So. Guess who survived AP exams?! WOOOT. Anyways, I hope to be back full force soon.
Shoutout to Black' Victor Cachat, hailhaleybear, JoannaHennet, EmmaJarrett, IsabellaRomanoff1997, Wolfshark, Eira Lloyd, j-reverdi, , and K. S. Briones for following!
And thank you so much to Joanna Hennet, who had the best review, and also for writing it on a day when I was pretty down. Have a bowl of mac and cheese!
The knock was timid, a barely there sound that made Natasha almost neglect it. But there it was once more, and this time, she was sure she wasn't hallucinating. She sluggishly got out of bed-curse Steve for wearing her out last night-and shuffled towards the door.
To be perfectly honest, she couldn't imagine who was at the door. Pepper, maybe, to ask her once more if she really going to wear those shoes with her dress. (Her Converse were perfectly fine with the gradient, thank you very much. She liked those sneakers-there was nothing wrong with wearing them to a gala.) Hill, maybe, to freak out about taking Fury to the gala. Possibly May, although she couldn't imagine her showing any emotion over the possibility of she and Coulson.
"Simmons?"
Okay, that one she hadn't expected.
Natasha swing her door wider to allow the scientist in, and Simmons scurried past her, as if afraid she was going to get caught going into Natasha's apartment. "What's going on?"
"I was-I was wondering-that is, if you wouldn't mind-you see, it's-I can't-I don't-" Simmons was clearly struggling to get the words out, having gone through about three different shades of red during her stuttered explanation. She hung her head abashedly in front of the spy, who was struggling not to laugh. "I need your advice, Agent Romanoff."
Natasha's green eyes sparkled with mirth, but she managed to tamp down her laughter. "What's up, Simmons?"
"It's Fitz," she exhaled frustratedly, tipping her head back in annoyance. "He hasn't asked me to the gala yet." Her voice grew small at her next admittance. "And I don't want to be the only one there without a date, especially when I know he wants to take me as much as I want to take him and I already bought my dress and I don't want to be the pitiful one and ask him because that really would make me look awful-"
"Just ask him." Natasha frowned at the meek scientist. At the inquisitive look on Simmons' face, she rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Jemma. Really. This isn't the 1920's. Or the 1800s. It's not going to kill you or make you look bad if you ask him. It all depends on whether you're willing to do it."
"Well, of course I am, I'm not some prissy little American who's willing to sit around for their entire life while they're waiting for a knight in shining armour to come and gallantly ask them to something as paltry as a dance-" Simmons caught the look on Natasha's face and fell silent. "I'm doing it again, aren't I? Fitz says I've got to learn to get it under control."
"No, no, it's quite refreshing," the spy smirked. "You're talking to the one who's wearing Converse to the gala. Honestly? I'm annoyed everyone else had to wait for their guys to ask them. Except Thor and Steve. Because really. You can't dissuade those two from a good proposal."
"What am I going to do, Natasha?" Simmons moaned, looking on the verge of screaming. "Even if I were to ask him to the gala, how in the hell would I do it? It's not like I can cook up a giant batch of mac and cheese-it's not like Fitz likes that anyways, it's more of a prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella, small bit of pesto aioli-but that's beside the point!" She threw her hands up. "How am I supposed to top Thor?!"
"You don't have to," Natasha's voice was soothing yet determined at the same time. "The guys are in their own element. You've got your own. Besides, they've been doing this for years. Of course they have more practice." She gave an elegant shrug. "Think about it, Simmons. What do you and Fitz both like?"
"Running away from May's juice cleanses?" When Simmons received a shake of the head, she tried again. "Running away from Bobbi and Hunter?" A snicker and another shake of the head. "...Skye?"
"Come on, Simmons. There's a reason the entire Tower calls you FitzSimmons."
"Right! Science!" Once she got the answer right, Simmons' face lit up like Thor whenever he found a specialty Pop-Tart. "You're saying I should ask him with science?"
"I would be disappointed if you didn't," Natasha snorted. "There's plenty of ways you can ask with science. Blow something up. Make a fungi. Get a DWARF to do it or something, I don't know?"
