SHIELD Matchmakers
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Language,” Coulson gently chided Hill as he peered over her shoulder, frowning as the bright blue memo in her hands. “A gala? Seriously? Who do they think we are? SHIELD High?”
“We might as well be, with this thing,” she snorted in return, plopping into a chair and crumpling the paper in her hands. Sighing, she aimed it at the trash can on the other end of the meeting room, exhaling in frustration when it just missed the rim. “Half of the men around here are too scared to ask the women, and the other half of the women are going to jump the gun.”
“I look at it this way,” Coulson sighed, tipping back in his chair and putting his feet up on the conference table. “It’s a good idea to make good on that betting pool.” Hill looked at him in surprise, raising an eyebrow at the idea that he would manipulate such circumstances for his own purposes.
“You think this gala’s going to get Rogers and Romanoff together?” she asked, pulling up her phone’s calendar. “When’s it again? Hunter and Morse are out at the end of the week.”
“You’ve got a week to secure your date, Agent Hill,” Fury’s voice boomed out as he entered the conference room, wielding a memo of his own. He shot a glare at Coulson, who apologetically took his feet off of the table. “And I suggest you get on it quickly. It’s mandatory to have a date.” At that, her mouth fell open, eyes going wide. She had to get a date?
“Will that be all, sir?” she croaked out, mind already whirring at just who the hell she’d have to ask. Worst came to worst, she’d end up needing to promote one of the junior agents for a date. She’d rather do that than find it in her to ask her one-eyed superior to the gala. Besides, it wasn’t like she had feelings towards him...no, absolutely not.
“Dismissed, Coulson and Hill.” Both of them stood in unison, Coulson elbowing Hill as soon as they were out the door.
“So, when you going to ask Fury?” When he got no response, he goaded, “I could see it in his eye that he wanted to ask you.” Hill menacingly glared at him, stopping thei walk down the hallway. Undaunted, Coulson went on. “Come on, Maria. We all know you have a thing for him. So just suck it up and ask him already!”
“I am not about to ask Nick--” There was an eyebrow raise at the use of the director’s first name. “--to the gala, and he is not going to ask me.” That last fact was more than true. And besides, if by some miracle he did, she was not about to risk her reputation for one dance. “We are both going to have separate dates--”
“What, you going to ask one of the lowly field agents instead? I’m sure they’d jump at the chance to thaw out the infamous Queen Elsa of SHIELD--you know that nickname goes around, Maria--”
“Shut up, Coulson.”
“Sorry."
“--and we will never speak of this incident again.” Sighing, she hefted a stack of bright blue papers from a passing agent, handing half of the stack to Coulson. “I’ll handle the agents. You take your teams.” With that, Hill was off, leaving a dumbfounded agent in his wake.
“Is this payback for asking about Fury?” he groaned, realizing that he was going to have to get the most stubborn people in the world to attend a dance. “Maria?” he called as she stalked away. “Maria? Maria--?!”
“I see you’ve been assigned the Avengers, Agent Coulson.” Fury stealthily appeared behind him. “Remember, I’ve got a good fifty riding on the 13th. Get Rogers and Romanoff together, will you?” Coulson would have made some quippy remark about getting he and Hill together first, but the director was already down the hall, stopping to terrorize some other agent.
And there was a bigger problem: How the hell was he supposed to ask May to a gala?
“Phil!” Pepper exclaimed as Coulson and Hill strode into her office, flyers in their arms. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Seeing the grim look on his face, her cheerful demeanor quickly faltered. “What’s going on? Are the guys hurt? Is Natasha alright? Is your team alright?” She paused. “Please tell me Skye’s all right.” The hacker had become a sort of daughter to them all, Pepper especially.
“Relax, Ms. Potts.” Coulson reassured her, handing the flyer to the confused CEO. “I can assure you no one’s in immediate danger.” It was his turn to pause. “Unless somehow something’s gone wrong in the last couple of hours we’ve left them.”
“I wouldn’t rule it out,” Pepper snorted, reading through the flyer. “SHIELD annual gala? I’ve never heard of this.” She set the paper down, giving the two agents a confused look. “What are you giving this to me for?”
