Natasha Romanoff's POV

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

- Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken

I needed my information like a drug addict needed heroine; like a fish needed water; like a parent needed their child; like Sam needed Steve, even. I wasn't going to leave without it.

Now that I had alerted the hotel as to the threats in the building, all I had to do was twiddle my thumbs until backup arrived. I decided, though, that it would be a better use of time to stall the villains. Everything would be a lost cause if they found out help was on the way — if they escaped and I didn't get any more info. I wasn't even going to bother taking down or capturing them — we weren't at that stage in the case yet. For now, we had to lie in wait and plan.

While I was contacting the Avengers, I had coaxed information out of the desk clerk. As it was, the Mandarin was renting two rooms: the one that he was staying in with the Winter Soldier and me, and another for the wild card — the benefactor — "Ultron". Whoever this guy was, the Soldier and the Mandarin were in his room right now, probably "hatching diabolical plans". I crept along the hallways and up staircases until I was standing outside the door to the hotel room.

Now came a slight problem. I needed to eavesdrop on whatever conversation was going on, and possibly even be caught (on purpose, that is), if it meant more time for the Avengers to arrive. How I was going to get into the room, though, proved to be a challenge. I couldn't just barge through the door, nor hide at the window; and the ventilation system was too small for me to crawl through.

Thank God it was a crappy hotel, though. The ceiling panels were removable, like those in a classroom, and if I could get into the ceiling, I'd be able to crawl over to just above the hotel room. In the elevator lobby was a small desk with New York City tourist guide books; I hopped onto that and, standing on my tiptoes, pushed on a ceiling panel. It slid away easily, and after I leapt up I found myself crawling on the ceiling through wires and inches of dust, in the general direction of the hotel room.

Picking a random panel that I believed to be over the hotel room, I shifted it imperceptibly to the side and stuck my eye to the tiny crack. Rather than looking down on the Mandarin and the Winter Soldier, I was instead met by the scene of a quarreling family: a woman tried to run a hairbrush through her screaming daughter's hair, as a man chased a little naked boy around the room. Whoops, wrong panel.

I tried another one a few feet away, but it showed only an old man, eating some of the crappy room service food slowly. Moving around again, I got a face full of cobwebs before finally finding the right panel to slide away.

I left myself with less than an inch of space to look through, but still, it was enough. Below me I finally saw the Mandarin and the Winter Soldier, arguing back and forth with each other. There was another man in the room — if he really was a man.

He looked humanoid enough. He had all the same features as a person: arms, legs, eyes, etc. But his entire body was silver; a metallic silver. I doubted it was skin, and I gazed down at the bald head, so shiny I could see my reflection: this "man" was a robot.

He sat on the bed, fiddling with another tiny silver thing in his hands. Wait, no — he was fiddling with his hand. Sparks erupted from the metal as he modified it; upgraded it. Listening to the Soldier's fight with the Mandarin, I finally discovered that this robot was Ultron.

Now, what the hell were a robot, a former Russian assassin, and a newfound terrorist doing in such a normal hotel room?

I didn't even get the chance to examine the other contents in the room when Ultron, without looking up from his work, said in a predictably typical robot voice: "Natasha Romanoff is in the ceiling panel above us. She is attempting to eavesdrop."

Fine then, Ultron. Force my hand, will you? Action time.

I completely removed the panel in the blink of an eye, jumping down and landing right on Utron's shoulders. The heavy metallic robot didn't even move; just kept on working at his hand, as if I didn't exist. Mentally shaking my head, I slid off and went right for the Mandarin, who was aiming his hands at me.

"Don't hurt her!" the Winter Soldier predictably shouted, but he had his guns pointed at me. I kicked the Mandarin's hands; they were knocked down to the side, as I punched him in the gut. As he exhaled heavily, I reached in and grabbed his teleporter from him, ripping it off and clutching it tightly in my hand.

