Eddie suppressed a sigh. The old man was holding her much closer than was socially acceptable, but the song was almost over, and Eddie didn't feel like making a scene by quitting in the middle of a song. The guy looked older than her grandfather, and it was quite apparent that the only action he got anymore was in this dance hall, pressing too close to women who were too polite to decline a dance.
The song ended and Eddie faked a smile as she memorized his face and added him to The List in her mind. The List was comprised of the dozen or so men Eddie saw here often who danced too close, made creepy remarks, or otherwise made their dance partners uncomfortable. Eddie was in the habit of discreetly pointing these men out to other women while they cooled off in front of the large rotating fans on the edge of the dance floor.
"One more song?" The old man asked, all friendly and innocent, and Eddie shook her head, already withdrawing her hand and stepping away, making an excuse about the heat and needing a drink of water. The old man shrugged and wandered off along the edge of the dance floor to find another victim. Eddie pitied the next poor girl who said yes.
She wandered her way back to where she'd left her purse and sweater on a bench, sipping slowly at her water bottle and tapping her foot to the music. She'd lucked out, too. The song the band was playing down was slow. Eddie hated slow songs even when she had a good partner, but slow songs with bad dancers were just torture.
"You've got the right idea," Lena sighed, flopping heavily down onto the bench next to Eddie and screwing the top off her water bottle with one hand while holding her hair up off her neck with the other. Her forehead and neck were slick with sweat, which is what happened when you danced for hours in a dance hall with no air conditioning in late June just outside Washington, D.C.
"Was just getting away from a Close Dancer, actually." Eddie checked the time on her phone and her lips twisted. The band was set to go on break soon. She was hoping they'd play a fast song before they stopped, and in case they did she started scanning the dance floor for dancers she knew well, trying to pick out who she'd ask.
"What? Who?" Lena craned to look at the dance floor, pressing her cool water bottle to her neck in an attempt to kep cool.
"Old guy, yellow shirt, suspenders." Eddie didn't bother with a name or a face. Lena hadn't remembered Eddie's name until they'd met at least three times. It was best to just point out the clothes of whoever Lena needed to steer away from whenever they went out together.
Lena's eyes scanned the floor for a moment before she locked on, and grimaced. "Ugh. It's not fair, the guys who wear suspenders are usually good."
Eddie nodded sagely. "Probably trying to lull us into a false sense of security." Lena made a noise of disappointment and disgust.
The band took a break as the slow song finished, and Eddie sighed, checking the time again. It was already getting late. It would probably be close to half an hour before the band came back, and another fifteen minutes of people showing off aerials and doing the shim sham before social dancing started back up again. If she left now, she could make it home before midnight.
Nodding to herself, Eddie stood and started gathering her things. "I'm gonna head out."
"Already? Booo," Lena booed at her, a little louder than was typical for normal conversation. A few other dancers on break shot her startled looks, and Eddie huffed a laugh. "Why?"
"No band for another 30 minutes? It's hot, and late? I'm done being lightly groped by old men?" Eddie proposed as she swapped her dancing shoes for comfortable flats and tucked the heels away in her bag. Lena rolled her eyes, used to Eddie's introversion by now and knowing she'd never win if she tried to convince Eddie to stay.
"Whatever. At least I have Cooper this time." Cooper being their mutual friend who'd been mooning after Lena since college, and who Lena had only recently agreed to date. He was also, Eddie noticed, nowhere in sight.
"Do you?" Eddie teased, looking around for the absent boyfriend.
"He's toweling off in the bathroom." That made sense. Lena took great pleasure in getting dolled up in vintage dresses to go out dancing, and liked her man to match. Unfortunately, that meant that while Lena got to enjoy short sleeves and a breezy skirt, Cooper was dancing in long sleeves and a tie. In the humid mid-summer heat. In a dance hall with no air conditioning. Eddie did not envy him a bit.
