A/n: I do enjoy these things. Does anybody read them? You'd better, or I'll stop including them, and then you'll never know when there's M rated content until you run into the squishy bits, which you will in this chapter, so…yeah. Romanogers romanomance. My dog just burped adorably. Also, we're approaching spoiler-y territory for CA:TWS, but you knew that coming in. You'll find no pity here. Okay, maybe some pity, but not related to spoilers.

Natasha swatted at the alarm clock on Steve's nightstand with her right hand, forgetting in her half-wakened state that it was still in a cast. The outer fiberglass shell bounced off the clock's plastic casing, causing her to add a squawk of pain and surprise to the buzzing alarm. As multi-lingual swearing did nothing to stop either the alarm or the throbbing in her hand, she struggled to free her left hand from the tangle of sheets. A knife from under the pillow was firmly embedding in the sparking but blessedly silent clock moments later. She collapsed back onto the bed. "So not the way I wanted to wake up this morning."

"I'm sure my alarm clock had different plans, too."

She opened her eyes and looked at Steve, standing in the doorway, still in his running clothes. "Late today? Usually you're out of the shower and back in bed with me by the time I have to assault the clock."

"I met someone this morning. We had a conversation." He sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned down to untie his sneakers. "Pararescue vet. Told me I should stop by the VA sometime. Why didn't I ever think of doing that before?"

"You've been busy saving the world."

"So have they."

She sighed. "You're allowed to have a life outside of being Captain America."

"Still. I feel like all I've been doing for the past two weeks is worrying about the helicarriers and Hydra and Volgograd and not doing anything about any of it. Maybe I need a distraction."

She pushed herself up to sit against the headboard, still moving her right arm gingerly. At least her left hand had healed completely, she reflected, watching the scars on her knuckles alternately blanch and redden as she tightened and loosened a fist. "So, tell me about your new buddy."

"Hey, don't get insulted." He flopped down beside her. "I don't consider you a distraction. How could you be? You're the most important part of my life."

"Steve, I just asked…"

"Sorry. His name is Sam. Sam Wilson. He…please don't take this the wrong way, but it was nice to talk to someone without an agenda or something to hide, for once."

"Assuming it really was a chance meeting and not a set up."

"See? That's what I don't like. We can't trust anyone we don't already, and that cuts us down to four people at SHIELD we can be honest with when we're sure no one's listening, including ourselves. I hope Stark gets those secure comms up soon. I'd even talk to him at this point." He suddenly wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her stomach. "I can't take much more of this. I need to do something."

"Dr. Larsson said I'm healing faster than he expected. I should be out of the cast in two weeks."

"So you're saying I have to wait another few weeks before we're back in action?"

"Unless you think you can handle the trip to Russia with Clint."

She felt his lips curve into a smile against her bare stomach. "Guess I can wait."

"If you need someone besides me, Clint or Hill to talk to, do you want me to see if Dr. Moses can squeeze you in?"

"Can we even trust her? I know she's outside SHIELD, but…"

"I think…yes."

His eyelashes tickled her skin as he blinked several times and she fought not to twitch. He finally said, "I'll think about it."

"I wonder if she could help us, actually."

"I thought that was why you see her. For help, which may or may not include us. I respect the doctor/patient privilege."

"I meant with our Hydra hunt."

"You want to involve your psychiatrist?"

"She's DOD. If she doesn't know something, she could find it out."

He breathed against her for an extended pause, warming her skin. "I'm gonna take a chance on Sam. Not with anything classified, just as a…guy. And I think stopping by the VA will be a good thing."

"Better that than slow times at Romanoff High with the field agents in training."

His lips were soft and warmer than his breath as he pressed them against her stomach. "I don't mind you being in class. I know where you are and that you're not getting into trouble. Plus, I get to have lunch with you every day."

"I do like having an errand boy." She began to pull up his t shirt, bunching it in her left hand. "Even if he occasionally comes to bed all sweaty, talking about his new bromance."

Steve looked up at her. "Do I even want to ask what that means?"