Now, at least, I had something we could work on back at the lab.

"Natalia, you move one more inch, I'll shot you in the legs," the Soldier threatened. I turned to face him, anger flaring in my eyes —

And someone leapt through the closed, curtained window, shattering glass that flew throughout the room.

He rolled on the floor, startling everyone, and then suddenly an arrow shot through the air beside the Soldier's head. I'll admit it: I sighed in relief.

Backup was here.

Hawkeye's arrow lodged itself in the wall, and for a split second, everyone was transfixed by the tiny beeping red light on the shaft. Then, in a small explosion of flames, the wall was blown apart and we were all sent flying in different directions. Thankfully, I crashed right into Hawkeye; affording a quick smile, I nodded towards the exit door. Even though we had control of the situation, we were still in the enemy's base — with civilians surrounding us on all sides.

Thor, of course, chose to make his appearance then. He suddenly showed up in the room (to this day, I'm still not sure how he got there), swinging Mjolnir angrily at the Mandarin.

"YOU!" he bellowed. "You are the foul heathen who dared to injure the Lady Samantha!"

"At least he's not calling her the Woman of Silver anymore," I heard Hawkeye mumble as Thor's hammer caught the Mandarin in the chest and he sailed backwards through a wall.

I grabbed onto Hawkeye's arm, trying to drag him out of the room, but the Soldier stood in our way. Ultron was nowhere to be found, but the Soldier had another teleportation device in one hand; a gun in the other. Hawkeye lost no time in firing off an arrow, which the Soldier easily dodged.

Our new foe began shooting, tearing bullets through the walls and nearly hitting us; he would have, if Hawkeye hadn't shot another arrow and caught the Soldier in the bionic arm. It glanced off the metal harmlessly, but it was enough to momentarily distract (and irritate) him.

The sounds of Thor's battle with the Mandarin raged on in the other room, and when the latter cried out in pain, the Soldier took off to help. Well, to escape. He grabbed the Mandarin's hand hastily, fingering the teleporter; Hawkeye let loose another arrow. This time, it caught the Winter Soldier in the leg. He howled in pain, shot one furious glance directly at me, and then teleported out of there with the Mandarin. Mjolnir, which had been in mid-swing, crashed right into the spot that the Mandarin's head had previously occupied.

I panted in the rising dust from the destroyed walls; the family I had seen earlier (which still consisted of the little naked boy) stood staring at us, mouths open in astonishment. I ignored them, searching through the rubble for anything belonging to the villains. There was nothing: it had disappeared with Ultron.

"Let's get back to base," I said slowly, turning to Hawkeye and catching him staring at me. I thought of my past relationship with the Winter Soldier — keyword past — and now, of my growing feelings for Hawkeye. So I made a Sam-like move: I reached out and took his hand gently, like Sam and Steve did after a battle. "I have a lot of information to share with you guys."

My mission had succeeded.

Upon my arrival to Stark Tower, I was greatly surprised — as were Hawkeye and Thor — to find S.H.I.E.L.D director Nick Fury there, waiting. A grim expression covered his, well, grim features, as we trampled into the room like vagabonds. Clint, of course, refused to talk to Fury until he had a cup of tea.

"S.H.I.E.L.D will take care of your fuck-up at the hotel," Fury said sternly, by way of greeting. No one replied

A long pause ensued, that Fury had to break. "I do hope you realize that S.H.I.E.L.D has handed you this stupidass Mandarin case, and it is fully your responsibility," he glared at Thor, Clint and I in turn.

"We know, Mom," Clint rolled his eyes.

"Then why," Fury's voice threatened to turn harsh, "is my super soldier camping with your two other idiot teammates?"

"You've really got a thing for Steve, don't you?" I mused, making myself a sandwich. I was freaking starving after being given minimum food for a couple days.

"It's not that I've got a 'thing' for Rogers," Fury grumbled, "it's just that I don't like the other two morons."

