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Natasha sighs, glancing at her reflection in the foggy mirror. She’s just finished showering, droplets of water clinging to her damp skin as she wraps a towel around her chest. Her hair hangs in dripping curtains around her face, and the lack of blonde that the vibrant red colour used to fade into catches her off guard for a moment. Although her partner had so lovingly kept up his end of their bargain, she’d grown tired of the blond and had cut it all off, the ends of her hair now kissing her collarbones. It felt strangely final, watching the physical remnants of her pre-death life falling to the ground around her feet, making way for growth in a new era. It was all quite poetic.
Pulling herself away from her musing, she grabs her crutches and slowly makes her way into the bedroom. Her dress for the night's event is already laid out on the bed, and she wastes no time shimmying into the gown before shouting for her partner to come fasten it. While she waits, she slips into her KAFO, its familiar weight settling around her leg as she snaps the buckles into place and gives them a tightening yank before sliding her considerably smaller knee brace into place on her opposite leg.
She’s found she’s able to traverse short distances throughout her house sans splints so long as she has her crutches and keeps her weight off her weaker right side. However, her body isn’t always reliable anymore, so she usually wears them for her own safety anyway. (It also has nothing to do with Steve and his unimpressed if-you-fall-it’s-on-you face. Absolutely nothing at all.)
And if she’s learnt anything from the numerous galas and benefits she’s attended throughout her life, it’s that she’ll be on her feet all night, talking to strangers and putting herself on display, so she needs to put her best foot forwards (metaphorically of course, she’s only got one good foot and she needs it for balance) and prepare for the onslaught of schmoozy bullshit she’s about to endure.
Steve walks into the room as she adjusts the skirts of her dress, and she can practically see the stars in his eyes as he takes in her ensemble. She’d picked it to complement his suit, her corset bodice a deep maroon to match his evening’s suit, and the rest of the flowing dress a mid-grey tone. His eyes narrow in appreciation as they land on the high slit in the gown, her KAFO clad leg peeking proudly through the opening of the skirts. It’s a welcome coincidence that the splint matches their colour choices of the night.
She suppresses a small smile as she watches him take her in, before prompting him to fasten the back of her gown again.
Steve shifts her hair off of her neck, the damp tendrils sticking to his fingers in the process, and Natasha holds them out of his way, her fingers brushing his own in the exchange. His hand comes to rest against her waist when he finishes, and she turns in his grasp.
“What do you think?” she asks, although she feels she already knows the answer.
He lets out a low whistle, and watches as the smile she was holding back blooms across her face, and he captures her lips in a gentle kiss.
“Not that I don’t love the look,” he says mock-seriously as they part, “but are you going to do something about these?” he questions, bringing his free hand up to brush along the blemishes littering her neck and collarbones.
Natasha laughs, pushing him away. “Jackass,” she mutters teasingly, sitting down again to slip on her shoes. “I still have my hair and makeup to do before we go.”
The hickeys were a gift, really, Steve had defended the previous night. She’d been stressed about the gala, trying not to spiral into the daunting void of the unknown when he had stopped her pacing with a gentle hand and encouraged her to talk to him. She’d been worried about how she’d feel, dressing up for the first time in a long, long time, and what the media and all of their friends and acquaintances would have to say about her reappearance.
And though this gala was a celebration for all of the Avengers and heroes who’d helped to bring everyone back, this was to be Natasha’s official in-person reintroduction as a member of the living. The Avengers had released an official statement detailing the casualty list shortly after her return, but despite her name being pointedly absent from the list, speculation still ran rampant. Obviously, they kept the details of her return to themselves, and no one had even alluded to her death, so as far as the general public knew, she had never died in the first place.
But that hadn’t stopped the spread of rumours. Someone had tipped Yelena off that she was dead prior to Thanos’ defeat after all, so clearly there was a leak somewhere. Hence the incessant press speculation wherein Natasha was actually dead. The lack of confirmation or denial paired with the remaining heroes' distinct lack of public appearances has certainly helped the spread of the falsities.
Now, after much deliberation and convincing from Steve, Natasha still can’t say that she’s too keen for the evening's event, but she’s chosen to adopt an air of nonchalance regardless. Maybe if she can trick the attendees into believing her indifference, she’ll start to believe it herself.
