Everything about her screamed warning signs, but the slight tilt of the corner of her mouth suggested she knew her prey well enough to be aware of their dismissal of these dangers. I cover my amused smile with my flute of champagne, taking a long sip.
Stark was throwing a charity gala to help cover the funds of the attack on New York. Natasha was here for the obvious reasons, her being one of the newly crowned heroes of the world, Maria Hill and I were also sent by Director Fury to represent S.H.I.E.L.D. and of course donate large sums of money. The three of us had joked earlier about the amount of old pigs and drunken young pigs-in-the-making we’d have to soldier through, and the redhead had joked about a competition of how many numbers she could score before three in the morning. Maria hadn’t thought she was serious, but I knew her well enough to know this was more of a challenge than a game.
Doesn’t matter now. Maria had bailed around an hour ago, leaving me to the mercy of Tristan Danes, an executive at Dane Corp. I stayed long enough to become disgusted by his attempts to woo me and left without his number but his wounded ego in my clutches. That left me two partners behind Nat.
I lean against the wall in the shadows, watching her place her hand on the arm of some brown-eyed guy. Something uncomfortable twists in my stomach. My gaze narrows as I tune out the music, the bustle of the party, and pretty much everything that affects my zeroing in on the pair. Is she actually enjoying this? Can’t be. Can it?
I huff, annoyed but unsure as to why. Probably because Hill ditched. Parties are dull without the sharp-eyed woman’s witty remarks, which she uses to dull the high levels of testosterone around us. I down the rest of my drink and tap my fingers against the glass lightly, distracted. Natasha kisses the man’s cheek. In my fury I don’t notice another man approach me.
“Excuse me, love, you look darling tonight—”
“Hold this.” I shove the empty champagne flute into his arms and march on a warpath towards them at the bar. The crowd parts as I comb through them.
Natasha does not look surprised in the slightest to see me in front of her. She’s laughing, and the sound is enough to make me stumble in my rage. The man she’d been flirting with turns around and I recognise him as Gregory Richards, a known golden boy. I sneer at him before he can greet me, shocking him into effective silence. I turn to my redheaded friend. “I need you to fix my lipstick. Come with me to the bathroom?”
“Your lipstick looks fine to me,” she quips innocently.
“Can’t you do it yourself?” Gregory asks with a good-natured laugh.
“We share a lipstick tube. I need her to do it.”
“Oh.”
I’ve set us into an awkward silence, but somehow poor Greg seems to be the only one experiencing the uncomfortable feeling. Natasha glares at me. I glare at him. He looks up as if praying to God for safety, strength, and alcohol.
“I’ll … leave you two to your devices,” he decides.
“I think that would be best,” I say curtly, lacing my fingers through Natasha’s and hauling her through the dance floor, down some stairs, and through a hallway. She doesn’t object until we’re far enough away from the noise and hollers of the party, which is when she plants her feet firmly on the ground, almost causing me to stumble.
“The bathroom is this way,” she says pointedly. I note that she doesn’t let go of my hand as she leads me there. Once inside, she locks the door and retrieves several balls of napkins and one business card from her pockets, tossing them in the sink. “Seven numbers, including Gregory’s.”
“And a business card.”
“How many did you get?”
“My dress doesn’t have pockets. But five. Threw ‘em out as soon as I got them.”
“Is that why you dragged me here? You’re being a sore loser?”
My jaw clenches. “No.”
Silence.
Natasha approaches slowly, pulling out a red lipstick tube. “Stand still, part your lips.”
I do as I’m bid and she swipes the tube across my lips in two dragged out swipes. My eyes wander to her own mouth. Her expression is a blank slate. Not knowing what I’m thinking, or if I’m thinking anything at all, I close the distance between us until our noses are gently bumping together.
“You want this?” I ask carefully.
She kisses me in response. My right hand tangles through her short scarlet locks, the other rests on her waist to pull her body closer to mine. She sighs contentedly, her arms wrapping around my neck as she deepens the kiss, caressing the bare skin of my shoulder. Our mouths work perfectly against each other, sweet and sour with the added spice of the whiskey she’d been sipping on all night. I taste every heaven on her lips, and I want more. I gently tug on her hair as I part us, moving to trail butterfly kisses down her neck.
SUMMARY: Melina, my workplace’s neighbour, wants to set me up with her daughter.
