"It's your turn." Clint nudged her shoulder gently, breaking Anna from her focus.
She shook her head, breaking her gaze, and placed. "Three aces."
Clint scoffed, arching up in his beanbag. "Cheat."
Anna leaned bag into her beanbag, content and smug. A smirk flashed by her face, she could barely contain herself from giggling. "Pick 'em up."
Clint cursed in what Anna thought to be Russian, pushing his twenty-something cards to the ground, before grudgingly leaving the little circle of beanbags. He called out to Wilson and Rogers' other friend, placing himself on one of the bar stools.
she turned to Nat, wearing a rueful expression. She scooped up the cards, then shuffling them in between her hands. Anna fixed her gaze back on Steve's new friend - who was now drinking with his normal hand. He lifted the bottle, set it down, glanced around, and smirked at something Rogers had said.
Natasha snapped her back to reality, handing her a half deck of cards. "Let's go to war, shall we?" Anna only nodded, before placing down her first card.
Anna missed nights like this - beautifully simple, the stir of classical music and indistinct chatter, card games and pizza. Usually, it was only the five of them, her alongside Clint, Nat, Tony and Rhodey — though sometimes Pepper would join —, but now…Now there were more people. Wanda was here, so was Wilson Bruce, and Rogers, unfortunatly.
Natasha pulled her two cards towards her. Anna placed, but Nat hesitated, a slight glint of concern in her expression. She glanced back up at Anna, their eyes met. "I'm not going to pretend like I haven't noticed you examining Barnes over there," she said, pulling the two cards towards her once again.
There was no point in trying to convince an Assassin on what they knew was true . Anna glanced back down at her half deck for a split second, then back at Natasha. She placed again. "It's just.." she trailed off, placing two cards on the bottom of her half deck.
'Terrifying?" she asked, placing down another card. A Six, identical to Anna's, war. The scent of some sort of fruit crumble wafted through the room. Another card was placed. An eight and a three laid flat against the ground. Anna pulled the cards towards her. Anna wasn't…terrified, per se, but intimidated; intimidated and nervous, at that.
She knew Rogers had friends. She was told, she was aware of the situation, she saw Falcon and Captain America on the news a few years ago. And, really, this is Captain America. Captain America who was not a fan of Anna. Captain America who argued against her staying at the compound. Captain America who held a grudge against Natasha for helping her in a vulnerable state.
Anna lowered her voice as she played yet another card. "What if Rogers told him?" He asked, tension seeping through her tone. "I mean, what if he told him everything…About my uncle, and my powers, and Wakanda, and how he got all frustrated with you and-"
" War," Natasha interrupted, after placing down a three. "You need to place." Anna set her last few cards down onto the deck. A king against a five. Natasha pulled the cards towards her.
"What if he did?" Anna asked, pushing her knees to her chest. Uneasiness grew in her voice she she spoke. She shifted her gaze to meet the assassin, who was reshuffling the cards.
Their gazes met. "He didn't," she said, matter - of - factly. Anna looked up at her, eyebrows raising in doubt. She fell back into her beanbag a little bit more, crossing her arms. "We came to an agreement."
A half smile formed on her face. She released the tension in her arms, drooping them down. She fell back into the beanbag. "Thanks, Nat." She said, only somewhat louder than a whisper. A long pause lingered between the two. Anna was comfortable here — lights that weren't very bright, old fashioned classical music softly humming through speakers, the smell of pizza wafting through the air, and children's beanbags in place of perfectly functional — and rather expensive — furniture. For such a long time, the feeling of comfort had been missing.
A small smile curved on the edge of Nat's lips. "You want some ice cream, Dochurka?" She asked, saying the last word in Russian. Nat did that sometimes, usually cursing and insulting others in her native language. Mostly talking behind his back annoy Tony. 'Tupoy' meant 'dumb.'
Anna nodded and she got up. Anna fumbled with the cards while she was gone, trying to remember the obvious magic trick Clint had taught her. Someone marched over to sit on the armchair above Nat's beanbag.
She batted her head up to glance at who was there, who was, unfortunately, Rogers' friend. They made eye more contact for more than a second, not being able to escape his troubling deadpan gaze. "Hey," he said, tension bleeding through his voice. Up close, she could see he had brown hair, only slightly shorter than hers, blue eyes, a metal arm, and disconcerting stare.
"Hi," she managed, before focusing her glance back down at her cards. Her fingers trembled as she tried to lift a card, she noticed the pumping in her heart. Nat was only across the room, filling two cones with vanilla ice cream. It had only been ten seconds, it seemed like ten minutes, each minute a longing second.
Maybe she was overreacting. This was an Avenger's best friend, for heaven's sake. He was fine with the others. He didn't know about anything about her. To him, she wasn't a half-frost giant, not some mess of nightmares and PTSD. Not weak, but not a fighter either; just some kid who'd wound up on here by accident.
She began to ease, breathing gently, in and out and in and out again. Natasha was still across the room, getting caught up and talking to Tony. Anna could get up and to the barstools, but this was too short a timeframe. she couldn't, get up as soon as someone sat down.