Then again, the redhead feels that her discomfort is warranted. After all, she wasn’t really one for having everybody up in her business on a good day and even less so now with all the gossip surrounding herself and her other fallen peers. Not even Tony Stark’s death confirmation could deter the vultures from such a juicy story. And now she’s going to be surrounded by boozed-up party-goers, looking to pry any alleged death-defying detail they can from the Widow and her friends and-
But of course Steve knew just what to say to quell her rising panic, and the insistence with which he kissed her, reinforcing his words in a physical way was all the convincing the redhead needed that she would be okay. (And maybe they- ahem, Steve- got a little carried away afterwards, but really, who could blame him? Have they seen the Widow lately? Well no , he supposes, but- )
“Do you want to take your cane tonight?” he questions gently, and watches as Natasha adopts an air of consideration, though Steve knows it’s likely only for his benefit. He knows better than to try and convince her of anything, even if he knows she’s going to be needing it by the night's end- perhaps sooner- but he allows the Widow her charade.
Pulling on her converse- the only shoes she can fit over her splint at present, she keeps her gaze lowered and mutters a stubborn ‘no’. Yes, she may end up regretting the decision, she’ll admit it, but she’s already uncomfortable enough at the moment and she doesn’t want to draw any more attention to herself than she already will be.
In an attempt to distance herself from his querying gaze, Natasha grasps one of his hands between her own before clearing her throat. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes,” she says, peering up at him through her lashes, her tone carefully neutral. “I’ll meet you downstairs soon.”
The supersoldier gives her a tight smile and one more onceover before squeezing her hand and leaving the room. Leave it to him to love the most stubborn women , he thinks idly. (And yes, before you ask, he is aware of the irony of the statement.)
Natasha lets out a slow breath at his retreating form, before heading to the bathroom to finish getting ready. In no time, they’re crawling into the awaiting car, her hair resting in soft waves framing her face and her makeup fairly minimal.
(And yes, the hickeys are concealed. She’ll have to get Steve back for that at some point.)
The Stark Memorial Foundation, created by Pepper of course, had decided to hold the event at the newly rebuilt Avengers compound.
It had been a bit of a shock to learn that the entire compound had been destroyed during the final battle, when Steve had finally told her as they were preparing to leave Wakanda. Not that he was withholding the information per se, she could have easily looked it up on the internet, but she had other matters to attend to, and he says he genuinely forgot. She’s not materialistic by any standards, but finding out that the place she’d led five of the most emotionally tumultuous years of her life in had been destroyed was still bittersweet.
But Pepper had decided to rebuild, knowing that they still needed a main base of operations for the new generation of Avengers and agents alike. Natasha had decided to take a step back from leading, not retiring entirely, but limiting her current involvement to consultation only.
Over the past couple of months, she’s worked in tandem with Maria- who’d taken Natasha’s previous position- to sort through the redhead’s questionably organized mass of intel from the Blip years. She and Steve have also worked with a couple of the newbies virtually, mainly giving them advice and tips for running effective teams and successful ops. Steve still worked as a councillor a couple of nights a week at their local support groups since they’d moved back to New York, but otherwise the pair mostly focused on enjoying their newfound peace.
Seeing the shiny new building in person however, was certainly a shock. Natasha carefully schools her features as Steve offers her a hand out of the vehicle. Journalists and cameramen line the front steps of the compound, unaffected by the hot July evening air, all yelling at the attendees for just a quick question , or what can you tell us about the Avengers new leadership? Natasha ducks her head away from the flashing lights- out of both anxiety and old habits- and nervously loops her arm around Steve’s. She swears the press can smell fear, but allows herself to draw comfort from his solid presence regardless. The supersoldier gives her a reassuring squeeze as they enter the building, and only then does she lift her gaze, pushing a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. Following the cacophony of chatter into the atrium, the celebration is already in full swing as they enter the room.
The hall is packed full of people, ranging from ex-Avengers and new recruits, to high ranking state officials. She spots Maria across the room, chatting with the mayor, and Clint and Laura on the other side, exchanging conversation with a dark haired young woman. Steve’s nod draws her attention, and she catches sight of Bucky and Sam shaking hands with a couple of senators she recognizes.
