The first light of the day strikes in through the window, illuminating the quiet scene in front of Maria. The sheets are tangled with Natasha’s body. The two seem to meld together as one. Porcelain skin blending with porcelain cloth. Red hair alight like flames from the sun splayed out on her pillow.
Maria smiles.
Soft paws and softer fur push open the door. Maria holds in a groan.
Liho pads over to the bed like he owns the place. He mews gently before jumping up onto the bed. His dark black fur is a stark contrast with the white of the sheets. He mews again. Maria does groan this time. This is a bad move.
Liho swivels his head in her direction. She doesn’t like the look in his eyes.
“Liho, no,” Natasha says. Her voice is rough with sleep, and a quick look tells Maria she hasn’t opened her eyes yet. “Leave Masha alone.”
Maria smiles at the name. She moves over to kiss Natasha’s forehead, ignoring the devil cat looking at her evilly. Natasha hums in delight. She reaches out to stroke Liho’s head, finally opening her emerald eyes.
“What time do you have to be at the helicarrier by?” Her voice is still thick with sleep, and a yawn punctuates the end of her question.
“Fury called earlier. He gave us both the day off. Something about a russian assassin annoying him about having time off with her girlfriend.”
Nat cracks a smile and closes her eyes. Liho nuzzles her hand.
Maria loves the way the other woman looks when she is relaxed. She isn’t constantly on guard, and she trusts Maria with her life.
“I love you.”
It is not the first time they have said it to each other, but it still makes Natasha pause.
Nobody has cared about her like this before. This overwhelming feeling of warmth and love. From the way Maria looks at her to the way she spars, Natasha is completely enamoured with her. Even when they are both at their worst, they love each other.
“I love you too.”
They hold each other’s eyes for a long moment before leaning in for a sweet kiss.
Prompt: “Minutiae- n. the small, precise, or trivial details of something.”
Word Count: 609
Rating: T+
Warnings: None
A/N: Day 22 of Aureate August 2018
“-and as you can see here, there is an entrance on…”
Natasha stands in the back, watches as Hill dictates the plan to a room of thirty-some agents, all huddled around the conference table like it’s some standard office meeting. And technically, it could be, except this meeting is about a massive HYDRA base that they need to take down, not the business’ monthly earnings.
She just really wishes Maria hadn’t chosen a fucking Powerpoint to convey all the details.
And since it’s Maria Hill, the assistant director that plans every single trivial step, there are a lot of details to go through. So far, Hill’s on slide number fifty-seven and she’s showing no signs of stopping, and Natasha internally sighs as Maria moves on to another slide filled with a map and some more bullet points.
“-Team Delta, you enter through here…”
Natasha lets out a little sigh and by Hill’s pointed glare, she can tell Maria heard it.
“Something to say, Agent Romanoff?” Hill asks her and Natasha can feel thirty pairs of eyes turn to her, but all she can focus on is the intensity of Hill’s stare and she smirks.
“Nope,” Natasha fires back, adding Hill’s title after a moment just to spite her, “Assistant Director Hill.”
Hill glares at her for a moment more before turning her attention back to the projected slideshow, explaining every aspect as she slowly moves from slide to slide. It’s forty-one minutes later when Hill decides to wrap things up, dismissing the agents efficiently with a nod and a vote of encouragement: “Let’s not fuck this one up, agents.”
There are some murmurs as people walk out of the doo and Natasha joins them, waiting at the back of the line before Hill says one last thing.
“Agent Romanoff, may I see you, please?”
Natasha whips her head around, noticing a hint of amusement in Hill’s cold stare as she walks towards the Maria, who’s still standing at the head of the room.
“Yes?” Natasha says, letting her trademark smirk out as she stares into Maria’s eyes.
“Just because Fury likes you doesn’t mean I have to, Romanoff,” Maria says, her tone cold, professional. “He may show leniency, but I will not tolerate what I just saw today.”
“Yessir,” Natasha replies quickly, giving Hill a mock salute, watching as Maria crosses her arms. Hill glares at her for a moment more before saying “dismissed,” and Natasha exits the room soon after, looking back just once.
---
Hours later, Natasha’s lying in Maria’s bed, Maria half-naked beside her, her arm draped over Natasha’s side, her other arm lying beneath Natasha. She can feel Maria’s nose against her head, slightly messing up her hair but really, Natasha doesn’t mind.