"That's it!" Simmons exclaimed, suddenly inspired. She headed for the door, her face bright. "I know what I'm going to do!" Just as the door shut, her voice could be heard from down the hallway. "Thanks, Natasha!"
"-still don't know what the bloody hell I'm going to do, mate," Hunter's agitated voice could clearly be heard around the corner as Natasha stepped off of the elevator into the living room. "The gala's this weekend, and it's already Thursday. I can't mess this up. Bobbi would kill me if I did."
"Personally, I'm still surprised that she hasn't had your ass on the couch for not asking her to the gala," Skye could be heard snorting as Natasha rounded the corner, seeing the two of them sprawled out on the rug. "Hey, Nat. What's kicking?"
"Your need for a date to the gala," Natasha retorted as she gracefully plopped down beside them. "I heard that's way up. Apparently you tried to ask that poor guy down in Admin. I think he's recovering nicely." Skye scowled at her, aiming for a punch in the arm. "And Hunter," She turned the merc, who had a nervous look on his face. "What's this I hear about a proposal?"
"How did you even hear that?" Hunter's voice had dropped to a whisper, knowing that Bobbi could be anywhere at any given time. "And keep your voice down! I don't want Bob to know." His face showed the pleading of a desperate man. "You've gotta help me, Romanoff," he begged. "I gotta do this right."
"What is with everyone in this Tower calling me Romanoff?" she muttered, reaching for a notepad and pen on the coffee table behind her. "I swear I've told them all at least once to call me Natasha. Especially FitzSimmons. I don't even know what's going on with those two." Pen poised, she looked at Hunter expectantly. "Start with what you've got, and I'll go from there."
"I've got a speech written out," Hunter began hastily, fishing a crumpled piece of paper from his back pocket and handing it over to Natasha. Skye peered over her shoulder as the spy examined the handwritten speech, silently amused at all of the heavy crossouts and side comments. "I know it's not much, but..."
"It's a good start," Natasha admitted, refolding it and handing it back over. "Did you have any idea on how you were going to read it?" There were a couple of ideas whizzing around in her mind, one of them including a grand speech following one of Tony's debacles that was sure to have everyone's attention. "Please don't tell me you're going to avoid Bobbi until she gets it out of you. That would suck."
"I was thinking about making it on the gala stage," Hunter answered nervously. "You know, have Stark introduce me and all that. Although it's kind of hard to upstage Stark at one of these things." He worriedly unfolded and refolded the paper in his hand. "At least I can't get upstaged by someone making a last-ditch attempt to secure a date."
"I've got it!" Skye exclaimed, sitting up suddenly. Both Hunter and Natasha turned to look at the hacker, who now had excitement brimming in her dark, brown eyes. "Okay, so here's how it's going to go. You," she turned to the merc, who was leaning forwards in anticipation. "are going to pretend to lose Bobbi in the crowd at the gala. Chances are that there are going to be a lot of people there that we don't know. It'll be easy. I'll keep Bobbi distracted, since I'll have nothing to do for the night anyways." There was a scowl on Skye's apparent lack of date once again. "You'll appear on stage, asking for Bobbi, since you've apparently seemed to have lost her. 'Tall, blonde, striking blue dress ringing a bell for anyone? Please? There's something I need to tell her.' And once she shows up, asking you what it is, you're gonna rock the hell out of that speech and propose!" Skye finished with a flourish, leaving the other two quite impressed. "Huh? Huh?"
"That's amazing, Skye," Hunter beamed. "I don't know how I didn't think of that before!" Skye just jostled him gently in the side before getting to her feet.
"That's cause you're a man, Hunter," she answered, sending a smirk to Natasha, who was also getting to her feet. "You men don't typically think outside of the box like this anymore. I wouldn't take it too harshly. At least Natasha didn't laugh at your groveling."
As Hunter went off to memorize his speech, Natasha couldn't help but feel like she'd somehow stepped into Pepper's 'mother hen' shoes. It wasn't a feeling she was accustomed to-but she could get used to it. Now. Gotta find Skye a date...