The redhead senses the eyes on them as they make their way deeper into the crowd, and can see the double takes some of them do in her peripheral. She carries on, head held high as her mask slips into the place.
The pair come to a stop at Clint's table, and the three patrons pause their conversation, the elder two exchanging eager hugs with the couple.
“Hey, Clint,” Natasha greets, squeezing her friend, before moving on to the prettier Barton. “Hey Laura.”
“Natasha! I didn’t think you guys would come!” she exclaims, releasing the ex-assassin before pulling Steve into a crushing hug as well.
“Well, I have to justify my paycheque somehow,” Natasha jokes. “He’s just my arm candy,” she continues, pointing over her shoulder at Steve.
That gets a laugh out of the group, before a not-so-subtle cough comes from the youngest member standing back to allow the adults their reunion.
Clint rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “This is Kate,” he introduces. “My new mentee and occasional babysitter.”
The dark-haired girl scoffs, extending her hand to which the couple shake. “I also respond to: ‘The Better Hawkeye’, or ‘Greatest Archer Known to Man, but Kate's fine too. And I already know who you guys are, BTW.”
Natasha smirks at the contrasting looks on the Bartons’ faces. Clint looks tiredly unamused, while Laura wears an expression of reserved glee. Although she’s enjoying her husband's new protégées' antics, she decides to switch gears.
“You’re looking good, Nat! How do you feel?” she questions gently. After all, she really hasn’t seen much of the Widow since their first real visit nearly seven months prior. Clint had been the one flying back and forth to see the pair whilst Nat was still recovering. The last Laura remembers, her friend had been in much lower spirits (though she’d tried her hardest to hide it), and seeing her now brought a smile to the brunette's face. The redhead's whole aura seemed brighter, and that’s just something you cannot ascertain via texts.
A faint blush dusts Natasha’s cheeks as she replies, somewhat embarrassed at the attention: “Much better than when we last saw each other. I've got this now,” she gestures, kicking her brace-clad leg out slightly. “And I’m upright,” she adds as a deprecating afterthought.
Laura whistles appreciatively, ignoring the second comment with a half-smile. “You’ll have to come visit us all soon! The kids are dying to see their favourite aunty Nat,” she starts, before adding a quick “and uncle Steve,” at the latter’s mock look of hurt.
“You guys are welcome here whenever as well. Bring Wanda too,” the supersoldier adds. “I think we’re finally finished unpacking,” he finishes, and Natasha nods in agreement. The Witch had decided to stay at the farm and watch the kids, at least that’s the text Natasha had gotten earlier that day, and sympathizes with the younger redhead. She doesn’t want to be here either.
“It’s strange that it took us so long to settle since neither of us really had any belongings when we bought our place,” she muses. “I mean, everything was pretty much lost with the old compound’s unfortunate end…”
“We’ll just blame it on big life changes and all that,” Steve supplies, and his partner hums in agreement.
It’s not long before their collective attention is drawn to the first of presumably many speakers of the evening. A politician or a benefactor perhaps, steps up onto the makeshift stage to deliver an- if not completely sincere- carefully crafted speech, thanking the brave heroes for all their sacrifices and for finally saving the earth after five long years riddled with struggle and strife. It’s enough to make them all roll their eyes at their change in opinions regarding the heroes.
Several painstakingly long speeches follow, and by the time the last speaker offers his thanks once again, the redhead is already aching to grab a snack and kick her feet up. She wonders idly why this event is taking place in mid July, when people generally like to be outside relaxing, instead of it taking place in October, perhaps to celebrate and commemorate the one year anniversary of the returned population, when her attention is pulled back to the stage.
The closing of the speech unfortunately marks the end of their little reunion, and Steve and Natasha find themselves parting ways to greet their hosts, and engage the press.
The next hour or so is filled with brief interviews for various news outlets, detailing their involvement in the battle against Thanos, as well as alluding to what’s next for the Avengers. Steve is questioned on his decision to pass the mantle of Captain America on, to which he replies simply, saying that he was ready to hang up the shield and that his successor is more than qualified to take on the role. Besides, he’d already established himself as a grief counselor during the Snap, and intends on expanding his involvement to more general support-oriented group counseling as soon as he can.
