Conundrum

Maria wasn’t and never would be on the same page as Natasha Romanoff. She would never understand the woman’s lack of propriety, lack of modesty, or her motivations. 

Right now, she couldn’t comprehend the Russian’s mouth twisting in displeasure or the way green eyes were narrowed darkly at her.

She kept her hand frozen in mid air, still clutching the cracker she plucked from out of the packet in front of the agent.

In a flash the dark expression vanished.

“Those are mine.” Natasha leaned forward to grab an unopened packet and tossed them at her. “These are yours.”

The agent stretched out leisurely, popping her feet onto the table - directly in the middle of the opened cracker packet and Maria next to her.

“If we want to get technical, they’re both mine.” Maria grumbled, making no move to open the new crackers. “I’m just sharing.”

Why open the ‘new one’ when the previous packet wasn’t finished?

“Authorising the purchase, doesn’t mean you bought them.”  The reply was given with a hint of mischief.

“I’ll have you know, everything here was paid for out of pocket.” She snarked back, reaching over the smooth muscular legs to pick another cracker out of the packet.

Once again, Natasha’s expression flickered darkly then went back to normal in half a second. “Does this have to do with your ‘on leave’ status? I wouldn’t have guessed ‘vacation’ was in your vocabulary.”

Maria raised a brow at this new found information regarding Miss-up-close-and-personal and food.

She withdrew her still empty hand, and burned in embarrassment at the topic of her ‘vacation’. “It’s not like I have anything else to spend my wages on.”

“Really?” Romanoff drawled, “No hopes for the future? No retirement then?”

“I’ll end up underground before retirement age. So money is of no consequence ‘really’.” She felt the agent’s gaze size her up. “Nick thinks I’ve been too stressed out, so he locked me out of my accounts and kicked me off the Helicarrier.”

Maria saw the flash of a wicked grin and knew immediately there was some kind of sex reference coming up. 

“- Shut up.”

“-You don’t even know what I was going to say, Hill.”

“I can hazard a guess it has a joke to do with sex equating to lower stress levels.”

Natasha gave a look of faux innocence. “I never make jokes, just observations.”

Maria narrowed her eyes at the shorter agent, promptly reached over her legs again to retrieve a cracker and plopped the item into her mouth with a loud crunch as she bit down. Then caught the unopened packet of crackers being thrown at her head.

She hesitated, not really sure what to do from here. Her interactions were strictly work related, and though she meant for this particular interaction to be an attempt at banter, there was a creeping feeling there was a line close to being crossed.

Maria placed the box of crackers down onto the table. “Here. It’s only fair since I snagged a few of yours.” Then pulled out her phone to shoot off an email to request a pickup for the agent when the next Quinjet was available.

“It’s your food, or my food.” Romanoff’s voice was low, as if she were not quite present. “There is no ‘our food.’”

She tried to wrap her head around the vague implications, and said. “Well, it’s yours now. I’m not that hungry anyway.”

The agent looked inquisitively at her.

“I’m not. But I’m pretty damn tired.”

“Self-inflicted, Commander. You were supposed to wake me for my shift.”

Maria glanced down at her phone giving a crooked grin. “Then I guess I can’t complain.”

“Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Maria. Bullshit.” That fucking box of crackers was thrown at her head again. “There’s nothing in the rule book that says you’re not allowed to complain that you’re hungry or tired.”

“How ironic coming from you.” She replied wryly. “Just for the record, Romanoff - I meant that you gaining the rest to begin healing was worth a sleepless night - and don’t take it as something you ‘owe.’”

The agent most definitely had some issues. Understandable given what she knew about her history.

Natasha looked away, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt me to share.”

Maria placed the box of crackers on the table again. “Maybe I’ll be hungrier after a nap. I’ll eat whatever you don’t want.”

*

She breathed in deeply savouring the smells, and the feeling of solid dirt beneath her shoes. It wasn’t something she took the time to appreciate when she went to look for the Russian in the forest (who was currently back at the hotel room).

Maria pulled her overcoat closed a little more as the cool night air picked up a bit. The street she was on wasn’t crowded by any means. It was occupied enough to see how blissfully unaware the general population was - of themselves and the dangers S.H.I.E.L.D and other government organisations worked to protect them from.

What was the most enjoyable for her was to observe how relaxed most of the folks were. The lack of suspicion and lack of caution was refreshing.

The sound of a young child crying caught her attention. She had to bite her lip to hide a grin when she saw the boy throwing a temper tantrum at his parents because apparently he was being denied hot chocolate from the still open cafe across the road. 

The boys parents instead, shared an exasperated look, before the mother held the boys in her arms and they walked towards the car park.

Maria could already imagine her own father with a stern look, reaching for the baton as he lectured about respect and entitlement. The Captain had his flaws, but she couldn’t imagine being so torn or confused over what was right or wrong in any situation versus want and impulsiveness. For that, she had him to thank.

