A/N: This was written for Ladies of Marvel Bingo 2020! It filled my square W1: Fender Bender Meet Cute.
Beta work was done by kbaggz and articcat621.
This story was written for part of my event Birthday Bonanza, an event celebrating birthdays after the miserable year that 2020 turned out to be. The second recipient of a story for Birthday Bonanza was nightfalltwen!
Be sure to let me know what you think!
Love always,
~starr
"Shit. Shit. Shit," Natasha grumbled, stumbling out of her bedroom and making her way down the hall to the living room. Looking around the room, she spotted her jacket on the couch and her shoes in a pile in the corner.
Wanda watched her from the kitchenette for a few moments, slowly sipping her coffee as Natasha ran around the room gathering her belongings. Chuckling quietly, she shook her head and set her mug down in front of her. "What's wrong?" Wanda laughed.
"I overslept," Natasha groaned, rolling her eyes as she slipped her arms into her jacket. "I was supposed to be at Tony's twenty minutes ago."
"So?" Wanda asked, shrugging her shoulders. "He's not going to care if you're a little late."
"A little late is five minutes, I'm already twenty minutes late, and it'll take me ten minutes to get uptown," Natasha sighed, plopping herself down on the couch and reaching for her boots. She shoved her feet into them and zipped them up the back of her calf quickly before jumping to her feet again, picking up her bag and making her way towards the door. "We've got an important meeting with S.H.I.E.L.D. and Captain America."
"You still haven't told Tony you're an assassin, have you?" Wanda teased, wiggling an eyebrow at her as she shoved a travel mug of coffee across the counter towards her. "At least take this with you. It'll add a little pep in your step."
"Fury told me not to tell him," Natasha replied, grabbing the mug and reaching for the door. "Thanks for the coffee. I'll see ya later."
"Good luck," Wanda called, watching as Natasha slammed the door to their apartment shut behind her. "Someone's in a hurry today."
. . . . . . . .
Natasha drummed her thumbs on the steering wheel as she stared at the red light hanging above her car. With every green light she approached, it started to shift to red. "Just my luck," she grumbled, rolling her eyes.
Just as the light shifted to green and she moved her foot to the peddle, Natasha felt something slam into the back of her car. She braced herself against the steering wheel with her wrist to stop her from smacking her face into the wheel. Natasha looked up in the rearview mirror and saw a small cloud of smoke rising from the trunk and a pick-up truck sitting right up on her bumper. "You've got to be kidding me," she huffed, smacking her hand against the wheel before recoiling at the pain radiating through her wrist.
Shaking her head, Natasha shoved the door open and stepped out, making her way to the back of the car to assess the damage. She was mumbling under her breath as she noticed the dent in her back fender. "I do not have time for this today," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest, being careful of the tenderness in her wrist.
He watched her for a few moments as she assessed the damage to her car. His foot slipped off the brake when the light shifted colors, and his reaction time just wasn't quick enough. From what he could tell, the damage was minimal, and they'd both be able to drive away in a matter of minutes. He glanced in the side mirror and ran a hand through his hair as he painted a smile on his face.
He adjusted his coat before sliding up to her. "Hi." He gave her his most charming grin.
"No," she said, shaking her head as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "This cannot be happening today."
"Steve Rogers," he said, offering her his hand. "I'm sorry for hitting you with my car. Are you okay?"
Natasha looked at the hand extended to her for a moment before looking up at his face. The man standing in front of her looked very familiar; however, she couldn't place where she had seen him before. With a sigh, she reached out and shook his hand. "Natasha Romanov," she replied, forcing a smile on her face. "It's no big deal. It doesn't look like there's any damage."
"Are you okay?" he insisted, glancing down at the wrist she was holding. Steve stepped forward and reached for her hand, wrapping his fingers around her hand gently. "Does your wrist hurt?"
She furrowed her brow at him and pulled her hand away. "I've been hurt worse before," Natasha shrugged, looking him up and down again. "You look familiar."
Steve chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest, and looked around for a moment until he spotted the poster hanging on the wall of a building nearby. He pointed towards it, and Natasha followed it with her eyes, noticing a Captain America poster. Her eyes went wide.
"I'm such an idiot," she sighed, scrubbing her hands over her face. As she lowered her hands, she caught a glimpse of the clock on the street corner. "And I am so fired. I'm supposed to be in the meeting with you, Director Fury, and Tony Stark at Stark Towers right now, but I'm three blocks away standing in the middle of the street."
"Romanov," Steve muttered, nodding his head. "You're the Russian assassin that Fury was telling me about."
Natasha laughed, smiling as she crossed her arms over her chest as she watched him shove his hands in his pockets. "Glad to know he's not keeping my job title a secret from everyone. Fury hasn't told Tony yet," she chuckled. "It's nice to meet you, Captain America."
"I prefer Steve," he said, flashing a smile at her once more. "It's nice to meet you too, Ms. Romanov."
"Nat," she said, uncrossing her arms and looking back at her car. "We should probably get going. We don't want to anger the Director."
"I'm sure you can handle him," Steve replied with a wink. "I'll meet you there."
Natasha nodded her head and turned on her heel, walking back toward her car. She glanced over her shoulder and watched him climb into his truck. She let out a sigh and smiled, looking at the clock on the street corner.
"Definitely worth being late to work," she laughed, dropping down into the seat of her car and starting it back up. This day was finally beginning to turn around, and it could only get better from here.
