Chapter Text
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
This is by far the longest meeting of your life. Okay…perhaps ‘longest’ may be an exaggeration, but time tends to go incredibly slow when you’re eagerly waiting for something else. As much as you respect Maria, lunch with Wanda has gradually become your favourite part of every Wednesday - every week if you're being honest with yourself. You two spend most of your days together anyway, but Wednesday is always Wanda time. Wednesday’s for Wanda...Wanda's Wednesday’s...Wanda...
The clock seems to come to an agonising stop as Maria drags on the debriefing as long as she possibly can, going through every little detail, every little problem, every little move you made during your last mission. You barely take her critiques seriously anymore after what happened between the two of you. Maria hates you and she can't deny it; she can’t even pretend that looking at you doesn’t make her insides twist and turn.
“Agent, do you have somewhere else to be?” Maria sighs as she stops herself mid-speech when she notices your eyes flickering to the clock on the wall every couple of seconds. “I cannot stress how significant these debriefings are, Agent Y/L/N. It is a great way of analysing and critiquing yourself, and pinpointing your faults and flaws to improve and perfect your roles.” Her perfect grammar and goody-two-shoes nature used to turn you on, even more so when you fucked her so silly she’d turn into a blabbering, grammatically incorrect mess. Your eyes glance over her body for a second or two, knowing what’s under her clothes is just as perfect as her grammar.
“I totally respect that, boss, but don’t you think two hours is a little excessive? I’m not that bad of an actress.” The corner of your lips turns upwards into a wicked smirk that she scoffs at. The brunette throws the heavy file on the table, making it shake, and crosses her arms over her chest. You let your eyes linger there, making sure she can see exactly where your attention is at. You know it probably won't happen again, but it never hurts to try - it could get you back on her good side.
“I beg to differ considering you can’t hide how bored you are.” Her harsh tone is not one people can argue with, so you simply give her a defeated chuckle, tapping your fingers on the table rhythmically.
“Got me there.” You murmur, more to yourself than to her.
So...this is where you stand. It’s not like you wanted anything more than just sex; it was good for the both of you. But she was right about you being a terrible actress. The lingering looks, the unnecessary touches, the one time you accidentally let her name slip out of your moaning mouth...Maria figured out pretty soon that she became nothing but a distraction from who you really wanted.
You did feel bad about it for a while, but only because she looked so hurt and upset all the time. You don’t necessarily think you did anything wrong; people do this all the time, right? Sex is just that, and you had both agreed that sex was all it was between the two of you. What else could she have expected from you? If you were going to feel something you would have already, way, way sooner considering you’ve been fucking for years.
“You do realise minor undercover missions will be the only ones you will be assigned until you perfect at least one of your covers, right?” Tick. Tock. You really need to get out of here and as far away as possible. This isn't just a mission critique but a way for Maria to punish you for hurting her. It’s clever, you’ll give her that, wasting your free time by spending hours insulting your skillset - or rather the lack of it as she’s been moaning about for the past two hours. You’ve been distracted for a couple of months, but before that you’ve had nothing but a perfect record.
“Okay, I have a suggestion. How about I take the files and write all about how bad I’ve been? I’ll have it on your desk by tomorrow morning, MiMi.” You flirt with her with dangerously seductive eyes, hoping she’ll fold. You hold eye contact with her until she clenches her jaw and lowers her gaze to the files.
“I told you not to call me that.” Gentle tone, holding back a lot, hiding her deep emotions but letting you know she has them. She really is clever. Manipulative, even. Because your chest starts feeling heavy with a little…guilt? No. You? Guilty? You already came to the conclusion that you had nothing to be guilty about. You shake that thought out of your head quickly; you’re not falling for her tricks.
“You’ve told me to do a lot of things, Hill, have I ever listened?” You plant your signature smirk back on and she sighs, sliding the file over to you.
“Tomorrow morning. No later.” Back to stoic Deputy Director Hill.