Natasha doesn’t miss the pride shining in her partner's eyes as he defends his choice, and she can tell that the interviewer doesn’t either, if the pleased expression on her face is anything to go by.
And in true Natasha form, she responds to all of the questions directed her way with vague, unspecific answers, yet still manages to leave the interviewer satisfied with them nonetheless. Twisting the truth is practically second nature, so when asked about her latest additions, Natasha attributes them to an unfortunate landing in the fight and thanks a poorly placed rock for shattering her vertebrae just so, laughing lightheartedly as if she wasn’t miserable throughout the majority of her subsequent recovery. Not a lie necessarily, but definitely not the full truth. Steve subconsciously grabs her hand and squeezes at her attempt to make light of her injury as the interviewer wraps up her questions. The redhead could easily have told a more honest version of the event (or have redirected the conversation entirely), but he knows that this is Natasha’s way of coping, and of making sure that no one else really knows the effects of the lengths they had to go to in order to save the world. After all, no one wants to know that the heroes struggled, that they died. Little kids don’t need to know that their idol wished that she had stayed dead for months, and average citizens already have Tony Stark’s death to dwell on, to remind them that even the brightest and strongest amongst them could still fall prey to the cool clutches of death.
No one wants to think about any of that, so Natasha waves pleasantly as the interviewer bids them adieu. Steve regards the Widow cautiously, trying to gauge her mood. He knows how annoying she finds talking about herself to be, how she scoffs at the notion that anyone would truly believe anything that she- a known spy and secret agent- would say, yet still how amused she is when they wind up eating up everything she has to say anyway.
He also knows however, that today was going to be extra taxing- both mentally and physically. Being the first time they’ve been outspoken and directly in the public eye in over five years has both of their guards raised, not to mention all the standing around they’ve been doing. If he’s getting tired of being on his feet, he can’t imagine how his partner is feeling. He voices his concern quietly, scanning her posture for any sign that she might be getting tired or in need of a break, but the redhead brushes away his concern with the quirk of her lips and the shake of her head. She is getting tired, but it’s way too early in the evening to be needing a break, so she tells herself to hold on for just a little longer. (Yes, she’s aware that that’s a bad idea, but she’s not ready to give in yet, okay?)
Before Steve can inquire further, a familiar gray-haired man approaches the couple from where he’d been watching off to the side.
“Ross,” Steve greets stiffly, and Natasha regards the older man with an air of irritation. After everything that he put them and their friends through while they were ‘vigilantes’, she’s still a little pissed.
“Mr. Rogers, Ms. Romanoff, enjoying the party?”
“It’s wonderful,” Natasha deadpans.
The Widow fights to withhold her eye roll as the former Secretary of State shakes both their hands in turn, and informs them of the government's decision to officially pardon them for their ‘lack of adherence’ to the Sokovia Accords, and follows up with a: “You’re both looking well,” to which the Widow gives into the urge to roll her eyes. She wonders if he’s feeling a little guilty for pursuing them so relentlessly only to have the godforsaken Accords be all for naught regardless.
Steve scoffs, before attempting to cover it with an unconvincing cough. Of course they’d already known that the Accords had been repealed, so technically the government would no longer be able to mark the ex-rogue Avengers as fugitives from a law that was no longer in place anyway.
And considering everything they did to try and reverse the Blip, having a bounty on their heads would only create outrage from the freshly returned and thankful public. Besides, they couldn’t have their newly anointed Captain America still labelled as a traitor, or how else would the everyday citizen respect the authorities if the embodiment of the American Way was still villainized?
Sensing the discomfort and distrust radiating from the pair, the former secretary takes his leave, and Steve lets out a low whistle at his retreating figure.
“You know, sometimes I like to imagine what you would have been like as a soldier, when I can see how you detest the government and their representatives almost as much as me,” Natasha teases.
“Trust me, I wasn’t very good at being obedient.”
“Oh I know,” she says, a wicked smirk curling her lips upwards as a blush dusts the ex-soldiers ears.
‘Hey Nat! I almost didn’t see you down there!” a charming voice calls, interrupting the moment. The duo turn around just in time to see Sam squeeze none too gently through a group of chatting benefactors.