The clock read nine-thirty-three. It had only been a minute since she left. She practiced the stupid card trick again. One more try, and she'd be better than Clint. She watched as Clint lost three goldfish crackers to Tony in Blackjack. Nine-thirty-four. Natasha mocked Clint's loss of his three sacred goldfish. She ate one of Tony's. There weren't any goldfish in the pantry before the other Avengers arrived, someone must have brought them; Clint, maybe?
Clint would be going home tomorrow. To his secret home, his secret farm, with his secret chickens and secret tractor. It was still nine-thirty-four. Thor ate the whole bag of goldfish in one bite. Bruce mashed his head in his arms, Tony laughed, Rogers smirked before grabbing his drink and walking towards his metal armed friend.
Anna didn't actually know what Nat meant by an 'agreement', but she knew as much that Steve Roger's couldn't just go around telling everyone about her unstable past. "Hey there," Rogers said, serious and unsmiling.
"Captain," She replied, mimicking his expression.
"Mind if i sit?"
"No, not at all." She pressed her knees together and placed her hands over them, giving him an innocent seeming smile.
He sat in the chair behind her. Nine-Thirty-Five. Turns out Wanda wanted some ice cream. Behind her, Rogers and his friend talked about morning runs with Sam Wilson, haircuts and the what seemed to be bootleg version of Hydra. The friend spoke in a low, gravelly voice, as if he was about to be caught for a crime he didn't commit.
Nat returned. Nine thirty six, a bowl of ice cream in hands. She glanced up to the men in the chairs, then back down at Anna. "Evening, boys."
"Nat, we've been over this," Rogers remarked, a slight hint of amusement in his voice. It had been awhile since she had heard any sort of amusement in his tone while Anna was in his presence.
Nat shrugged off the comment with a smirk, before taking her seat in the beanbag."I've been thinking about sparring," she said, letting the spoon drag through her bowl. "I know we've been trying without wrists, but you'd be dammed if that happened in a fight."
Anna's stomach sank. She focused at her own wrists. The scar marks were darker than some of the others, with good reason. Shackles had dug into her skin, leaving them raw for nearly a week.
It was a trigger that was hard to spar with, but within the first year the sensitivity had subsided. Long sleeved shirts at first, morphing into bracelets, watches, and small amounts of pressure. Nat was careful to never grip onto wrists, and while Clint didn't spar with her, he always either held her hand or shoulder. Tony knew, alongside Rhodey and Bruce, but none of them were really physically affectionate.
Physical affection was pretty rare, actually. The hug was a rare, sudden occurrence that seemed to spawn from nowhere but pure emotion and humility. She broke from her gaze, jolting upwards. "I…I think I can, but I'm not sure." She said, forcing a smile to ease the uncertainty.
Natasha cocked her head to the side, slightly narrowing her eyes to focus. "You remind me of someone, I just can't remember who. It's someone, I just…" she trailed off, flying her hand to the left. She grasped the spoon for her bowl, and traced it along the bottom of the bowl. "Forget it.''
"I never asked," Anna replied, before she realized what she said. She perked upwards, suddenly holding a confused Natasha in an jittery gaze. "I – I didn't mean to say it like that," she tried to explain, waving her hands, grasping for nothing. "I just it's…I just meant that I — I…I mean…I mean I don't…" she paused, sighing, before collapsing he head backwards into the blue beanbag. Three long seconds passed before she sat back up. The woman in front of her wore a wry smirk, arms crossed.
Anna couldn't smile — or at least smirk — back. She furrowed her eyebrows, grabbing hold of her knees, now tucked into a little ball. "Sorry."
Natasha's smiled faded. "It's alright,'' she said softly, extending her arm, reaching Anna's hand. She shifted away from the assumed touch, her expression remained the same, as she traced her hand across the smooth beanbag. ''So," Natasha perked up, lifting her head up slightly, "sparring tomorrow after breakfast, alright?"
Anna nodded, not wanting to say anything. "Good,'' Natasha continued. "Now how about getting some sleep?''
"It's only quarter to ten," she said in slight protest, growing a slight edge to her voice.
"Anna…" Natasha warned, lowering her voice until it was gravelly,
"And you guys are gonna stay up and talk and I might hear you and get worried," she confessed. "I know I'm safe here and you guys aren't gonna argue, but I can't help but thinking so!" She threw her hands up in frustration, brushing past someone's leg; Rogers' leg. He wasn't paying attention, was he? Anna knew, with no doubt, he'd exploit the wrist trick.
Natasha seemed to notice her panic, and motioned towards the stairs at the end of the room. Anna nodded, and they walked over. They were much closer now, closer than they had been across the beanbags. Anna was compact at the end of the stairs, careful to not take up much space. Natasha seemingly understood, not moving closer, but the edge of her lips still curved in a small smile."Consider this," Natasha began, "you get yourself to bed, and if you here anything that remotely sounds threatening or aggravating, you're free to come downstairs."
Anna pondered for a moment, glancing up at the white plaster ceiling, then back down at the stairs before responding. "That sounds good; really good, actually. Thank you."
"I'll see you in the morning?" Anna nodded, before racing up the stairs.