I’d only ever hear about Natasha every couple of weeks, when her adoptive father, the mechanic that owned the garage workshop beside my father’s cafe slash bar, met up with my uncle for beers one day last year. Ever since then, our families have been loosely intertwined, friendly but not too close. Alexei fixed my mom’s wrecked car for a cheap price, in return I let his youngest daughter Yelena have free coffees whenever she pops over.
From what my father told me, Alexei’s entire family, including his wife, were all involved in the family business of repairing cars, except for his eldest daughter: Natasha, who turned out to be an FBI agent living in Quantico. Dad says they’re proud of her but they miss her.
“(Y/N),” my brother calls from the kitchen. I put down my phone and find him balancing three plates of sandwiches and a salad in his spindly arms.
He opens his mouth to explain the orders, but I cut him off.
“Alexei,” I say, pointing to the bacon and egg sandwich. “A salad for Melina. The tuna and tomato roll is Yelena’s. Did they want drinks?”
Peter nods. “Four coffees and a large bottle of water, they already have them.”
I ruffle his hair to thank him and grab the plates, balancing the third on my forearm until I can place it on a tray. I carry it outside, years of waitressing practice keeping it balanced, and head towards the garage.
“Melina?” I call. Moments later the raven haired woman slips out of the office and smiles. She yells something in Russian that causes Yelena to slide out from under a silver BMW, covered in black grease. Alexei appears moments later wielding a spanner.
They hound me for their orders, gratefully patting my shoulder and carrying their food away to their separate stations. Yelena disappears into the shadows with her sandwich, and her father to his desk, but Melina simply brightens and says, “(Y/N), have you heard? Natalia is visiting.”
“Yes!” Alexei yells around a mouthful of bread. “Family, reunion! Grandbabies!”
Melina hisses something in their mother tongue. I laugh, and then ask if Natasha was bringing her kids, though I wasn’t aware she had any.
“He means nothing of it, Natalia is focused on work at the moment. Too focused, I think. No babies. No partner.”
“Tell her about her penthouse!” Alexei encourages.
Melina flaps a hand at him in irritation. “Yes, well, she has broken up with Bruce, the shy scientist from work. And then Sharon, charming field operative, also from work. And now she refuses to date. Because of work.”
I chuckle nervously. “Where are you going with this?”
Melina smiles innocently. “Nowhere. What happened to your last girlfriend, again? Your father mentioned something about …" The look in her eyes is enough to egg me on, though the subject is one I rarely speak of these days.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I say, "Carol left to travel Europe.”
“Shame,” she nods sympathetically. “You don’t seem bothered. Are you not looking for a relationship?”
“Not actively, but I’m sure another troublemaker will find me. I don’t have a good track record of steady relationships,” I admit.
“Neither does Natalia!” Alexei shouts.
“Oh!” I say. “Does she want Carol’s number? Or my friend Harley, she’s not looking for commitment.”
Yelena snickers. Alexei frowns. Melina chuckles. “No, no, Natalia needs someone she doesn’t work with, and you need someone serious, and we need grandbabies before we die, since Yelena neglects it.”
I flush a bright red. “Grandb— I'm— okay, first of all, neither of us have the equipment for that—”
“Neither did Dad,” Yelena pipes up, referring to the fact that she and her sister were adopted.
“Hey!”
“(Y/N)!” Peter calls, rounding the corner. “Ned’s coming over to pick me up, we need to finish our physics project. Uncle Ben should be here soon, can you manage the bar until he gets here?”
I jump onto the excuse and yell back affirmation, say a quick goodbye to Melina before speed-walking back to the cafe.
Peter leaves with Ned soon after, and Ben arrives at around the same time. I move to the kitchens while he takes over serving our regulars, as he’s friendlier with them than me.
I work on making more sandwiches and tapas meals until four, when my shift ends. I kiss Uncle Ben on the cheek and head home.
The smell of paprikash greets me as I unlock the door to my apartment, which I guess means that my roommate is home. I call out a hello to her and head to the shower.
I groan happily as the hot water rains down on my front. I close my eyes and lean my head back, thinking over how strange the day had been, and lose myself in a trance of relaxation.
“(Y/N/N)!” Wanda barges in. I jump and almost slip grabbing the shower curtain to cover my body as I peek out at her.
“I’m naked,” I hiss.
She ignores me and holds up two clothes hangers. “Pantsuit or dress?”
I push my wet hair out of my face. “Uh, are you bar-hopping with Vision or going to a family dinner?”
