the enemy of my enemy
rating: G
characters: Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff
warnings: none
summary: The history she had taught him, she had seen with her own eyes. Or: The friendship of two relics from the past.
author's note: Thanks to cybermathwitch for the beta'ing!
the enemy of my enemy
"That's the fifth time an interviewer's asked me if we were friends," Natasha commented, the wood creaking as she lowered herself onto the porch beside Steve. It had been a long while since she had seen him this relaxed, the lines of his body soft and loose as he sat gazing at the ocean, elbows on his knees and feet in the sand. At her words he shifted his focus away from the waves to look at her in surprise, one eyebrow raised.
"Why do they think we'd be enemies?" He asked, without any suggestion that he could guess at the answer after the history lessons she'd given him. That was why people underestimated him, Natasha reflected, shifting into a cross-legged position. They saw his honesty and took it as a lack of guile or wit, instead of catching the sharp intellect it hid.
"Oh, because you're the ultimate American hero and I'm the mysterious Russian," she replied easily. "Everyone thinks they're your best friend, while I'm notorious for my dislike of reporters. Apparently if you don't want to talk on television, you must be hiding something." Her wry tone said quite clearly that she did, in fact, have many things to hide, although the gossips would be hard pressed to correctly guess what those things were.
"Unlike my country," she continued, "yours has a short memory, forgetting that the Soviet Union was part of the Allies when you went to sleep. But the Cold War is all they think of now."
Steve nodded at that; it was true, after all. The rest of the world had moved on without him, and he had done such a smooth job of seeming to fit in that others often forgot that in his mind, the war was just a few short years ago. But she had seen his cracks, his flaws, and remembered better than most. After all, she had a longer past than most.
"So for all of this, they seem to think we're moral opposites," Natasha concluded, almost as an afterthought. Steve didn't respond right away, glancing back to the ocean as he mulled that over. It wasn't a hard picture to paint, and so was easy to perpetuate: Captain America in his bright uniform and shining armor against the spy in dark clothing and a shrouded past. If only the truth was that simple...
"What do you think?" He asked her after a minute, keeping silent on his own thoughts. She smiled faintly, knowing much of how Steve deflected attention was achieved through just such a move.
"I think that we're both soldiers," she told him honestly, without reservation. "We've killed good men and bad ones. The only difference is that when I do it, I don't have a war to blame it on. Most of the time," she amended, tilting her head as he laughed.
"I thought you told me that one agent, in the right place and the right time, should prevent a war," Steve pointed out with amusement. She flashed him a grin and they both settled back into the comfortable, sun-lit moment. In the distance gulls cried over the sound of the waves, and soon enough there would be more PR as payment for their vacation. But for now all was quiet and, old campaigners that they were in every sense of the word, they knew to savor it.
When the peace had soaked into her bones and eased the last, lingering frustrations from her interview, Natasha rose, heading towards the doorway back to the house.
"Were you in the right place at the right time?" Steve asked, just before she vanished into the interior of the house. She stepped back into the doorway, meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow. His lips quirked as he continued. "The Soviet Union still fell."
Natasha smiled, looking exactly like the cat that had eaten the canary.
"Who ever said I was on the Soviet side?" She asked, staying in the doorway for a heartbeat before vanishing into the shadows. In the sunlight behind her Steve paused, a bemused look on his face, and laughed as he turned into the cool sea breeze.
And around them, as it always had, the day rolled on.
fin