Disclaimer: Do not own.
Author's note: This one is merely a compilation of snippets of some sort. Plot (I know, since when do I write plots?) thickens in the next chapter. Thank you so much for reading! Penny for your thoughts?:)
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Chapter 4
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Façade
[a Mr. & Mrs. Smith AU]
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She wasn't oblivious and he wasn't subtle.
She noticed the lingering looks and the flustered laughter. The hesitation and the soft words. The way his face lit up when he saw her.
Her instinct had been right. He was a convenient target. It hadn't taken her long to peg his type, that in order to be close to him she had to be a certain amount of friendly, challenging, and mysterious at the same time. That he wouldn't settle on something boring. That he would be drawn to stubbornness, fire, and warmth. No matter whether he realized it or not.
It was convenient, because that was exactly who Natalie was. He was a perfect match for her cover persona, so she decided to stick around. Apparently, he had been also more than happy to let her. He had introduced her to his circle of friends – which, until now, still left her impressed by who he associated himself with. Despite of his high maintenance job, she hadn't expected him to be around such influential people like Stark, Potts, or even Banner.
He traveled around a lot for his work, or he would spent days cramped up in his office, so maintaining her charade was sort of effortless because she was also gone as much as he was. He never demanded anything from her – she wasn't expecting that, because she never had an actual friend to begin with and she had never been undercover for this long before. Usually, it was slipping in and slipping out for her. Slit their throats and go or seduce then kill. But she had always known enough to pave her way through anything, and learning how to fake being a friend was terribly easy. It also helped that he was friendly and trusting –
And she thought: no one should be that naïve.
Her life in New York was the closest to an independent life she ever had. Sure, they still sent her to missions and all that, but something changed – she couldn't deny it anymore. She knew they were focusing on young recruits now. At first she had despised it, loathed being away from home, being casted sideways by the Red Room like she wasn't important.
But then she started to have these things she couldn't do before: decorating her own apartment, spending hours invested in books and movies, taking the time to stroll around the city whenever she wanted to. She had started to figure out what Natalie liked, and what she didn't. Natalie would prefer autumn breeze to the glare of summer sun, purple over yellow, and she disliked animals in general. It was like writing her own tale, spinning words into an empty paper. It was exhilarating.
Steve would take her to visit museums, or art galleries, and they would stand in front paintings or exhibitions and make up stories about them. He would bring her frozen yoghurts after she finished teaching her ballet classes (she thought it could be a good foundation and an addition to the list of alibis she could give on days she had to disappear) – and she would always eat her portion never mind that she absolutely hated frozen yoghurts because Natalie didn't.
Sometimes she wondered if she couldn't get herself under wraps enough or if he was just as good as reading people, because he would get this look on his face before he would come up with ideas that Natalie liked. Such as seeing a street performance or hunting antique stuffs at a shop downtown. She didn't mind. Maybe he could read Natalie, but as long as Natasha was still hidden, it was no problem for her.
There was something about him that intrigued her, though. It was something she couldn't put her fingers on, something she couldn't place, and something hidden beneath his smile and the lightness of his words. A slump of his shoulders that was gone the instant she walked into the room and a distant look whenever he was left with his thoughts for a long period of time.
Maybe that was why when he leaned in, with a question in his blue eyes and a hand tender on her cheek, she let him kissed her. And she kissed him back.
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Their first date was nothing she expected and everything Natalie would love.
He took her to see a show on Broadway, then to a dinner at a small burger joint with surprisingly good food. When it was almost midnight they took a walk in Central Park and danced to no music, him still clumsy and grinning sheepishly despite of the practice he had had with her. He made Natalie laughed and laughed. He kissed her for the second time.
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She didn't move in. It was just that his apartment was closer to her ballet studio and she spent most of her time there anyway, so it was perfectly reasonable for her to start spending her nights there as well. It was more practical for her morning classes; that way she didn't have to rush herself through morning traffic in a hurry. It took three weeks of her falling asleep curled up beside him in bed before he seemed to realize what was happening.
"Where are you going?"
It was half past two in the morning and he was climbing out of the bed after one of those nights when she read in bed and he finished whatever paperwork were due for the next day (to think of how much time he spent on his job, he would be more diligent on that). He froze and glanced at her, ran his fingers through his hair in a nervous gesture. "I – uh, I'll sleep on the sofa so you can have the bed for yourself."
She thought this was what people in relationships did. Maybe she had been wrong. Natalie had a boyfriend in Japan once. It had lasted for two weeks until Natasha managed to get all the Intel she needed. "Why? Am I making you uncomfortable?"