"You're the one who dragged Sam onto this team," I pointed out unhelpfully.

"That was before I realized how much she's like Stark," Fury crossed his arms over his chest.

"Look," Clint raised his hands, trying to be the peacekeeper, "we know this is our first full responsibility as Avengers. We're just kind of out of leads right now."

"Well, we were," I took a bite out of my sandwich and spoke with my mouth full. "I got quite a lot of information, being held captive for almost an entire goddamn week — since you idiots wouldn't come and save me!"

"I repeat, we had no leads!" Clint's voice reached a high pitch.

"No one said this was going to be easy," I grumbled.

Thor, who had practically been forgotten, spoke up. "We are pleased to be graced with your presence, Angry Man, but we wish to know to true reason of your calling."

"Did that motherfucker actually just call me 'Angry Man'?" Fury directed his question at me, jabbing a finger at Thor.

"Did you actually just call Thor a motherfucker?" I replied, just as astonished.

"Yeah, the other day, he brought a duckling into Stark Tower! He's got a heart made of fluff!" Clint put in.

Fury shut his eye, trying to keep his annoyance in check. "I'm just here to check in; assure that all is going well. Also, S.H.I.E.L.D is offering to coverAndy tracks you need to disappear — like that hotel fiasco a few minutes ago," he shook his head. "Anyway, I'm glad to see you're back, Agent Romanoff, and in good health. You can drop your S.H.I.E.L.D case researching Pym Particles, by the way: at least while you clear this Mandarin business up."

"Um, I don't think it's just the Mandarin we're dealing with here," I reflected, but my comment was ignored as Fury bade us farewell.

Clint helped me clean up and rest after my harrowing experiences, and we spoke little. Within the hour I was re-introduced to Janet Van Dyne and Hank Pym; the former insisted on taking me out for a girl's day with Sam so we could all "get acquainted" with each other, but it was postponed until the next day because I "needed rest".

To my surprise, Doctor Bruce Banner arrived at Stark Tower presently. It took us a long while to relay the current events to the nervous doctor, but he eventually came to grasp the Mandarin threat and even became quick friends with Hank Pym.

I postponed my stories until late in the evening, when Sam, Steve and Tony arrived home from camping (they were camping! While I was being held captive! Obviously they had their priorities in order). A team meeting was immediately called upon, and all the Avengers came to sit in the living room, alongside Hank and Janet.

No one even exchanged "Hello"s or "Glad to see you're back"s — we just went straight down to business. "Okay, so. I got this," I slammed the teleporter down on the table, "which is the Mandarin's teleporter. I'd suggest you three," I looked at Tony, Bruce and Hank, "to do some work on it. Figure out how it works. Where it came from. What it can be used for — all that bullshit. Also, if you could do some research on the Mandarin's rings —"

I was cut off by Hank. "Actually, we've already been looking into those. They're Makluan technology. It's a race of aliens that Thor knows about," he nodded at the big Norse god thankfully.

"Great. Good work," I stated. "Now, that takes care of him. Moving on to Ultron. Basically, all I know is that he's some big robot guy, and the leader of the operation."

I noticed that at the mention of Ultron's name, both Hank and Janet turned pale, exchanging glances. Okay, weird. I'd have to do some of my own spying on them.

"Oh, and before I forget," I couldn't help but add, "we need to look into that weird Ant-Man and Wasp problem."

"Call the exterminator," Tony muttered, and I rolled my eyes.

I then relayed everything the Winter Soldier had told me, about killing the American Dream and his future plans to assassinate American leaders. This, of course, led to me having to explain everything I knew about our newest threat, the Soldier.

And now, even though we had all this new information, we sat in silence. None of us knew what to do next. Researching things was great and all . . . until you needed to take action, and you had no way to do so.

"Maybe we'll just have to wait until they make a move," Steve shrugged. "And we'll have to learn to be ready for it. We can figure out what to expect."

