The night started off a little awkward, however it progressed well. Natasha had cooked a typical Russian dish of Beef Stroganov which she had learnt to make when she was just a small child. Cooking was among the many skills the Redhead had acquired at a young age, other examples included firearms handling, espionage and killing. Nat had always taken that kind of life in her stride. Yes, once in a blue moon she wished for a normal life, but this is all she'd ever known, all she'd ever had. It was at the point where now it was all she ever wanted.

The apartment was small but cosy. The spy never really spent enough time at home for it to be worthwhile on getting a bigger living space. The walls weren't decorated and the furnishing was simple. There were no pictures up. No images of loved ones, no images of family and no images of Natasha from various points in her life, if you could actually call her time spent on Earth that. Even if the agent did want pictures scattered around her house, she didn't truthfully own any. None were ever taken. It was tragic, yet Natasha Romanoff was far past the point where it bothered her. It was the norm.

The two women were now situated on the couch. It easily seated three, however Maria and Natasha were siting fairly close next to each other, leaving a large gap off to the side of them. Nat had her feet up on the seat, her legs folded below her. Her body was orientated towards Maria as her left hand carelessly played with the assassin's auburn locks. Natasha's right hand was lightly laid to rest on her own thigh, whilst her thumb unconsciously stroked it. It was something Natasha did when she was content, however she never realised it was happening.

On the coffee table in front of them stood two empty glasses, but they hadn't always been that way. A bright lipstick smudge remained on the edge of one, signifying which one was Natasha's. A bottle of red wine was located in the middle of the table, only a small amount of liquid remained in the elegant vessel.

"Do you want to finish the rest of that?" She gestured towards the bottle. "There's about enough for one more glass." The host asked Maria out of common courtesy. In truth, Nat really fancied one more glass, yet she wanted to be polite.

Maria tucked a few loose strands of her tied-back hair behind her ear. "We can split it?"

"Sure." The Russian grinned, leaning over and pouring the remaining drink evenly between the two glasses, handing one to Maria, keeping the other clutched in her hand.

"So have you enjoyed tonight then?"

"I have, Miss Romanoff. It's been a very welcoming first date." Maria had a slightly jokey tone in her voice, a sweet smile splashed across her modest lips.

Putting the glass to her mouth, Nat took a long sip, finishing the drink off. "It's not a date, Maria!" She smirked, rolling her eyes to the side.

"If you say so, Natasha." There was much more meaning to this sentence than first suggested. Nat sat and thought about it for a few moments, the words still circling her head. After the brunette placed her vacant glass down on the table, Natasha leant forward, placing a hand gently on the side of the other's cheek. She stared intently at Maria's façade before pressing her their lips together in a loving embrace.

It was a short and sweet kiss and when they separated, a huge rush of emotion flowed through Natasha, welling up at the pit of her stomach.

"We shouldn't-"

"But you want to." Natasha was quick to cut Maria off short. She could see emotion in Maria's eyes. There was lust, hunger and need sparkling in her deep blue irises.

"But we shouldn't." Maria's reply was scarily simple. She was trying to hide her feelings from Natasha, but it wasn't working. Nat could read Maria like a book, and deep down the brunette knew this.

Sighing, Natasha retracted her body back to her portion of the chair, sinking into it. "I'm sorry." They had been incredibly close friends and now, Natasha was worried that her one simple slightly-influenced-by-alcohol-consumption decision had destroyed that, all those months of building a friendship. A lump appeared in Nat's throat. This was exceedingly unnatural for her. In fact, the whole day had been unusual. First the nervousness, then asking Maria out and now this, this feeling of guilt and disappoint. She shook her head a little, telling herself it was just the wine making her all giddy. Natasha didn't drink often (unless it was stereotypical vodka) for a reason. She was a spy, she had to bury feelings. Alcohol just brought them all out again, no matter how much she drunk.

"Don't be sorry." Maria moved forward, lying on Natasha with her legs either side of the woman's on the couch. She pressed her lips gently against the other's, her arms draped around the redhead's neck. Instinctively, Nat cupped Maria's face in her soft hands, caressing her cheek tentatively with her thumb. Her heart was racing; the rhythmic thud was accompanied by Maria's also fast beating chest.

Their lips worked away delicately at one another, before Natasha finally pushed Maria's apart allowing her access to her mouth. It was all such a deliberate process. Time seemed to be slowing down, granting the couple a seemingly infinite period to pleasure each other all they could with their intimacy.

As tongues slid together, hair was let down and clothing was removed. Hands worked steadily and confidentially, causing sharp gasps to be released which just about managed to escape the tightly locked mouths.

Natasha had lost track of time. All concentration had been funnelled into entertaining Maria. The kiss finally broke and Maria laid her head to rest tenderly on Natasha's chest. They were both still wearing enough clothes to not be considered naked, yet it would be greatly frowned upon if they were seen publicly in this state.

Maria's eyes darted up and caught Natasha's gaze. They both stared at each other longingly, hands still roaming one another's bodies. The Russian swallowed hard, biting down on her bottom lip.

The night certainly wasn't over yet.