He looked alarmed. "What? No – I just," for someone who was used to handling all those big shot jackass clients of the art industry, he sure was easily flustered around her. "I mean – I thought you would want – "
Natalie and Steve had been dating for five months, and they hadn't done anything aside from kissing. She didn't mind. Natasha didn't need this, and Natalie was fine with letting it run on his pace. Natalie was supposed to have commitment issues anyway – one which consisted of her getting freaked out whenever things moved to fast. If this was merely one of his weird always having a good manner thing –
She buried her face back into his pillow at his response. "Get back into bed, Rogers."
He laughed. "What am I going to do with you ordering me around like that?"
"Get used to it," she murmured, uncaring. He was silent before he gave in and pulled the comforter over them both. She shifted closer to him because he was always unnaturally warm and just because maybe that was a thing Natalie would do. He turned off the light and hesitated for a second before he wrapped an arm around her, palm splayed on the small of her back. In the darkness that followed, his eyes were unbelievably bright.
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Doing a background check of him was the first thing that she had done. That was why what had come out of his mouth wasn't any surprise at all. Still, Natalie listened.
He told her about growing up in Brooklyn. He told her that he was sick all the time when he was younger. He told her about his dead best friend, dead parents, and the memory of a love that never got a chance. She told him a half-truth about being an orphan since as long as she could remember. After all, the best lies were always based on truths.
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He bought her a wooden music box for Natalie's birthday.
It fit the size of her palm, the dark wood engraved with an intricate design. The melody that it sung was light and melodious. Her initials were carved on the rounded rim. It was beautiful. She had to admit that he had a good taste. Natasha didn't remember a time when she had ever gotten a present. But it wasn't for her, it was for Natalie. So she smiled and hugged him, faked it like she had faked everything else.
She got him an old record player with some records she had caught him eyeing during one of their Saturday walks. She knew he wouldn't buy it for himself. He never spent money for luxuries he didn't need. He looked up at her with his eyes wide and this boyish excitement he couldn't contain. Then they spent hours sitting on the floor arguing about which record they should play first.
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He didn't like the cold. That was one of the first few things she had noticed about him early on. She could list many more, but this particular knowledge stuck out from the others. Still, he had offered his jacket every time they went out and it was particularly cold. She had faked a smile and accepted it because it was the polite thing to do. She hadn't told him that the cold was nothing for her bones. It wasn't until their outings were officially called dates and it was a particularly cold day in December before she let curiosity got the best of her. "Why do you offer me your jacket every time? You don't like the cold."
It took him aback, perhaps because she noticed even though he never told her, but recovered from it quickly with a shrug. "I'm okay."
That was the other thing that was striking to her. How he could be so selfless. Perhaps that was why she was so drawn to him. She was waiting for him to crack, to show her the ugliness under his mask she knew every human being possessed.
"You don't need to be a gentleman," she said, because she knew it was ingrained in him. "I like the cold."
He smiled at her. "You do? Are you sure you're not just trying to be a gentleman for me?"
She surprised herself when Natasha laughed.
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He had nightmares. It didn't happen too often, but often enough that she knew it was something serious. He would wake in the middle of the night, panicking and breathing rapidly. She would pretend his troubled whimpers hadn't woken her up and listened to his attempt to calm himself down. Then, he would lay awake for some time before he would pull her close and hold her a little bit tighter than usual. He was always the first to fall back to sleep.
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"Nat, I've never – "
She was well aware that her cheeks were flushed, that she probably looked as wrecked as he was, that she didn't know when the weight of him pressed against her had somehow managed to become something familiar, and that if he didn't start kissing her like he had been a few seconds ago, she was going to going to take matters into her own hands –
Yet she managed to raise an eyebrow at him. He always kissed her like he meant it, like they had all the time in the world with just enough passion to make her breathless and she just assumed – "Are you serious?"
He hid his face in the crook of her neck and his breath tickled her bare skin. His chuckle was a quiet rumble. She thought there was a trace of irony in it. "Never the right time or person, I guess."
How different their worlds had been. It was plain ridiculous. For her, this hadn't been anything new. For her, this had always been a tool. This had always been a way to manipulate, something to control. She hadn't known it any other way. Her world was always tainted and something twisted. His world was untouched and something pure.
She shouldn't be doing this. The tiny voice inside of her had started telling her that this had gone too far, and her instincts had been telling her to run run run for quite a while now. This was also the first time Natasha had ever disregard them. It screamed bad decisions and sloppiness. She found out that she didn't care. She had spent more than a year to establish this life. She wasn't going to throw all of those away. That would be plain stupid and all those efforts would be a waste.
It definitely didn't have anything to do with how this was something intoxicating. How this was something unfamiliar and Natasha – she had never experienced anything like this before. How his life was something foreign and she was wondering of how long before the illusion shattered. How long before everything crumbled. It definitely didn't have anything to do with how she was dangling everything from her fingertips, and she had never felt more in control in her whole life. Natasha was watching everything dance and she wanted to see what was going to happen.
Natalie turned her head slightly, pressed her lips against his temple, asked: "Does this feel right?"