"Wise words," Hank nodded, "but Agent Romanoff — I'm a bit confused. Why have the Soldier and the Mandarin gone to all these lengths to terrorize America, and eventually kill some of its leaders?"

I shrugged. "It's simple, really. Either they've been watching Pixar's Incredibles too many times, or they're just really messed up." Judging by the blank looks from Steve and Thor, I realized they didn't understand and I needed a better explanation. "In the movie The Incredibles, the bad guy, known as Syndrome, kills all the superheroes in the world. He then proceeds to build a robot that only he can destroy. He sets the robot loose on a city and then flies in and saves all the civilians, effectively proving himself as a hero, even though it was all orchestrated. For the record, I only know all that because Sam seems to find some sick sort of pleasure in making us all watch Disney and Pixar movies," I glared at the young blonde, and she snickered.

I was still getting blank looks, so I went on. "I predict that their plan is to throw the nation into chaos. Then out of the gloom, they'll step in as new, strong, trustworthy leaders — and they'll stop the terror. People will believe it's because they're leading the country well, but in actuality, it's because it was them who was attacking everyone. By taking out political leaders, too, they'll clear the spots for themselves.

"The other option, of course, is that they just want to watch the world burn."

The meeting was adjourned then, and everyone retreated to their own seperate corners of the mansion to think of the new facts brought to light. Everyone seemed in a much gloomier mood after my long monologue, but I was pleased — finally, we had all seven Avengers back together (even if Sam was out of play because of her injuries, and Hank and Janet were hanging around).

I headed back to my room, intent on figuring out what to do about Hank and Janet, when the strange sketchbook with Steve's name on it caught my eye. I had taken it out of my jacket and placed it on my dresser when I changed into more comfortable clothes; and now, I took it in my hand and went to find Steve again.

"Care to explain why this was in the enemy's base?" I asked haughtily, dropping it in his hands when I found him snacking in the kitchen.

Steve took one look at it and practically passed out. "Oh my God," he said, eyes wide and fingers trembling slightly as he turned through the pages. "This is the sketchbook I used seventy years ago. I haven't seen it since World War Two. Honestly, Nat, I . . . wow. Just wow."

"I know what you're implying, Tasha, but you're wrong," Sam shook her head, walking over; she had been catching up with Bruce over by the fridge. "Steve, of all people, isn't working with the bad guys. Besides, he has a new sketchbook now, anyway. Why would he keep two?"

"There are pictures from the war," Bruce cut in unexpectedly, "of Steve — as Captain America — drawing in that very same book. I've seen them. And I'm pretty sure he wasn't frozen with it," Banner furrowed his brow.

"Nat, I honestly have no idea why you found this over there. I didn't even know it existed anymore," Steve still looked thunderstruck.

"We have bigger things to worry about," Bruce scolded, and I crossed my arms over my chest. "Like this . . . Winter Soldier guy."

I considered pointing out the picture of him in Steve's sketchbook, but in the end, I didn't move or say anything. Everyone slowly left — Steve with his head buried in the book — and I retired to my room. I needed some me time.

The next day I found myself sitting in a café with an overly bright Janet Van Dyne and a pouting Samantha Silverman. I sipped at my coffee, finding the whole ordeal quite amusing. We were having our special "Girls' Day", as Janet had suggested. I don't think either Sam nor I wanted to do it, but when Jan got an idea in her head, she never gave up until that idea became reality.

Janet amused me. She was a fashion designer with only a little bit of brain. Seriously, she reminded me of a bubble. An unpoppable bubble. There was nothing that could bring down her high spirits.

Sam had looked better, though. There was a big cast on her leg (the entire thing was covered in signatures from Tony — seriously, not even Steve had found enough space to write his name. Apparently Tony did it while she was sleeping), and a white bandage wrapped around her head. As she told me, she had two cracked ribs as well, and a dentist had already replaced a tooth that she had lost. Seemed to me as if the poor girl had been to hell and back.

