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imhereforbvcky · 6 years ago

Text

Sweet

Summary: (Natasha x shy!reader) Your old friend Sam recruits your help for a low-key work party, ya know, at the Avengers Compound. Of course you’re the type of soft-hearted civvie that could fall head over heels for a particular red-headed assassin while you’re there.

Prompt/Request: This is not exactly the silly drunken interaction @whyhello-there requested… There are drinks and it’s lighthearted, but it’s more a bunch of sober spies being cute than it is drunk shenanigans.

Warnings: A little swearing, FLUFF

Word Count: 2518

“Are you sure it’s okay that I’m here?”

Apprehension rippled through your voice like a current. You’d known Sam Wilson forever. Friends like him didn’t come around every lifetime. Refusal wasn’t even in your vocabulary when he invited you to a work party, but now… Well now, you were nervous.

“It’s just a barbecue.” He gave you that look, the one that’s half a smile and half an exasperated frown. It was the one he gave every time you worried too much. “No one’s makin’ you stay if you don’t have fun.”

“But you are makin’ me go even though I’m nervous,” you smirked, nudging his side with your elbow.

He chuckled, warm and infectious. “And you’ll be glad I did. Trust me.”

“I do,” you grumbled as he shoved the massive tray of food into your arms.

While Tony would be spinning up cocktails, tossing (and dropping) bottles of scotch, Clint planned to grill farm fresh chicken, and Wanda had already set to work stringing up lights and setting out vases of flowers with feather-soft petals. Sam, with a little help from a friend, covered the sides.

As a man of easy smiles and affectionate banter, the list of things Sam Wilson took seriously was not a huge one. But good food? Top of the list.

Your mouth watered just looking at the bright yellow corn on the cob, waiting to be slathered in creamy cheese sauce and a hint of cayenne. The tangy pineapple slices would sweeten with a few minutes on the grill. You’d helped Sam fill jalapenos with cheese before wrapping them in bacon. The peach halves were the hardest to resist, but you couldn’t wait for Sam to serve them up grilled with thin strips of basil and a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

His was a tall order with such an unusual crowd, but on the bright side, it meant that today, he needed a hand. It meant you would meet your heroes. Everybody’s heroes. Real life, living breathing heroes. The Avengers.

Sam placed his palm on the biometric scanner and the panel came to life. After a few chirps from the machine, he pulled the door open and held it for you. The room looked like something out of Architecture Digest. Wide and open, concrete and glass stretched in every direction. The enormous retro furniture seemed lived in and relaxing. The space was austere but you immediately wanted to stretch out and nap in the sunlight pouring through the floor to ceiling windows.

“Woah,” you breathed, mouth still agape.

Lights ticked on as you moved through the space and powered down as you left. There were no clumsy TV remotes on coffee tables, no unsightly cables. It was all efficient, energy saving, and bright.

It absolutely screamed Tony Stark.

“C’mon,” Sam encouraged, taking the tray of food off your flagging hands. “Party’s out back.”

Feeling more out of place by the second, you followed close at his heels. The glass walls extended in every direction, like a thin skin wrapping around the entire building. It reminded you of a snow globe, holding a whole world safe within.

Except for here, at the entrance to the party. Here, the panels had been pushed to the side, like the wall itself had opened up. It felt like standing in the mouth of a great concrete cave, waiting to step into the sunlight of another reality.

It was a different world in more than just appearance. The Avengers lived a life you could only guess at. You watched them through the looking glass, through the lens of television and internet media. Apart from Sam, they were practically a work of fiction to you. Now they were a mere step away.

“Who’s your friend?” The voice drew your attention immediately. Smooth as silk, somehow low and vibrant all at once. The question was for Sam, but it had been aimed in your direction. She was staring at you, smiling, but sharp green eyes roved over every detail. You could feel it like the heat of the sun piercing through a cloud.

Sam called your name and you blinked quickly out of your reverie.

“Quit hiding in the shadows and gimme a hand!” he hollered from half way across the courtyard. He hadn’t stopped at the precipice as you had. He’d crossed it easily because this world of legends was his own.

You nodded, tried to laugh away your silliness, your anxiety, and stepped into the sun. The pair of you set to work about the food like clockwork. While you began unwrapping the corn, Sam had turned aside to light and oil the grill.

