They were told one full cycle takes roughly fifteen minutes. Long enough to be fun, short enough before it gets awkward. Natasha props her chin on the heel of her palm and gazes out into the night line, and casually mentions how she can see the Tower from here. Once, the whole ride stops for a good five minutes, and she's starting to wonder if the engine has malfunctioned.
"A mother of five wants to fit all of them into one carriage, but the operator won't let her."
"… And you know that, how?"
Steve shrugs, "I can hear them from here."
Well, she can't, but she's not a super-soldier, is she?
"Fantastic. Remind me not to sing in the shower after team practice."
And Steve looks up from his lap. "You don't. Only Clint and Nat do."
Crap. "It's just a figure of speech, Cap," she replies smoothly. "Chillax."
Then, their ride resumes, and they go higher and higher, until she can hear the wind blowing in her ears. Their carriage is open-aired, so though she sees Steve's lips moving, the words don't reach her, and she cups her ears.
"I said," Steve gets a little shouty, "I might have to choose between the Avengers and my personal feelings."
"What? Why?" She's shouting, too, out of shock than anything else.
"I'm afraid I'm compromised, Tony. I doubt I can treat and command her the way I do to the rest of you. I'm afraid I'll let my… feelings, overcome my judgement when it comes to making the tough call in battles. And you know how often that tends to happen. And that sort of protectiveness is… it's not right, not between a commander and his subordinate."
"You're overthinking this, Steve. But one thing I know for sure, you're not quitting the Avengers. I won't let you."
"I trust the team will be in good hands. In yours."
"OK, first off, if you let me lead the team, they'll be hurling pancakes at my head the second I turn around. And two, what the hell, Steve? This isn't up to you –"
"It's really up to me –"
"No, Steve, we need you. There won't be the Avengers without Captain America –"
"The team is cohesive, everyone's familiar with –"
"Fine, then I quit."
Their carriage sways as the ride jerks to one of those stops to let more people in or out on ground level. They glare at each other from opposite sides of the carriage, butts adamantly glued to their seats because their weights are the only things keeping the carriage balanced. The sound of her own exclamation rings in her ears. I quit?
"I mean… I quit, as a sign of protest. Look, you aren't even sure if she wants to take this to the next level." She hesitates a bit, and looks out to the river once more. "What if she says no?"
The Avengers needSteve Rogers. They country needs Steve Rogers. Who is she to deprive them of Steve's services? If he thinks he can't compartmentalise his feelings for her, if this means one of them has to leave, then better her than him. This is not even up for debate.
But more importantly, she's never thought about Steve like that. It's impossible, nothing fruitful will come out of it, so why waste time on mere fantasies? So, sometimes she'll bat her lashes at him, sidle up his side and flirt a little, because that's what she does, all right? That's in her blood, her DNA – it's ingrained into her being. So is killing and manipulating and all the stuff of nightmare that Steve dedicate his life to extinguishing from the face of this good earth. She just happens to be fighting on his side this time, so that makes her good, and she loves it. For once, her life counts for something, and sleeping has never felt so good.
She owes it all to Steve. Maybe, in her eternal gratitude, something else too, has blossomed. She finds the bass in his voice comforting, the strength of his grip assuring. She yearns for his company, not consciously at least, but who doesn't? And what is she supposed to make of this information, that America's favourite son is having a thing for her?
She blames Tony's stupid machine for making this so much more confusing that it already is.
"Sorry, I'm still trying to wrap my head around this," she waves her hand enthusiastically, and the carriage sways some more. "Why Nat?"
"… I don't know. She's cold and calculating on the frontline. Merciless. Effective. She's stubborn to a fault, defies direct order that one time so she could save three more hostages your radar fail to detect after it got hit by EM. Always risking herself, doesn't care if I have an opinion about that. She likes to sing these Russian songs that always sound so sad. She's terrible at making coffee, always too sweet or too bitter. Rude, too. Cusses like nobody's business."
"OK, she has a laundry list of character flaws. We all know, thank you."
Steve looks horrified for a fleeting second, and seems to only realise the meaning of his description. And then suddenly, he chuckles a bit, and says, "Yeah? Well. I find them endearing. Weird, huh?"
"You must be a closet masochist or something," she shakes her head. He smiles some more, but doesn't say anything. "Right. I'm too sober for this shit."