"Just take off your clothes." He immediately complied, tossing away his shirt, pants and boxers in record time. She let him take the lead, not so much climbing as being lifted into his lap as he changed places with her against the headboard. Holding her hips, he guided her up and onto him. They let gravity do the work as she sank onto him with a happy moan. She settled her right arm across his shoulders, gripping the headboard with her left hand. Tugging his earlobe with her teeth, she whispered, "Are you just going to sit there?"

His reply was to lift her hips as he pulled back, then pushing into her as he pulled her back down. "Too rough?"

"Oh, Steve, don't stop!" Her cries shuddered out of her throat as he continued to set their rhythm, pumping and pulling, barely making her work for the intense pleasure building in her lower belly and threatening to turn her into the world's happiest ragdoll at any moment. She used her grasp on the headboard to pull herself into him, pressing into him with each deep thrust, wanting somehow to disappear inside him as he was inside her.

Although the experience of lovemaking with Steve was enough to make Natasha want it to last indefinitely, the conclusion never disappointed and she could feel it approaching with the force of a massive wave. She clutched him tighter, crying out as she edged closer and closer to perfect, gut-twisting, smoldering oblivion. "Steve…Steve…oh, Steve!"

It felt as if every muscle in her body contracted simultaneously when her orgasm hit her, strangling her chant of her lover's name. She shivered against him as the convulsions of bliss wracked her body. He finally groaned his release as she was coming down and she tried to focus on voluntarily working her internal muscles to provide him with the same pleasure he had just given her. She hoped it would never cease to amaze her – not only how he attended to her needs, but also how she worked to fulfill his. They shared a breathless kiss as they sank into the bed together, still intimately joined. She twisted her fingers into his hair, speaking against his lips, "You are so amazing."

"Learned it all from you," he replied, initiating another long, passionate kiss. "It's like something is on fire."

"It's your shirt. You threw it on the clock and…" She found herself unceremoniously dumped on the mattress as Steve grabbed the flaming garment and threw it to the floor, stomping on it as black smoke rose toward the ceiling. Natasha rolled onto her stomach. "You should probably unplug the clock, too."

"Just give me a second." He disappeared with his ruined shirt and she could hear water running in the bathroom. When he returned, he gave her a severe look. "This is why we press the button to turn off the alarm instead of stabbing it."

"We?"

"Don't use that tone of voice while flashing your ass at me." He bent down and unplugged the clock, which immediately ceased shooting sparks from its wounds. "I take it we're gonna be late for work after this."

"Well, the incredible sex was putting us behind schedule, but the shirt fire is a good excuse." She stood slowly, allowing the sheet to fall away from her body as she did. "Now, are we going to shower together, or is fun touching over for the morning?"

Hill knocked lightly on the door before entering the conference room currently designated for use as a classroom for the field agent trainees. By all accounts, Romanoff had been exceeding expectations as a teacher while sidelined by her broken hand, but her cast had been cut off the day before. There were positives and negatives to the situation, of course. On the plus side, she was cleared for missions and was unlikely to get bored enough to set fire to her apartment, as had apparently occurred a few weeks before, though both she and Rogers had claimed it was an accidental shirt fire, as if that was even a thing. On the minus end of the spectrum, Romanoff was now completely mobile and probably itching for a complicated prank to prove her readiness for fieldwork. STRIKE was currently running a pool on who would be her first victim.

Hill had a bad feeling about her prospects, given their current alliance. Although their four-person circle had expanded to include Stark and Banner via Stark's new 'super secure' Stark phones, she'd found herself spending a lot of time with the people she was starting to think of as her co-conspirators. Even if she hadn't actually moved into Romanoff and Barton's building, she had been spending a lot of time there lately. There were rumors that she had gotten involved with Barton spreading like wildfire. The less salacious truth was, after weeks of careful searching, she had found a plausible excuse to send Romanoff and Rogers into Volgograd. A CIA intelligence intercept from three years ago seemed to confirm Vasily's coded documents regarding a genetic experimentation facility in the area, with the potential for KGB or Hydra involvement, if not both. It was weak, but it got them there with a reason.

She glanced around the silent room and realized that the three trainees were staring at her. She tried not to tense up. "Where is Agent Romanoff?"

The Marine, Howard, was the first to speak up after a group significant glance. "We were told not to answer that question, Ma'am."

