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Back in the field. Back in the… Fury’s up to something. I don’t have time to work it all out but he’s up to something and I’m back in the field. With Natasha. Strike Team Delta.
“Shut up and focus, Maria.” She sighed and continued to dig her way through the mission briefing. Plus all the recon notes from one of the bloodhound agents doing setup for them. Also the various other documents from the local police and fire departments. Just a little light reading to go with her operations and logistics planning. No sweat. She could crank it all out in a few hours. Sleep is a crutch.
As a former intelligence officer, she wasn’t unused to slogging through intel reports, but it was still her least favorite part of the job. It did, however, directly lead to operations planning and she loved that part. Not as much fun as a good interrogation, it never was, but she knew she was a damned good tactician.
She didn’t get head-hunted out of the Marines just for saving Fury’s life.
A knock on her door pulled her away from her impressive stack of reading material. She set aside the chicken-scratched police report she’d been reading when she saw Captain America himself filling out her office doorway.
“Captain,” she said and raised an eyebrow. Seeing Steve Rogers out of his ridiculous star-spangled hero costume was always odd. Without the trappings of Old Glory, he very much looked like the every man, the boy next door who grew up to be a Calvin Klein model. Though she did argue with Natasha that Steve would always be too clean-cut - he looked like a soldier, no matter the outfit. It was in his body language, his perfectly shaved jaw, and the all-too-familiar “thousand-yard-stare” he sometimes slipped into.
Of course, they also argued about Steve because Maria found his boy-scout attitude to be grating and Nat thought it was funny. She could get away with teasing Captain Awesome, but Maria could not. Yet.
Nat did encourage her to try and find common ground. Something about them being very similar and they’d probably be best friends.
Maria wisely did not take the bet offered. She didn’t want to do Natasha’s laundry for a year, hear ‘I told you so’ smugly whispered or shouted at her, or admit that Nat was probably right. If she and the ever-constipated-looking Captain were so similar, what did that say about her?
She would try though. For Natasha. Because she also knew that Nat wanted her to have more friends she could relate to.
Even if that friend happened to be Captain fucking America.
He didn’t have the thousand-yard-stare on as he stepped into her office - just his other go-to facial expression. Earnest and strangely flat at the same time.
At least he wasn’t wincing.
“Ma’am,” he said and pulled his hands out of the pockets of his leather jacket.
She just caught a twitch in his right hand when he stopped in front of her desk. Probably thinking about saluting. I can work with this. I guess. I suppose I have to. She offered him a placid smile and gestured at one of the chairs. “Have a seat. How can I help you?”
“I had a few questions, ma’am, if you have time. I asked Director Fury and he said to talk to the team leader.” He folded himself into the chair and put his hands on his thighs. His back remained straight, his shoulders stiff, eyes focused on her face.
Alright, now it’s weird.
Maria sighed. “You don’t have to sit at the position of attention. I’m not a Major anymore and this is SHIELD, not the military, so you can also drop the ‘ma’am’. Though I do appreciate the bearing.”
He blinked those big blue eyes at her. “You served? As an officer?”
She leaned back in her very cushy executive chair and nodded. “Major Hill, United States Marine Corps. Counter Intelligence.”
“Is that why SHIELD brought you in?” He leaned forward, a little more natural slouch in his shoulders.
“Among other things,” she said with a shrug. “But that’s a long bit of backstory and we would need a lot of beer to get to where I’d want to tell it.”
“I understand.” Steve nodded. “So, you outrank me.”
“Twice over, I’m afraid,” she said, adding a cheeky smirk so he would catch on to her attempt at teasing him.
It worked. He smiled back and more tension rolled out of him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“As well you should.” Her phone went off on her desk. A text notification. “Excuse me one second, I apologize.”
She scooped up the device and fought to keep her expression neutral as she read the message.
Natalia: My room or yours? ;)
“I’m sorry,” she said again and waved the phone. “Let me just respond to this.”
Steve waved back. “I’m in no rush, I know you’re busy.”
She tapped out a reply.
Hill: Which one are you already in?
“How would you like to be addressed, by the way?” she asked and set her phone back down. Natasha could reply swiftly and enthusiastically or take several hours to respond. It was always a toss-up. Depended on the day and the mood she was in - or if business or Barton were involved. She’d been quiet and focused when they left the briefing room and parted ways. Maria off to work and Nat sneaking off with Barton to get into some kind of trouble. Probably.
Thus, she wasn’t sure when Natasha might text her back.
