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Maybe you weren’t cut out for this, you thought forlornly as you stared at the burnt toast in front of you. It was as you had previously suspected- your calling wasn’t cooking, or anything to do in the kitchen. Sighing, you picked up the burnt bread, placing it on the pile of blackened slices that rose past your shoulder. You folded your arms on the countertop and dramatically groaned as you placed your head on them. No edible breakfast in your apartment meant going out for food. In public. Where people are. Dragging yourself to your closet, you contemplated just ordering breakfast to be delivered. Finally deciding on a comfortable sweater and shorts, you grabbed your keys and wallet, looked once in the mirror to fix your hair and to make sure no mascara was crusted under your eyes, and you confidently strode out your door. And by confident, you looked straight at the ground, hunching over so you wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone.
The scent of bacon wafted through the air as you walked down the street towards your favorite diner. (It happened to be the very place people once saw Black Widow, former Captain America, and Professor Hulk chatting away while eating ginormous portions of scrambled eggs). As you walked in the doorway, your body relaxed as you saw barely anyone sitting inside. Just a brunette and her dog in one corner, along with a fierce looking red head wearing sunglasses and a blonde wearing oversize flannel in the booth behind the dog-girl.
“Hey, [name]!” Marcy, the waitress, greeted you, a friendly smile on her red painted lips, “you burnt a whole loaf again, didn’t you?” Sheepishly, you nodded, brushing off some crumbs that had ended up on your sweater. Marcy kissed her teeth, laughing to herself.
“You want the normal today or are you up for trying something new-”
“I’ll have my regular, thanks Marcy.” You cut in quickly, noticing the other patron, the blonde-flannel girl, staring at you. You awkwardly smiled at her before looking away, acting completely enchanted by the white walls of the dinner. Marcy chuckled before leaving to grab your order. You sat in a booth adjacent to the red-head and the blonde, tapping your fingers against the table, counting the seconds. You new the exact time it would take for Marcy to bring you your order. Four minutes, twenty-three seconds until you had a delicious breakfast burrito in your hands, bacon pouring out the sides. You could feel the other three girls occasionally look over at you and something felt off. Like the air was suspenseful, like you weren’t supposed to be in the diner. But you shook your head, leave it to your nerves to convince you a situation wasn’t as it seemed. To calm yourself even more, you took a deep breath. Except, your lungs had decided to take a break at that moment. You choked on air, the seconds feeling like minutes as you started coughing repeatedly. You felt your face heat up as all three women looked over at you. Turning your head towards the wall and blocking them out with your hand, you tried to continue your dying in a semi-embarrassment free environment.
“Do you want some water?” a Russian accented voice, concerned but also amused, asked from the direction of the others. You turned, hesitant, to see the blonde holding up a bottle of water. Weighing your options, you decided to not die today and stood up, crossing the room to the water. The blonde handed it to you. You croaked out a thanks before opening the bottle and going to pour some of the liquid into your mouth. The blonde furrowed her eyebrows for split second before trying to grab the bottle out of your hands. But it was too late. You had already taken a giant gulp.
A giant gulp of nice,
cool,
…vodka?!
The surprise of having vodka at 10 in the morning, along with the familiar burn, caused you to spit out the alcohol. On to the red head.
“какого хрена!” she cursed, and her voice sounded vaguely familiar. When she ripped off her sunglasses to wipe them off and examine her now vodka covered jacket, you knew you were screwed.
Holy shit, your mind generously provided.
Holy shit
Holy sHIT
You just spit vodka all over the Black Widow.
Before you could start apologizing and begging for your life to be spared, the blonde started laughing hysterically.
“Oh that was funny, that was hilarious- my morning is so much better now, thank you,” she turned towards you, handing you another water bottle, “don’t worry, this one is water. I accidentally gave you the wrong one.”
“Why do you have a bottle full of vodka?” the voice of the brunette snapped you out of your haze.
“Kate Bishop, what my bottles have in them do not concern you, now eat your pancakes,” the blonde turned towards you, an apologetic smile on her face, though you didn’t know why she looked sorry, “Sorry about her, she’s my chaperone to make sure I don’t go stabby-stabby on her mentor or the general public. Self-appointed of course.” You opened the water bottle, sniffed it, and took a tiny sip. Water. In a few second, the water bottle was empty.
“Wow, you were thirsty! Here, sit with us, I want to know the person who spit vodka over my dear sister.” Sister? Oh you were screwed.
“I’m Yelena. You’re [name], right? I heard the nice waitress- Marcy? say it as you walked in.” You nodded, your nerves once again on fire as you looked everywhere but the assassin who was probably coming up with multiple different ways to kill you and dispose of your body.
“I’m new to New York, are you new? Don’t answer, it doesn’t matter. My sister, and lovely chaperone over there, have told me to make friends. You look like you need a friend. Like really bad. I would make the best of friend, right Kate?” The brunette sighed before scooting in the booth, next to Natasha. She nodded as answer to Yelena’s question, smiling at you.
“Kate.” She introduced herself, holding out her hand. You shook it, a slight heat overtaking your cheeks.
“Why did you need to introduce yourself? I already told her who you are- wait!” Yelena clapped her hands together loudly, before grabbing your arm and Natasha’s arm, “What is it that westerners do with their friends on those tv shows? Oh! Game night! We should do game night!” You smiled softly at the girls excitement but felt a pit weighing in your stomach. Yelena noticed.
“Are you okay? I’m sorry if I am making you uncomfortable-”
“No, no, you’re fine! It’s just, we just met and what if after we hang out, you don’t want to be my friend or-”
“[Name]. You spit vodka all over an Avenger. I think we should definitely hang out.” Kate said, smiling at you. Yelena nodded rapidly.
“Yes. I’ve already decided I am going to be your best friend and there is nothing you can do about it!” She sang playfully, making you giggle. Natasha huffed out a chuckle, causing you to stiffen. You had almost forgotten about the Avenger. Swallowing, you made eye contact with the Black Widow.
“I am really sorr-” Natasha held up a hand, cutting you off.
“I don’t blame you, I blame my little sister,” Yelena had the decency to gulp and shift in her seat, “I think game night would be fun. Kate can invite Clint and I could invite Wilson and Barnes.” Your mind was going on overdrive. You were possibly going to hang out with not one, not two, but four Avengers. You thought you were going to faint.
Marcy walked out with your burrito. A smug smile painted her lips and you realized she had taken longer to make your order. Handing you the tortilla wrapped heaven, she whispered in your ear.
“Friends would do you some good, sweetheart.” you smiled at her as she walked back to take the order of someone who had just walked in.
“So, [Name], since you are my best friend, what should we do today before game night?” Yelena asked, genuine excitement lighting up her face. Smiling, you realized that this brand new, unexpected, friendship might be just what you needed.