“Ha ha,” she deadpans, smacking him on the arm as he comes to a stop beside her. Sam hisses dramatically, though she put no real force behind the blow.
“What are you two talking about all secret-like over here?” Sam questions. “Your shoes nearly match ol’ Cap’s ears.”
“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know,” Natasha drawls seductively and Steve laughs at the ex-Falcons look of disgust.
“You two need to get a room,” he says, shaking his head in mock disgust. “And by the way, Converse? Really? Are those the only shoes you got? ‘Cause they don’t really go with the dress, shorty.”
The supersoldier laughs again as the redhead bristles. “Laugh it up, bird-brain. Let me know when you find a pair of shoes that will fit over a brace and still look cute,” she grumbles. “And I’ll have you know that I can still take you down, even without my four-inch heels.”
“Oh, I believe it,” Sam nods in agreement, before joining in on Steve’s laughter. Natasha’s frown fades into a small smile. “Jackass,” she mutters under her breath.
Sam pulls her into a one-armed hug, of which Natasha returns affectionately.
“So, have you seen Bruce yet? I barely recognized him.”
The couple exchange confused glances. What does he mean , Steve wonders curiously. How do you not recognize a seven-foot-tall, muscular green man?
“You didn’t- what? He’s green,” the Widow voices bluntly, echoing the super-soldier’s thoughts.
“Nuh-uh, look.” Sam points at the familiar, mild- mannered man near the bar, chatting with some unnamed attendee, and chuckles at the mirrored looks of shock on his friends' faces.
As if sensing the surprised eyes on him, the former Hulk looks up, giving them a quick wave before approaching the group.
Bruce can’t even get a word in before being bombarded by a shocked “Your arm-” from Steve, and a surprised “But how?” from Nat.
“Well, I have this to thank, actually,” Bruce laughs, pointing to a small metal cuff on his wrist. “I played with ideas and designs during the Snap, but it wasn't until we were in Wakanda that I built a prototype. Shuri actually helped me out with some of the quirks. I was too nervous to try it though, but as you can see, it worked. Well technically it broke, and then my cousin also turned into a Hulk, but I fixed it again, which is the important thing.”
“Wait, wait, I think you blew past that whole cousin thing too quickly,” Sam whines.
“Oh, well, Jen and I got into an accident and then she got infected with my blood. But she can control her hulk form without the inhibitor apparently, so lucky for her I guess. And her hulk isn’t like my hulk, it’s more like she just gains the accompanying abilities. But she can shift to normal-Jen and hulk-Jen on command so…” he trails off. “I’m definitely not jealous.”
“Wow,” Steve states, and he sees Sam shake his head slowly.
“Sorry he asked,” Nat adds, eyes wide.
“Oh well. That’s all dealt with. Anyway, how have you guys been? You both look great!” he says, turning to the couple.
“Good, I think,” Steve starts, and the redhead nods in agreement. “I’m working in the city a couple days a week, and Nat’s been consulting with Maria to get their program up and running.”
“What kind of program?”
Natasha’s eyes gleam as she explains. “We're just trying to re-legitimize the Avengers. Obviously the Accords no longer apply, but there’s still a lot of mistrust from the public and the government directed at us and other enhanced people so we’re trying to come up with a compromise. So far the UN and the American government don’t really like our ‘just leave us alone’ proposal. I’m not really sure why,” she deadpans. “But the first step is mostly just to get the Avengers up and running again officially with more transparency and less vigilante work.”
“And Maria is acting as director?”
“Yep. I still want to be involved, but I don’t want everything to be on me anymore.”
“Oof,” Sam whispers, wincing for effect.
Bruce clears his throat uncomfortably and Steve looks at his feet. It takes all of three seconds for Natasha to realize how what she’s just said must have come off. She hadn’t meant to shame anyone, it was her decision to head up the Avengers during the Snap after all. They were all dealing with their grief in their own ways, and she had chosen to throw herself into work. She would admit that a little help in that department would have been nice, but at least she had Steve's support and constancy in her personal life.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that I’m ready to move on with my life, now that I’ve got a second chance. I've learnt over the past months that I don’t always get to control everything, so I’m letting go and allowing others to help.”