"No, no, no, no, no, this is not Romanoff's Psychology Hour," Natasha muttered as she saw the extremely long line of agents gathered outside her door. "What the hell?" she shouted down the line, causing all of the agents to freeze and slowly turn around. She gave them all her patented death glare-they couldn't know she was suddenly stepping up and showing compassion. "Get the fuck out! And how did you all even get past security, anyways?!" The agents scattered for the elevator, save for one, who just stood there as Natasha stormed up to her door, still playacting for her own sake.
"You," she snapped at the lone figure, inserting her keys in. "You feel like risking your life or something? That's the only explanation as to why you're still here." She stopped when the person behind her spoke up, in a dead quiet that nearly matched her own.
"'Romanoff's Psychology Hour'? Have to admit, I haven't heard that one before," May answered, as Natasha guiltily turned around. "Do tell, does the invitation to 'get the fuck out' pertain to people who trained you? Because somehow, I'm not sure they'd take that as well as other people would."
"Sorry, May," Natasha sighed, swinging the door open and letting the senior agent in. "I've been giving out advice to Simmons and Hunter. Thought one of them had blabbed to the rest of the agency." As it swung shut, she faced her mentor with an appraising look on her face. "Now. How can I help you?"
"What makes you think I came here for your help?"
"May. You're here. You're not beating the shit out of something. You're not wailing on your agents. You're here, talking to me after being willing to wait in line with all of the lower level slime. Don't tell them I said that," she tacked on as an afterthought, fishing for a bottle of sparkling juice out of her refrigerator. "You need help."
"I don't trust Maria or Pepper to take me dress shopping." That was May, blunt as usual. Natasha looked unaffected, taking a sip from her glass instead.
"You want me to go dress shopping with you." May looked almost unabashed as she nodded. "And you're completely aware that I plan to wear sneakers with my dress. That's the kind of person I am." If that surprised her, she didn't show it. "And you still want to go dress shopping with me."
"Like I said. I don't trust Maria or Pepper. And I know you hate dress shopping, but I thought given the most recent development in the Tower..." Natasha nodded, setting her glass in the sink. She went to pick up her keys from the hallway, slipping on a pair of flip-flops.
"Come on. I've got to go pick up one of the SI credit cards, and then we'll be off. Tell me what your dress size is again?"
May was really starting to regret asking Natasha to go dress shopping. The redheaded spy had indeed lived up to her code name on the street, being absolutely thorough with her shop choices. For the two of them, there was no limit on where they could shop-being fluent in several languages helped. For that reason, Natasha had dragged May all around the city, merely grunting in dismissal when none of the boutiques on Fifth Avenue had turned up anything. However, they had turned up some handy pairs of heels and blazers that neither of them hesitated to snap up, even nearly getting into a fight with a couple of fashionistas.
But finally, here they were, in a hole-in-the-wall shop that Natasha had somehow managed to remember the name of after 13 years, standing in their fitting room. May had to admit, the Russian had taste when it came to dressing people. She wouldn't debate how she'd gotten that knowledge, though. She stood in front of the full-length mirror, staring at her reflection. The dress Natasha had found was a hodge-podge of colors, a bold declaration that was almost like May herself. It started as a form-fitting tank-top, multicolored stripes branching out into a flowery cincher before flowing out into a long skirt, blues, reds, oranges and greens that somehow created flowers, but at the same time didn't make it seem too feminine. Interspersed with white, it made it seem like May was wearing an artist's canvas-but tastefully done.
"I think we've got it," Natasha answered casually, careful not to inflict any emotion into her voice. If she was at all excited, it would bring her reputation down for good. But at the same time, she didn't want to come off as totally opinionless. "Phil's going to be speechless."
"I hope so," May sighed, carefully shrugging out of it. She threw her T-shirt and jeans back on, placing the dress back on its hanger. "He's been alone for too long, Nat," she admitted, turning to face her friend. "It's killing him." Natasha remained quiet, allowing her friend to let out her confession. "It's killing me watching him." May's eyes drifted downwards to the floor. "Is it bad that I want to be by his side?" she asked no one in particular. "Is it bad that I'm still feeling, after all of the things I've done in my life?"
"No." The word quickly escaped Natasha's mouth, and she pursed her lips, as if trying to forget she'd ever uttered something of the sort. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with that." She paused again, hesitating on whether she trusted May enough with a breach of her reputation. "If you're not feeling, Mel, there's something wrong."