Light footsteps behind her rediverted her thoughts. “Are you stalking me?”

“Is the spy spying on others while she’s on vacation?”

She chuckled, not particularly caring if it was at the self depreciation or implied compliment at her response. “There’s no one on this planet who could stand next to you and call themselves a spy, Romanoff. How’s your back?”

“Is that a compliment, ma’am?” Natasha teased.

“No, it’s a fact. You have exceptional skills. Now, about your back?”

Romanoff glanced down the street, taking in the same sights she was. “M’back’s fine. It’s just a bit itchy.”

“We should probably put you on a general antibiotic to act as a preventative, tomorrow you should remove the bandages and spend the day airing it out.” Maria replied as she recalled that same statement being thrown at herself multiple times by Jen back in the day for similar injuries.

“Why of course, doctor.” The redhead quipped out, making a face.

Maria gave her a small smile, and gazed back down the street. “You don’t spend so much time around a nurse and in the med-bay without learning a thing or too. What are you doing here?”

“Watching a wolf watch the sheep.”

“There’s only one wolf here, and it’s not me.” She snorted, cocking her head to the side and observing the Russian to find the woman already looking at her.

“Maybe you’re the wolf’s shepheard.”

Natasha Romanoff had too many faces. She wondered just which one was her real one. The only real thing she knew was that sharing food really got under her skin.

“And maybe you should stop messing with me.” Maria quipped back with no real heat in her tone.

“It’s fun.” The admittance sounded too serious. “There’s something in the authenticity of a person when they’re taken off guard.”

She let out a breath. Surely the agent knew that it was a telling statement. 

Still, she kept playing this game they seemed to have started since their reunion in the forest. “Fun isn’t the word I’d use, Romanoff. Distracting, awkward, uncomfortable and confusing maybe; but not ‘fun.’”

“Maria,” Natasha rolled her eyes dramatically. “You wouldn’t know what fun was if it bit you in the ass. The trick is to find it with the right person.”

She scowled at that. “I’m happy for the people who have the luxury of time on their side to do that.”

“It’s a good thing that the boss gives a fuck enough to give you the time. Come on, let’s go.”

Maria blinked. “Do I have a choice?”

As if she really needed to ask. It didn’t take a genius to assume that the Russian word she got in response meant ‘no’.

*

She really should have known that their new found dynamic wasn’t there to stay.

“I swear I’m telling the truth!” Romanoff’s voice was heard, approaching her office a day after being picked up.

Maria narrowed her eyes at Nick who already had a brow raised at her.

“- Please give me some of your creativity.” Barton replied, sounding sceptical.

She lowered her eyes down to the outline draft of The Director’s new project and began to write down her own shortened dot point in response.

“- I swear on my surrogate daddy’s grave.” Natasha insisted, their voices getting louder. “We had a midnight dinner and drank champagne. The live jazz really set the mood. I don’t know how she managed it, but The Commander carried me all the way back to the hotel room.”

 Maria’s grip on her pen tightened as she began grinding her teeth so hard her entire jaw trembled with the effort.

Still, she continued to write.

“- And manners! Talk about those manners! I just can’t stand those men and women who rip your blouse open - But not her, slow and careful. Have you ever realised just how long and soft her fingers are?!”

Nick looked liked he wanted to laugh. Maria glared at him, daring the man to say something.

“- I can’t say I’m in the habit of holding Commander Hill’s hand.” Barton replied, right outside her office door, sounding a little scared and uncertain.

“- Oh yes, she must have caressed my back for twenty minutes. There was no rush to speed things up.” 

Oh for fuck’s sake.

Maria stood up, probably looking as murderous as she felt.

“What Agent Romanoff is misremembering, is the fact she decided she was absolutely starving, so we went to some crappy hole-in-the-wall bar. She drank champagne while I worked on a crossword puzzle. No, I did not carry you all the way to the hotel room. You could barely walk straight, so I kept you steady on the way back.” She gritted through her teeth, setting the record straight. “And my ‘long and soft’ fingers were applying a topical cream to her wounds - and nothing more.”

Romanoff sighed in exasperation and pouted. “No fun.”

Barton looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here as he squeaked out, “I guess you really don’t like your surrogate daddy, Nat.”

Fury took half a beat before roaring with laughter.

“Fuck you all.” Maria grumbled, and in a moment of pettiness, snatched the half eaten sandwich out of the Russian’s hand as she made her escape from the two people hell bent on making her life more difficult.

She pretended not to notice the all too pleased expression on both Natasha’s and Nick’s faces - She pretended the sigh that left her own lips was one of annoyance, and not of tolerant amusement.

Later that afternoon, Maria ordered Barton deliver two cans of baked beans along with orders to have the woman’s shoulder checked out by one of S.H.I.E.L.D’s doctors.

It really was a pity she didn’t do it herself. 

Coulson, being his naturally considerate and concerned self, asked if anything had happened since  the redhead walked around with a sour expression the following day.