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“It’s not my fault.” You shrugged and walked away, leaving an unusually stunned Natasha Romanoff standing in the living room.
You had planned a whole evening to finally spend together. Starting with dinner, then dessert and a movie. It had been difficult trying to work your relationship around her work schedule, which didn’t have a schedule to begin with.
Being an Avenger was taxing. Being an Avenger AND Fury’s personal spy even more. You understood that. You knew what you were getting into when you decided to give the relationship a try. Natasha was apprehensive about it at first, claiming it would make you drift apart, but your stubbornness was what made her give it a try as well. It was one of the many things she admired and loved about you.
You weren’t an Avenger. You didn’t even work in anything remotely close to the Avengers, SHIELD or any of the organizations affiliated with them. You were just a simple beautician, working at a spa clinic in Manhattan, which is where you had met your current girlfriend.
When you noticed the two of you drifting apart, you decided to take things into your own hands and fight for what the two of you had. Or rather, what you hoped you still had. You knew it was a possibility Natasha would be late for dinner, which wasn’t uncommon and you didn’t mind it. As long as she came home safe and sound. But that evening, not only did she come home late, she had also brought someone along. Two of her teammates, neither of whom you had personally met before. Well, one of them you had seen on TV a few times. Steve Rogers, aka Captain America. On screen he looked like a decent guy. In person? If you weren’t sure you’re gay you probably would have had hearts for eyes the instant he set foot into your apartment.
The other guy, Sam Wilson. Again, you would have fallen for him if you hadn’t already crash landed for Natasha. From what Natasha had told you about him in the past, Sam seemed cool, reserved, though a bit less than the captain. Good sense of humour and easy to talk to. Though you didn’t get to experience those traits that evening.
You had to bite your cheek as to not insult your guests when they arrived. Though the looks you sent your girlfriend when she gaped at you as you stood in the living room with nothing on but lacy, quite revealing underwear and stilettos was an indication that you did not appreciate the fact she hadn’t informed you beforehand about the guests she was bringing along.
After the initial shock, the two men averted their gazes, looking everywhere around the room but in your direction. You appreciated that, but were inwardly fuming. You didn’t even have the fine, toned body Natasha had. Yours included love handles and a bit of a tummy, even. You didn’t mind it per se and Natasha was obsessed with you. So it was all good. But you were definitely not okay with showing your love handles to the public, let alone your girlfriend’s co-workers.
To save your dignity in any way possible. You shrugged. “It’s not my fault.” You announced, crossing your arms and walking away with your head held high. An attempt to cover the fact that you were trembling with embarrassment. Meeting Captain America and the Falcon for the first time and you did it in the special underwear reserved only for your girlfriend’s eyes.
You closed the door to your bedroom with a soft click. Natasha sighed and brought her palm to her forehead. She knew she messed up big time.
“I think we better go.” Steve said, looking at Natasha with sympathy.
“Yeah, you’ve got some shit to fix there.” Sam grinned, giving her shoulder a pat.
“I’m really sorry guys. I forgot we had a thing for tonight.” She said, smiling apologetically.
“It’s okay. It makes me feel good that even women get to fuck up sometimes. Not all hope is lost!” Sam said as he made his way to the door.
“Where would you stay?” She asked.
“There’s plenty of places to lay low for a bit. You go fix your evening.” Steve gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Natasha nodded. After the men were gone, she closed the door and made her way to the bedroom, where she had some explaining and a lot of apologizing to do.