"See? Too hot for dancing." Eddie hitched her purse over her shoulder. "Shoot me a text next time you're coming up? I might catch a ride with you next time."
"You should! Then you won't be able to quit early!"
Eddie huffed a laugh. "On second thought, maybe I will drive."
Lena booed loudly at her back, and Eddie smiled at the puzzled looks she got from other dancers as she walked away. Eddie had known Lena since college, and while the other woman hadn't matured much, she was still fun in small doses, and was a nice buddy to go out swing dancing with.
Only a few people hung around outside the hall, smoking cigarettes, and Eddie didn't see any other dancers making their way to the parking lot just yet. Most people would stick around to watch the aerials, Eddie figured, but she much preferred doing them to watching them, so she wasn't disappointed she'd be missing the show. She walked away from the hall and through the park, passing the darkened carousel and bumper car ring and inhaling the scent of honeysuckles on the summer breeze.
It was a nice night, even if it had been cut short by a Close Dancer.
She heard her assailant only a second before they struck. The slightest shuffle of a shoe and cloth was the only warning Eddie received before she was thrown forward forcefully.
What Eddie should have done—what she was trained to do—was drop into a roll to minimize the impact and roll back onto her feet in a ready position so she could face her assailant.
What Eddie actually did was bend her knees and shuffle her feet, like she'd been on the receiving end of a bad turn-out rather than a blow to the back. She spun, still feeling like she was dancing as she jammed her hand into her purse to grip her pepper spray. She froze as she caught sight of her attacker, letting go of the pepper spray with a sigh.
"Still trying to keep your feet, I see." Natasha Romanov looked less intimidating now that she was wearing well-fitting jeans and a t-shirt rather than the skin-tight tactical garb SHIELD provided her with. Not that Eddie thought the woman was any less capable of kicking her ass.
Eddie glanced around to see if the smokers from before were still in view, but they were alone. "You realize, now that I'm in the private sector attacking me without warning is just assault and battery."
Romanov's lips quirked up at the corner. "You gonna report me?"
Eddie ruffled her hand through her hair, exasperated. "I'd rather you just stopped."
Natasha hummed, like she'd take Eddie's request under consideration. She glanced over her shoulder at the dance hall, then back to Eddie. "There a reason you didn't break that guy's hand back there?"
Eddie blinked. It took her a moment to realize Natasha must have been talking about Mr. Close Dancer. "He's, like, 70."
"Exactly." Romanov's smile was small, but Eddie knew from experience that it was not innocent. "More than old enough to know better."
Eddie snorted softly, lips quirking a little at the image of breaking the old man's hand. "I think I'd see a significant decrease in invitations to dance if I started breaking bones."
Romanov shrugged, as if to say, 'suit yourself.' Silence stretched for a beat.
Eddie took the opportunity to really look at Romanov. She seemed… better. There was a tightness in the corner of her eyes when she was part of SHIELD, a tension borne from secrets on secrets. Not that the woman didn't still have them, of course. But with the exposure of HYDRA and fall of SHIELD, many things had come to light. The last few years couldn't have been easy on Romanov, but she seemed to have come out of the ordeal stronger. Less like the jagged, raw edge that had made her dangerous before. Now she was steel, hard and sharp. Stronger. More stable. More deadly.
"So…" Eddie said when Romanov didn't break the silence. "Did you come here to chastise me for my bad habits, or can I help you with something specific?"
"Can't it be both?" Romanov asked, not missing a beat. At Eddie's unamused look, Romanov smiled a charming smile. "Let me buy you a drink."
That did not bode well. Natasha Romanov offering to buy her a drink probably meant she was about to ask a very dangerous favor.
With a sigh, Eddie nodded. Romanov followed her to her car, and Eddie drove them to a small Irish pub a few minutes away from the dance hall. They managed to snag a small, out-of-the way table. Romanov left for the bar and returned with two beers and a shot of whiskey. Romanov pushed the beer and the shot toward Eddie, who raised her eyebrows but downed the shot, trusting Romanov to know what sort of favor she was asking and how much alcohol was required for Eddie to say yes.