“So bossy!” You tease before grabbing the files and speed-walking out of the room. She really does know how to get under your skin without even trying. Perhaps she wasn’t actually trying. Maybe her emotions had been genuine. There’s a chance she really is hurt that you only kept sleeping with her because you couldn’t have her. But in your defence, anyone you sleep with is just a replacement, a way to get your fix and fuck someone else pretending her body was the one you were kissing, marking, touching.
Maria was all you really had when you first joined S.H.I.E.L.D. considering most agents were too scared of you, being a Super-Soldier and all. Not Maria though. Maria not once feared you. She actually tried to establish herself as the authoritative figure. There’s just something about powerful women that really gets you going, so, of course you let this commander-agent dynamic blossom until you managed to get her into your bed. Needless to say, your super-strength and endless stamina changed the power dynamic instantly.
Then, the Avengers initiative was launched. You knew about it beforehand, before Natasha and Clint, before Steve and Tony. But you were last to join. Teamwork wasn’t your thing. It never has been; you’ve been working alone your entire life, not being able to trust a single person, not even yourself sometimes.
Years of therapy and psychological training exercises has helped you with accepting the past as something to be forgiven - or accepted - but not forgotten; it did shape you to become the person you are today, but it doesn't define you. Nevertheless, you still weren’t ready to join an entire team of people equally dangerous to you as you were to them - both physically and mentally. That was until Sokovia. The Avengers had won, but at what cost? Hundreds of innocent lives, some lives you could have saved if you had been there. It was enough for you to finally accept Fury’s offer and join the team.
You’d heard of all of them beforehand but hadn’t interacted with them until then. You grew incredibly close to Wanda, having an uncontrollable urge to protect her, but soon it turned out she’d be the one looking out for you. Tony was easy to crack once you established a connection when you dropped the bomb, the scariest thing any person could have said to the Avengers: therapy. He used you as evidence of its success considering most of the group were still wary, all countering Tony’s ‘I turned out great!’ claim. He didn’t. Everyone else followed after that, warming up to you and welcoming you into their group dynamic. And Natasha…
A month after you joined, Maria broke down in front of you and said she was done being used. In your defence, you thought you were both using each other because isn’t that all sex is? Using someone for your own pleasure? Sex is a commodity, just like everything else in this world. Apart from love. Love is…that’s a philosophical debate for another day.
“Who is that?” Wanda asks you before you even make it through the archway leading into the kitchen. When you walk in you see her seated on a stool mixing a salad in a large bowl and you internally groan at the sight. The both of you alternate between picking meals each week and you’ve been starving for two hours just to see green ‘food’. Gross. She glares at you as you sit in front of her, having read your mind to know you’re insulting her choice of lunch.
“Who?” You ask and gulp down the cup of water she pours for you.
“The man you are thinking about.” Wanda refills your cup and raises a brow at you, her thick accent still prominent.
“Okay. One, stop doing that. Two, Bertrand Russell.” She looks at you pointedly, waiting for elaboration which you give her after rolling your eyes. “Philosopher in the early 20th century. I met him once when I was still spying for the government.” You remember that night you met him clearer than day.
“You have had a long life.” She looks at you with that curious look in her eyes that’s almost always aimed at you, especially when she’s walking through your mind.
“To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead.” You quote, leaning back and pushing your salad around the bowl. Wanda looks at you curiously with a hint of a small smile on her lips. Talking to you is one of her favourite things to do; being one of the youngest people on the team was hard, but she learnt something new every single day with you. “A great man. Spent a lot of his life advocating for peace and love. He said that to me at this party I snuck into. He then wrote a book about it.”
You were on a mission so you weren’t really supposed to drink, but once you sat with him it was hard to stop. He was a captivating character, one with fascinating views that you found pretty advanced for his time; anti-war, anti-authoritarianism, anti-everything apart from love. He consistently promoted rights to love whoever your heart desired - being closeted queer yourself at the time, you were ecstatic to meet a man as open-minded as he was.