When he kissed her again, it was an answer enough.
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She woke when sunlight hit her face, groaning. She still had a little more time before she had to get ready for her flight. She rolled on the bed, eyes still closed. She wondered what Steve would make for breakfast. That thought snapped her awake – because foolish her, that was exactly the kind of thoughts that would kill her. That was the kind of thoughts she shouldn't be thinking, not now, not ever. She didn't know why she had thought about that because there was absolutely no reason for her to. Natalie called him anyway, because she had a façade to keep.
"Hey," he sounded like he was smiling. It was the middle of the night, where he was.
"Why are you still up?"
There were chatters in the background. Her fingers curled around the cup of tea on the counter.
"Hang on Nat, give me a second," the sound became muffled, as if he was pressing the phone down to his shirt. "No, Tony—that's not—I know, will you please let me handle that?"
She waited for a few more seconds before he was seemingly done speaking with—apparently, Stark. "Sorry about that," he said. "Tony's been driving me crazy with his new projects and yes, Stark, I know you can hear me. How's Singapore?"
"As usual," her mark was stupidly easy to kill. She had gone out with the pretense of surveying the theatres for the next ballet tour around Asia. "Boring."
"Yeah? I've never been there before."
"Then maybe you should have taken those few days off from work after all," she said, and she poured a bit more sugar into her tea. She didn't know when she had started growing a fondness of sweets.
"Maybe I should have," he sounded like he was walking, and then the chatters in the background stopped entirely. He must have gone into another room. "Or maybe I made the right decision, because nothing beats having to listen to Tony's insane demands on a Saturday night."
She snorted. "Sure, that sounds like fun."
"You have no idea," he said, laughing. Then there was a pause before he spoke again. "I miss you, by the way." He had started saying these things more and more lately. It was as if he couldn't help it – almost as if it resembled a physical tangible thing that he needed to do. Maybe it was normal, since him and Natalie had been dating for almost a year. She didn't know.
"Sap," she said. "I haven't even been gone for a week."
"Well," he replied. "Just get back home safely, okay?"
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The first time he said he loved her, it was not anything special. They had spent the day in the studio with him painting a new piece of art and her trying to choreograph a new dance routine for her class. The small class of fifteen people surprisingly had potential despite of her earlier scepticism of the half bankrupt studio. It had been when the sunlight had casted an orange glow in the room that he had called her name, softly. She had looked up to where he was sitting, a chair in the corner of the room. There was the same look she had seen on his face for some time. He told her that he loved her and that she didn't need to say anything. He just needed her to know.
She was sure it was going to be a mess if she let him continue, so she walked over to where he was sitting, watching her as she moved. There was a flash of something in his eyes, as if he was half expecting her to walk away. She cupped his face between her hands and traced his jaw with her thumbs. She pressed a kiss on his forehead. Natalie –
Natalie said it back.
And maybe if Natasha felt like she wanted the words to be burned away by his lips –
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Pepper said: "He's a good guy." As she inspected high heels that would allow her to outrun the press fast enough the second Stark and Banner do something stupid with their inventions. Natasha had been told that the little mishap that had nearly blown up the Stark Tower last month was not the first and certainly wouldn't be the last. She liked Pepper because of her efficiency and no bullshit attitude. That, and because everyone in their right minds would know she held the key to Stark industries.
Natasha didn't tell many truths. This was one of them. "He is."
He was terribly, terribly good. And one day, that was exactly the thing that would destroy him into pieces.
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They were waiting in line for the empire state building. New York. Summer. Tourists. Tell her why they were doing this during the busiest time of the year, again? Oh, right. They had been seeing each other less and less now, what with his job and her being sent out for more missions than usual. This morning he told her he missed her. She told him she hadn't realized how useful he was until no one made her breakfast before her morning ballet practices with the crew – it was only a couple of months until their supposedly next 'tour' and she had been spending more time in Russia than she was in New York lately.
"I'm gonna go get us some water," he told her. His arm was flung around her shoulders and he was wearing the same blue shirt with the one he wore on their first date.
"You better come back with some ice cream too," she told him, lowering down the boring pamphlet she had in front of her face. She had read binary codes more interesting than this.
"Okay," he laughed. Whenever he laughed, it always sounded like he did it with his heart, and he didn't know any other way to do it. "Wait for me?"
"Yeah," she said. He leaned down to kiss her forehead and then proceeded to walk away. The crowd was thick and he was just about to get out of her line of vision when he looked back and gave her a mock salute with two fingers. He was smiling. She waved back.
(She wouldn't tell anyone this. But some days she forgot she was only pretending. Some days Natasha and Natalie blurred and she didn't know who she was. Sometimes she was terrified she would fade away. Sometimes she thought the freedom was tearing her apart. Sometimes she was afraid of failure. Today was one of those days.)
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To be continued.
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