure he didn't kill himself, at least. She made no promises about what kind of hangover he'd have tomorrow, as long as he was a well behaved drunk.

"You are so jaded for a puppy."

"It's not the years, it's the mileage?" He offered her a teasing grin, but it was sadly more true than not.

"That clashes so strongly with my mental image of you, of that first day I met you. I have a hard time accepting the fact that you're no longer 12." She gestured to his glass. "Mostly."

"What," Tony snorted with a grin, "my new rugged good looks didn't tip you off?" And somehow without thinking, his free hand had found it's way to the center of his chest, tapping out a random, slightly metallic-sounding rhythm.

"I think I'm mostly waiting for you to reach eye level. What if it never happens? What if all that coffee has stunted your growth? We'll be old together, and I'll still call you boy."

He gave her a deeply pained look. "Is it might fault you wear stilettos? I've tried, but they don't do a thing for my calves."

Betsy laughed warmly. "No, not your style."

"I do tend to prefer platforms," he agreed

Betsy made a mental note to buy him platform shoes for Christmas. "You're a coordinated guy. Most men don't have the confidence."

"Confidence has never really been an issue," Tony said archly. "Anyway, drink up. I probably shouldn't be finishing this entire bottle."

Betsy took another sip. "I'll take care of you. Unless you turn out to be a handy drunk. Then you can guess where the bruises came from when you wake up."

He gave her a mildly offended look. "I am a perfect gentleman at all times, as you well know."

"I do know."

Tony eyed her for another moment before nodding, mollified.

"So, Tony, if we're never going to interfere with your personal life, and god forbid talk about feelings, should we meddle with Phillip sometime instead? I think we should find him a nice girlfriend. Or boyfriend. I've given up on my brother's taste, we can start saving the intelligent, good looking ones for Coulson."

Both of Tony's eyebrows instantly shot upwards, not least of which because someone had actually decided to leave his love life alone. "Does he even have the proper programming for an actual relationship?" He mused.

Betsy seemed to think that over. "He learns quickly."

Tony's return look was skeptical, but he shrugged. "I'll keep an eye open."

"Someone should benefit from our good taste."

"That," Tony said with a smirk, "I will definitely drink to."

Betsy raised her glass to his.