“No, no, you’re right. We weren’t there, but I still understand what you mean. I always figured Maria would have ended up director some day,” the doctor reassures and the other men voice their assent.
Although the atmosphere isn’t uncomfortable per se, the redhead still feels kind of awkward about the interaction. Spotting the aforementioned brunette by the bar, she excuses herself politely, kissing Steve, and giving each of the men a quick hug.
Steve watches as she greets Maria with an embrace, concern tugging in his chest. Despite the fact that Natasha was insistent on not letting him feel pressured into helping her lead during the Blip years, he still sometimes feels a little upset with himself that he allowed her to do it alone. Sure he was there for emotional support and day to day company, but he wasn’t sharing the incredible burden that she had undertaken. And he knows that they’ve both come a long way since then, how they’ve both been learning to appreciate this new world and their new opportunities, but he can’t help the guilt that often appears unbidden.
But despite the occasional bouts of guilt, reminding himself that she's happy and healthy once again seems to help. And considering she doesn’t blame him one bit, he tries to keep the unpleasant emotion away, taking a second to reflect and be glad that he gets to be a part of her life and experience this second chance together.
Breaking away from his melancholy musings, Steve turns his attention back to Sam. Bucky soon joins the two men, and easy conversation flows as they catch up and reminisce. Steve enquires about any new missions the duo might be heading up and in return, Bucky ribs Steve about how sickeningly sweet his domestic life is.
Steve brushes it off good naturedly, acknowledging his newfound domestic privilege, when his attention is suddenly drawn back to Natasha across the room. Her head is thrown back in laughter at something Maria had said, and he finds his breath catches a little at the sound, the joy and life that fill her in that moment filtering through her.
And maybe it’s cliche, but seeing her so openly joyful after everything makes his heart flip in something he thinks must be love. He had been secretly afraid that he’d never see her like this again, so open and happy after everything she’s had to overcome. But she continues to surprise him, and Steve is so, so grateful that he gets to witness it.
Pulling his attention back to Sam, he tries to play the moment off, but the other man just smirks at him knowingly. Steve feels the flush creeping up his neck, but he doesn’t have it in him to feel embarrassed. Everyone knows how sickeningly in love he is with Natasha (and how sickeningly in love she is with him) at this point anyways.
They chat a little longer until Sam eventually wanders off, something about needing to fill up his drink, and Steve watches him go before turning around in search of Natasha. It takes him a few minutes to locate her, but when he does she’s leaning heavily against a wall, observing the action from afar. He suspects she may be starting to regret her decision to leave her cane behind, though she’d be too proud to admit it.
Her back is turned to him, so it's easy enough to wrap his arms around her from behind, before placing a sloppily aimed kiss to her cheek. Her arms cover his over her waist as she laughs softly, before turning in his grasp to wrap her arms around his neck instead. She allows him to support her weight against him, enjoying the brief reprieve as she kisses him properly- quick and sweet- before pulling back and looking up into his eyes.
“I heard you coming, you know,” she teases lightly, as his hands settle around her waist securely.
“Of course, dear,” Steve retorts just as teasingly, before turning serious: “Are you doing okay? And don’t lie, I can feel the tension in your back, Nat,” he says sternly, preemptively cutting off any of her denials.
Her eyes drop away from him, and she kicks herself momentarily for letting him read her so easily. If he can tell somethings off about her from where he was across the room, then the rest of party goers most certainly can as well. She’d picked this particular corner because it was quiet and dimmer, away from all the hustle and bustle of celebration and hiding from all of the prying eyes.
And though she desperately wants to reassure him that she’s fine and give him her most convincing smile, she can’t currently find it in her to tell that particular lie.
Besides, she knows that Steve would see right through that charade, and she doesn’t want to see his ‘disappointed-in-you-for-lying-to-me’ face. She’s loath to admit she's been on the receiving end of this particular expression a couple times recently, but old habits die hard.
He waits patiently for her to respond, and though she’s still not looking at him, she can feel his concerned gaze on her face.
“I'm tired,” she whispers finally, ashamed. “I never used to feel this awful trying to charm the public,” she whines, making a face.
Steve huffs a laugh. He’s well aware of her prowess in manipulating a crowd of nosy journalists, has seen it up close on multiple occasions, tonight included. And though he knows she’s fooled all the people around them into thinking that nothings wrong, he knows better.
