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Natasha flicks her wet hair out of her face as she finishes the call to Maria.
“I don’t know about you,” she says lightly over her shoulder, “but I think this calls for a shawarma.”
“What?” Daredevil says. His suit is dripping on the asphalt and on the HYDRA agent he’s just knocked out.
“It’s an Avengers tradition. If it’s a good day, we get shawarma.”
“This is a good day?”
Natasha has been in New York for four days, helping Maria investigate a possible HYDRA takeover of some of the territory left open by Wilson Fisk. And every night, Daredevil had been there. It had seemed rude not to flirt.
Especially when his suit showed off his backside like that.
And then tonight they’d found the HYDRA dropoff point at the docks, and in the middle of it all, they’d both ended up in the Hudson. They’d emerged soaking wet and pissed off to all hell, and…well, it hadn’t ended well for HYDRA’s men.
“Sure,” she says.
“What’s a bad day?”
“The days someone goes home in a box.”
Daredevil stands over the scattered unconscious bodies of HYDRA’s men, and shrugs.
“Well, enjoy your shawarma,” he says, and turns to walk away.
“It’s not really a celebration if you have to do it alone,” Natasha says. He stops, and turns his head to her. “There’s a place on 41st that’s open 24 hours.” Because Tony pays them to stay open for the Avengers.
“I don’t think they’d appreciate me showing up dressed like this.”
“They deliver.”
He strolls back to her, casually kicking someone in the ribs. “Where would you be planning to have it delivered? I won’t go back to Avengers Tower with you.”
“I was thinking your place,” she says evenly. “Matthew.”
It had taken her less than an hour to put together his identity, the morning after she’d first run into him. There aren’t that many blind men in Hell’s Kitchen (and it had taken her an embarrassingly long three hours to figure that part out).
He’s frozen in front of her, then he steps into her space, trying to use his height to intimidate her. It doesn’t work.
“Who else knows?” he says, his voice dropping into a growl.
“Just me. I needed to know who I was dealing with.”
“And what’d you find out?”
“That for a man who wears a mask, you’re surprisingly honest. You really do just want to help.” She uses his proximity against him, and rests her hand on his chest, over his heart. “Even if the ethics of the lawyer-vigilante thing are a little questionable.”
“Says the assassin.”
“Former assassin. And ethics were never my strong suit.”
His lips are inches away from hers, and she has him, she knows it, but then he turns his head away.
“Someone’s coming,” he says. Natasha can’t hear anything, but she’s learned over the past four nights to believe Daredevil when he says he can. Maria’s probably sent Homeland Security to collect the HYDRA prisoners.
Daredevil is backing away from her, not wanting to be caught with the rest.
“Go, I’ll clean up this mess,” she says.
He turns and disappears into the shadows between the buildings, and Natasha hears the cars coming down through the docks.
“Natasha?” comes Daredevil’s voice.
“Yeah?”
“What do you want in your shawarma?”