“As part of a liaison to the Avengers,” Hill answered, “your attendance with a date is necessary.” She raised an eyebrow. “Of course, we’re all assuming you’re going with Stark, but if that’s incorrect...”
“Speaking of plans,” Pepper interjected, sending a covert glare at Coulson, who hastily backed out of the room. As soon as the door shut, she converged on the second-in-command. “Now. Are you asking Nick? Or is he asking you?”
Hill, surprised by the sudden turn in events, spluttered. “Wh-wh-what?” Struggling to regain her composure, she answered hesitantly, “You know as well as I do that Director Fury isn’t mandated to attend the gala.” She wouldn’t admit it, but the only person that Hill was scared of (aside from Romanoff, but who wasn’t?) was Pepper Potts.
“Bullshit,” Pepper snorted, getting up from her desk with tablet in hand. Still swiping through it, she addressed the agent. “You may be the matchmaker to everyone else, Maria, but I’m going to matchmake the matchmaker.” She tilted the tablet so that Hill could see its screen. “Blue and white. Knee-length. Clear your schedule. We’re going shopping next week.”
“If you can get Romanoff, I’m in,” With a triumphant smirk, Hill was back on top of her game. There was no way in hell Pepper would get her to go shopping. As far as she knew, Natasha would rather date Banner than go dress shopping. “What’s your date on the pool?”
“May 22,” Pepper answered briskly, tapping some points on her tablet. “Which is now coincidentally the date of the gala.” She looked up, raising an eyebrow at the other woman. “Ask Nick. Do it soon.” Her expression softened. “You might end up with more than you think.”
“Can I, Pepper?” Hill asked as she was halfway out the door. “Can I?” The door shut, and Pepper automatically fished out her Starkphone, dialing 7.
“Nat, it’s me.” she said into the other end of the line. “My office. Ten minutes.”
“What was so important that I needed to be here?” Natasha complained as she fixed her ponytail, some loose red tendrils escaping. “You couldn’t ave waited until tonight to tell me? We have those meetings for a reason, you know.” In response, Pepper slid the gala flyer across the desk to the assassin, who scanned it rapidly. “You want Steve and I to go public at the gala.”
“It’s the perfect opportunity,” Pepper shrugged noncommittally. And the perfect time to make some money.
“Fitz and Simmons?” The spy’s nothing but direct. “Phil and Mel?” A sly eyebrow. “Nick and Maria? You know I’ve got ten bucks riding on the 30th.”
“I don’t know about the first two, but I’ve definitely pushed Maria into starting for the third one,” Pepper confided, elbows on her desk. “So. Will you do it? Go public at the gala, I mean.” She fished out her tablet once again, swiping through endless pages. “I’ve already given a thought to what color dress you’re wearing--obviously, you can’t clash with anyone, so I’m going to go with a gradient--everyone else will be pulling florals and solids, god knows if there’s anyone that can pull it off, it’s you--”
“Pepper!” Natasha laughed, snapping the CEO out of her reverie. “You’re forgetting one important thing. I haven’t been asked. I’m the only one that knows about it. You don’t see anyone else scrambling for dates, do you?”
“Oh, I’m sure Tony’s going to assume we’re going together,” Pepper snorted, not even looking up. “After all, who wouldn’t want to go with the great Tony Stark, am I right?” She rolled her eyes. “Men.”
“At least he’ll ask you in some sort of way,” Natasha sighed, fiddling once more with her ponytail. “I don’t think Steve’s going to ask me. I mean, have you seen how long it takes him to get things like this done? It took him three months to ask me out!”
“Give it time,” Pepper advised her friend. “You have to remember that he’s new to all of this. Even in the modern world. All of the dates he had before you were set up. I don’t think he’s ever asked a girl to a dance before.”
“All the same, I’ll probably end up asking him,” she muttered, retying her hair once more, the elastic band snapping into place. “That is, if everyone’s not going to try and get us together before the gala.” When Pepper looked surprised, she snorted. “Please. I’m a spy. Just what do you think escapes me? I know Fitz and Simmons are trying to whip up a love potion--they’re out tomorrow. Mel has her bets on three weeks from now. Even Thor’s in on it. He has six weeks.”