There was another new dynamic, too: according to Clint, Sam and Steve were now "going out". She had admitted it to Clint when they had their daily four-in-the-morning tea-and-chat session (those things were quickly becoming their official bonding time). I found the prospect of a relationship between Steve and Sam cute, in a way. Steve was so shy and serious compared to Sam, but she really made him stand out more.

Anyway, I had to sit in the stupid café with a half-asleep Sam (apperently 8:00 was too early in the morning to wake her up) and an overly-excited Janet. "It's our first Girls' Day!" she had squealed when she led us to her Porche in the morning. "We're going to be such great friends!"

Yeah, so far, that wasn't working out too well. Sam was practically falling asleep, and Jan and her non-stop talking was giving me a headache.

I took a long gulp of my coffee, trying to tune Janet out. She was talking about her job, I think, for like the hundredth time.

"So I'm actually seriously considering designing a new clothing line. What do you guys think? I mean, like, not just a spring line or a summer line or something like that," Janet flapped her hands as if it was a rediculous prospect. "No, no. I mean like, an official Avengers line, or something totally cool like that. Do you know how many kids would pay to have a t-shirt with a print of Captain America's shield on it? Or Iron Man's arc reactor? Or — omigod, I totally just thought of something even better! I'm a high fashion designer, of course — making shirts like that just isn't my style," she shook her head.

"No no no, I'll do a line inspired by you Avengers girls! Natasha, I could totally see a line based off you — sleek evening dresses and oversized coats, or maybe something more like combat boots and heavy-duty pants. And you, Sam! I just love your style, but I could make it so much better. I know you like to wear skinny jeans and your special grey leather bomber jacket overtop that other dreary grey sweater, but oh! If you let me design your wardrobe, you'd look so much better. Chiffon shirts, high-waisted shorts, wedges — aha! I've got it. I'll make a line of sleek feminine wear inspired by Natasha, as a line of shoes — mostly heels, of course — inspired by Sam! This is perfect!" she squealed, making my headache turn into a migraine. "What about you, Natasha? Can I call you Nat? What's your job? I mean, obviously you're the amazing Black Widow, but what do you do when you're not saving the world?"

"I hunt and assassinate annoying fashion designers," I grumbled, and found satisfaction in the way Janet's eyes went round as golf balls. "Kidding. I'm a spy," I responded, staring out the window at a middle-aged couple with two rowdy kids. "I work for myself, and sometimes I work for S.H.I.E.L.D."

She nodded as if it was incredibly interesting information. "What about you, Samantha, dear? You're an adult. What's your job?"

Sam lifted her head up from the table, looking around blearily. "I was going to go to a university in Washington State," she sat up, taking a sip of her tea, "but Tony's paying for my tutition and housing in Rome. The archaeology university's already accepted me — I took the entrance exam a while ago, just for fun, to see if I could get in. But Tony's going to foot the bill and help me pick out an apartment, and I'm supposed to leave next week."

"Wait, what?" I leaned forward, finally paying attention to something someone was saying. "You're moving to Rome?"

"Yeah. You know, the capital of Italy," Sam smiled, wiping her hair off her face.

I stared at her, trying to figure her out. "You realize what this means," I said in a deadbeat voice.

"Um," she looked at me, leery.

"Sam, when you go to Rome, you're leaving behind your whole life. Your parents, your siblings, your friends. The English-speaking country. Do you even speak Italian?"

"No?" she said, making it sound like a question. "I've gone through all this in my head multiple times, Tasha. You think I don't realize how big of a decision this is? It's on an entirely different continent. I feel like one of those people who throws everything away for the chance to have an adventure. And you know what? It's a really nice feeling," she took another sip of her tea, not taking her eyes off mine. "I've been to Rome before. I've studied its history; I know what I'm getting in to. I'll be fine."

"But will we?" I sat back in my seat, putting my coffee down on the table.