“Nat, this is the first time you’ve actually been in public schmoozing since- I don't even know. Maybe since our first mission as the Avengers? You’re allowed to feel disconcerted by everything. I know I sure as hell am. All these people praising us, when not too long ago they would have turned us in at the slightest glance,” he tries for comfort, but a hint of bitterness colors his words.
“It's just- this is overwhelming is all,” she starts, and he scoffs at the understatement. “I’m just tired, and my leg’s been cramping for an hour and everywhere I try to sit, someone tries to talk to me. I’m tired of schmoozing,” her nose wrinkles adorably in response. “And I’m hungry.”
“We can go if you’d like,” Steve offers, and continues despite Natasha determinedly shaking her head no. “Don’t look at me like that. We can leave, maybe catch dinner on our way back home. Let everyone wonder.”
“No, no, I’m making this about me again. This whole thing is about all of us. Besides, Clint would kill me if we left. He hates talking to these idiots almost as much as I do.”
Steve rolls his eyes exasperatedly. Stepping back and offering his arm in lieu of replying, Natasha gratefully accepts the support.
“I half expected you to bring out my cane,” she says only half seriously.
Her partner hums thoughtfully in response. “I honestly was going to, but I didn’t want to give you the chance to beat me up with it for going against your wishes.”
Not to mention he may or may not be attempting to surreptitiously teach her a lesson. Because that would be sneaky, and that’s more her area of expertise anyway , he muses.
“I wouldn’t have,” she says with a smirk. “But I’ve learnt my lesson, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Natasha says ruefully, and Steve really shouldn’t be surprised at her ability to read his mind, but here they are.
Smiling to himself, he questions; “Do you want to stay? No guilt, Nat. ”
Oof , she thinks. He’s good . “Stay," she says assuredly, after briefly thinking it through. At his raised eyebrow she elaborates. “Only for a little bit. Just enough to convince everyone that we’ve done our superhero-ly due diligence. And then we grab the Barton’s and escape out the back.”
Not one to argue with a well thought out plan, Steve nods. The pair make their way back into the crowd, giving a few nods here and a few quips there, satisfying the benefactors’ and prominent public figures’ need to be seen or heard by the Supers.
A slight nod to Clint on Nat's behalf seems to be all the communication needed to get him to drag Laura towards the exit, following in the somewhat stealthy footsteps of the redhead and the blond, all the while placating the crowd of curious onlookers.
Sam spots their escape attempt for what it is and waves to Bucky, gesturing towards the small group. The ex- Winter Soldier in turn draws his current companions’ attention, and leads Maria and Bruce to where the former Falcon awaits.
Unperturbed by the dissatisfied attendees who hate to see their heroes go so abruptly, they quickly catch up with the two couples, and Steve rolls his eyes in fond exasperation. So much for stealth.
As soon as the team breach the doors, they release a collective sigh of freedom, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. They’re all specially trained, highly skilled agents, and they just ‘snuck’ out of a party in their honour for reasons more or less the same.
Tired of chatting up socialites and news outlets, tired of reassurances that they’re all valued, when they never should have been doubted in the first place. Done with acting diplomatic after being hunted for years, and then wiped off the face of the earth. Some are just hungry, or in need of company from people with shared life experiences, rather than strangers who will take any chance they can get to publicize and extort their personal life at the nearest opportunity.
Yes they’ve all changed, and yes they’ve all got new scars, and yes, the Widow’s may be more prominent than the rest, but in this moment Natasha feels nothing but grateful. A sense of levity settles around her as Maria pulls her into the awaiting vehicle, the rest piling in right behind her. Natasha’s slowly but surely coming to the realization that she’s more than enough for this assorted batch of heroes, as are they to her. That by worrying about what they will all think of her now is a great disservice to the people who love her, because they’ve all rallied behind her since the beginning of this whole earth shattering, death-defying mess. Because they are the only people that matter, not the tabloids or the newspapers, or the politicians who only use them as fuel for their agendas. Because they want the same things she does- a sense of stability and belonging. She comes to this conclusion as they pull into the drive through of the best shawarma place in New York, and she thinks this new era they’re in is going to be something great.