“Just so you know, Maria’s going to try and matchmake you,” the CEO stuttered out, trying to recover from the fact that the entire pool had been figured out. “So be prepared. Oh, and also, clear your schedule--she says that if I can get you to go shopping, she’ll go.”
“Maria going dress shopping?” Natasha’s answering grin was absolutely feral. “Even if I didn’t need a dress, I’d go just to see Hill shopping.”
“Alright, everyone, listen up,” Coulson tried later that night, as all of the Avengers (as well as the Bus team) were assembled in the living room. “Guys? Guys!” Damn Hill for sticking him with this assignment. “Guys, I have something to say!”
That didn’t work, so with a sigh, he withdrew his gun, pointed it at the ceiling, and fired off a shot. Everyone quieted in an instant--at least that still worked. “I have an announcement to make.”
He handed out the flyers, preparing for the onslaught that was to come. Three...two...one...
“A gala.” May’s statement was dangerously short. “We’re required to attend a gala.” Coulson sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d already caused himself enough stress this afternoon trying to figure out how to ask May in a way that wouldn’t get him killed. And also in a way that didn’t come off as romantic. As in love with her as he was, he wasn’t ready to die for those feelings just yet.
“With a date,” he answered promptly, feeling that that was the best response. The level of awkwardness in the room racheted up three notches as certain couples avoided looking at each other, especially (which he noted with some satisfaction) Natasha and Steve. In fact, the only ones that didn’t look out of place were Tony and Thor.
The latter simply glanced across the room at Pepper, nodding. “You’re going to the gala with me, right?” The blonde affectionately rolled her eyes, simply accepting the invitation with a flick of her hand before shooting a ‘I-told-you-so’ look at Natasha.
Thor just laughed happily to himself before picking Jane up in his arms, carrying her to the elevator, she shrieking all the way for him to put her down. “Not cool! Not cool!”
The group sigh was audible. If only it was as easy for the rest of them as it was for Tony and Thor.
I wonder if Fitz will ask me, Simmons mused. There’s nothing wrong with two people going to a dance as friends. Even if one of said friends has feelings towards the other...
There’s no way in hell Simmons is going to ask me, Fitz gloomed. Why would it be me?
How the bloody hell am I going to ask Bob? was Hunter’s exasperated groan. I can’t tell her I’ve never asked a girl to a dance before!
Won’t be the first time I’ve gone solo, I guess. Clint shrugged to himself.
Does this mean Tony’s going to force me into that purple suit he’s been talking about? Bruce realized in horror. I got to get Pepper to take me shopping. I look like an eggplant in that suit.
Would Phil ask me? It was a very dangerous thought Melinda May was entertaining in her head, but yet, she couldn’t help it. Am I going to have to ask him just to save face?
I got to do this perfectly, Steve told himself. Nat’s counting on me to make the perfect proposal. What if I screw this up? I’ve never done something like this before. I can’t screw this up. I can’t. Nat means too much to me to screw this up.
God, he looks cute when he’s nervous, Natasha giggled quietly to herself. But I really hope he does come through with the whole thing. I’m not one for the whole ‘will-you-go-to-the-dance-with-me’ proposals. Never went to high school. Definitely not about to start now.
It was Skye who broke the silence with her despairing cry. “Who the hell am I gonna go with?”
“Okay, we got everyone?” Coulson asked Hill hushedly the next morning. Both teams, minus Steve and Natasha, were gathered outside of the kitchen. “We know the plan?”
“Pretend to go rogue, scare the shit out of Stasha, lock them into a closet. I think we know it pretty well,” Clint, who was dressed in full battle gear, bounced on the balls of his feet. “Although did we need all of us? It’s going to be a pretty hard time convincing them that we’ve all gone rogue.”
“Not all of us have,” May quipped from the other side of the room. “Only some. The rest are there to ‘guide’ them to the shelter.” She grinned. “I gotta say, I haven’t scared the crap out of Romanoff since April Fools’ Day of ‘98.” Coulson, Clint and Bobbi winced--they all remembered that quite well.
“Everyone ready?” Skye asked, firing up her ICER. There were various nods from Clint, Thor, Hunter, Bobbi and FitzSimmons, all armed with various weapons. Well, for FitzSimmons, it was more of a chemically modified pepper spray, but a weapon was a weapon. At least, that’s what Simmons claimed.
