Natasha never seemed to amaze Steve. There was something about the way she moved, water made solid, then sweeping away as though she was made of nothing but wind. Until she struck you, of course. She might as well have been made of steel as hard as she hit. And on the few occasions she was angry, or God forbid it furious? Steve made sure to stay out of her way. The poor opposing agents didn't know that today was not a good day to mess with the Black Widow, and they were not prepared in any way, shape, or form for Natasha to sweep through them, a hurricane in a surprisingly small package. Before Steve could do much more than disable the security system on the off chance they were using it she was already advancing, running out of the room so quickly he had to run to catch up.
The threat had interrupted their date. They'd waited months for this to come around, rescheduled at least nine times, and Steve had begun to fear that they'd never get the chance to go out on a real, proper date. He hadn't been half wrong. Just after they'd ordered drinks there had been an attack on the government building a block away. Fury had called them seconds after they'd gotten past the first sips and just broached the topic of sports. Before he could say more than "We've got a situation" the two spies were back on their feet and sprinting towards Steve's bike. At least they hadn't gotten too dressed up, Steve insisting on something more comfortable. Still, Steve had been amazed at Natasha's choice to wear stilettos, laughing as she insisted that they evened out the height difference between the two ("I am not going to stand on my tip toes every time I go to kiss you, giant.") Now, Steve was even more impressed to watch her run in them, the clap of the heel giving her away moments before the stiletto dug itself into the gut of the guard to her right. It was coated in blood by the time she yanked it out, and Steve became preoccupied with an agent to his left, a gun pointed in the man's hand. As Steve took out his one adversary he couldn't help but notice how Nat bounced from man to man as they tried to challenge her, equally injuring each one as she spun, red hair whipping around her like a lit torch. A blow to the kidney here, broken nose there; she crouched and swiped a man's feet out from underneath him before rising and kicking another in the face.
He made a mental note never to make her angry again.
The bodies lined the floor when Natasha finally turned back to him, her eyes bright. "They're going to have the programmer on the third floor. You go and take out the agents in the hall and I'll get the guy out of there."
"Yes ma'am." As if he'd say anything different.
They ran down the hall without another word between them, the gun his opponent had carried firmly secured in Steve's hands while Natasha was armed with the three knives she kept on her person at all times. Not that Steve thought she was planning on using them; times like this she seemed to enjoy strangling a person with her bare hands rather than slitting their throat and being done with it.
He would be sure to commit their anniversary, birthday, and everything else in between to permanent memory. No way was he chancing her turning on him like this.
While Steve normally hated using guns it helped to clear out the hall before Natasha got there, made for quicker work as she maneuvered her way over the fallen bodies in a full-on sprint to the door at the end of the hallway, Steve not far behind her. The programmer was being held at gunpoint through the door, though it seemed the gunman wasn't expecting a pair of Shield's best agents to burst through dressed in their civs.
"What the hell is this-ah, ah, Red. One more step and I blow his brains out. Drop the gun, blondy."
Right. Like that was going to make a difference. Steve removed the clip from the gun, threw it to the side, then set the gun slowly down on the ground. All the man was doing was giving Natasha an excuse to throttle him with her bare hands. No sooner had this thought passed through his head than Natasha was already in motion, running towards the criminal. The gun was pointed at her but before he could so much as click the safety off (amateur) she'd kicked it out of his hand, then grabbed said hand and twisted him around so he had to release the programmer. Steve attended to the hostage as Natasha threw the man who had ruined their date over her shoulder. He let out a yell of pain as his back hit the hard tiled floor. Natasha's shoe was on his throat moments later, and Steve could hear the man's breathing become forced and choked as she pressed down.
"You're lucky we want you alive or else I'd have a real good time with you. You know how long I waited for a night off so I could get a damn date?" She growled, her eyes narrowed and dark in her hate. The man just choked underneath her high heel.
An hour later and the man was apprehended, in Shield's custody, and the programmer was being questioned about what he had been asked to do. Apparently there was a rumor that he had knowledge of the identities of the X-Men. It was rubbish, and they'd taken a building and man hostage for nothing, though thankfully the casualty list was short: the building had been closed down for some time.. It was a nightmare, and Steve was sure Phil was already buried in paperwork. His attention, however, was shifting back towards Natasha, who was glaring at the now retreating figure of the criminal. He could practically see all the ways she was thinking of torturing him. With slow feet he headed over towards her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"So. How do you jump and run like you do in your shoes? Do you get Tony to make you special titanium-reinforced high heels on the off chance that you get called into a mission?"
The question was just crazy enough that it snapped her out of her foul mood, her blue eyes confused and bemused when they turned to look at Steve.
"Jealous? I can get you a pair. We can even dye them red, white, and blue Cap."
Steve's head tipped backwards with his laugh, and she pulled herself into his hold, his strong arms wrapping around her small frame. He leaned down to whisper an invitation to dessert, claiming he knew a twenty-four hour diner that had the best ice cream sundaes. Her lips had split into a small smile as she leaned up-on her tip toes anyway-to press a quick kiss to his cheek.
"Sounds like a date, soldier."
On their way back to his bike the pair of them threw their phones in the trash. Any villainous attacks or threats would have to wait until tomorrow.
A/N: Title comes from the song "Makes Me Wanna Die" by The Pretty Reckless, which is my bad-ass Natasha theme song. Hope you enjoyed it. As ever the characters don't belong to me but to Marvel.