Sorry about the wait, I couldn't find the time to sit and write these last few days! Anyway, after much delay Chapter 11 is finally complete! Sorry it's not super long...this is just how it ended up. I hope you like Romanogers! Enjoy and please review! ;)

Natasha held up an emerald green dress, and mentally compared it to the navy blue one on which lay on her bed. The green one was long, flowy, and elegant. The blue was collared, dull, and proper. Neither spoke to Natasha or gave off the vibe that she was looking for at the London party. Inevitably, the event tonight was sure to take a dark turn (parties attended by the Avengers always did) therefore functionality of her chosen outfit was important.

She grabbed the two dresses and strode over to her closet, where she handed them off to F.R.I.D.A.Y. and began to scour the dozen or so remaining outfits which had glided to a stop moments ago on the transport bar.

Too black, too white, too bland, too tight. Natasha leafed through almost all of the dresses before pausing at a red number, which caught her eye in the gloom of the closet. It was strapless with sensual flowing ruffles and a hemline just above the knees. I might look like a Spanish dancer, but it's the best I've got. She thought to herself, looking the option over. Doubtfully she grabbed the red dress and returned to her bedroom. The dress slid on fine, being crafted of a stretchy material that would do fine if the night turned sour, although Natasha's breath caught when she realized that it was half-backless and would bare all of her scars to the air. Let them see...even Steve. She mused stubbornly, observing her reflection in a floor-length mirror.

Natasha reached back to pull up the zipper, but she only made it halfway up the dress before the tiny metal teeth jammed and refused to budge. She cursed under her breath, realizing that she would need someone to help her. Holding up the loose top half of the bodice, Natasha tiptoed back to the door of her suite. She cracked it open and glanced out into the common area. Everyone appeared to have disappeared into their rooms, so first Natasha crept over to Tony's suite, where she quietly knocked, betting on Tony being absorbed in his project and hoping for Pepper to answer the door.

There was no response, and Natasha cursed again, wondering what to do. Without assistance, there was no way she could get the dress on or off, so she was stuck, standing exposed in the common area, waiting for someone else to appear. She prayed it wouldn't be Darcy...

Suddenly a lock clicked, and Steve's door opened slowly across the pentagon. Natasha blushed as his eyes fell on her, standing outside Tony's door and holding up her dress like an idiot. In his usual gentlemanly fashion, Steve averted his gaze and turned away.

"Miss Romanoff, I...sorry...I'll just-go..." he muttered.

Natasha stopped him quickly. "No! Steve! I need help, please." She returned awkwardly, turning so he could observe her half-engaged zipper.

Natasha turned away, unable to meet Steve's eyes, but heard him approaching. He cleared his throat and fiddled with the zipper, gently easing it upwards. When the zipper clicked into place, she exhaled softly with relief but felt Steve's eyes burning into the scars on her upper back, shoulders, and neck- tokens of years of dangerous espionage. Natasha turned to face him.

"The winter soldier left his mark, as did the Brazilian arms dealer." She stated simply, gesturing to scars on her shoulder and collarbone.

"Symbols of battles well fought, Miss Romanoff." He replied honourably.

Natasha laughed to herself quietly. "More like a tally of the number of times people have almost killed me."

Steve regarded her openly, his eyes clear and unreadable. "Which one came the closest?"

"A French woman- another spy- with a spear." She whispered, turning to point shakily to a long white line which extended from the middle of her back to the top of her right shoulder.

Steve was silent, but he carefully raised his finger and traced the fading white scar where the spear had sliced apart her skin many years ago. Natasha shivered at the unexpected contact.

"They're beautiful, in a strong, resilient kind of way." Steve said honestly, with the faintest hint of jealousy.

"You're crazy, Captain." She whispered back, taking a step closer to him. He was sporting a handsome tweed suit with a distinct dark tie.

Steve shook his head and smiled. "I promise I'm not. Imperfection is human, and with the super soldier serum my body, nothing of wounds I sustain ever remains."

"So you're flawless then." Natasha breathed, so close now to Steve that she could hear his heart pounding. Her own heart beat back a steady, past-paced response.

"No ma'am. I'm quite unnatural. It's my least favourite attribute about myself." He insisted stubbornly.

Natasha's face fell inches away from Steve's, so close that she could see the streaks of aqua and green in his icy blue eyes. Their breaths mingled, and Steve leaned closer suddenly, as if about to kiss her.

A sudden bang pierced the veil of silence which had covered the common area, as the door to Thor's suite was thrown open. Natasha and Steve jumped apart. They shared a fleeting glance of confusion, as though what had almost happened threatened to overwhelm all else, but the moment passed and Natasha turned to regard Thor, who stood half-dressed in a regular shirt and dress pants.

Thor didn't seem to recognize what he had interrupted, since he was in a slightly frantic state.

"Where is my hammer? Mjolnir is missing! No one can wield such a weapon except I-" He boomed, questioning Steve and Natasha. Steve immediately stepped back, arms raised.

"Last I saw, it was hanging on the hooks in the lab." He stated calmly.

All three Avengers glanced over to the laboratory, and sure enough, Mjolnir still rested on the set of wooden hooks.

"Oh." Thor said, breaking into a grin. "Sorry about that."

The god of Thunder walked over to retrieve his weapon, and then he turned to return to his suite. Before shutting the door, however, he poked his head out again. "Stark says to be prepared for anything, by the way." Thor added, holding up Mjolnir in explanation.

Steve nodded and walked quickly back toward his room. "Better find some weapons." He muttered, not meeting Natasha's eyes.

Natasha stood, alone once more above the media pit. Her head spun and she forced her way back inside her room. Once inside she shut the door quickly and collapsed against a wall, head in her hands.

Her thoughts circled wildly between elation and guilt. What am I doing? What am I doing to Bruce? She wondered in a panic. The shadows around her lengthened then disappeared as the hour of departure for the party loomed.

Eventually Natasha was able to calm herself enough to return to her feet, and track down a few weapons. Duty first, as always. She reminded herself stubbornly. She tied a weapons ring around her upper thigh, safely concealed beneath the blazing red fabric of her dress. To it she strapped multiple knives, a tracking device, a small gun, and ammo. Onto her feet she pulled on a pair of red heels, hidden inside the soles of which were a few time bombs and instant smoke generators.

Satisfied with her preparedness, Natasha touched up her makeup and willed herself ready to face the night. She attempted not to think about Steve and the turmoil he had created in her mind.

Natasha grabbed a matching red purse from the closet and was about to leave when, as a final precaution, she grabbed an extra gun, heavier than the first, from a safe behind one of the Asian style tapestries. She delicately lowered the weapon into the purse and exited her suite confidently; ready to face whatever London might bring.