“Let’s give ‘em hell.”
“Okay, obviously you missed something somewhere, Rogers,” Natasha smirked at Steve, who was staring dejectedly at the new coffee maker. “Did you forget to pull a switch? Switch a lever? Or, heaven forbid--” In one fluid move, she pulled open the cover, gesturing to the empty filter inside. “--did you forget to put the coffee beans in?”
“I don’t know how I did that,” he sighed, reaching above him for the cabinet that held the coffee. In truth, he’d been a little more than preoccupied with trying to come up with the perfect proposal--there just didn’t seem to be anything that clicked for him. “Sorry, Nat. I’ll remember the coffee beans next time.”
Suddenly, a bullet came flying right as to where his hand had been a second ago, hitting the coffee maker instead. Both of them turned slowly to the source of the shot, eyes widening to see May, gun aloft.
“May?” Steve asked, slowly putting his hands up. “What are you--”
“I’d follow what he does, Romanoff,” Coulson’s voice echoed from the other end of the kitchen, “Unless you’d rather see your precious partner bleed to death right before your eyes.” At that, Natasha snorted.
“Okay, whoever’s idea it was to sent Coulson to threaten to shoot Steve clearly hasn’t done their homework,” she began. “You could never do it, Phil. Shoot your childhood idol? I think you’d sooner rather kiss May.”
“Now wouldn’t be a good time to practice your sarcasm, Romanoff,” Bobbi said from behind Coulson, making the redheaded spy gulp in fear. “So. Hands on your head, or your head can meet the floor.”
Natasha’s eyes met Steve’s, absolutely refusing to show panic, yet panicking at the same time. Rogue, she tried to communicate. What’s our battle plan?
We fight. That was one of the things about the two of them--on and off the field, they understood each other perfectly. It was unparalleled to even her working relationship with Clint. Quickly, she nodded, then grabbed a pan, lobbing it at May’s head.
Steve sprung into action after her, bullets flying everywhere as the three agents ‘tried’ to get off a shot at the duo, eventually letting them into the hallway and over to the elevator. As the doors, closed, Coulson, May and Bobbi dropped their demeanors, Coulson even sighing.
“She was right,” he groaned. “They should’ve put me on the relief team.”
“How has this whole entire tower gone rogue?” Natasha demanded as she and Steve ducked down once more, this time to avoid a barrage of fire from Hunter and Maria. “It’s like they all planned this!”
“Not everyone’s rogue,” Skye answered, jumping down from her preconceived place in the vents. She began to return fire, throwing an extra ICER to Natasha--the spy did have her own guns, but she’d prefer not to use them on her own teammates. “And quite frankly, Romanoff, I’m insulted. You really think I’d switch sides that easily?” She threw another one to Steve, who sighed but began to fire, trying to not cheer at the fact that he was actually hitting people. “Go. Closet at the end of the hall. I’ll cover you.”
They didn’t need to be told twice, dashing to the end of the hallway, through the open door and shutting it forcefully before collapsing against it, slightly out of breath. Distinctly, they could hear the sound of a lock clicking, and the sound of high-fives.
A muffled groan escaped Natasha. “I think we’ve just been set up.” She felt around for a light switch, barely containing her laughter at the setup she found. A large, king-sized bed was located in the middle, the blankets a dark red. Various snacks were scattered around the room, a refrigerator even occupying a corner. “And in Stark’s bunker, no less.”
“Well,” Steve answered, stretching. “I don’t know about you, but I really need a nap.” He sent a wink at her, Natasha blushing at the insinuation. He flopped onto the bed, grabbing an edge of the covers and snuggling into them.
She’d never get over how he was a blanket snuggler, Natasha concluded as she slid in beside him, his arm automatically curling around to include her in his embrace. But then again, she wasn’t about to tell anyone she loved being a little spoon.
“You mean to tell me you locked them in my bunker?!” Tony’s voice went up three octaves when the team explained the situation to him, only half of them sounding apologetic.
Clint was not one of them.