(Natasha would never admit to being someone’s little spoon but that’s exactly what’s happening now, and she kind of likes it.)
“Do you think we put on a good enough performance?” Maria murmurs into Natasha’s hair, and Natasha can slightly feel the breath brush across her skin.
“Yeah,” Natasha replies drowsily, her eyes half closed as she grabs onto Maria’s hand, intertwining her fingers with the commander’s, “hopefully Fury’ll fall for it.”
“Who are we kidding? He probably already knows,” Maria mumbles, rustling slightly and then Natasha can feel Maria’s lips pressed against the back of her head, lasting just for a second before Maria pulls away.
“He hasn’t said anything yet, so it’s good enough for me,” Natasha murmurs. She hears Maria chuckle slightly as her eyes drift shut, and the last thing she can register is this rising feeling in her chest, something resembling content.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Cat Grant
Characters: Cat Grant, Kara Danvers
Series: Part 27 of Aureate August 2018
Summary:
Prompt: “Xenial- adj. hospitable, especially to visiting strangers or foreigners.”
Word Count: 623
Rating: T+
Warnings: None
A/N: Day 28 of Aureate August 2018
Maria grits her teeth as she shakes the hand of yet another Important Person, hoping that she isn’t being too obvious about her dislike for this whole event. As Deputy Director of SHIELD, she knows she’s supposed to smile and play nice, except this is the part of the job she hates the most.
A flash of red catches her eye and she knows Natasha is here, chatting up all the right people and allowing old men to stare at her for just a moment too long. A wave of possessiveness washes over and she shoves down the urge to walk over and crash her lips against Natasha’s right then and there.
Instead, Maria slowly makes her way over to Natasha, internally cursing as she’s stopped a couple of times by bureaucrats and politicians and rich people.
Smile. Play nice.
The man she’s currently talking with is dressed in an ill-fitting suit and smells like dead fish and Maria resists the urge to flip him off and march towards Natasha, but suddenly there’s someone gripping her upper arm, their body pressed up slightly against her side.
“Hi, I don’t think we’ve met,” Natasha says, putting on her most charming smile as the dead fish man finishes his current anecdote about meeting the Japanese prime minister. Maria watches as Natasha sticks her hand out good-naturedly and she’s reminded of how much better Natasha is at this than she is.
“Natasha Romanoff,” the agent says, shaking the man’s hand and Maria sees his eyes linger far too long on her chest, raking his eyes down Natasha’s body and now, she just really wants to strangle him.
After ten minutes of war anecdotes, Maria finally seizes an opening and excuses the two of them. They mingle through the crowd together, Natasha pressed into her side, Maria gently guiding her through the crowd with a hand on the small of Natasha’s back. Maria doesn’t know how many more people they talk to, but somehow they make it through, slipping into the bathroom together.
It’s one of those individual bathrooms and Maria locks the door behind them, watching as Natasha leans over the sink casually. Maria presses her back against the door and waits for Natasha to finish reapplying her lipstick, crossing her arms.
“You’re very good at this,” Maria remarks after Natasha’s turned back to face her.
“At what?” Natasha asks, her voice low and inquisitive and husky all at the same time.
“Doing the whole,” Maria motions around, “talking-to-people-playing-nice type thing. Better than I am, at least.”
“Makes you wonder why they didn’t give the job to me,” Natasha retorts, slightly amused, raising an eyebrow before walking closer towards Maria.
“Probably because you don’t want it,” Maria points out and Natasha shrugs.
“You have a good point.”
“Don’t I always?” Maria fires back quickly, slightly smirking as Natasha walks up to her, her nose inches from Maria’s.
“Of course,” Natasha whispers, standing on her toes to reach Maria’s ear and the huskiness of Natasha’s voice sends a tingle down Maria’s spine, heat pooling in her core. She can feel Natasha’s hands grab the lapels of her suit, pulling Maria closer to her lips.
Natasha plants a chaste kiss on Maria’s lips, lingering for just a moment before pulling back and straightening her dress out.
“We’ll continue this later?” Natasha asks, her eyes piercing Maria’s soul.
“Sure,” Maria replies, trying to keep her tone even but the heat in her core is still there, burning like a forest fire. Natasha walks out of the bathroom first and Maria waits five minutes before following.
She falls back into the routine of smiling and shaking hands but really, her mind is somewhere else, focused on a certain red-haired agent.
Prompt: "Quixotic- v. to be excessively romantic or chivalrous; illogical, idealistic, overall dreamy."
