AN: And Steve Rodgers, Captain America, has won the poll on who Nate ends up with. Everyone can tell how Tony's going to react to that, right? I'm putting a new poll up for Tony this time, who should he end up with? Pepper still or someone else?
And to my few reviewers; Iuwan, a fan, AwarenaTenshi, Alexia, Dead Hero, Triszh15, Aerhyce, and ThoseEvilDucks. Thank you for the lovely reviews =]
They spent the rest of the day decorating the tree, fixing flashing fairy-lights around it, before spending the evening laying on the couch watching Christmas movies like they were going out of style.
Nate had laid her head on Tony's chest, feeling the hard metal of his reactor under her cheek and hearing it hum with life. It had been a habit of hers since she was a child whenever she had been upset or had a nightmare she would ask Tony to pick her up or crawl into his bed and rest her head on his chest so she could listen to his heart.
When Tony had first come home after Afghanistan and she had crawled into his bed that night, she had seen the hidden dread and fear behind his blank mask when she saw the reactor, its glowing blue light shining brightly, and she had felt the relief relax his frame when she simply placed her head carefully on the reactor—because it was placed exactly where she had always rested her head—and closed her eyes against the blue glare.
It was while they were watching movies that Tony announced that he was spending Christmas with her and Pepper was popping over on Christmas-eve—she was spending the rest of Christmas with her family like normal.
The 3rd April, Nate's twenty-sixth birthday, was spent in Vegas with Tony. It was also the first, and last, birthday where Nate got smashed. Unlike Tony, she didn't like alcohol so she was unsure what possessed her to drink so much that she woke up groaning the next day in the bathtub of their hotel room with no memory of getting there.
She was just thankful that she didn't wake up married like Tony once had when he was twenty-two.
Nate had decided to have a lazy Sunday on the 15th April. She hadn't changed out of her Ironman pyjamas—a Christmas gift from Tony, in return she gave him a Valkyrie t-shirt (Tony was unbearably smug that he had a higher following than her and thus more themed things, she honestly didn't care though)—and had be digging into some chocolate chip pancakes that Nanny made while watching early morning cartoons—you can never be too old for cartoons, especially Scooby-Doo—when her computer pinged.
Nate placed her only half-eaten plate down on her coffee table, only after spearing another piece into her mouth, before grabbing one of the mini-screens on the coffee table to see what her computer thought was so important that it interrupted her lazy Sunday morning.
Hydra bomber plane Valkyrie has been found. Captain. S. G. Rogers was still on broad. The captain seems to be still alive. Bringing him back to New York, S.H.I.E.L.D for defrosting.
Her jaw dropped.
"Miss Nattie please finishing eating your mouthful." Nanny chided as she placed a glass of milk on a coaster in front of Nate.
Automatically she did as she was told, years of Nanny chiding her, punishing her when she tried to be a brat (like Tony), and telling her what to do had programmed her to do as Nanny told her, no matter what state she was in.
"Fuck me." Nate breathed after she swallowed.
"Language!" Nanny's sharp order made her wince slightly before she leaped over the back of her couch and bounded towards the stairs, Howie yipping at her heels.
"Call Aunt Peggy!" Nate called as she ran up the metal stairs, the cold metal stinging her bare feet. "Tell her that the Captain's finally coming home, and he's alive."
"What about your breakfast?" Nanny called after her, though Nate was sure she was also calling Aunt Peggy like she asked.
"Haven't got time!" She shouted back as she struggled to get dressed in a pair of clean jeans and a band t-shirt quickly, hopping slightly as she reached for her hair brush. "Got to get to Fury before Coulson!"
Like hell she was letting Coulson land the Captain just because he was a fan-boy of the highest degree when it came to Captain America. The Captain owed her Aunt a date, and god damn it, he was going to have that bloody dance with her.
(As she thought about that thought later, she realised just how Aunt Peggy had influenced her swearing. She sounded like a Brit.)
S.H.I.E.L.D, despite being a secret government intelligence division, was filled with people with their quirks—often childish at that—so they were all aware of Agent Barton's love of crawling around the vents and popping out to scare the shit out of any one, they were all aware of Agent Romanoff's obsession with guns—there was a running bet of theories of where she kept them all—and they were all aware of Agent Coulson's love—obsession—with Captain America.
They were also aware of the craziness that was Agent Howard, who they were all aware was like a niece of the retired Agent Peggy Carter, so none was that surprised with what happened the morning of the 15th April when word got out that Captain America wasn't only just coming home, but was in fact alive despite spending seventy years under the ice.
"Howie! Attack!"
The robot Yorkshire terrier did as he was ordered and knocked Coulson off his feet letting his lithe owner race pass the fallen Agent and towards Fury's office.
Coulson grunted before whipping out his Taser and shot the young woman in the flesh part of her right leg. She let out a long, and loud, string of curses as her leg gave out under the shock of electricity.
Coulson pushed himself to his feet after dropping his favourite Taser and raced towards Fury's office.
He had forgotten Howie, who was enraged that the Agent had taken down his owner, and was reminded painfully when the dog once again took the Agent off his feet before metal teeth—painted to look like normal teeth of course—pierced his leg without mercy.
While that happened, Nate had ripped the darts out of her leg none to gently—leading to blood beginning to weep from the two small wounds of her leg and staining her grey jeans—and had pushed herself to her feet.
She moved as quickly as she could while she was partially dragging her right leg, confident that Howie would keep Coulson down this time, and towards Fury's door.
Fury's eyebrow raised when a limping Howard slammed open his door, able to see and hear Coulson behind her cursing and struggling to remove his leg from her robot dog, and noticed the blood staining the right leg of her jeans.
"Yes?" He asked smoothly.
"Captain Rodgers." Howard gasped out as she limped more in, one hand running through her short and messily brushed dark—though still streaked with Ironman red—hair uselessly. "I want him."
"You're channelling your brother." He said drily though he knew what she meant.
He hadn't seen her lose her well-held serene patience or masked casualness before. It was an interesting sight, almost as interesting as Coulson crawling towards his door while determinedly ignoring the robot gnawing on his leg.
"I want to be his handler." Howard bit out before her trembling right leg finally gave out, again, hitting the floor of his office with a groan.
He casually stood and peered down at the young woman sprawled on his floor—jeans stained with blood, t-shirt rising slightly up her toned stomach—hours of training had removed the softness that her petite frame held before—shoulder-length dark curly hair messy and tangled around her face, chest heaving with pained gasps as she pressed a hand to her wounded leg, and dark eyes—Howard Stark's eyes—glaring up at him with all the strength and bullheadedness of her father and brother before her.
"Okay."
Coulson cursed painfully while Howard gave a tired and pained cheer.
"Now get to a damn medic." He levelled a one-eyed glare on both them. "Both of you fuckin' idiots."