“Steve’s fine… or Rogers?”
Maria smiled again. With teeth that time. “A little more familiar for us grunts but straddling the line between formal and informal for everyone else. I can work with that. You can call me Hill if you’d like.”
Look at that, Nat, I’m making progress.
Still not going to ever admit he’s my friend if we get to that. Definitely not giving him the coveted best friend title. We’re crusty veterans, not school children.
Her phone pinged again.
Natalia: Neither yet. Barton and I made breakfast. I have a muffin for you
“It’s not going to stop, is it?” Steve shook his head with a small smile. “Would you like me to come back later?”
No, we’re making progress.
“No, if we waited for a time my phone wasn’t going off we’d never speak. I apologize again.” She sighed. “If you don’t mind me being rude I can multitask with you and answer these texts.”
“I don’t mind, I just don’t want to keep you.”
“It’s not a problem, Rogers. Hold on another second.”
Hill: … you made me a muffin? An edible muffin?
Natalia: Rude! I can make muffins, Maria. Yes, it’s edible and it’s banana chocolate chip.
Hill: My favorite. Thank you, sounds fantastic. Do you have a room preference?
Natalia: The one with you in it.
Hill: Mine it is. Bed’s bigger.
Natalia: Hurry up. You need to sleep, Masha.
Hill: Working on it.
“There.” She muted her phone and put it face down on her desk, once more. “I take it you have questions about the op?”
“I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a jerk,” Steve said, blushing an adorably small but noticeable amount. “I was wondering why I’m not lead on this?”
“Ah, and why Fury decided to put me in charge instead?” she asked and tilted her head. You and me both. “Especially considering my position as Deputy Director and the Commander of the Helicarrier? Fair question, actually. Here’s what I’ve got for you. This mission, the missions you’ll be sent on for SHIELD, they’re different from leading the Avengers. We’re a different animal here. My understanding is that we’re training you for some more covert, spy-type work. Less military style. Then SHIELD can partner you with Romanoff in the future without including our more… nuclear option assets.”
“Like Thor and Dr. Banner.” Steve’s blush turned an even darker shade of pink. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable, that’s not why I - I hope I didn’t offend you. I was just curious.”
“And Fury thought it would be funny to send you to me instead of answering himself,” Maria said with a shrug. Nick and Natasha both. I’m going to have to get them back somehow. “You’ll get used to the spy humor around here. They like to play fuck-fuck games and it’s different from what you’re used to.”
“It’s definitely something,” he said with a sigh. “I’m not even going undercover though, so what exactly am I being trained in?”
“Observation is a big deal. You’re shadowing Barton on this, learning how we operate. This is more scalpel work and less chainsaw. I’m sure you’ll also be shadowing me at some point as well. You’ll pick it up fast, but it does take learning.” Her phone buzzed against the polished wood of her desk. She fought the urge to roll her eyes and snatched up the noisy thing.
Another text from Nat.
Natalia: Did you remember to pack it?
Maria knew exactly what Natasha was asking about and couldn’t help smirking to herself as she decided to poke Nat’s buttons. Just a bit. It was only fair.
Hill: Pack what?
“I’ll be your handler once this learning period is over,” she said to Steve. This time she put her phone in her lap so at least it would be less loud when Natasha texted back. “Basically, I’m grooming you over the next few missions assigned to Strike Team Delta. Then I’ll phase out, stick back in command, and it’ll be up to you on the ground.”
“I’m not used to having a… handler,” he said and pulled that constipated expression.
“It’s the same as having a commanding officer, except I’m a lot more helpful.” She grinned at him, pleased when he returned it. Look at us building rapport. The peanut gallery will be delighted. “I give the briefings, handle logistics, plan with your input, and when you’re on the ground I’m in the command center like your guardian angel with a rocket launcher.”
“And if I disagree with your calls?”
Bzz bzz.
Natalia: You didn’t :(
“You might and we might even fight about it, but I think I can earn your trust over these next few missions. If you’ll let me.” She reached out and patted the thick stack of paperwork on her desk. “This will be a good op for us all to start building that trust. It’s not just me you’ll be working with, Romanoff and Barton are their own bag of crazy on the good days.”
Bzz bzz.
Natalia: I need it. You and it. It doesn’t work without you!
“I noticed that during New York,” he said and stood from his chair. “Thank you for taking the time to answer my questions. I’ll let you get back to it.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning for my brief and wheels-up,” she said. “If I don’t see you before that.”
