As Steve savored the last few bites of his ham sandwich, Thor enters the Dining Hall.
"Hey, I was just about to go get you. We still on to train together?" Steve asks.
"Indeed we are! But first, I must heed your example and satisfy my own hunger." Thor says with a nod at Steve's now crumb filled plate.
Steve notices Thor making a beeline for the fridge, "Ah, well you outta try a sandwich on rye. It hit the spot for me."
"I appreciate the suggestion, yet I fear it is sweetness I crave." Thor replies, his voice muffled from inside the refrigerator.
"So even gods get sweet tooths?" Steve teases, hearing Thor's answering chuckle, "Well knock yourself out, big guy. As long as you don't touch what's left of the cake, you're good."
Thor turns around holding a foil covered plate and, after detouring to the cabinet for some silverware, he seats himself at the bar stool next to the First Avenger.
The minute he rips the foil off Steve scowls. "Um, what are you doing?"
"About to enjoy dessert, if you do not mind."
"I don't mind, but Natasha might."
When Thor gives him a blank look, Steve is forced to speak again, "Didn't you hear what I just said? The cake's off limits. "
Thor obviously hadn't, for he frowns at him confused. "I was under the impression that all food items in the communal kitchen were intended to be shared."
"They are, but Nat loves Red Velvet and she had dibs on the last piece. I thought you knew that."
Thor's head shakes slowly, "She never told me she had laid claims on it."
"Well she told me, and pretty much anyone else within earshot."
"Yet still I was not aware. If she desired the cake so desperately, one would think she'd have left a note as well. Besides, Natasha is not present as of now." He tags on, posing his fork.
"Rationalize it anyway you want, it's your funeral." Steve reminds him.
"You exaggerate. Surely this won't be the last bit of cake she shall ever taste."
"Perhaps," He admits, "but don't expect her to be thrilled that you're helping yourself to it."
To Steve's surprise, momentary laughter escapes the Aseir.
"Have peace, my friend. Natasha's wrath is no match for mine." Retorts Thor, thunder echoing his statement like a veiled threat in the distance.
Steve, however, is far from impressed.
"Greater men have said the same and have lost limbs. And one, an eye." He warns sagely.
It takes a second or two for Steve's cryptic reply to register, but when it does, horror crosses Thor's features.
His grip on the fork goes slack, "No doubt you speak in fables. You could not mean… Director Fury?"
Steve's shoulders shrug noncommittally. "No one knows, they're just rumors. But…" He trails off ominously.
"But what?"
"But, some say Agent Romanoff had been promised the last piece of Coulson's homemade pie before Fury sent her on a mission and took it for himself. The day she returned for debrief was supposedly the last time anyone saw Fury with both eyes."
Thor grunts, incredulous yet troubled at the revelation. He wouldn't admit the idea of cake – or at least this particular slice - was becoming less appealing by the minute.
On this sinister note, Natasha Romanoff herself slinks in. "Hi Steve, Thor."
"Hey Nat!"
"Natasha."
She scans the table in an instant and skirts around Thor to peer down at his plate.
"Is that the last piece of Red Velvet?" She inquires.
"It might be." Thor answers carefully.
"Oh," She says, face splitting into an easy smile, "Then enjoy it while it lasts."
Steve shoots the god a knowing look.
"What lasts?" Thor asks, his suspicion rising.
Nat smiles wider, a perfect picture of innocence, "Well the cake of course!"
Thor watches warily as she walks, seemingly unfazed, to the fridge for a bottle of sparkling water and then returns to settle herself in the seat directly in front of him.
Her head dips toward the untouched cake before them, "Please, don't stop on my account."
Thor darts eyes away from her just long enough to turn his smug gaze on the soldier. "And you were saying, Steven?"
Before a comeback could leave Steve's lips, both he and Thor witness Natasha's hand sliding under the table to produce a small yet deadly knife. Steve assumes it was hidden in her boot for emergencies, but Thor darkly imagines it's been concealed in the table for exactly such purposes: subtle intimidation tactics.