“Listen, Stark, I have my money put out for the next four days, all right? I’m going to win this damn pool, no matter how hard I have to try. And if that means locking Romanogers into your precious bunker, so be it. No, I don’t care if they eat all of your precious snacks, I’ll replace them--yes, even the one-of-a-kind Belgian truffle,” he answered as Tony began to protest. “I need a win and I’m going to take this win.”
Just then, Steve and Natasha emerged from the bunker, looking distinctly ruffled. The team looked at each other in glee, only to have their hopes dashed at their next words.
“Great nap. You really know how to pick your mattresses, Stark,” Natasha remarked, stretching. “Pity you couldn’t exude the same benevolence on the ones you put into our apartments. By the way,” she said to him, “loved that Belgian truffle. Got any more of those?”
“Damn it,” May said to no one in particular after they’d left. “I’m out.”
"Friend Banner, I am in need of your assistance,” Thor proclaimed later that afternoon, strolling into the kitchen. Bruce was making his daily cup of tea, measuring the tea leaves into his mug.
“Me? Why would you need me?”
“I have been told that an elaborate proposal is needed to ask Lady Jane to this ball,” the god began. “I wish to stage a momentous occasion. I do not trust Friend Stark, nor do I feel Friend Barton is worthy for this occasion.”
“I still don’t see how you’ll need me,” Bruce answered, looking dubious, “but I’ll do it. What is it that you need me to do?”
“Is there any chance you could prevent Friend Stark from leaving his laboratory quarters for the next five hours?”
Ah. Distraction. “Well, that’s about the only thing I can do.” Grabbing his tea, he headed towards the lab. “See you in about five hours, man. Make sure you pull this off.”
“Thank you!” Steve was the next one to stroll in, and Thor quickly cornered him for his help. “Captain! Could you possibly assist me in my endeavors to ask Lady Jane to the gala? I plan for a romantic picnic on the rooftops. Friend Banner has already been enlisted to keep Friend Stark confined in the laboratory. I require aid to concoct a Midgardian meal.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely, sure,” Steve chuckled. “What are we making?”
“I have naught an idea.”
“Let’s go for mac and cheese,” he suggested, leading the god to the kitchen. “It’s easy to make, and it’s still a comfort food.” Thor went along with it, nodding like it was what would get him out of the apocalypse. “Okay, I need you to get the spiral pasta and the cheeses out of the cabinet.”
“Well, I think we did good,” Steve exhaled, wiping a hand on his forehead some time later. In front of both men stood a large, heaping pot of macaroni and cheese, bubbling to the brim with cheesy goodness. Thor gave it couple of stirs, just for good measure, before ladling the entirety of it into thermoses. “Hope she says yes after this.”
“I am sure she will,” Thor murmured, screwing on the lid. “Lady Darcy has informed me that this macaroni and cheese is one of my lady’s favorite foods.”
“She’ll definitely say yes, then.”
“I am off, my friend,” he said to the super-soldier, hoisting the large picnic basket in which the thermoses were kept. “Wish me luck!”
He may have done a lot of things in his lifetime, but asking a lady to a gala was not one of them. As he approached the rooftop, having set out a lovely red-and-white checkered picnic blanket beforehand, he found Jane already sitting on it, gazing out at the city.
“Well, I have to say, this is surprising,” she remarked as Thor sat down next to her, setting Moljnir down beside him. “Any special occasion for this?”
“I would rather we dine before I broach this subject,” he returned easily, opening the picnic basket and handing her a thermos. “Then, shall it not go over so well, at least we shall have dined on the fine efforts of the Captain and I.”
“The efforts of--Thor, what did you and Steve--oh!” Wafts of steam had emerged from the thermos when Jane had opened it, and her face lit up at the sight of the gooey macaroni and cheese. “How did you know?”
“Let’s just say it occurred to me.” Shyly, Thor handed her a fork, beaming in delight when she dug in enthusiastically. “Does it satisfy you?”
“Satisfy me? Thor, this is the best macaroni and cheese I’ve ever eaten! Did Steve come up with this?” Jane’s mouth was full, cheese sauce splattered on her chin. Never had she looked more beautiful than at the moment, he decided, and opened his own, tentatively tasting it. Flavor exploded into his mouth, resulting in him reaching for another forkful. No wonder this food was highly coveted among Midgardians.