"Huh?"

"Sam, when you leave, you're giving up on Masquerade. And that means you'll no longer be an Avenger."

"I know, Tasha," she sighed heavily. "That's partially why I made the choice. I don't want to be a hero. I want to be a normal girl, living a normal life."

"So you're moving to Italy," I shot back sarcastically.

"Tasha, you're not listening. I want to spend my life studying Roman history; being an archaeologist. I was never meant for the superhero stuff. I don't want this. And Rome is the best chance I have of escaping."

I shook my head. "Sam, being a hero isn't supposed to be a burden. You have powers! How are you going to 'escape' that?"

"I don't know!" she cried, covering her ears as if she wanted to block my words. "I know that 'With great power comes great responsibilty.' That's the creepy spider's motto. But I really didn't want the power in the first place!"

"You're looking at this the wrong way," I snapped.

"No, Tasha, you're just being too selfish to realize this is my choice, and this is what I want. For me. It's my life."

I sighed, grabbing my coffee again and taking a long drink from it. "Fine. You're right," I ran a hand through my hair. "It's your decision. And everyone's allowed to make mistakes."

"Thanks," Sam said sarcastically, glaring at me. Janet — who had been sitting in silence for the first time all morning — was practically beaming. She was proud, I think, to be allowed to hear drama like this.

"What about Steve?" I asked suddenly, furrowing my brow. "Aren't you two, like, romantically involved now?"

Sam blanched. "Where'd you hear that?"

"Clint."

She frowned. "He gossips worse than old women. But yeah. I guess."

This angered me a bit. "Then why the hell are you going out with him if you're just going to up and leave in a week?" She looked slightly shocked, so I went on. "You're practically his best friend, so I'm sure you of all people understand how much he's lost. Steve has no one, Sam, except you. Maybe Tony sometimes; maybe me. But you're his best friend, and now you two are going out. Do you know what it will do to him, to have you leave? Especially now?"

"I . . ." she started, but had nothing to say.

"It's not fair to play with him like that, Sam. You move to Rome, you become an archaeologist. Then you stay in Rome. You very well can't study Roman history in New York City. Once you start down that path, there's no turning back," I hissed. "You'll be giving up everything. And you're going to rip poor Steve's heart out. I can promise you that he won't take it very well."

"I'm sorry, okay, Tasha? Can we please not talk about this?" Sam asked in a choked voice, and I noticed her red-rimmed eyes. She wiped at them, avoiding my gaze. "Jan! Why don't you tell us again about that time you went skydiving in Brazil?"

In retrospect, I was being a bit harsh. But Sam needed a dose of reality. It was like that Robert Frost poem: "The Road Not Taken." Sam was taking the road less travelled, and it was going to make all the difference. She didn't seem to understand that once she moved to Rome, she couldn't come back. Her life would be there. And it's not like she could bring Steve: he was Captain America. Not Captain Italy. And he couldn't just drop everything and leave; not like Masquerade. Sam had only been around for one battle. Cap . . . well, he had a legacy to uphold.

"Hey, Tashie, have you heard this song?" Janet asked, pulling out her iPod and placing it on the table.

"Don't call me Tashie."

Janet was trying to convince me to listen to her iPod (mainly to fill the awkward silence; Jan had refused to tell her skydiving story again) when Sam sat back in her seat, a perplexed expression on her face. "Who's Peggy Carter?" she asked randomly, looking up at me.

"Agent Carter was a British woman working with the US army in World War Two," I recited, not missing a beat. "She oversaw Captain's career, and was kind of his girlfriend."

"Oh," Sam looked down.

"Why do you ask?"

"I was looking through Steve's old World War Two sketchbook. There's a lot of pictures of some guy named Bucky in there, and a few more of 'Peggy Carter'. I just wanted to know who she was."

"Sam, I wouldn't worry about Peggy. Steve likes you, not her. That was a long time ago."