When you looked up she was standing there. The one from before. The one you were sure was some sort of enchantress, because once again your tongue stilled and you couldn’t drag your eyes away. Hell, you could barely breathe. Wasn’t breathing supposed to be involuntary?

She smiled again and this time it was warmer, her eyes were softer as she watched you for a moment before they flickered to the tray in front of you. You, however, couldn’t look away from her face long enough to see her reach for one of the peach slices.

“Uht-uh! You better not!” Sam scolded from your side as he returned from the grill for the corn.

She laughed and held up her hands in surrender.

“Some spy,” he teased her with a wink before turning back to the grill.

“I almost lost a finger trying to snag one earlier,” you admitted, surprised at your own voice.

“I think he’s hangry.” She said it loud enough for you to know it was more for Sam’s benefit. She was good at that. Saying things without really saying them at all. She could mold and move a conversation in the subtlest ways. You could see immediately why she was so good at her job.

“No, you deserved it,” Sam complained. “You both know there’s snitchin’ in my kitchen.”

She smiled at you and rolled her eyes. You felt that heat again as they slid back to you, skimming over your figure, a little more slowly this time. A little less sharp and a little more intrigued.

It seemed desperately far away when you heard Sam introduce you, give your name. “She’s an old friend,” he said. Next he pointed with his tongs to the woman whose gaze remained steady as ever on you. You hadn’t dared to even swallow. “And this is—“

“I know,” you blurted. The tension in your gut had simmered to a rippling boil and burst out of you with nervous energy. “I-I know who you are.”

She never faltered, but you noticed her posture stiffen slightly, and she gave the tiniest nod. The sun glinted in her red hair when she did, a shimmer of copper light was all that gave the motion away.

“But now that I’m talking, I’ve realized I should have just kept my mouth shut because I have no idea what to call you,” you laughed, tight and uncertain.

Her lips flinched, it was the only notice that she’d even heard you. If you weren’t so anxious, so instantly head over heels, you’d have recognized it for what it was: she was stifling a laugh, and only just managing it.

“And god, you are so impressive. I knew you were beautiful from TV and everything but I-I’m… oh my god I need to stop talking!” You looked over at Sam for help. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye with raised eyebrows and a laugh ready to erupt. But he offered no lifeline.

You jumped when warm soft hands closed around one of your own. Hers. Gentle and adept, soft. Skilled hands, not workman’s hands.

“I’m Natalia.” That damn smile again and you were lost. “But friends call me Natasha.” You nodded. “Good friends call me Nat.”

“And what should I--?”

“Hey Nat! You’re up!” Clint called from the other side of the open courtyard.

She looked over her shoulder and nodded.

“Hey, Happy Feet! You want in?” Tony called to Sam, holding up a handful of darts beside Barton. “I need a partner.”

“Penguins don’t even fly, Tony,” Rhodes lamented from the pool.

Sam tipped his beer bottle towards Rhodes in agreement, before glancing at you and Natasha, a sly grin drawing out the dimples in his cheeks. “I’ve got my hands full with these jalapeno poppers, but uh… you get my buddy here a drink and I bet she’ll play.”

“Okay, dear, we are down by a metric fuckton and I have a lot riding on this game,” Tony explained by way of pep talk. The world’s worst pep talk. “So if you could maybe make a bullseye on this shot, and save my dignity, I would be forever in your debt.”

“Tony,” Natasha drawled, half a reprimand. “You’re scaring her.”

“I-no. No pressure,” he smiled, laughing now as he threw an arm over your shoulder. You knew he was kidding. Mostly. “But don’t embarrass me in front of the super spies.”

With a sip of your drink for courage, and a deep breath for focus, you stepped up to the line and made aim.

It was the worst shot of your life.

The dart didn’t even make the board. It clattered off the concrete behind the target and sunk into the dirt. The little red tip waved up at you derisively.

Tony sighed and Clint whooped. You heard none of it because Natasha’s hand had begun to slide down your arm and wrap around your own.

“Damn it!” Tony cursed.

“Loser makes the next round,” Natasha explained beside you, tipping her empty glass. She said it so softly you knew without turning your head that she must be close, coiling around you and humming into the shell of your ear. You wanted to curl up against the warmth of her body, now pressed against your arm. “C’mon I’ll help you carry them.”

“Bet’s a bet, man!” Clint prodded behind you as you walked toward the bar.