“0600,” he said and stood there all awkward and fidgety before turning and walking out of her office.
She allowed herself a second to laugh at him, once she was sure he was out of earshot. At least as long as she thought it might take for him to be out of hearing range. She hadn’t finished her reading on his serum abilities yet.
“Alright, back to Nat.”
Hill: Pretty sure it works just fine solo. You sure it’s my magic that makes it work? Maybe you should be the one to pack it so it doesn’t get forgotten.
Natalia: You like that it’s a you thing. I know you do. And since it’s very much a you thing it’s your responsibility to pack it!
Natalia: Plus they never search your bags. They always search mine.
Maria shook her head and reached under her desk for her messenger bag. She didn’t like taking files out of her office, but it was time to go. Otherwise, a very crabby Black Widow was going to show up and drag her out.
And maybe they’d both been up too long after a short night’s sleep that had been interrupted by work. She could feel the heaviness in her eyelids, despite the three cups of coffee so dark it was chewy.
She finished packing the paperwork and her laptop, then grabbed her phone.
Hill: Maybe you should pack fewer pointy objects and they’d stop searching you.
Natalia: No.
Natalia: You’re supposed to be the responsible one. Can you go home and get it?
A stupid smile worked its way across Maria’s face and her muscles went slack. She shook her head, knowing she was a complete goner and absolute fool that would run home if Natasha really needed her to.
Fortunately, she was the responsible one and no return trip to the mainland was necessary.
Hill: I packed it. I was teasing you. You could get it out and warm it up?
Natalia: Maybe I will. Hurry up. I’m waiting.
Maria did hurry. She slung her bag, locked up her office, and moved for the elevator with a bounce in her step. A familiar happy flutter took up residence in her belly as she pressed the button for her deck. No other agents crammed in with her, allowing her to relax more and more. By the time the elevator stopped and she stepped off onto her deck she was more Maria and far less Commander Hill.
She pressed her pin code into her door and stepped inside. Her quarters weren’t much in comparison to her loft, certainly, it missed most of the homey comforts. She had a desk built into one wall, a queen-sized bed instead of the full-sized one Natasha had, a wall of shelves, drawers, and closet space. Better than anything she had while on ship in the Marines, for sure. Her Commander’s Quarters were downright luxurious in comparison to a narrow bunk, trunk, and shared desk. She even rated a couch and bolted-down metal “coffee table” for work and a built-in bookshelf above the bed.
“Honey, I’m home,” she called and dropped her messenger bag on the table.
Natasha stuck her head around the en-suite bathroom - the head, as Maria would always think of it - another perk of being in her quarters instead of Natasha’s. No shared bathroom. “There you are.”
“Here I am.” She sighed and pulled her pistol from its holster, set it down on the table to go in the safe later, then went to work on her belt and holster, doing her best to hide a wince when her fingers failed to move as efficiently as she’d like. Her knuckles were swollen, again, and the scars across her hands ached more noticeably when she wasn’t actively ignoring the pain in favor of her work ethic.
“We need toothpaste,” Natasha said. She stepped in close, pushed Maria’s hands away, and quickly un-did the various buckles for Maria. “Your hands are hurting.”
“It’s the cold,” Maria said, sighing again. She let Natasha do the hard work of buckles and buttons and massaged the back of her right hand. Her belt and thigh holster came free. She cocked her head and tugged at the hem of Natasha’s baggy and worn white tee. So old it was almost transparent and the once dark navy blue rings around the neck and sleeves were closer to purple. She could just see the Naval Academy crest over the left breast, faded almost to obscurity. The navy sweatpants were still holding together, she could actually read the USNA lettering on the thigh and the Annapolis underneath. “Did you steal all of my Academy PT gear?”
“Yes, but I left most of your Corps stuff alone. Those short shorts look better on you.” Nat shook her head and pointed at the bed. “Sit down, Marine. You’re a mess.”
“Am not.” Maria did sit, or more like flop, on the springy mattress. Their mattress at home was softer, more like a cushy cloud. Natasha would sleep in a pile of pillows if given the chance, and Maria made a mental note to see if she could sneak a pillow top on board. “Should I buy you some of your own Corps gear for Christmas?”
How about a sticker that says “proud wife of a Marine Corps veteran”? That could look pretty epic on the Corvette.
“It’s not as fun as thieving yours, but I wouldn’t say no,” Natasha said. She went to work on Maria’s boots, untying the laces and stripping them off Maria’s tired feet. Her fingers dug into Maria’s heels and pulled down the bottom of her feet, one after the other.