“You should write a book about your life.” Wanda giggles out, covering her mouth subtly as she chews. How do you even chew salad? It’s basically water. Literally water; lettuce is 96% water. Why would someone go out of their way to eat a bland, solidified version of water?
“You wouldn’t read it, darling; you’ve already seen the movie.” You point to your head with a quick wink and a smirk. She’s always in your head and you never really had a problem with her being in there. She’s easily the one person you trust the most, not only on this team but the entire universe. There isn’t a single bad bone in her body, still young and naive on her views of the world. Perhaps you can help shape them. Maybe not your views on love, though.
“You are not three parts dead, Y/N.” Wanda says softly, warm hand reaching over to lightly rest on yours, squeezing gently. You give her a smile in response before sighing and looking down at your bowl. This will be your biggest challenge of the day. Salad.
“Thanks, Red.” Your hand practically trembles as you stab your fork into the just about edible pieces of green and red. Not even chicken. At least make it a chicken salad.
“So, how did your meeting with Maria go?”
“Boring, as usual.”
“Is she still upset?” You let out a laugh at that, remembering her clenched jaw and annoyingly formal ramblings.
“Of course, and still being passive aggressive with her anger. Hey, you don’t think I’m a bad actress, do you?” You frown, wondering if she had just been saying that out of spite. You’ve been performing and acting as anyone but yourself for decades. Surely you can’t be that bad.
“Well, I don’t think I’m one to judge. I can read your mind.” Wanda teases with a smirk and wink, taking a plentiful bite of her food. You chugged down your water again to clean the taste of ‘healthy’ out of your mouth. You need to get a burger or something after this.
“That’s cheating.” You growl at her playfully and hear footsteps from the hallway connected to the kitchen. You can already tell who it is - and no, you’re not creepy for knowing precisely how she walks, how fast or slow she moves, the pressure of her steps that indicate her mood or intent. You’re a spy after all, right? Useful stuff to know, even if it’s just hers that you’ve memorised.
“What’s cheating?” She asks curiously once she steps in and beelines to the fridge. Your breath almost gets caught up in your throat at the sound of her voice, soft but a little demanding, naturally raspy and seductive, sweet like honey. Wanda smirks at you from across the table and you scowl at her as a warning.
“Reading minds. Hey, Romanoff, you don’t think I’m a bad actress, do you?” You turn around to look at her, gulping when your eyes meet her tight muscles shining with a thin layer of sweat. A few strands of red cling to her forehead as she turns from the fridge with a bottle of water.
“Terrible. Worst spy I’ve ever met.” She says in a flat voice, obviously teasing you. You can tell by the playful glint in those glimmering emeralds she calls eyes.
“I’ve been a spy for, like, a century.” You scoff out and she simply laughs at you, leaning over your shoulder, her locks brushing against your cheek. Your breath hitches and you don’t do well in hiding it taking into account the smirk planted on her full lips, slightly chapped from dehydration. You still want to kiss them more than anything in the world.
“And you’re still this bad? Are you not embarrassed?” Natasha insults you before spinning on her heel with a deep chuckle.
“Get out.” You growl at her, eyes drifting from her back to…well…lower. “I hope your socks get wet!” You call out after her and you hear an echo of her laughter.
“Ew. That’s so mean.” Wanda mumbles, shivering at the thought.
“That’s the point.” You roll your eyes and look back down at your food. Green has defeated you once again - twice if you count Natasha, thrice if you count the fact that she probably made her way to Bruce’s room by now. You hate green sometimes. “Don’t ask whatever you’re thinking of asking. I’m fine, just like I was last week, just like I have been for months now.” You can practically hear Wanda thinking across the table, mouth hung open and snapping closed as she thinks about what to say to you. You don’t need her comfort, not right now.
“Mhm. I can tell when you’re lying.”
“Stop cheating!”