And Eddie would say yes, really. She had never been close to Romanov, necessarily, but Eddie had been, and still was, loyal to SHIELD. She trusted Romanov, and she knew her work was important, so if Romanov needed something from her, she would do it. She might complain and bitch about it, but she would do it.
Eddie chugged a few decent gulps her her beer before setting it down and meeting Romanov's eyes. "What do you need?"
"You can relax," Romanov said dryly. "It's not a matter of national security."
Eddie stared. "You know that only makes me more suspicious, right?" What sort of non-national security related favor could Romanov possibly want from her?
Romanov's lips twitched. She took a dainty sip of her own beer. "I'm looking for a dance partner for a certain World War II-era soldier."
Eddie choked on her beer. From the amused light in Romanov's eyes, Eddie guessed the woman had waited until she took a sip on purpose. Still, she was too surprised to be angry. "You want me to dance with Captain America?"
"Not Rogers," Natasha said easily. She didn't continue, sitting back in her chair and watching Eddie, waiting for her to piece it together.
It took Eddie longer than it should have to connect the dots, but only because she couldn't believe it. The only World War II-era soldier Eddie knew was Captain America. Right? Everyone else from that time was dead or ancient, and Eddie highly doubted Romanov was here to ask her to jitterbug with a nursing home resident. There was no one else—except…
"You want me to dance with the Winter Soldier?" Eddie hazarded, voice practically a whisper.
"No." Romanov leaned back in her chair and sipped her beer again, seemingly completely relaxed. The tension in Eddie's shoulders started to relax, though she really didn't know who else— "I want you to dance with Bucky Barnes."
And the tension was back. "That's the same—" Eddie bit her words back at Romanov's arched eyebrow. Eddie heaved a shuddering sigh. "Okay, fine. You're right, that's uncharitable. But you must know how insane that sounds."
"You were all set to help before I even told you what I wanted," Romanov observed, face neutral and relaxed. Eddie couldn't read the tone of her voice. "So why not this?"
Because Eddie had seen the footage. She could handle being in the same room as someone as deadly as Natasha Romanov, or as strong as Steve Rogers. But that strength and skill, in one person? A thoroughly brainwashed person who'd killed dozens of people, over the course of decades?
"Before you told me what you wanted, I guessed that you might want me to help track down HYDRA associates through financial transactions, or something. You know, the thing I'm good at?" That was what SHIELD had paid her for, after all.
"You don't think you're a good dancer?" Romanov asked, faux sympathetic.
"Not the point," Eddie bit out, losing patience.
Romanov backed off her teasing, turning more serious. "Barnes is improving. Wakandan tech has made progress in undoing what HYDRA did to him. But he's still trying to figure out who he is. Who he was." Turning wide, appealing eyes on Eddie, she added, "Rogers thinks this will help."
The manipulation was transparent. Romanov, with her pretty eyes, playing on Eddie's sense of duty and patriotic loyalty to Captain America. Still, just because she knew it was happening didn't make it any less powerful.
Eddie still tried to wriggle out of it, even though she knew in her heart the Widow had her where she wanted her. "You can dance, can't you?"
Romanov's lips curved in a smile, already triumphant. "Not like that."
"I could teach you," Eddie said brightly. "It's not too hard to learn, especially for the follow—"
"Edwards." Romanov arched an eyebrow, and Eddie could almost hear the implied Be serious. Eddie stopped, shoulders slumping. "It needs to be you."
Eddie's lips twisted, and she gulped some beer. Then, with a considering look, the rest of pint. When it was gone, she looked at the glass mournfully for a moment before turning her eyes back to Romanov. "He's not going to glitch and try to strangle me, is he?"
"No strangling," Romanov promised easily, then smirked. "And no groping, either."