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The last thing Maria had expected was for Nick to make her Steve’s handler. “I thought I outgrew that the last time you promoted me,” she mentioned as she looked over the thick dossier.
Nick Fury just leaned back in his chair, genuine pleasure crossing his face as he tucked his hands behind his head. “I like to keep my best assets close. You know that. My right hand gets Delta. I can’t think of a better place for Captain America than my left.”
It was a well-known fact that Coulson was the man Fury considered his right hand, a less known fact that Maria was his left hand and the one he leaned on just as hard.
"They'll think things," Maria pointed out, referring to the organization at large. "This could backfire."
Nick shrugged. "Use whatever they think against them."
“Very well.” She closed the folder and went to take control of her asset.
She pointedly ignored the grin on Fury’s face.
It will take them a long time to talk about their real differences of opinion. The surface ones will come up quickly and be brushed aside as easily.
“SHIELD doesn’t exactly take a hands off approach to world security,” he’ll point out as she’ll stare at him, grim mouthed and displeased.
“Should we? Sokovia, the Chitauri, they’re the closest we’ve come to war in decades,” Maria will say. The world will have changed.
Steve will shake his head, acknowledging out loud what she never has. “We never leave war anymore.”
These skirmishes, they are war. But in war, the rules are different, and at the end of their conversation, Maria will still believe in what she does.
“Captain Rogers,” she greeted him when he came in for briefing.
He looked at her, gave a polite nod, and a polite smile. “You can call me Steve.”
Maria stared at him for a long moment before conceding with her own professional nod back. “Very well then. Let’s get down to business.”
He came in and sat at the conference table.
Maria knew legends. Everything she’d ever heard about working with him could be safely taken with a hefty grain of salt. Everything the history books taught was bound to be influenced by bias and exaggeration, sometimes understatement and omissions instead.
She saw him, assumed nothing, and drew her own opinions.
Natasha settles into Maria’s new office at Stark Industries almost before Maria does. The boxes scattered over the carpet and chairs tell the story of a hectic move. Three phones, a working computer, tablet, and bevy of file folders in various states of upheaval cover the desk. Natasha raises her eyes at the mess and drops into the guest chair with a faint smile and a shake of her red hair.
“I demand the blood offerings of my guests before intelligence can be exchanged,” Maria informs her curtly.
Natasha sets the Bloody Mary she’s brought with her on the edge of the desk.
Maria sighs, sits, and takes a grateful sip.
Natasha’s smile broadens. All appearances to the contrary, this is a pleasure visit. “So you and the good Captain.”
“He’s not actually a captain,” Maria points out without heat. But she doesn’t deny the charge, and Natasha’s smile becomes an outright grin.
“How does supersoldier serum affect how he is in bed?” she asks with far too much sincerity.
Maria resists the urge to choke on her drink and spew it and simply quirks the corner of her mouth ruefully. “Are you asking if he squishes me in the middle of the night?”
Natasha’s eyes laugh. It’s answer enough between two women like them. “No.”
Steve won’t admit for years what they’re becoming. Nor will Maria. She’ll have her reasons for not taking what he’ll let her ask for.
They’re the reasons Sitwell will allude to when he accuses her of doing just that. It will give her pause then, make her wonder why to avoid personal attachment and broken frat regs if no one believes she will refrain.
How many times would they would work together and Maria see in action why Steve was the man they called Captain America? How many times would she fall back in relief on his dependability on the field and to do the right thing before...?
Steve was leaning against the wall, still covered in dirt and blood, still breathing hard, when she came in to take his report.
Maria studied him for a long moment.
He straightened the moment he noticed her, a politeness that did odd things to her insides. “Commander Hill,” he greeted.
“You can call me Maria.” She offered a polite smile.
He nodded with the same efficiency she’d given him once upon a time. Then with a soft breath that sounded altogether too much like a prayer, “Maria.”
She stared at him for a longer time than she had before. “Let’s get to it then.”
She walks in her apartments at the Avengers Tower after too long a day, batting clean up on action that is quickly falling outside of standard paramilitary maneuvers into a murky grey area the world stage is uncomfortable with.
She hangs her coat on the rack and comes around the corner, eyes already open and looking for him. Steve is standing at the kitchen stove, back to the dining room she’s stepping through, as he stirs something or other in a bubbling pot.
She studies the line of his shoulders, the strength evident through the blue shirt he wears just a little too tight. She walks up behind him, taking deliberate steps that make a sound against the tile. She puts her hands on his shoulders and kisses the back of his neck.
“It’s not done,” he says, and she can hear the faint stress in his voice.
Maria smiles, knowing that this sort of thing matters to him. “I’ll just set the table.”
He relaxes as she picks up the plates and lays out the table. In a moment, she settles in and watches him move comfortably through his finishing touches. When he sits down beside her, he leans over to press a kiss to her mouth, and she enjoys the simple intimacy.
They know exactly where they stand.
Steve will know exactly where Maria will be standing as the Registration Act comes down.
“You know you can’t stop me,” he’ll point out, mixing regret and an absolute lack thereof.
“I know,” she’ll answer as easily. “You know I have to try.”
What they won’t say is as long you won’t stop loving me. They will not say it because they won’t have to.