You and Natasha often trained together when you first joined the team, but you could only handle two months of proximity to the redhead before it became too hard to restrain yourself. So you pulled yourself out and trained with Steve instead. You told her it was because fighting her was ‘too easy’, not an insult to her combat skills but a simple fact that you, being a Super-Solider, needed to fight someone similar to your biological make up to actually challenge and improve yourself.
She gave you a simple nod and ‘understandable’ and that was the end of it. The only times you saw her in training was during group fighting sessions and the occasional cardio day when you both happened to be running yourself to exhaustion in the hopes that it would be enough to finally fall asleep.
Keeping Captain America down was one of the hardest things to do - near to impossible - but you never gave up trying.
“Nice work. Again.” He barks out orders as you kick him back, but he lands on his two feet with a loud stomp. You charge towards him, and him to you, feigning a left hook but going for a right jab to his side. He stumbles back a little but throws a combo back that you block until he surprises you by swiping your ankles. “Up.” He orders when you groan after landing on your back. It doesn't really hurt; your groan is more out of frustration for your failure. You should know this by now, you should be able to predict his every move. You were better than this, so much better than this, until her.
You find yourself glancing over at the door whenever you are in this room, or any room, buzzing at the possibility that you’ll see her face. But most of the time when she does walk in, he follows her like a puppy on a leash. Oh, to have her holding your leash. What a dream.
It hurt, like most stories of unrequited love - love? Was it really love or lust or desire, or perhaps those are all one and the same - and you thought you powered through it well but your failed undercover missions, failed sparring sessions, failed everything proved heartbreak to be the biggest distraction.
Is it fair to call it heartbreak if she doesn’t know that she breaks your heart every time she smiles at you in the most platonic way possible? When she lets him wrap his arms around her every morning, whispering a raspy ‘morning beautiful’ against her neck, against her lips. Is it heartbreak or are you just selfish in blaming her so you don’t have to blame yourself for being stupid enough to want someone you could never have?
“For someone who goes to therapy once a week you sure have a lot on your mind, kiddo.” He pants out once you stand up and shake your hands, jumping left to right to get your blood pumping.
“You’re only a year older than me.” You grunt, throwing a punch he narrowly dodges and drops down to swipe his leg that you easily jump over this time.
“Exactly. What’s on your mind? Distractions can mean life or death on the field.” He says sternly and you fight the urge to roll your eyes at him. Always playing the good American boy, Captain America, the people’s hero. You’ve seen him loosen up and that is the version of Steve you like best. You just need some Asgardian liquor for that.
“I’m having a debate with myself on whether Cheetos are better than Takis.” You playfully tell him, throwing a jab. He grabs your arm and twists you around, putting you into a headlock.
“Doritos.” He whispers and you wheeze, elbowing him in the gut twice making him let go in pain.
“I don’t know him!” You yell out into the training room, catching weird looks from a few stray agents working out. Steve chuckles at your antics and wipes his forehead with the bottom of his shirt. Show off. You do the same, both of you catching glances from other agents - it’s only human to look when two Super-Soldiers have their abs on display.
“Stop messing around. Talk to me.” You follow him to the bench on the side, gulping down half the water bottle he hands to you. You take a seat and sigh. What is your problem? You don’t really have an answer to that yet, but perhaps that's your issue; you need some space and time to really figure out how you feel and how to get over whatever it is that you’re feeling.
“I just need a mission. I need to go on a long mission to get away for a while.” You’d miss Wanda, but it would be the right thing to do. A couple months away from here, away from her. Learning how to live without her in your life so you could come back and put what you learnt into practice. Maybe that would make all of this easier. But you sincerely doubt Maria would let you go on a long undercover mission since those usually have the most sensitive information at stake. You’re at risk of exposing yourself as an agent, jeopardising the whole mission. Even if you were currently on good form she probably won’t send you out of spite.
Steve sighs and stands back up, holding a hand out for you to hold.
“I’ll see what I can do. Now focus, hands up, get into your defensive stance. I’m attacking this time.”