Word Count: 1332
Rating: T+
Warnings: None
A/N: Day 25 of Aureate August 2018
The first time Natasha tries to ask Maria Hill out, it doesn’t work out so well.
It’s after a training session and Hill’s just dismissed a group of sweaty and disgruntled rookies when Natasha strides over, her eyes burning into Maria’s, her proximity just a little too close to be considered professional.
“Do you want to go out for drinks sometime?” Natasha asks, putting on her usual bravado in an attempt to hide her nervousness.
Hill stares at her like she’s grown an extra head. “We’re in a metal fortress forty thousand feet up in the sky, Natasha. There’s really no room to go out for drinks.”
Natasha knows that Maria’s just being her normal self; snarky, sarcastic, frank, but it doesn’t do anything to soften the sting of Hill’s response. And she’s pretty sure that Maria wasn’t rejecting her, just her proposition of getting drunk on the Helicarrier and she can almost see why; it really isn’t the smartest thing to do.
She’ll find another way. She always does.
---
Natasha decides to make a sort game out of it, because there’s nothing more fun than watching Maria puzzle over something (it’s kind of cute when she furrows her eyebrows in concentration, but Natasha would never admit to thinking that). Besides, it gives her something to do when she’s sitting on the Helicarrier, other than beating the living shit out of a punching bag/Clint.
The first thing she chooses to do is simple; maybe, hopefully, it’ll get the message across.
Roses.
Should be foolproof, right?
And Natasha even goes the whole nine yards; requesting shore leave, going to the local flower shop, spending thirty dollars on a dozen red roses and ten more to make it a bouquet, complete a glass vase and those little white buds that made the arrangement look halfway decent. She drops the vase off the next morning, attached to it a little card that just has a heart drawn on it and the letter “N”.
It’s simple, it’s decently easy, and it absolutely does not work.
Natasha watches from the vents with interest as Maria walks into her office, takes one look at the roses, then proceeds to throw them out, not even taking the time to look at the card.
Apparently, Hill does not like flowers. And forty dollars (plus tax!) go down the drain, or more accurately, down to the large trash bins hidden in the Helicarrier.
---
The next thing Natasha tries is just as stereotypically romantic as the first one; chocolates. She leaves the red heart-shaped box filled with Venezuelan-imported chocolates on Maria’s desk, a note (not a card, this time, Maria has to read it) taped on top with another heart and “from N” written on it.
Maria regards the box with interest, taking a moment to read the note before ripping it off and shredding it, along with any of Natasha’s hopes that this idea was going to work.
Hill eats the chocolates though, which could be considered a win but really isn’t, at least in Natasha’s mind.
---
“Someone keeps leaving these weird gifts on my desk,” Maria says, barging into the break room where Natasha is sitting, pouring a cup of coffee for herself and plopping down on the couch next to the agent.
“Oh?” Natasha responds, trying not to show too much interest in the subject.
Their coffee “dates,” if you will, have become somewhat of a weekly thing; they just rant about the annoying things in their lives for a couple of hours before returning to whatever threat needs their attention. They even go out to dinner sometimes, when their shore leave dates match up and the powers allow them to have a nice meal uninterrupted, once, they even went to a concert. It’s a good way to release some of the frustration that is built up from the week and Natasha finds herself feeling lighter after one of their meetups, although she doesn’t know why it’s because of Maria or the talking.
Hopefully both. Probably Maria.
“Yeah,” Maria says, leaning back against the pillows casually. “I mean… what’s the point?”
“Of what?”
“Of gifts. Just seems like another way to bribe people, if you ask me,” Maria says, taking a sip of her coffee before looking at Natasha. “Your turn. What’s Clint gone and done this week?”
Natasha lets out a short laugh, mentally thinking of the idiotic things her partner has done. “Well, there was this incident in Barcelona involving a flamethrower…”
---
Gifts don’t, and won’t, work, so she switches to messages.
Natasha writes little notes on post-its, messages like “smile more” and “you look nice today,” all complete with a heart and the letter “n” next to them. It’s a little much, Natasha realizes, the little blue and pink notes pasted around Maria’s office, the whole idea borderlining “ridiculous” and “over-the-top” but she’s really been left with no choice.
Maria seems to think it’s stupid and rips off the notes one by one, throwing them all into the trash.