“Get together with some friends,” she explains. “Vis, Sam, Steve and some guy named Bucky who I’m informed we’re supposed to be pretending Steve isn’t in love with, do you know him?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, well, he’s bringing some friends, so I’m bringing you. Don’t make that face, you know almost everyone.”
“I don’t feel like getting drunk,” I complain.
“Good! You can be the designated driver. Pantsuit or dress?”
Grumbling, I tell her, “Dress.”
“Okay, thanks, you wear the pantsuit, be ready by seven. May the Force be with you!”
She ducks as I throw my shampoo bottle at her. We bicker and mock and tease as I pat myself dry and she changes into the scarlet dress. While she braids her hair, I carefully slip into the navy and white striped pantsuit, and we move into her bedroom to make use of her vanity, since the sun’s lowering position in the sky shone straight into the window while my room would be encased in dimness by now. I sit in the chair and she leans over me, brushing her eyelashes with delicate mascara. We fall into our normal going-out-getting-ready rhythm, periodically handing each other different brushes, comparing lipstick shades, and commenting on our days. She tells me about her brother’s latest shenanigans and I make the grave mistake of commenting on Melina’s attempted set-up earlier today, much to Wanda’s entertainment. The two had never met but they both shared the pure ecstasy that came with matchmaking involving me.
“Do you think she’s pretty?” Wanda wonders.
“I’ve seen photos,” I shrug. “She’s a redhead. Yelena says she changes hairstyles often.”
“That doesn’t answer my question! Pretty redhead or no?”
“They were baby photos, Wanda! I didn’t have an opinion on her looks past the Wonder Woman pajamas.”
She hums, and turns to draw a small heart under my left eye with her gel liner pen. “It would be nice if you wound up with her, but if you do fall madly in love with her beautiful red locks and decide to move to Washington to marry her and have her babies, I will murder you. You pay your rent on time and you’re fun and please, please do not make me move back in with my brother.”
“Why does everyone keep bringing up babies?” I yell.
An hour later we’re pulling up to the bar in the back of a cab arguing about getting a cat. The debate of whose bathroom would host the litter tray is interrupted by Wanda spotting Vision through the window and quickly smacking my arm and hissing at me to hurry up and pay so she can sneak in and scare him. Unfortunately, I can’t locate my purse inside my bag.
“(Y/N), (Y/N), go, go, go …”
“Wanda, Wanda, going, going, going … Aha!” I pay the driver and find myself being ushered inside before I can put my purse back in my bag.
Sam, a friend of Wanda’s from college, ends up foiling her evil master plan by pointing her out as soon as she walks in the door. Vision, being a good sport, pretends to be startled when she yells “BOO!” in his ear. As she cackles manically before sliding into the chair beside him, I notice the only free space is by the pretty blonde woman beside a man with brown hair pulled into a bun.
“Oh, look who I dragged out with me!” Wanda exclaims, taking a sip of Vision’s drink and making a grand gesture with her hands. “(Y/N)!”
I’m greeted with a chorus of hello’s. I bow and grin as I sit by the woman and offer a polite smile. Steve leans over points to the brunet man. “This is Bucky, we were close as friends. As kids. We were close as friends, when we were kids.”
Sam snorts into his beer.
Steve clears his throat awkwardly. “And this is his partner from work, Nat.”
I get a closer inspection and my eyes widen in shock. “Natalia?”
“Her name is Natasha.” Steve corrects.
“I thought her name was Natalie?” Vision frowns.
“She goes by Nat, who cares?” Sam shrugs.
“Natalia Alianovna Romanova?” Wanda yelps. “(Y/N)! You didn’t tell me this was theNatalia!”
“The what? I— Do I know you two?” Natasha asks, bewildered.
“Not me!” Wanda says, and then makes a motion for zipping her lips shut.
Everyone turns to me. I chuckle nervously. “I should probably explain. Hi, I’m (Y/N), your parents want me to have your babies.”
“You should just ask her out. She’d say yes.” Wanda continues needling you.
You were all gathering around for the traditional after party drinks with just the team and significant others. Wanda was again encouraging you to ask Natasha out even though you were fairly certain the redheaded super spy only sees you as a friend. As drinks flowed and inhibitions loosened, Clint the shit starter (as you liked to call him) declared it time for a game of Truth or Dare. The rounds go round and everyone is laughing, blushing, and acting goofy.