“Aye, he did. He said something about Lady Romanoff reserving the exclusive rights to his recipe. I feel it is unwise to tell her that we have consumed this.” A thermos was finished off, and he reached for another, opening it eagerly. Nerves got the better of him, and he set the metal container down gently. Noticing his gesture, Jane did the same, appraising him. “Jane, I wish to ask you about something.”
“It’s Sif, isn’t it?” Her eyes clouded up, and she looked away to prevent herself from crying. “I knew it. I knew it, knew it, knew it,” she chanted to herself. “You can keep her on the side if you want. Or me. I know they don’t really like me on Asgard since your mother died for me and all.”
“No, no, not at all,” he murmured, drawing her up into his arms. The sun was setting even lower now, bathing them in golden light. “‘Tis not a sad occasion, my lady. Do not cry.” He drew her back so that he could look into her eyes. “As you know, the gala of SHIELD is to be in two weeks. Every Avenger is required to bring a partner to the ball.” He went down to his knees, holding her hand. “I wish to know if I could have the honor of your company at the gala.”
Jane froze, the turnaround a bit too much for her. “You’re asking me to the ball?”
“Indeed, I feel that I am.”
“You brought me up here, cooked me mac and cheese, and got down on one knee. To ask me to the ball.” She burst into tears, happy ones this time, as she brought him back up and leapt into his arms. “Of course. How could I say no?”
“Oh god, we’re going to look so bad next to this,” Coulson lamented from the living room, where he was watching the conversation with Steve and Hunter. “How the hell are we supposed to beat the rooftop and mac and cheese?”
“Who’s having mac and cheese?” Natasha’s voice echoed from the hallway. Steve froze, while Hunter and Coulson simply answered in unison,
“Jane and Thor.”
Steve just ran for it.
“You’re kidding,” Hill exclaimed loudly. “You got Romanoff to go dress shopping? She hates shopping!” Of all of the things Natasha had to fall through on, it was this one. It was bad enough she was worrying about who to take--now she had to add on an afternoon of dress shopping?
“That I did. Surprised, Maria?” Of course she was. Pepper smirked to herself. Sometimes, there were perks to being privy to every piece of gossip in the Tower. “Now. Two o’ clock. Make sure you bring comfortable shoes.”
“I think we’re living in the Twilight Zone,” Skye remarked quietly, as she, Bobbi, Simmons, Jane and Hill watched Pepper and Natasha enthusiastically shop for dresses. “Never in my life have I seen Romanoff so excited to go shopping.”
“There’s got to be something that we’re missing,” Hill agreed. “She hates shopping. What does Pepper know that we don’t?” She snapped her fingers. “That’s it. Pepper must have some sort of blackmail on Nat that we don’t know about.”
“With all due respect to Agent Romanoff,” Simmons piped up, “shouldn’t it be the other way around? She doesn’t seem like the type to leave incriminating evidence just lying around.”
“Please,” Jane snorted. “I heard her last week singing ‘Royals’ in the shower.”
“You guys better have choices!” Pepper threatened from the other side of the rack, where she and Natasha were currently riffling through numerous dresses. “Or, so help me, I will set the wrath of a sleep-deprived Tony on you.”
With a shout, all five of them scrambled for the racks, feverishly searching for something that would make them look good. Bobbi was the first one to strike gold, triumphantly holding up a navy blue dress, rhinestones studding up the left side in a line that gradually filled out the heart-shaped neckline. “I think I’m good for the day, ladies.”
Simmons was next, holding up a black-and-floral number. The bottom and shoulders were done in floral, with black in between both areas. The flowers perfectly fit her prim English personality, and she grinned in excitement. “Now, if only I could ask Fitz to the gala.”
“Why the hell would you do that?” Skye murmured, searching for her own result. “If anything, he should be the one asking you.” She held up her selection for judgement, sighing in relief when it passed muster. It was a one-shouldered black dress, with a rhinestone-studded middle belt and a sash-like shoulder. “I’m good. Can I go back to the tower?”
“Help?” It was Jane who was the most surprising, holding up what was easily the most elegant dress of the evening. The sleeves capped at T-shirt length, made of lace which extended down to the waist, where it was met with a slight, black belt before blowing out into a long, turquoise train. Her face peeked out from behind it, apprehensive. “Think I’ll be okay?”