May examined her student, who'd gone through unspeakable hell even before they'd met. With what Natasha had seen throughout her life, one would expect her eyes to be dead. But they were quite the opposite; in fact, they absolutely sparkled with vitality-the vitality that only love could provide. And oh, how May wanted to have that sparkle in her eye. Steve had done wonders for her, it seemed. "He's changed you, hasn't he?"
"He has," Natasha answered, quietly smiling. "He really has."
"Nat?" Steve sleepily muttered as he stretched out an arm for his girlfriend, confused when he didn't find her next to him in the bed. "Nat, where are you?" Slowly, he opened his eyes to find the mattress empty, Natasha's presences replaced by a solitary post-it note. He grabbed the square note and held it up to his face, squinting slightly at the blue piece of paper. "Roof. You're in for a long overdue lesson." The note wasn't signed, simply embossed with a flower in the corner. Groaning, Steve stumbled out of bed, combing his hair into what he hoped passed for decent condition.
"About time," came Natasha's voice as he emerged onto the sunlit roof, her back to him. Surrounding him were flowers of every kind. Some were potted, others hanging from a trellis she'd set up overhead. She was situated on a wooden bench in the middle of it all, wearing a dark, olive dress with a braided leather belt cinched around her waist. "You realize how late you woke up this morning? I think even Stark's even up by now."
But Steve was too awestruck by the arrangement of flowers, especially the trellis. He was sure they hadn't been there yesterday. Not when there'd been a pouring rainstorm that had had even Thor shaking his head at the weather.
Had she really done all of this while he was asleep?
"Not that I don't appreciate the occasion, but..." he began, not sure whether she'd kill him or not for it, "just what exactly's going on, Nat?"
She stood in one fluid motion, walking over to him. Steve took the time to observe her body language-this wasn't one of her games, as far as he knew-and found it open, relaxed, but slightly apprehensive at the same time. Natasha came to a stop in front of him, looking right into his eyes. "You once told me you had a date," she began. "Peggy was going to teach you how to dance." He kept his expression neutral, as so not to accidentally offend her.
"And I still don't." He tried to shrug it off, but the thought occurred to him that he was actually going to have to dance at the gala. "I just figure I'll do the best I can and try not to step on your toes, right?" Instead of answering, she took him by the hand and led him into the center of the flower arrangement, flitting off to a control panel on the side. When she returned, the beginnings of a guitar intro were streaming out of the Tower's sound system.
"Just listen to the song," she advised solemnly, her tone holding a gravity he'd never seen. "Just listen to the song."
Take my hand
Take a breath
Pull me close
And take one step
As he pulled her in closely, he could hear her singing under her breath. He took a step backwards, then sideways, and suddenly, they were dancing. Startled, he almost messed up the rhythm, Natasha's emerald eyes boring into him and grounding him to the earth.
Keep your eyes
Locked on mine
And let the music
Be your guide
They were doing more than just the simple waltz now, as Steve twirled Natasha in a circle, a radiant smile illuminating her face. It was amazing how the whole thing really was effortless when the right person was in front of you.
Won't you promise me
That you'll never forget
To keep dancing wherever we go next
It's like catching lightning
The chances of finding
Someone like you
It's one in a million
The chances of feeling
The way we do
And with every step together
We just keep on getting better
Steve suspected that, if they had been normal, they would've figured out that they danced well together long before figuring out that they fought well together. But at the same time, if they'd been normal, it was likely they wouldn't have found each other.
So can I have this dance?
Can I have this dance?
Take my hand
I'll take the lead
And every turn
Will be safe with me
He hadn't realized she'd been leading this entire time, but once she handed the reins over to him, the shift in control was apparent. It was no less fluid, though, and the couple went on dancing just like they had been before.
Don't be afraid
Afraid to fall
You know I'll catch you
Through it all
Natasha squealed in delight as she was dipped, her long tresses almost brushing the edge of the rooftop. She came back up to see Steve's face, full of unspeakable joy as he completed the maneuver with a twirl, the two of them coming right back into their standard hold.