“If you don’t stop that I’m going to fall asleep.” Maria blinked her eyes open wide and stared down her body at her grinning girlfriend.
“Oh no.” Nat moved away to slap the lights off, leaving only the buttery glow of the strip of emergency lights around the room on. “Get that uniform off.”
“Bossy,” she said and sat up to do as ordered. She’d made the executive decision to re-work the SHIELD uniforms away from the jumpsuit and into the much more functional pants, shirt, and jacket set-up. One, it looked better, and two it was far more practical and so much easier to remove. She didn’t have to unzip the whole getup for restroom breaks anymore, and that alone would have been worth the change.
She kicked off her pants, shucked the jacket, and left her black t-shirt on. It took her an extra few seconds to get her bra unclasped and snaked off without removing her shirt, but she’d had enough practice to get it done. Just in time to see Nat kick her duffle bag away and turn around with a triumphant noise.
“I told you I didn’t forget it,” she said and dropped her bra onto the floor with the rest of her clothes.
“I never doubted you.” Natasha unfurled the ridiculously thick, sherpa-lined, blood-red blankie with a bright grin. Then wadded it back up and stuffed her face into the fleecy fabric for a quick cuddle before reappearing with a softer expression. Perhaps a little ‘lovesick’. “Under the blankets you go, Masha.”
Maria smiled, scooted, and squirmed her way under the white sheet and black comforter. She reached behind her head and undid her bun, letting her hair free and relieving some tension at the back of her skull. Her head sank deep into her pillow and she realized just how tired she actually was.
Nat threw the blanket across the bed, and Maria, and climbed in herself. She shuffled around, burrowing into the blankets, and rearranging things until she was happy. Her back pressed up against Maria’s side.
Maria hummed and turned over to assume the correct position before Nat took it upon herself to move her. She pulled Natasha in snugly, and dropped a lingering kiss into the crook of Nat’s neck, earning herself a contented sigh that re-activated the resident butterflies in her belly.
“What do you want to watch?” Nat asked as she opened up her laptop.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to stay awake long,” Maria said. She wrapped her arms around Natasha’s waist and gave her a squeeze. “Sorry, I’m more tired than I thought.”
“You work too much,” Natasha said and clacked away at the keyboard, bringing up one of her gazillion streaming sites. “Don’t fall asleep on my head again.”
“That happened one time.” Maria groaned and wriggled around some more to find an appropriate ‘watching a show with you but gonna fall asleep’ position. “This doesn’t work spooning, why do we keep trying?”
Nat grumbled but rotated onto her back so Maria could use her shoulder as a pillow but also continue to hold onto her for mandatory snuggle time. “Suggested viewing?”
“How about something mundane, chill but funny? And nothing I’m going to get in trouble for missing a chunk of.”
“Archer?”
“Too much funny, not enough chill,” Maria said. She was already struggling to keep her eyes open, far too warm and comfortable.
Natasha pulled the woobie blanket around them tighter. “Got it. Parks and Rec?”
“That’ll work.”
As soon as the show started up Natasha pushed away the laptop and reached for Maria’s hands. She cradled Maria’s dominant hand between hers in her usual ritual, warming Maria’s hands up first before she went to work. Her thumbs slowly worked against Maria’s palm with gentle pressure, rubbing lightly and working out the tension. Once she was satisfied, Nat moved on to the fingers, massaging each individually, then the back of the hand. Methodical, as always.
The relief was immediate and bone-meltingly good. With one hand done Nat switched to the other and Maria was for sure a goner. She huffed and tried her damndest to keep her eyes open, to make it at least halfway through an episode before…
“Go to sleep, babe. I’ll wake you up in a couple of hours.”
“I have to work,” Maria said, slurring everything together. “And my weapon - needs to - shit that’s so good - I forgot to put the pistol away.”
“It’ll be okay for a bit. Just go to sleep.”
“You’re the best damn sleep aid on the market. I might have to keep you. Think I’m addicted.” She gave in, settling deep against Natasha. The show droned on in the background, punctuated by the steady sounds and feel of Nat’s breathing pattern, the thump of her heart under Maria’s ear.
“Feeling’s mutual,” Nat said. “Love you.”
“Love you,” Maria muttered as sleep sucked her down deeper into the mattress.
I really, really need to get that ring and figure out this proposal thing, she thought, sluggish and clinging to the edge of consciousness. Just gotta make it through this mission first. Just gotta…