"Not to him," she sighed, shifting in her seat uncomfortably.

"Trust me, Carter's old and grey now. He won't be running back to her anytime soon," I admitted.

"Wait, what? She's still alive?"

I nodded. "But Sam, just because I said Steve likes you and not Carter does not mean you should be going out with him."

"Excuse me?"

"She's talking about the Rome thing again," Janet announced loudly, scrolling through the music on her iPod.

Sam reddened. "Can't you please just drop it, Tasha? I've made my decision. What's done is done. And it may not be the right decision, but it sure as hell isn't the wrong one."

I got up from the table, grabbing our drinks and walking away to place them in the trash can. "Look, I know Tony's going to support you in whatever you do, but honestly? I liked it better when you were going to school in the other side of the country. Not the other side of the world."

I half expected her to storm out angrily, but no matter how young she was, she wasn't that immature. "Okay, whatever," Sam stood. "That's your opinion. I'd just really appreciate it if you kept it to yourself. You're being . . . harsh."

"I'm being truthful. Let's face it, Sam: I'm not one to lie to your face or beat around the bush."

She rolled her eyes, tugging Janet to her feet. "Let's just go, okay? And can we please forget about this?"

"When are you going to tell Steve?"

"Actually, I was thinking . . . tomorrow. I kind of have a plan forming in my head."

Janet hitched her purse higher up on her shoulder. "Let's go, you two gorgeous girlies," she gushed, as if oblivious to all the tenseness and fighting. "This has been a fantastic outing."

"Really?" Sam and I asked in disbelief at the same time.

"Really. I think we got some great bonding done."

Okay, seriously? Who had convinced Tony to let this dunce work with us?

"I'm just saying, Sam," I couldn't help but add as we walked out of the café, "you have a lot of options here. You could study American history, or get a job with S.H.I.E.L.D. I'm sure Janet would let you work for her," the corner of my mouth twitched up in a smile, imagining Sam as a fashion designer. When hell froze over. "And Tony would gladly take you on as his coffee-run girl. Or as assistant to Pepper."

"Tasha?" she said in a sweet, innocent voice.

"Yeah?"

Sam smiled sweetly. "Go die in a hole. Or drown in a puddle. Really, either would work for me." And with that she turned and — finally — stormed away from me, with Janet in tow.

Yeah. Great bonding experience. Because we all love each other now, you know?

Author's Note: So. Sam and Natasha don't really like each other, do they :S

I don't own anything, except Sam and the plotline/story. Do I look like Stan Lee? (The answer to that question is no.)

Since the feedback on the last chapter was so wonderful, and since there was so much of it, I decided to post this a day early! Thank you guys all so much for the wonderful feedback :D It was amazing. I'll respond to the reviews as soon as I can — my Internet connection is being wonky.

Thank you to everyone for reading, and special thanks to my amazing reviewers: brandibuckeye, tbonechick, StarViky, HannajimaShields, La Bella Figura, Selvet, LunaTheLoneWolf, Telekinetic in the usa, clarinetgirl628, Of-Thieves-and-Liars, 16, Laurafxox, PJ-NCIS-TF-26, Chester Grey, Comiccrazygothgirl and akatsukigurl93! Thank you all so much C:

Anyway, the battle for the couple name begins! I've had quite a few wonderful suggestions so either vote for your favorite, or just pick whichever suits you. Thanks to everyone who told me what they thought would make a good name xD. And the nominees are: Steam, Stanantha, Sogers, Stemantha, Rogsilver, American Mask, and Captain Silver! I'm loving all these suggestions :P although I think my personal favorite is Sogers, heehee :)

Thanks again everyone, for all the feedback! It means the world to me, and hopefully you enjoyed this chapter. Keep in mind that the big date happens on the same day as Tasha's fight with Sam took place ;) it's coming up soon! READERS ASSEMBLE, and please review!

- Lexi