Sif
"Stupid, inconsiderate, clumsy dunce!" Sif swept into the study where Natasha sat writing a letter to Clint.
"What has Loki done now?" Natasha narrowed her eyes, preparing for a long battle.
"Believe it or not, this time I am angry at that Captain. That American." Sif followed her pronouncement with a pent-up howl of rage.
"Steve?" Natasha couldn't help chuckling. "How has the poor man angered you?"
Sif flung out one arm at the window. "He dared to pick up my weapons for me! And carry them! As though I were some wilting lily…"
"…And not the finest warrior in the Nine Realms. Yes, I see – quite dreadful." Natasha sealed her letter with wax and put it to one side.
Somewhat mollified, Sif perched on the edge of a chair and tapped her fingers on her armoured knee. "I told him in no uncertain terms to leave my sword and shield alone, and he said it was only polite, that no gentleman would allow a Lady to carry such a huge load." She followed this with a long snort.
"No one snorts like you, Sif," Natasha said. "Do you think you were a dragon in a past life? But listen." She thought it was time to put things straight. "Steve comes from a different age – a past era. Back then it was extremely important for someone like him to adhere to a certain code of chivalry, you might say. He wanted to be a soldier so desperately he went through a long series of physical modifications – he changed his own body so he could fight. You can understand that, can't you?"
Sif's eyes flashed, but she nodded slightly. "I suppose. But to dare…!"
"And," Natasha continued relentlessly, "that code he fought for is extremely important to him. Especially when he has feelings for the lady in question." She raised her eyebrows and looked pointedly at Sif.
The warrior jumped slightly. "Feelings! What do you – do you mean – I shall skewer him – to think he would – when did I …" She stopped and her cheeks grew pink. "Do you really think so?" she asked in a milder tone.
"Uh, yeah." Natasha grinned and pointed to the door. "Now go and get your man."