And you can't keep us apart
(Even a thousand miles can't keep us apart)
Cause my heart is wherever you are
This time, both of them knew what was coming, and Steve didn't hesitate to sing along quietly with her, the two of them creating a duet that only they would remember. (That, and Stark's security cameras, but they could always download and erase the footage later, right?)
Oh
No mountain's too high enough
Ocean's too wide
'Cause together or not
Our dance won't stop
Let it rain, let it pour
What we have is worth fighting for
You know I believe
That we were meant to be
It's like catching lightning
The chances of finding
Someone like you
A sudden rainstorm appeared out of nowhere, blending with the sun to create a weather phenomenon; Steve and Natasha didn't flinch, only kept dancing through it all. It was a sign of them, of who they were: a sign that they would be together, no matter what.
It's one in a million
The chances of feeling
The way we do
And with every step together
We just keep on getting better
So can I have this dance?
Can I have this dance?
They stopped, breathless, as the song ended and rain came down in torrential downpours, the sun somehow still shining through. Both of them were soaked to the bone, however, it didn't seem to matter much as Natasha gathered Steve in for a long kiss. "I love you, you know."
"Ah," Thor muttered from his view at the living room window. "Good to know that storm was good for something other than watering those poor plants."
The gala was in full swing by the time Bobbi and Hunter arrived, having been set back thirty or so minutes by a...compromising incident in the elevator. ("Let's not mention that to the dear captain, yeah?" Hunter had muttered. "Wouldn't want to corrupt the poor man.") He'd immediately excused himself upon arriving to go get drinks, leaving Skye to swoop in on an unsuspecting Bobbi.
"Don't look now, but I swear the level 3s in the corner are giving you the stink-eye," she muttered, handing the blonde agent a drink. "I don't blame them. I'm pretty sure half of them tried to ask Hunter to the gala before he wised up and asked you." Bobbi just laughed at her friend-it was obvious Skye was already slightly drunk.
"Skye, how many drinks have you had?"
"Not enough that I'll need one of the anti-wasted pills Stark has," Skye giggled, listing to the side a little bit. "And I'm still plenty sober enough to do my job. Ooh, Steve!" Suddenly, she looked over at the good captain, who was dancing a tango with the Tower's resident redhead. "Damn, but doesn't he look fine tonight!"
"Wow, you're wasted," Bobbi muttered, latching onto the junior agent so she wouldn't lurch off in his direction. "Apparently inebriated enough that you're willing to get your ass kicked by Romanoff." Silently cursing the strength of Stark's alcohol, she sent a warning look over to Natasha as she let Skye go, hoping to God the signal had been received.
There was no denying the smirk she received in return.
"Steeeeeeeeve!" Skye slurred, all but launching herself into his arms. Steve looked every version of surprised, sending Natasha a desperate glance. She only shrugged nonchalantly in return, grinning at him as she stepped away and over to Bobbi.
"Well done," was the appraising remark from the other woman. "I'm pretty sure Steve's going to be traumatized in the morning." The two spies watched as the music launched into a raucous rap song, colored strobe lights flashing accordingly. Skye grabbed Steve's hand and started dancing with him in ways that would normally embarrass such company.
"Yeah, well, I think he needs it anyways," Natasha's voice was tinged with amusement as she quirked an eyebrow at the unconventional duo. "Where's Hunter? We were waiting for the elevator for quite a while."
Instantly, Bobbi's face morphed into a scowl. "I wish I knew. Bastard ditched me as soon as we got here. Drinks honestly shouldn't take this long," she ranted to Natasha. "Unless he's doing body shots, which I will thoroughly kill him for." As if in reply, her batons, cleverly disguised as chopsticks in her hair, crackled threateningly.
Natasha frowned a bit-this really hadn't been part of the plan-but stopped when a sight caught the corner of her eye. "I think he's doing a good deed," she murmured to Bobbi, motioning to the far right. Bobbi followed her gaze, squealing at what she saw. "I thought he'd asked her already."
Hunter was dancing with a delighted Simmons, while Fitz scowled in the corner, looking like he had half a mind to beat the mercenary senseless with the nearest blunt object he found. "On a scale of one to Romanoff, how jealous do you think he is?" Hunter muttered to Simmons, who simply laughed.