She tries food after that, leaving a pastry or a cup of coffee on Maria’s desk, attached with a little card like always. But like the chocolates, Maria just throws away the note and eats the food while working on her computer.
Natasha hates to admit it, but this just isn’t working and she’s almost out of ideas.
When Natasha meets Maria later in the breakroom, Maria grabs two cups of coffee instead of one and sits at the table, slowly rubbing her head as she sips the dark liquid.
“I think I have a stalker,” Maria proclaims, “or a secret admirer. I don’t know. It’s giving me a headache.”
Natasha stays silent because for once, she doesn’t know what to say.
“I feel a little bad though, how are they supposed to know there’s someone else I’m involved with?”
“Someone else?” Natasha immediately asks, watching as Maria’s expression turns into confusion.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Maria asks. Upon receiving no response from Natasha, only a look of utter bewilderment, Maria continues after a moment of complete silence.
“It’s you Natasha. The someone else is you.”
“How?” It’s the first thing that comes to Natasha’s shocked mind, and admittedly one of the worst things to say as Natasha attempts to backtrack. “I mean, we were dating this whole time?”
“Well, I thought so,” Maria replies, her coffee abandoned as she sits straight up. “These meetings with the coffee, the concert, the restaurants? Weren’t those dates?”
“I thought it was a thing that friends do?” Natasha asks. “Concerts?”
“Natasha, I put on a fancy suit and actually took the time to do my makeup,” Maria deadpans, looking Natasha straight in her green eyes.
“But I never- we never kissed?”
“I thought you didn’t want to!” Maria says, her voice getting higher and higher. She looks at Natasha again, and this time it’s different, Natasha can feel herself getting lost in the blue pools from across the room and there’s a certain electricity between them.
Their lips crash together not even a second later, their tongues battling for dominance as they kiss, Natasha straddling Maria’s lap as Hill sits on the plastic chair, her hands clutching Natasha’s ass.
And then suddenly, Maria’s back is touching the ground, her head millimeters from the floor because apparently, they tipped the goddamn chair over. Natasha immediately pulls back, her forehead a couple of inches from Maria’s face.
“Well, I’ve always wanted to,” Natasha says, half-breathless. Maria chuckles slightly, looking around the dirty floor.
“Nat, we tipped over the chair,” Maria says, chuckling softly. Natasha just smirks at her, watching as a grin spread across Maria’s face.
“What about the stalker?” Maria suddenly asks. “What do you think I should do about them?”
“That was me,” Natasha admits, “trying to ask you out.”
“Oh my god, we’re officially idiots,” Maria says and Natasha leans in to catch Maria’s lips once again, a grin spreading across her face as they kiss.
Even in the darkness, Maria shines. She extinguishes all the bad from the air around her. She pulls everybody around her into orbit with her wit and charm. She smirks and the world erupts.
“Nat,” the object of Natasha’s thoughts says, snapping her out of her daze. “You okay?”
Maria is looking at her funny.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Natasha quirks an eyebrow. Her instincts kick on, and she acts like she wasn’t just caught staring.
“No reason.” Maria smiles and sips at her drink.
Natasha doesn’t react. She doesn’t give away the fact that that smile is the reason she gets up in the morning. She just turns back to her own drink and pretends that she doesn’t have a massive crush on the woman next to her.
“So,” Maria continues, setting her drink back on the bar, “Melinda came by my office today to complain about Phil.”
“That doesn’t sound like her.”
“Well, by complain, I mean order me to spar with her when I asked about him.”
And they’re back to normal. Maria tells her about her day as they both make their way through their drinks.
Natasha resumes her staring, disguising it as listening.
The last light of the day comes in through Natasha’s floor’s window. Maria’s back is facing the window, so the sun paints her outline with its light. Natasha sighs as Maria explains Fury’s mood, but she nods along appropriately.
Maria’s hair is pulled up into a loose bun with some stray strands hanging to frame her face. Her green-blue eyes are alight with the last life of the sun. It leaves shadows to highlight her cheekbones and her smile.
Before Natasha knows it, Maria has stopped talking. She is looking at her with a smirk.
“Sorry, what did you say?” Natasha sounds a little bashful, but tries to cover it up with her signature flirty smile.
“You’re staring.”
This time Natasha can’t help the blush that climbs up her neck. She looks down at the bar as she gathers her courage.
“I can’t help it. You are fulgent.”
She looks up, batting her eyelashes, her smirk in full force.
