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It's a quick thing.
One moment Natasha is at her locker, wiping away the evidence of a mission spent gathering more grime than intel, the next Maria's hand is at her elbow, an insistent pressure.
Maria guides her surely but covertly past clusters of other agents, who are busy stripping off their gear and loudly chattering.
They slip through their ranks like a mist, unchallenged, and soon Maria is opening the door to an unused meeting space, and following Natasha inside.
Two clicks—the door closing and locking—and then a twin exhale.
Natasha reaches for Maria's face, but hesitates for a moment. A slice of dawn-bright sun is illuminating the otherwise dark room, and it picks out the flecks of mud and dust on Natasha's hand.
Maria furrows her brow, and leans into the touch. She angles her head down to rest her forehead against Natasha's. Natasha feels her eyes flutter closed on instinct, at the rightness of the touch and the relief she feels at being back.
"You should have been pulled out sooner," Maria says, voice authoritative as always but tinged with emotion. "I should have-"
"Done exactly what you did," Natasha finishes, cutting Maria off before the spiral of her guilt can manifest.
"Nat, I'm so fucking sorry," Maria pushes a hand through her own hair, a familiar gesture of frustration. Natasha smooths it back into place, a familiar countermove.
"None of that," Natasha insists, voice soft. It's not just for Maria's benefit, either. The mission had been an unexpected disaster, it's true, but there's a less than zero percent chance that it's Maria's fault.
"Considering I'm not stuck in the medbay or bleeding out in a rainforest, I think we should call this one a success," Nat quirks a smile, and Maria lets out a sound that's not quite a laugh, but that takes some of the strain out of her face. Success indeed.
"Taking this seriously as always, Agent," Maria presses a kiss to the corner of Natasha's mouth. Sweet and short, Natasha knows that it's a thank you.
Natasha twists a hand into Maria's hair, resting the other over the centre of Maria's chest.
"As always."
She leans in for a true kiss, and their mouths meet with their usual bias. The gentle touch of lips is a grounding. Maria makes a small noise, and Natasha opens her mouth. Maria's tongue darts forth, tasting Natasha's lower lip. Maria grips onto Natasha's hips, one thumb rubbing small circles against her hipbone.
Natasha's own tongue licks out to meet Maria's, and the kiss turns molten. Slick and easy, Natasha moves further into Maria's space, one hand going to cradle Maria's jaw. She angles Maria's mouth to her liking, luxuriating in the caress of tongues, heartbeat a staccato pulse of pleasure.
The mission falls away. Natasha's world narrows to Maria; her mouth, her hands, the warmth of her body, the telltale press of her thigh holster. The sunlight paints the moment gold behind Natasha's closed eyes.
Maria pulls back for a moment, taking in a deep breath. Natasha opens her eyes, noting the red bloom of Maria's mouth, the brightness of her eyes. Natasha nips at Maria's upper lip, then soothes it with a curl of a lick and a kiss.
"I suppose I'm wanted for debrief?" Natasha says, keenly feeling the finite nature of their stolen time.
Maria clears her throat, brushes a fingertip over Natasha's cheekbone. She nods. "Fury calls."
Natasha nods too, making to pull back. Maria watches her, then grabs at one of Natasha's belt loops.
"He can wait another minute," Maria declares.
And he does.