The next morning you show up at Maria’s office with your file and notes in hand, and a cup of Starbucks’ best coffee with a pastry, to find her already there earlier than you anticipated. You were hoping she’d be on time for once instead of ridiculously early so that by the time she’d get here the coffee would be ice cold. Yes, you’re bitter, but so is she, so fair game, right? Nothing wrong with a little playful hate between two people who used to sleep together and now don’t because you moaned out another girl’s name as you came from riding her tongue. Totally healthy.
“You’re early.” She states coldly, barely giving you a glance. You approach her desk with caution, looking around the office you’ve spent a lot of your nights in. She redecorated, changed almost every piece of furniture there apart from the glass coffee table - you hadn’t fucked on that one.
“Well, you know me. Early bird gets the worm.” You crack a cliche joke and she takes a long breath at that, dropping her pen to look up at you, hands gripping the arms of her chair.
“Really? And what worm are you trying to get today?” She stares you down until you crack, clearing your throat and holding up the coffee and bag of food with a nervous grin.
“Uhh…baked goods?” Maria looks at you warily before nodding. You put them down on her desk and bounce back away from her, scared she’ll claw you. She opens the bag to look into it, taking a second before closing it and dropping it back onto the desk. The sigh that leaves her throat is filled with sadness, again. You’ve grown accustomed to that sound and swallow guiltily.
“I hate cinnamon.” Well.
“Oh. Off to a bad start, huh?” You try to laugh about it but her narrowed eyes and furrowed brows silence you as your throat cracks, swallowing the laughter back in.
“Thin ice.” No shit. The tension is so thick anyone would choke if they walk in at this moment. You nod at her, taking that as your cue to leave. Turning around to walk to the door, she clears her throat to stop you. “Y/L/N.”
“Yes, boss?” You turn your head.
“Is this really what you want?” You have no idea what she’s talking about, but her tone is a little softer, eyes not as harsh when she scans you up and down. “Your Captain came by my office yesterday.” Damn Steve. You knew she’d say no, even if Captain America came barging through her door.
“Oh, yeah, totally. But, you know, I thought you’d say no anyway.” Rubbing the back of your neck is a nervous habit and she knows that. She ends the conversation quickly, clearing her throat again and putting on her mask.
“You’re right.”
“Thought so. See you around, Hill.”
By the time you get into your car your head is pounding. It's definitely earlier than you’re used to being up. Your mind drifts back to Hill when you start driving back to the compound.
Maybe if she had told you how she felt about you sooner, you would have been able to develop something. There were plenty of moments, plenty of ‘almost’s, plenty of opportunities for her to just come out and say the words but she never did. You’re not entirely sure if you had felt the same way at any point, but from the very beginning you had written off your relationship with her as purely sexual and you made it perfectly clear to her too.
Maybe it was your fault for that too. Your fault for ending it before it even began. She’d done nothing wrong other than the few times a tear ran down her cheek when you got out of bed and started getting dressed. She’d only broken down in front of you a couple of times, begging you to stay, but your mind was on going back to the compound hoping Natasha would be up training at the late hours you used to spend with her. She’d let out her frustrations about her nightmares, or lack of sleep, failed missions or fights, sometimes Bruce. And you’d let out your frustrations about her.
Maybe Nat is your fault too. You are technically breaking your own heart by pining over her, looking like a kid who dropped her ice cream on the ground knowing she’ll never get to taste it now. You are a product of your own failure, or however the saying goes. Is that a saying? Well, you’ve said it now. You couldn’t keep Hill, couldn’t get Natasha, and it has distracted you enough for you to be failing missions and letting Steve drop you repeatedly in training. Time off sounds like the best plan; even if Hill doesn’t give you a mission you’ll take some version of a break yourself. A vacation.
You didn’t go back to the compound but decided to drive to the park, grab a couple cheap hotdogs to fill you up, and spend your day watching people from a bench. It helps in building characters and coming up with profiles. Watching how a particular person acts and trying to impersonate that, or watching a couple fight from afar and guessing what they’re fighting about, what kind of people they are, who is hiding something and who is naive and oblivious to what is going on around them. You know that Natasha does the same, imitating the voices on the screen during movie nights.