“Okay? Jane, you’ve done the best out of all of us, I think!” Pepper sauntered over, taking the dress from the bewildered scientist’s hands. “Simmons, we’re taking you out of your comfort zone next time. Skye, why black? Your suit’s black already, but seeing as we haven’t got time...Bobbi, again, we’re taking you out of your comfort zone next time.”
“I swear to god, Pepper, I’m going to kill you.”
Hill stepped out in a one-shouldered blue-and-white dress, the strap over her shoulder a pure white before meeting a navy blue chest piece, which intersected a white belt before flowing out once more into the navy skirt. Had she not been scowling, the picture would’ve been complete.
“He’d be a fool not to ask you,” came Natasha’s sarcastic remark from her changing stall. “Which I still don’t understand, by the way.”
“I’m not going to do it!” Hill huffed, whirling around to face the spy’s stall. “If I do it, it’ll look like I’m kissing ass to try and get the deputy director position, which you know I don’t want. I don’t need people thinking that I’m sleeping with my boss to hold my position!” She glared daggers at the stall, hoping Natasha would get the subliminal message. “I’m not going to do it. Point made.”
“I still think you should do it,” the other woman sighed, nonchalantly emerging from her stall. She’d donned a gradient red and black dress, the top starting from black, cinched by a black leather belt before slowly transitioning into red. Each woman’s jaw dropped.
Pepper just sighed and hefted her periwinkle dress over her shoulder. After Nat, there really was no point.
“May.” Coulson stopped just short of colliding with his second-in-command as he rounded a corner. “I’ve been meaning to find you.”
“Have you?” She’d been avoiding him during their stay so far, hoping to not have this awkward conversation about the gala, but fate apparently had other plans. “Guess we’ve just been avoiding each other.”
“We need to talk about the gala.” And just like that, he was off and running. “You and I both know that we have to bring dates, and I thought it would be a good idea if we, you know, went together. As friends. Because we need to set an example for the team and all, and you know how Fitz and Simmons are with each other, and Bobbi and Hunter are never going to make a move towards each other, and--”
“I’ll do it.”
“I thought it would just be best if we showed some Bus stability and--wait, what?”
“I said I’ll do it, Coulson.” The tiniest bit of a smirk showed on her face. “I’ll go to the gala with you. As friends. It’ll be fun.”
“Really?” His face lit up like a kid on Christmas. “You will? Thanks, May!” He dashed off, trying to restrain himself from cheering. It didn’t happen. “I’M GOING TO THE GALA!”
“LANCE HUNTER!” For the first time in four days, Bobbi spotted her elusive boyfriend vanishing around a corner, and immediately gave chase. “YOU COME BACK HERE!” Hunter's screams could be heard as he ran down the hallway, Bobbi on his heels.
Unfortunately, he hit a dead end, backing up against the wall as Bobbi stalked up to him, murder written in her eyes. “You’ve been avoiding me all week. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I have been?” Hunter desperately looked everywhere, trying to avoid Bobbi’s glare. “I think we keep missing each other, Bob, I haven’t been avoiding you, you see--”
“You’re avoiding me, Hunter.” Her hands were planted on her hips, never a good sign. “What’s going on?”
“See, there’s this matter that I had to get tied up, and I didn’t really know how to--” At her continued glare, he broke. “Fine! It was about the gala, and I had no bloody idea on how to ask you!” He threw his hands up in the air. “As a matter of fact, I still don’t!”
“All you had to do was ask,” Bobbi scoffed, albeit slightly softer. “I’m not one for big proposals, Hunter. You know that. I saw what Thor did for Jane. And I’m pretty sure Coulson asked May over an almost-collision in the hallway. It doesn’t have to be that hard.”
“How was I supposed to beat Thor?” Hunter pleaded, gesturing wildly. “He used mac and cheese! And the bloody rooftop! If that doesn’t damage a guy’s ego, then I don’t know what does!”
“Just cut to the chase,” Bobbi sighed. “Are you taking me to the gala or not?”