Maria looks exasperated. Nat can see her cheeks darken, which she counts as a success.
“I knew Clint shouldn’t have gotten you that dictionary. Are you drunk?”
Natasha has had more than Maria has.
“Maybe a little tipsy. It doesn’t change that you shine in the sunlight.”
“Yeah, you’re a little more than tipsy.” Maria chuckles and takes Natasha’s drink. She stands and offers the other woman a hand.
As she guides Natasha to their shared bed, she feels the need to tease a little.
“If I shine in the sunlight, what do I do in the moonlight?”
Prompt: “Refractory- adj. resisting control or authority.”
Word Count: 595
Rating: T+
Warnings: None
A/N: some fluff for y’all. Day 27 of Aureate August 2018
“Natasha,” Maria yells from outside their bedroom, her voice slightly muffled through the door, “you have to give the sweater back eventually.”
“I don’t want to,” Natasha quickly retorts, burrowing deeper into their bed, the object in question engulfing her body. She still can’t believe she hadn’t discovered it before, having come upon the sweater one day while digging through Maria’s dresser on shore leave. Natasha had taken the navy-blue West Point sweatshirt back with her onto the Helicarrier the next day, and it had quickly become her favorite thing.
It’s not even how soft the goddamn thing (which it is- incredibly soft and fuzzy on the inside) or how it looks (large, welcoming, comforting) that draws Natasha to it; it’s the smell.
Specifically, Maria’s smell.
And when she wears it and bunches the too-long sleeves around her hands, wrapping her arms around her body, it’s almost like Maria’s there with her on the days when the assistant director is too busy yelling at bureaucrats to be with her in person.
She doesn’t blame Maria for her absence; there’s always a mission that needs to be completed. And since she has the sweater, she likes to think they’re even.
Natasha finds herself wearing it more and more; around the Helicarrier, around other people, around their apartment, which is how Maria found out her sweater had been, in her words, “stolen by a stubborn asshole.”
(it’s a fair assessment, Natasha will admit. she is undeniably headstrong)
“Nat!” Maria yells. “If you don’t open the goddamn door, I’m busting it down.”
Natasha knows Maria isn’t joking and she really doesn’t want to deal with a destroyed door in their bedroom, so she forces herself up and walks slowly to the door, the sweater still wrapped around her like a warm hug.
And as soon as she unlocks the door, Maria shoves it open, slamming Natasha onto their bed in one quick motion, her hands grabbing the sweater. Natasha squirms underneath Maria just a little, but Maria’s weight on top of her proves a good way to keep her down, at least for the moment.
“Give it back,” Maria says, slightly gritting her teeth, her nose inches from Natasha’s face.
“No,” Natasha replies, sounding petulant. “I like it.”
“I like it too!” Maria says, her breath skimming across Natasha’s skin. “It’s my sweater!”
“Exactly! That’s why I wear it!” Natasha retorts, before realizing what she’s admitted. “It just reminds me of you, that’s all,” Natasha confesses, her voice at a lower volume than before. She watches as Maria’s facial features soften and there’s a flicker of adoration that crosses her face that slowly morphs into a small smile. Maria stares at her for a moment more before lifting herself off Natasha’s body, helping Natasha sit up with an outreached hand.
“Has anyone ever told you how cute you are?” Maria asks, watching Natasha with the blue sweater almost swallowing her whole body.
“And lived?” Natasha snarks, lifting up an eyebrow. “Other than you, no.”
They descend into a comfortable silence for a while, Natasha inching towards Maria, leaning her head against Maria’s shoulder as Maria wraps an arm around Natasha, pulling her closer.
It’s a win if Natasha’s ever had one; Maria’s body warm next to hers while she gets to wrap herself inside a sweater that smells like Maria, really, her senses are just- Maria, and it’s perfect.
“I’m never getting that sweater back, am I?” Maria suddenly asks. Natasha chuckles, turning her head slightly.
“Nope,” Natasha replies, and leans up to kiss Maria on the lips.
Prompt: "Vexatious- adj. causing or tending to cause annoyance, frustration, or worry."
Word Count: 916
Rating: T+
Warnings: None
A/N: part 2 will be out soon, hopefully.
Hill hates everything.
It’s a conclusion she comes to after thirty-some hours of no sleep, six cups of coffee, blood and dust and sweat caking her body, and worst of all, being on a mission with the Black Widow.