When you get back home you have bags filled with various sweets, chocolates, and snacks to hide in your room. The lift doors open and you’re met with distant screams and shouts distorted behind a closed door. Making your way to the living space, you see most of the team sitting around awkwardly, no one really paying attention to the forgotten movie on the screen. You don’t spot her red locks.
“What’d I miss?” You plop down on the couch next to Wanda who instantly cuddles up to you, hand reaching around your waist which you thought was endearing until she sneaks into your bag, retrieving a small packet of Skittles. “Treachery.” You mumble to her and she giggles against you, giving you a soft kiss on the cheek.
“Nat and Bruce. They’ve been at it for an hour already.” Steve sighs and rubs the back of his neck. He hates any sort of drama in the group, and he hid it well in saying it’s for the team’s sake but you all know he just cares immensely about everyone. You’ve always admired that about him; he has a huge heart.
“They’re not good for each other.” Tony scoffs, playing a game on his phone. The screams get louder for a second, Bruce’s manlier voice practically howling out.
“Can you not gossip about our friends, please?” Steve scolds Tony with a glare. He pays him no attention.
“It’s the truth. He’s too soft for her. I bet he doesn’t even spank her.” Tony’s the only one who laughs at that. Red flashes in your eyes for a second, imagining Bruce and Nat doing…that, which you often go out of your way to avoid thinking about. Wanda’s hand is in yours in seconds, squeezing.
“You are disgusting.” She spits out at Tony, accent thick. He peaks his head up after that, rolling his eyes hard. The shouting stops in the background and you faintly hear a door slamming shut.
“Lighten up, Witchy. We’re all friends here. I know for a fact that our Black Widow likes it rough.” You clench your jaw at that, standing up and flashing to him in seconds, a hand around his throat. He wheezes out at the contact, pushing on your chest with a hand and wrapping the other around your arm. “What the fuck is your problem?” He chokes out. Steve’s hand is on your arm to pull you off but your anger is fuelling your strength.
“I get that playing the asshole is your thing, but keep those comments to yourself. Disrespect her again and I’ll rip your head off.” You say with venom leaking out of your voice.
“Okay! Okay, relax, calm down. You guys are no fun.” He groans as you begrudgingly let go of his neck and step back, hands in tight fists as you try to calm yourself. When you turn back around to go to your seat you see Natasha’s teary eyes staring at you curiously.
“Uh, you okay?” You ask her, rubbing the back of your neck. Everyone goes silent, watching the two of you interact from across the living space. She nods silently, wiping her cheeks gently before turning around and disappearing down the corridor.
“That was painfully awkward.” Tony mumbles under his breath but knows you’d be able to hear him. You don’t let him get a reaction out of you, mainly because your eyes are still locked on the ghost of her figure in the dark corridor.
“Should I go check up on her?” You ask, looking down at Wanda. She shakes her head and pulls you down to sit back next to her.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, love.” She gently tells you, cuddling into you again, this time with a hand rubbing soft circles on your hip. She calms you instantly and you think it may be her in your head again bringing happy thoughts to the front, or perhaps there’s no other reason for this apart from the fact that Wanda Maximoff may be your guardian angel.
“Oh. Yeah, totally.” You murmur, sinking into the couch with a pout on your lips.
“I’ll go. Tony, you got Bruce.” Steve commands as he stands up. Tony follows him groaning and complaining.
Had they broken up? Or was it just a fight that they’ll get over tomorrow? You don’t want to get your hopes up, and even if you do you’d feel guilty for being happy while she’s heartbroken.
“It’s okay to feel that way,” Wanda’s gentle voice sounds in the air, perfectly timed after your thoughts.
“Freaky.” You say under your breath. She pinches the skin on your hip.
“You’re breaking your own heart, Y/N.” She’s sympathetic, too gentle and you cower away from that, tone turning a little cold.
“I know.” Despite you being closed off, she still pushes for answers.