"Does the answer involve Captain Rogers?" Rogers had been edgy for the past month, but it was nothing compared to his restlessness now that Romanoff had had her cast removed. Now they were both like caged tigers in heat, ready to pounce on…Hill immediately shut down that line of thought. "Is Romanoff late because of Captain Rogers?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Then where…." The question died in Hill's throat as cold steel pressed against her throat. "Good morning, Agent Romanoff."

"Agent Hill. I appreciate your participation in this little exercise." Although the knife was compressing her larynx, Hill could feel that it was the blunt edge of the knife. Apparently this was what friendship with Romanoff got you – non-lethal, non-consensual training examples. Romanoff didn't ease her hold as she said, "Normally, Agent Hill wouldn't be fooled by such a simple ruse. Who can tell me what she intentionally did wrong when she entered the room?"

"Agent Hill failed to assess all angles of potential threat, Ma'am."

"Exactly, Howard." Hill felt Romanoff's grip slacken as she was turned loose. "Now, I want you all to go down the hallway and find a way back into this room through the ceiling. Teamwork is encouraged. Go!"

The three trainees sprinted from the room, which Romanoff immediately secured. Hill shook her head. "You know they won't be able to make it into the room with the security protocols on."

"Doesn't mean it can't be done. Sorry you had to be my first victim, although I think you'll probably get a thank you gift from Isaacs. STRIKE had a bet…"

"I know."

"Well, it doesn't hurt that Isaacs has a thing for you. Maybe there'll be chocolates, if you're lucky." Romanoff winked and sat down at the head of the table. She took a sip from a travel mug of coffee. "Now, what can I do for you, Hill?"

She sat down in one of the seats vacated by the rookies and sent a file from her tablet to the large monitor on the wall. "I've got an in for you and Rogers. It's slim, but it's enough to get a mission approved."

"You're my second favorite right now. What's the mission?"

"Observe and report on a clinic supposedly dedicated to care of children with a rare genetic condition."

"Which is?"

"Apparently so rare, no one has bothered to label it in any records. It could be super soldier serum testing or something else entirely. All I can tell you is it's not hospital or university supported, so it's likely military or…something else."

"Right. When do we leave?"

"I haven't talked to Fury, yet."

"We don't know if we can trust Fury."

Hill bit her tongue. It was hard not to share the Director's suspicions with them, but she had sworn she wouldn't tell anyone. "Trust isn't the issue. He still has to approve the mission. I wanted to let you know that I might have to tell him more about your former relationship with Vasily before he gives us a green light."

"I don't care if you tell him it's personal. He's let me go before when he probably shouldn't have. Taking Steve just makes it personal in the opposite direction. No matter what happens, I'll be coming back."

Hill sensed something strange in the room. "You're worried."

"A potential army of Captain Hydras. Or Captain Hydrae?"

"I think both are linguistically acceptable."

"Whichever. What's to worry about? Not like we're dealing with the Winter Soldier."

"There's still no proof…"

Romanoff pulled up her shirt to reveal a scar. "I've got mine. I'm still undecided over who I prefer to avoid most – him or the Hulk."

"I thought you and Banner got along."

"Banner is a nice guy."

"Right." Hill tapped a few keys on her tablet to remove the display from the monitor. "I've sent you all the files for the mission. Expect to be leaving within the next few days."

"And Clint?"

"I can't send three of you. If you want to take one of the rookies as a training exercise…"

"I'm not getting any of them killed just yet." Romanoff stood and walked to the panel by the door, releasing the security protocols. There was a clunking sound from the hallway. "Drop ceilings. It's like no one involved in the design of the Triskelion saw Aliens."

"Game over for the rookies, I guess."

She nodded with a wry smile. "We'll be talking later, I'm sure. Thanks, Hill."

Hill shook her head, stepping around a pile of tangled, squirming bodies in the corridor as she left the room. Behind her, Romanoff was chiding, "Teamwork is only valuable if it doesn't get your team killed. The three of you are currently dead. Get back in the conference room and be prepared for an interminable lecture on Kyrgyzstan."

She had no doubt that Romanoff could go on for hours about the former Soviet Republic. Hill made her way back to her office to prepare the mission briefing for Volgograd that had been in the works for over a month.