Maria’s bone-tired and she stumbles up the stairs to her hotel room, Romanoff smirking at her from the top of the stairs because of course the Black Widow isn’t showing any signs of wear or tear, not even one lock of hair out of place even with her face somewhat covered in dust and sweat.
“Slowing down, Agent?” Romanoff asks, arrogance and teasing in her tone and Maria is too fucking tired to deal with her right now.
(and she really doesn’t want to analyze why when Romanoff smirks at her, it’s like her heart leaps or something.)
Hill sends Romanoff a glare that could make any other agent wither but the Black Widow only smirks in response, still standing at the landing even when Hill makes it to the top.
“What are you waiting for?” Maria asks because Romanoff’s still standing there, smirking at her.
“You have the keys,” Romanoff responds casually.
You have got to be shitting me.
“We’re sharing a room?” Maria asks as her mind panics and grumbles at the same time because for one thing, she’s sharing a room with Agent Romanoff who is wild, reckless, but for another thing she’s sharing a room with the Black Widow who has curves that would make anyone go weak in the knees.
And by anyone, she means herself.
God fucking dammit.
“Yes,” Romanoff replies, “you didn’t notice? You must the off your game more than usual, Hill.” Romanoff’s voice is teasing and Maria’s tempted to glare at her again, but she doesn’t even have the energy for that.
“Hopefully, they’ll be twin beds or something,” Hill mutters under her breath as she walks over to her, their hotel room, “ten, eleven, twelve…”
She stops at room thirteen and quickly unlocks the door, Romanoff following her as she steps inside and flicks on the lights.
“Seriously?” Maria says loudly, internally screaming every curse word she knows because it’s not two twin beds she sees, it’s one queen bed in the middle of a room with questionable stains on the wallpaper and Hill doesn’t know if she’ll be able to last the night with Natasha fucking Romanoff lying a couple of inches away from her.
Romanoff steps in front of her, dumping her bag on a rickety-looking chair, taking out some items as if this is no big deal to her.
“Which side of the bed do you want?” Romanoff asks, showing no signs of discomfort at all, as if she does this every day; sharing a bed with Maria Hill.
(there’s a thought that catches Maria off guard; waking up with Romanoff in her arms every morning but she quickly shoves it out of her mind.)
“I don’t really care,” Maria replies, trying to keep her tone professional. “Just pick one.”
“Okay,” Romanoff replies. “I’ll take the left side. Do you want to shower first then?”
“Sure,” Maria says, grabbing her bag and stepping into the bathroom, hoping that a shower will clear her mind and erase the impure thoughts she’s been having the whole day.
---
Maria’s scrolling through her phone, letting her hair dry out post-lukewarm shower clad in boxer shorts and a t-shirt when Natasha Romanoff steps into the room, exiting the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel and Hill’s mouth goes dry.
The sight of Romanoff’s hair dripping, water droplets cascading down her neck and into the front of the towel is enough to get Maria annoyed and sexually frustrated again, undoing any of the effects the shower had on her.
And when she meets Romanoff’s eyes, she can tell that she’s been caught staring by the way Romanoff smirks at her.
“See something you like?” Romanoff teases, her voice almost sultry and Maria doesn’t know if it’s intentional or not when the towel just drops a little bit.
“Shut up, Romanoff,” Hill mutters as she fights to keep her eyes off of Romanoff’s ass as the Black Widow bends over to grab some clothes from her bag.
“Call me Natasha,” Romanoff immediately says. Maria notices, even in her sleep-deprived state, that Natasha seems surprised by her own comment. “I mean, we’re going to be sharing a bed, so we might as well use first names then, right?”
“Maria then,” Hill replies, “if we’re going that route.”
Natasha gives her a slight nod and suddenly the mood in the room has changed because Natasha isn’t teasing her anymore, she’s just- open, for lack of a better term; more honest and frank and Maria’s taken aback by how quickly everything has shifted.
Natasha disappears into the bathroom for a quick moment, coming out a couple of moments later wearing a tanktop and boxer shorts and Maria catches herself staring again at the curves of Natasha’s hips, her toned thighs but when Natasha catches her this time, she feels ashamed, dirtier for some reason.
Maria sets down her phone as Natasha slides into bed next to her and she can feel the mission start to take a toll on the woman sitting beside her.
She realizes that this is a side to Natasha that no one ever sees as Natasha dries her hair, running a towel through the wet locks over and over again.
It’s the first time she hasn’t felt annoyed all day.