“Would you be so kind as to accompany me, Bob?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Shit, no, there’s Fury. Hill’s footsteps quickened as she tried to hurry to her office, attempting to avoid Fury’s line of sight. She’d been doing this all week, even going so far as to call in sick for a day just to shave off a day of avoiding him. And she never called in sick.
It really did show how desperate she was to prove her own independence.
“Agent Hill.”
And there we go. She sighed quietly, turning around to face her boss. “Yes, Director?”
“Do you happen to have a date to the gala next week?”
Was he asking her? Her mind threw itself into overdrive, despite all of the training she’d done. Was he seriously asking her? “No, sir. Why do you ask?” He couldn’t seriously be asking her.
“I think it would be in SHIELD’s...best interests if we were to attend it together,” Fury began, looking her dead in the eye. “After all, with all of our best agents in party wear, security detail’s going to be a little short. I need someone with me to make sure things don’t go awry.”
“We all know that just means Stark.” She rolled her eyes, remembering what Tony had pulled at the last party. It’d taken a good chunk of money to pay off all of the public defenders. “I suppose I’ll have to accompany you to the gala then, it seems.”
“It would please me immensely if you did.”
Around the corner, Tony did a fist pump. “Pay up, suckers. I win.”
“Okay, this is all we’ve got,” Coulson said to Hill, as Steve and Natasha gathered in the kitchen, an eerie reminiscence of their first attempt. Minus all of the firearms. “We fail this, everyone’s officially out. Except Pepper, but that’s never going to happen.” He sighed. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
Both of them charged in, proclaiming loudly about needing to talk to the couple separately. “I swear to god, Natasha, it’s important.” “Captain Rogers, I really need your opinion concerning a mission.”
Steve and Natasha barely had time to shoot each other confused looks before allowing themselves to be dragged out of the room against their wills.
“What’s this about, Coulson?” Steve asked, genuinely concerned.
“This had better be good, Maria.”
Just like they’d planned, Coulson and Hill shouted in unison, “JUST ASK HIM/HER ALREADY!” Then, in the ensuing silence that followed, they took the time to run like hell towards the elevator, jumping in and heading downwards before Steve and Natasha had realized what they’d done.
Slowly, Steve peeked around the corner to see a shocked Natasha. “Nat?”
“I was kind of hoping you’d ask me, you know.”
Her sentence was short and direct, and guilt washed over Steve as he stepped into the room. Natasha was avoiding his gaze, drawing into herself. She showed no change as he came closer, not even relenting when he drew her into his arms.
“I would have. I really would have.”
“Then why didn’t you? Why’d you make mac and cheese for Jane and Thor? You know I love that stuff!”
“It was Thor, Nat. You know how clueless he is about cooking.”
“Yeah, well, you’re clueless about asking people to dances, it seems.”
“Then by all means, let me rectify that.” Without another word, Steve ran out of the room, leaving Natasha utterly confused as to what had just happened. She got her answer a minute later then the PA clicked on, Steve’s voice crackling over the system.
“Hi, everyone. Sorry to bother your day. I’m Steve. In case you didn’t know. And I’m here today to ask a certain someone a very special question.
A few years ago, I had no idea where my life was going. All I knew was the job. I didn’t know how to slow down. Where to stop. When to stop. I think I was pretty close to self destructing, actually.” He paused. “But then I met a gal who made me stop and think about life. What I was missing. She gave me everything without asking anything in return. And every single day of my life, I wake up thankful to have her. Which is why I’m here. I’ve done a crappy job of dance-posals, so here’s my best attempt. Natasha Romanoff, would you go to the SHIELD gala with me?”
“GODDAMMIT, ROMANOFF, SAY YES!” Skye.
“I THOUGHT YOU’D SAID YES ALREADY!” Pepper.
“WAIT, THEY’RE TOGETHER?!” The shocked gasps of the rest of the teams could be heard, even out of range of the PA.
“What happened to telling each other everything, Nat?!” Clint’s sad wail could be heard from two floors down.
“So...Nat? What do you think?”
From nowhere, Steve emerged holding a large bouquet of roses, a shy grin on his face. Natasha’s hand flew to cover her mouth, barely bothering to conceal her gasp. She was speechless. She could’ve said yes in a dozen different languages. Luckily, he interpreted her silence correctly.
“Is that a yes?”
“...in every language.”