Chapter 1
Manhattan café. Shes picked one with a steady stream of tourists stumbling in, looking for the morning cup of coffee.
Romanoff takes over a corner table facing the front door, door marked “employees only” to her right.
Rogers’ voice, through her earpiece.
– Nat, you sure you don’t need backup for an old associate?
“I’m sure. This isn’t like last time.
I don’t want you scaring her, either.”
– Better safe than sorry.
She takes a break from pretending to check her phone to scan the café. She tosses her purse onto the empty seat in front of her.
A pale hand appears on the back of the chair.
“Sorry, is this seat taken?”
Romanoff snaps to attention, getting ready to tell whoever it is to politely fuck off. The woman is smiling at a barista.
“I heard the coffee is good here.”
Natasha lowers her voice.
“Weili?”
“Its Y/N now.”
Y/N. Okay, then. Nat gets up and sweeps her purse off of the chair, pulls it out in a gentlemanly flourish. Y/N sits down, lets the other woman size her up.
“You look exactly the same…precisely why I didn’t recognize you.”
Shes drowning in a hoodie with some three letter logo Nat doesn’t recognize. Shes not holding a purse, just a phone. If Natasha squints, its an anonymous student in front of her. Even her voice is a little different, tuned to whatever part shes playing now, she can recognize it if she does the necessary mental gymnastics, otherwise it –
“You’re looking well yourself, Natasha.”
Rogers again.
– This her?
Natasha’s brow furrows for a moment. It doesn’t slip Y/N’s attention.
“Why are we here?”
“I’ll be honest with you. I’m with the Avengers now.”
Y/N’s voice is impassive.
“I had no idea. I will be honest with you as well, I don’t keep up with intelligence. I barely even watch the news.
Do they pay you well?”
Natasha isn’t sure if shes joking, her voice is gentle but serious now, closer to how she remembers it, like shes genuinely concerned about Nat’s salary.
“And do they know you’re speaking to me?”
“They know. I have backup.”
Y/N smiles, a thin, pained, movement.
“For what? What do they know about me?”
“Not much. That I wasn’t even sure you’d show.”
“I’ve been living in New York, but you knew that already. You seem to have my phone number and my email address. Probably my address too.”
“Its been a really, really long time.”
Her smile fades.
“Natasha, I would not disappoint you like that.” She stands up abruptly, palms on the table. “I’m happy for you though.”
“Weili, Y/N, wait –“
Y/N looks over her shoulder at the door. Then she finds herself handcuffed to an overzealous Steve Rogers.
“Really? Really? Natasha?”
Rogers sounds uncertain, like he expected her to pull a gun on him at 10 AM in midtown, instead of just standing there, ignoring him, staring at Romanoff.
“Okay, lets…just try to get to the Tower without making a scene, then.”
“Making a scene…”
Y/N doesn’t say a word the whole trip. When Steve reaches down to uncuff her from him, she hands him the empty shackle instead.
Natasha pretends not to notice.