“FRIDAY?” Tony called with the distinctive groan of defeat.

“Yes, Boss?”

“Change all my access codes to Tony Stank.”

Natasha laughed and glanced over her shoulder, allowing herself a moment to revel in her victory. It was a light breeze on your shoulder, a kiss of her warm breath as she turned her head. Her smile beamed buoyant and luminous. All the sharp edges chased away by the light of idle and pleasant company. Of trust and love. Family.

You’d always loved and been drawn to people who laughed easily, like Sam. But you’d never quite appreciated it like this. To hear it so freely given from someone so noticeably cautious with their everything, was truly captivating. You regarded it like a gift, a treasure, a breakable crown laid in your hands. You wouldn’t waste it or break it.

“So what will you make us?” she asked.

You hadn’t even noticed you’d reached the bar already.

“Uhm. I could make something with peaches?” you suggested, remembering.

“Sounds sweet.” Her eyebrow perked up and she leaned forward on her elbow, watching with mild interest as you got to work. “Are you as good with those ingredients as Sam?”

The laugh came at once. It was loud and mortifying before you quickly covered your mouth, eyes wide. She seemed to enjoy it though. She laughed with you; another gift.

You’d already lost count of how many ounces of vodka you’d poured into one of the glasses. So, no. Definitely not as good as Sam.

“No,” you finally managed. “Not even close. But I can follow direction.”

“So you’re sweet too,” she mused, eyes locked on her fingertips fiddling with the hem of your skirt.

She never touched you, never moved an inch closer, but you could feel the want of it like a match held an inch away from your skin. Like a heat arcing from her skin to yours. Instead she waited, measuring the breaths before you took half a step closer. And another, until you were close enough that her knuckles brushed against the smooth skin of your thigh.

“Am I?” you asked, hardly more than a whisper. It was a nonsensical question, but the sensible part of your brain had short-circuited the moment you felt her sun-warmed skin.

She nodded, slow and easy. The pads of her fingers traced the edge of your jaw. “You’re soft,” she murmured with a lazy smile.

“So are you,” you muttered, abandoning the vodka to entangle your fingers with hers, the ones that had stilled on the hem of your skirt.

A small non-committal laugh passed her lips. Softness was not a word often used to describe the Black Widow. At least, not in the way she had adorned you with it.

Instead of arguing this, she focused on the ways you were soft: soft skin beneath her palm, soft breath tickling her lips, soft nervous smiles, timid and kind. Natasha liked soft things. They were rare in her world and all the more beautiful for it.

Your eyes fluttered closed the moment she began to lean forward. Her kiss was soft and warm. Lips gently molded against yours, first your upper lip, twice, then the bottom. She didn’t probe or push, and neither did you. There was no expectation or demand, only an indefinable want simmering beneath your skin and a slow quiet affinity glowing in your eyes and hers.

“Gentle things are scarce around here,” she murmured, tracing your lips with her thumb. “I hope you won’t be, милая.”

The bright green trees and lush rolling hills of upstate New York passed by the window in a blur. It wasn’t quite regret that tugged at your spine, wound around your gut and squeezed your lungs until you heaved a long, deep sigh. No, not regret at all.

It was a longing, a sentimentality for something you’d only known for a brief moment. You shook your head and chuckled at yourself, at your own absurdity. How could one be sentimental for a time only just passed?

Sam glanced over at you from the driver’s side, fully aware that you hadn’t heard a word he’d said for the past twenty minutes. You’d walked out of that compound with stars in your eyes, and now you were giggling at nothing.

“So then I rode a hippo up Mount Everest and discovered there’s a cave up there with a cyclops named Hank. Hank makes a mean margarita.”

“Hmm sounds good,” you agreed absently. You probably would have agreed to anything. Probably already had. “Hey Sam-I-am?”

“What?” He glanced over at you with a warm grin. You always loved the way the apples of his cheeks swelled and his eyes shone when he was holding back a laugh. A real friend could make you laugh with just a look.

Or a word. And boy, did Sam laugh when you spoke next.

“I think I’m in love.”

“Only someone as soft as you could fall so hard, so fast.”

Will reblog with tags shortly.

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader fluff #black widow x reader #black widow x reader fluff #natasha fanfic #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow fanfic #shy reader #natasha x shy!reader

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