It has been too damn long. School restarting has been a massive blow to my writing and I am going to make a huge effort to write more frequently. Thank you for everyone who has stuck with me xx I hope you like this chapter
Groaning, Bruce tried sitting up on the sofa. His body ached. Feeling like a university student, full of regret from poor decisions, he was in need of coffee. Natasha had beaten him to the punch standing in the kitchen already dressed and probably back from a run.
"Hey, how's the head?" Her teasing was not appreciated, but the freshly brewed mug she handed him was.
His mumbled grunt of a reply made her laugh a little, entertained by watching a brilliant man become a inarticulate twit. Envious, he looked at her: refreshed and in no way effected by last night.
"Do you remember last night?" she asked.
Fear pierced Bruce as he worried he said something more than he already wished he hadn't.
"Err yeah I think so," he replied nervously.
"So you still want to go to the Bonfire thing?"
Her eyes looked unusually nervous, but more than anything she deserved the truth and he'd uphold that.
"Yeah, I don't really know why," he smiled slightly, "but it seems like a celebration of a place I've really loved being able to call home." Terrible at gauging her reaction he decided simply to ask, "do you want to go?"
"I want you to be happy. Also if you go alone it'll draw suspicion since I'm pretty sure people think we're a couple so I'll come." It was a compromise. While she didn't want to go, she knew he did and so she would accompany.
This feels like being in a couple, she thought suddenly. She gained nothing from this deal, no strategic reward to follow putting herself in danger. Yet if it made him happy, maybe in some cheesy parallel universe, that was enough.
"Haven't we got pumpkins to carve," diverting the subject quickly.
He hummed agreement and went to the back porch where he had put away the pumpkins.
"So how do we do this?" she asked, holding the largest kitchen knife Bruce didn't even know he owned.
"Well you slice off the top," he explained, reaching for a smaller knife and demonstrating somewhat haphazardly. Twisting off the pumpkin's hat, he continued, "then you shovel out the middle with a spoon."
Natasha sliced across the vegetable in one smooth motion that simultaneously impressed and frightened Bruce.
The first shot, she'll argue, was accidental, the metal utensil slipping slightly firing pumpkin seeds and mess at the scientist.
"Hey!" he protested, as the wet orange strings hit his face.
She covered her open mouth first in shock and then to stifle laughter. His return blow began an all out war, the kitchen orange when they finally ran out of ammo. Only with him did she want to be childish, he alone could make her giggle until her sides hurt and cheeks flushed.
"And then we try and clean up the mess," he joked examining the kitchen.
"I'll go grab a couple of towels."
Both were used to mess of one kind or another and neither exactly squeamish. She was grateful her hair was hidden in a ponytail otherwise she would have vegetable all through it.
"Here," she chucked him a towel allowing him to clean out some of the pumpkin inevitably caught in his cute brown curls.
"Now you think about what design you're going to do then you can pencil it out on the pumpkin face or just grab a knife and stab it."
She went to the laptop; if she was going to do this she was determined to do it well. Even after years of Halloween celebrations, Bruce was happy to make the same goofy face out of his pumpkin. With slanted teeth and funny eyebrows it reminded him of happier childhood memories. It was only when he was done and thought about searching for a candle to go inside, that he realised Natasha wasn't there.
"Nat?" he called out.
Out on the porch surrounded by discarded pumpkin pieces, she sat cross legged finishing her design. In the face of orange, she had carved the A that was now associated with their team so strongly. Not completely cutting out the design she kept the white flesh of the pumpkin so that the design truly glowed. The lines were precise and she'd lie if she tried to pretend she wasn't proud.
"My cheesy face is being shown up slightly," he joked as he passed her a few tea lights to place inside.
They sat on the deck that night, watching the orange glow flicker from within the pumpkins.
A week passed and Nat found herself pulling on a red and black checkered shirt. She'd snuck a hand gun into the glove box of Scarlett, because in skinny black jeans she was never going to be able to hide one in her waist band. This evening was supposed to be fun, she tried to remind herself.
"Nat, you coming?" the doctor exclaimed from the bottom of the stairs.
She pulled on some boots and followed her companion into the car. The drive was silent, she trusted him to know where they were heading. Pulling into a field, he aligned his car along a row of other cars. Following the light from the bonfire, Nat grabbed his hand to gain some balance on the uneven ground and to remind him he wasn't alone.
"Delightful to see you two!" Sally exclaimed about to hug them before Luca and Caroline beat her to it. When they finally let go, Sally suggested, "come and get a drink."
Each with a cup of mulled wine, the pair began to mingle and Natasha could see the way Bruce's face lit up with company. She was introduced as his friend. Introduced to everyone it would seem. When the good doctor was cajoled into talking to a group of older ladies, the redhead stood idly in the field. Until a young man approached.
"Hi there." A very blonde, tall, slender fellow, softly spoken and dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt. "Callum," he introduced himself politely.
"Natasha," the shortened version of her name belonged only to three men: Clint, Bruce and Steve.
"Everyone knows who you are. You and Bruce are dating right?"
"Oh no, just friends. I'm staying with him for a while."
"Well if that's the case, could I ask for this dance?"
Strewn across the grass were several couples, slow music blasting out of somebody's truck. Making an excuse would require a reason. Wanting to avoid any confrontation, she wrapped her hand round the one he'd offered before her. The gentle spinning was peaceful.
"You like him don't you?" Callum asked, one shoulder on her hip the other firmly attached to her hand.
"Not like that."
"Sure," he smiled knowingly.
She's clearly spent too far away from her work if it was that obvious to a complete stranger.
"They always say the best way to get a guy to notice you is to make him jealous and if you need someone to help with that I'm more than happy," she laughed genuinely at his attempt at charm. "Worth a shot at least." Looking up at him, Callum told her softly, "he's a good man."
"The best."
The sudden eruption of fireworks pulled them apart, Natasha instinctively stepping back and searching for the source of the noise.
"Don't wait too long," he said before stepping off into the darkness.
Anybody else would be jolted, mentally, by such a ghost like presence but Natasha was thankful, if only because it made her more appreciative of Bruce's warmth when she returned to it. Despite his urge to know, Bruce refrained from beginning an inquisition. What right did he have? They weren't together. Sitting on the tailgate of the truck they watched the black sky burn loudly from the rockets launched. Caroline, Luca and some of the other local children ran around the grass with sparklers while tired parents watched on smiling. With no word, not even a look across at the scientist, Natasha took his hand. Refusing to turn to see him, she enjoyed the colours, the vitality the scene seemed to possess.
Why couldn't everything be this simple? She wondered.
Then she remembered a Kip Moore lyric to a song she'd listened to just that day:
What good's love if it ain't a little complicated
Woohoo character growth! There will be more angst and action to come so please stick with me, thank you guys so much for everything