"I'd say he's worse than Romanoff," she joked, casting another glance at her surly partner. "You should have seen the time he met my first boyfriend." To any outside observer, it looked like the two of them were exchanging intimate, inside jokes.
This was exactly what it looked like to Fitz, and the green tinting his vision wasn't helping his rationale. A small part of him wondered if this was what Dr. Banner saw every time he transformed into the Hulk, but he pushed that aside. This was bloody Simmons they were talking about. Why Hunter, of all people? He's too old. And ugh, would you look at that facial hair! He's going to give anyone burns as soon as he touches them! Bloody inside jokes. She'd better not be telling our jokes. They're ours, dammit.
"I can't take this anymore," the scrawny scientist muttered. He marched over to where the couple were beginning to start a foxtrot. "You," he emphasized while 'forcefully' wrenching Hunter and Simmons apart (Hunter had really gone easily, grateful for the distraction-he'd been on his way to the stage when he'd seen the scene-FitzSimmons getting together was too good an opportunity to pass up). "are not allowed to dance with him."
"What's gotten into you, Fitz?" Simmons cried, not noticing that Hunter had slipped away. "First you avoid me all week, and now you're mad that I was dancing with Lance? What did I do to you that's got you so riled up?"
"Oh, so you two are using first names now," Fitz retorted back, crossing his arms. "I didn't know you two were on that level of personal. Tell me, Jem, does anyone else know his first name? Besides Bobbi?" (Honestly? She'd only learned it during the last dance.)
"So what if I know his first name?" Simmons argued, feeling helplessly confused. "It's not like he's my date to the gala or anything. I don't even have one!" She decided to go big or go home while she was ahead.
"You know, Fitz, I've been wanting to ask you all week!" she shouted. "But you're so damn complicated that every time I tried to corner you, you kept on running away! When the gala first came up, yes, I thought you were going to ask me. And when it became clear that you weren't, I was going to!" She let out a half-scream of frustration. "I asked everyone I knew to help me-I even went to Agent Romanoff, okay? That's how desperate I was. And to have you running away all week? Do you know what that does to a girl?"
"Simmons." Fitz was in pure shock. "You asked Romanoff about dating advice?" Because really, his mind was still attempting to process the fact that she would've asked him, knowing how he was on dances and asking women to them.
"Sure," Simmons snorted, close to crying. "I give you that entire speech and that's what you come up with." He stared at her in wonder, looking absolutely beautiful in that floral dress of hers, and decided there was only one thing to do.
He pulled out his ICER and shot at the window.
Instantly, every agent turned a weapon on him. Fitz froze, his gun still in the air. He hadn't expected this reaction. Everyone was quiet, not wanting to breathe a word to the potential HYDRA traitor in the room. "Hi, everyone," he began nervously. "Um, I think we can all put our weapons down. I'm SHIELD. I'm Leo Fitz, in case you didn't know? I do have something to say, however, so if I could have your attention?"
There was a gradual lowering of various guns, knives, and in Bobbi and Natasha's case, both.
"This woman here," Fitz began, gesturing to Simmons, "was the greatest blessing to ever come into my life. We went through the Academy together, through field training together (even though I'm pretty sure my head was in the sand when she pulled me into that one), and through hell when that cell landed at the bottom of the ocean. And yet, she's still here. Next to me." He pulled her next to him, holding up their entwined hands. "And I would just like to take the moment to declare that she's my date. I didn't ask her before because I was a stuttering fool, but I hope this makes up for it." Having run out of words, he squeaked out, "Thanks?"
For a moment there was silence. Then, from the back of the room, May started slow clapping. Coulson joined her, and it wasn't long before the entire room joined in. The claps soon grew to include the occasional cheer, and Hunter even let out a loud whistle. "FITZSIMMONS FOR THE WIN!" As the hubbub subsided, Simmons pulled Fitz aside for a large hug.
"You're absolutely impossible sometimes, don't you know?"
"Isn't that why you put up with me?"
"Bobbi, he's not leaving you, I swear," Natasha consoled her, as Bobbi looked on the verge of crying into a drink. "Hunter loves you. There's no way he would do that."