“Do you? Then why do you still do it?” You sigh in response, looking up at the spotlights on the ceiling, counting them. You can’t answer the question to yourself truthfully either, so you look to philosophy for answers again.
“To be without some of the things you want is an indispensable part of happiness.” Wanda hums in response, buzzing with happiness at the new quote she can store in her mind.
“Is that the same Russell man?” She asks with a curious smile, lifting her head off your chest to look up at you with those wide eyes of hers. You grin back down at her and brush her hair to the side.
“Yes. Yes it is.”
“He sounds very stupid now.” Wanda says with playfully narrowed eyes and pouty lips. You laugh out loud with her, throwing your head back to look up at the lights. Your mind flashes to the singular creaky lightbulb that your nightmares usually start with. Wanda is in there before you can think any further, pushing that memory far to the back of your mind.
“You’re stupid.” You grumble out.
“No, you.” She says teasingly and you gasp and look back down at her.
“See, that right there? What you just said? That’s stupid.”
“I am actually very smart. Want to know why?” She nods her head stubbornly, waiting for your approval.
“Go ahead, Red.”
“You were frowning. And now you’re smiling.” The small grin on your face turns into a full blown smile at that.
“Huh. Guess you may be a genius after all.” You lean down and kiss her forehead which has her beaming up at you.
“We interrupting your little makeout sesh?” Tony’s voice suddenly breaks the moment, pulling a groan out of you. You turn your head to see everyone back, including Nat and Bruce who refuse to look at each other. Nat’s eyes are stuck to yours until Steve’s hand on her lower back pushes her forward. While you all watched some new sci-fi movie Tony picked out, your eyes keep returning to Natasha’s small form curled up on the loveseat alone. She catches you looking and gives you the smallest hint of a smile which you return. She’ll be okay.
“We’ve got a mission for you, Y/L/N. Just like you wanted.” Steve had called you into the main meeting room two days later, waking you up with a cup of hot coffee and a bagel. You had no idea what he wanted, but when he told you, the sour mood you were in for being woken up at 8 a.m. disappeared.
“Wait, really? She approved?” You ask in shock. You couldn’t believe it. Hill had made it so clear that you weren’t ready for deep undercover missions. You’d have to find a way to thank her and see what changed her mind exactly. You thought she hated you, but apparently not. She’d just given you a long break away from Natasha.
“Of course she did. You’re a skilled agent, Y/N. No one doubts that.” Steve praises you with a fatherly grin and you can’t help grinning back. His reassurance did a lot in boosting your confidence.
“Thanks, Cap. So, what is it? Where is it? How long-" You burst into questions, buzzing with excitement. Steve chuckles, picking up the binder on the other desk by the computer.
“Alright, simmer down. We’ll go through the details in a minute. We’re just waiting on Romanoff.” He drops the binder on the big table in the middle of the room and you shoot up in your seat, fixing your posture immediately. Why would he need Natasha here? Would she be your supervisor? Handler? Or does he need her here for another mission?
“Nat? What’s she got to do with it?”
“Isn’t that why you went to see Hill?” Steve asks with a confused expression, matching the furrowed brows on your face.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Morning, Cap. Y/L/N.” Your head snaps to the door at the sound of Nat’s voice. She strolls over to you, planting herself on the chair next to yours.
“Uh, hey. Sleep well?” You ask her as she taps her fingers on the desk impatiently. She turns to you with a tight smile.
“Like a baby.”
“I don’t get that saying. Babies cry all night.”
“I-Well. You have a point there.” She stutters, taking a second and realising you’re right. The tight smile turns into a small real one that’s contagious to you, both of you letting out soft chuckles.
“Enough chit-chat. You both leave on Friday, so you only have three days to form your profiles, study, and build a dynamic together.” Steve commands, opening the binder.
“Both?” You and Nat say simultaneously, heads turning to face Steve.
“You’ll be going undercover as newlyweds in New Orleans. Meet the Rushmans.”