Thor narrows his gaze at her, "Do you usually bring your daggers at the supper table?"
She graces him a cruel smile from over her knife's handle, "Sometimes, when I'm in a particular mood."
Deciding some things regarding the Widow were best left unknown, Thor refrains from asking further questions.
Meanwhile, as Natasha takes a leisure sip of water-weapon still in hand- Steve stands to rinse his used plate at the sink. He can't resist needling Thor from behind Nat's back, aiming his closed fist toward his own face and miming stabbing motions.
"I hope you fancy eye patches." Steve says out loud, slapping Thor on the bicep as he heads out the door.
Unamused, Thor glowers at the back of Steve's head. He'd pay for that later on the sparring mat.
"What was that about?"
The sound of Natasha's voice brings Thor out his vindictive reverie. "Nothing. Tis a private jest at my expense."
This explanation appears to sate her curiosity, for she returns to playing with her knife, stabbing it between her spread fingers and leaving pinpoints on the wooden finish.
Thor clears his throat into the following quiet and lowers eyes back down to his uneaten dessert.
Right, he was going to eat that. In fact he would have been halfway done by now if it hadn't been for that horrid tale the Captain had spun him. But who was he- the god of Thunder- to be intimidated by such an account, a product of fear and exaggeration?
With new-found resolve, Thor grips his fork and prepares to delve into his treat once more. Before he dares, he risks another glance at the spy. She's twirling the knife around lazily, unfaltering stare pinned on him from across the table.
Alright. Perhaps that was somewhat unsettling. But no, he would not be daunted. The Lady Natasha might be lethal, but she was not vicious…at least not unnecessarily so; and she certainly would find no reason to attack him savagely over a meager piece of cake.
And so, grinning at her with as much bravado he could muster, Thor defiantly shoves a heap of Red Velvet into his mouth.
Nat pauses mid-twirl to arch a brow in silent challenge.
Feeling brash, the god takes another mouthful, moaning into the bite like it was the most delightful thing he'd ever tasted.
Natasha's lips purse slightly -whether in annoyance or amusement, Thor could not tell-but beyond this there was no other reaction.
This only serves to embolden him further, and he's about to take his chances with yet another taste when he sees her nostril's flare.
Suddenly, an echoing thump jars the table that startles Thor so badly he almost summons Mjölnir on the spot.
Thor, bewildered, looks between him and Natasha to find her hand extended over the counter, holding the knife as before. It's barely piercing the table now –despite the former thud of impact- and at its tip, gouged through the center is something oblong, shaped almost like a…
"Grape?" She offers him, a little too nonchalant for someone who'd conjured fruit from Heimdall knows where.
"Pardon?"
"A grape, would you like one?" She repeats. She holds the blade out toward him, the grape punctured on its tip.
The gesture is deceptively inviting in Thor's opinion, seeming harmless yet only a slice away from nicking his jugular. When she lifts it to eye level, Thor fights the urge to recoil. Instead his hand goes limp around the fork and it slips, clattering on the counter-top.
"No thank you… I … I seem to have lost my appetite." He mutters.
Nat plucks the grape off and pops it in her mouth, "Suit yourself."
He might have lost his appetite but he hadn't lost his sense of self-preservation. After all, Thor was no fool, and if Natasha was in a "particular mood" he didn't wish to stick around or end up resembling his single-sighted father anytime soon.
His chair scrapes across the floor as he stands abruptly, "Excuse me, milady, sparring awaits." And with a bow he departs.
The corners of Natasha's lips turn up gradually once he'd left, eventually blossoming into a full blown grin. Appearing very pleased with herself, she slides Thor's plate over and uses the edge of her knife to dig into the remaining cake.
She licks a dollop of icing off the blade and hums, "Mmm…Red Velvet."