"Sure," Bobbi snorted. "That's what he said last time, and look what happened to us then. Messy divorce for all concerned." She sighed, plopping her head on the table. "I just thought that...maybe this time...things were going so well between us, you know?"
Hunter would owe her big time for this.
Just before Natasha could start plotting out various ways to kill the man to make Bobbi feel better, there was a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to see Clint, looking absolutely smashing in a navy blue tux. "No, Clint, I can't dance with you right now." She gestured to the mess of a spy next to her. "Women's problems."
Clint frowned. "Umm...no, Nat. Not that. I need you to cover for me." He made a phone motion while jerking his thumb at the door. "If Tony asks, I had awful food poisoning and am currently in the bathroom on the 44th floor. He hates those bathrooms." Comprehension dawned on Natasha's face, and she nodded.
"Say hi to Laura and the kids for me, won't you?" Clint grinned and nodded, starting towards the door stealthily. "Don't stay up too late!"
"I always wanted a family," Bobbi sighed, staring forlornly at her drink. "Doesn't look like that's happening anytime soon, though."
Natasha opened her mouth to reply, but before she could answer, a loud screech emitted from the front of the room. Both women turned to see Hunter on the stage, fumbling with a microphone. Finally. About time. I was about to get onstage and do it myself.
"Uh, hi," he began, bending down awkwardly to get the microphone to his height. "Sorry for your second distraction of the night, if you don't mind. I'm Hunter. I helped FitzSimmons over there get together. If you ask me, they had it a long time coming." He paused. "But that's not why I'm here right now.
"I've kind of lost the person I came here with," he admitted nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "Bobbi Morse? Anyone happen to know where she is? No? No? See, there's something I really need to tell her. It's not something that can wait."
"What do you want, Hunter?" Bobbi had threaded her way through the crowd until she was standing in the middle of the dance floor, the agents having left her with a small area. The proud blue of her dress was a contrast to her emotionally fragile visage. "Trust me, there's not a lot you could say after this."
"What if there was?" he asked, feeling bravado suddenly surge through him. Screw the speech. He could do this all on his own. "What if there were things that I wanted to tell you today, tomorrow, and for the rest of my life? What if there was the realization that, yes, Bob, I love you, and I want to love you forever? What if, for my entire life, I was looking for the perfect soulmate, and I wanted to tell her that I was stupid for leaving her the first time, and that it was the worst mistake that I'd ever made in my entire life?
"And what if I told you that I know this time that I'm not going to leave you? That right here, right now, I promise to be with you for the rest of my life? What if I asked you, Barbara Morse," He got down on one knee, amid gasps from the crowd, and drew a box out of his pocket. "to marry me?"
Bobbi was speechless for a moment, before turning back to Natasha. She only smirked at her, giving her friend an uncharacteristic thumbs-up. She knew.
"Well, first I'd say that I was an absolute emotional wreck for the entire night because I thought you were leaving me," she said to him. "Then I'd say that I should probably let Natasha kick your ass for doing this.
"Then I'd probably tell you that I was stupid, too, for letting you leave the first time," she said a little more softly. The rest of the world began to blur out in her vision, leaving only him in her sights. "And that I cried for nights on end, wanting you back. And lastly-" Her voice cracked a little. "I'd tell you that I want to make this work as much as you do.
"I'd tell you that it's a yes."
Loud cheers erupted from the entire crowd, louder than when FitzSimmons had gotten together. Bobbi was immediately swarmed by the entire Bus team as well as the Avengers, who all but crushed her in a hug.
"I can't believe you knew," she accused Natasha, who was grinning madly.
"I have to admit, I was scared when he was dancing with FitzSimmons," she answered, glaring at Hunter, who had just come over to his now-fiancee. "That was most definitely not part of the plan."
"It was too good to pass up!" he exclaimed. "Besides, Rogers. When you going to pop the question?"
He regretted that question as the two of them began chasing him out the door.
Thor is such a good bro. Really. Please leave your feels about THAT scene in a review. Pretty please? I almost cried writing it, haha xD Best review gets a flower from the rooftop garden!