Chapter 3
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"Hey," Clint said, placing his briefcase on the marble counter top in the kitchen. He does this frequently even though he knows it pisses me off. Often I let it slide.
But it's eight in the morning on a Sunday and he only now bothered to show up.
I sipped on my coffee and kept myself busy by tampering with the microwave. I think one of the buttons on here was broken—
"Nat," he whined, coming up behind me to wrap his arms around my stomach. I shook him off and left him standing in the kitchen. "C'mon!"
He had some nerve to act casual about coming in at this time. It wasn't something he knew I'd take lightly because he didn't like me doing the same to him. Compromising was an important part of a relationship and I hated when he didn't follow on his promises.
No problem. I had more important matters to attend to anyway.
Clint refused to let it go. He was waiting for me at the bottom of the steps after I went to get my bags. I taught morning ballet classes at the Agency on Sunday's and spent the rest of the day helping the other teachers once my class was finished. Him blocking the exit was going to make me late.
I crossed my arms and tapped my foot impatiently. "I have to go to the studio, Clint."
His forehead crinkled like it normally did when he was confused. He sounded hurt as he spoke. "You're choosing your job over me?"
The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
"I'd rather work than spend my day dealing with your shit."
And he shut up. And I felt anything but relief. And I didn't have the strength to apologize, take those words back.
So I just left.
Dancing had been a hobby of mine in Russia. There was comfort in knowing music could relieve me of my problems.
"Can I get a shot of your impasse again, Ms. Romanoff?"
Well, most of them anyway.
Yes, Steve Rogers really was becoming a thorn in my side. Didn't matter how many times that man apologized to me; I wasn't planning on wavering. He would have to do more than give me meaningless apologies for what he did yesterday.
"Maybe after class is over, Mr. Rogers."
One of my students, Darcy Lewis, had spoken up from her spot in the corner of the room (she was doing her daily stretches on the bars) and proclaimed, "What's the point of him being here if you aren't going to agree with him?"
I had an answer prepared just in case she asked because, well, Darcy had no idea what boundaries were. "He's doing his job regardless of what I say, Darcy."
She scratched her frizzy brown hair in confusion, adding a tilt of the head for good measure. Her voice was a mixture of innocence and feigned confusion. The majority of her questions were asked to me in this manner.
"Yes, that may be true, but what if he actually has, what's that word you're always using? The one you use when I'm not, as you say, 'staying in my zone'?"
Another student of mine, Loki Laufeyson, had commented on this. He stated monotonously, "I think the word you're looking for is manners, which you seem to completely lack by the way." The corner of his lip lifted slightly, as if he was amused by his own joke, while Darcy scowled at him.
I sighed, pausing my dance to turn to Steve, who sat patiently on a wooden stool near the door. I raised a brow.
"Well?"
He had the face of a cute puppy when he was confused. His baby blue eyes were bordering on sweet like candy. The bad kind that made your mouth sour.
"Huh?"
"Are you going to listen to me or do your own thing?"
"Yes ma'am! I mean, uh, no—darn," he said. I gave him a moment to compose himself. After a couple seconds, Steve regained his composure. "I don't disrespect a woman's wishes. All I want to do, however, is take a beautiful picture of a beautiful woman. If you aren't okay with that, I won't do it."
I wanted him to leave so I could teach my class. Ever since he came in late this morning, he's been nothing but a distraction for my students. Instead of paying attention to me, they're focusing on his camera or what he's wearing or his attempts at funny jokes. And where does he get off thinking that I'll be fooled by compliments and praise every time he wants to snap a damn picture?
"I'm not okay with you doing that, actually."
Steve was visibly stunned for a slight second but it went from stunned to awe immediately after. He said, "Wow. That's a first."
The class stayed silent like they were watching a movie that demanded their attention.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why?"
He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, and stared until the fire burning in my veins cooled down. "Most people agree with me because they're aware of my friendship with Tony. They want to be in my good graces. This is the first time somebody didn't care about that and it makes you different."
What he said got me thinking: was everyone so desperate to be friends with Tony that they had to use Steve to do so? The idea was foul. It's moments like this where I can appreciate my relationship with Clint. I loved him for him and not his status. It was pretty much a guarantee that I was in this relationship for the long haul.
I felt a pit in my stomach knowing Steve's friendships weren't considered genuine enough to be real. Well, the newer ones at least.
I'm sorry didn't sound sincere. Apologies were my enemy. If I said anything, it would come off mean-spirited. I bit my lip, wondering how Clint put up with me sometimes. I can't handle me sometimes.
Steve fixed the camera strap around his neck and glanced away from me to look at the students. He nodded towards them and said, "I think they expected a show."
"They were never getting one," I said. To be in this business, you had to have class and handle situations professionally. The last thing I wanted was to cause a scene and make a big deal out of nothing. "Anything else before I continue the class?"
Steve put his hands up in defense, saying, "No ma'am."
But I wish he would have said yes.
A/N - How's the story so far? Good? Bad? The next update should be soon.
Until next time,
~nerd
