Disclaimer: I only own the plot and my OCs. Anything you recognize as not mine belongs to Marvel Studios, Disney, and/or their otherwise respective owners.

Author's Notes: Hey, y'all! Happy Christmas Eve! Hope you're staying warm.

Chapter title comes from Material Girl by Madonna.

As always, hope you guys enjoy. Until next week,

~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

~primis, omega, superhero, genius~

~somebody to love~

~chapter 13: material girl~

Penny didn't see any of the other Avengers for a solid week and a half.

Every morning unless it was her day off, she crept out of the building at the same time she usually did, which was well before a godly hour. She came back in the afternoon long enough to change into her suit, and then she was gone until late at night. On the days she did have off, she still spent the mornings in her apartment, but as soon as she was done with lunch she was out the window.

The news did pick up on her new change of residence, as it was pretty obvious. There were a whole slew of stories speculating why she was now seemingly living at the Tower, if the other Avengers knew her identity or not, if she was dating one of them. She nearly choked on her breakfast at the last one, but it and all of the narratives were dealt with quickly. Stark himself sat down for an interview about her and some additional issues, and his answers were short and to the point: 1) yes, she was living in the Tower; 2) no, neither he nor the rest of them knew who she was; and 3) no, but even if it was true that it wasn't right for them to be speculating about it. She deserved her privacy, end of story.

(She wasn't sure how to feel about that. Some of her was grateful, most of her was mortified. In any event, the media did pull back, and didn't focus on her as much anymore.)

On the last day of February, which was her day off, however, at nine o'clock in the morning, she woke up – and yes, she was just as surprised about that as anybody else would be – to JARVIS saying, "Delilah, Ms. Romanoff was wondering if you would like to go out with her today."

"...Wha'?" She lifted her head from her pillow and glanced at her digital clock. "JARVIS, it's nine in the morning."

"Does that mean you would like me to tell Ms. Romanoff, 'no?'"

"What was the question again?" As he repeated it, she sat up and shook her hands through her hair. For the first time since she didn't know when, she felt like a stereotypical person from her actual age: sleeping in all day when they didn't have work or college classes. "Um...where does she want to go?"

There was a pause. "Ms. Romanoff says she would like to go clothes shopping."

. . .

Wait.

The Black Widow wanted to take her...clothes shopping?

Penny's eyebrows almost left her forehead, metaphorically speaking. Romanoff was a spy, there was no doubt about that, so she had to be good at fashion and stuff like that. Not like Penny, who had had the same sense of style ever since high school. But never had she expected the female alpha to be the sort of person to do such a thing willingly, at least with other people.

Then again, she didn't really know anything about Romanoff at all, outside of what had been in her file back before the Battle.

She didn't want to, either, for the record. As she'd said before, over and over again.

"Delilah?"

She blinked. It would probably be more suspicious for her to say "no" to such a simple request. Clothes shopping didn't always have to be an intimate affair, like Gwen had always made it out to be. It could be simple. Simple.

She was going to have to say "yes," wasn't she?"

"Tell her it's...fine," she spoke reluctantly. "But she needs to give me an hour, and I'll meet her on the communal floor."

Another pause. "Ms. Romanoff says that is agreeable."

Penny pulled herself out of her bed. She took a quick shower, worked her hair through with a comb, changed clothes, and ate a quick breakfast of yogurt and toast with peanut butter along with a glass of milk. When she was finished with hand-washing her dishes (she was not going to use the dishwasher when she was the only person in her apartment), she only had a few minutes to spare until the hour precisely. Grabbing her purse, she tucked her pendant and wedding ring underneath her shirt, and took the elevator to the floor beneath hers.

She hadn't gone to the communal floor yet. Obviously. JARVIS had invited her a handful of times since the day she'd moved in, with her refusing every time. The floor wasn't all that different from what she was expecting, now that she knew what to. There was a large kitchen, a dining table with twelve – when did Stark expect them to need all twelve? – chairs, and a living area with an even larger TV than the one in her apartment and an excess of couches and pillows. Oh, and there was also a pool table. Because why not.

Romanoff was sitting at the bar of the kitchen. She stood up, all elegant and...strangely catlike. She was wearing a brown aviator jacket over a grey shirt, black pants, and black leather boots. A pair of sunglasses rested in her red hair, which was pulled back into a braid. "Spider-Woman," she said.

"Romanoff," Penny replied.

She had the distinct sensation that the alpha was expecting her to do something, but before she could do anything the other woman was briskly walking past her. "Are you ready?" she asked.

Penny tightened her hold on the strap of her purse as patchouli and gunpowder washed over her. She breathed through her nose lightly, as breathing through her mouth just would've been worse, and thanked her lucky stars she wasn't producing too much slick. Yet. "I am."

"Then let's go."

They took the elevator down to the Avengers garage, where Romanoff selected a much less flashy vehicle than Dr. Banner had. "Thank you for coming with me," she mentioned as she backed the car out of its parking spot. "It's not often that I get to go clothes shopping with somebody else. Well, besides Hill on occasion."

Penny was not going to take the bait.

She was not going to take the bait.

She was –

"What, you don't go with Barton?"

Dammit.

The edges of Romanoff's lips quirked distinctively. "If you ever go clothes shopping with Clint, you'll know why I don't," she explained elusively. "But that isn't to say you should. Ever."

"Oh."

Penny stared ahead blankly.

Silence fell between them, but it seemed this wasn't something Romanoff was willing to endure. She turned on the radio station, finagling with it until she landed on...a '70s and '80s hits station. Dreams by Fleetwood Mac filtered in softly through the speakers.

Knowing the alpha, there was no chance this wasn't intentional. Somehow, she'd figured out what kind of music Penny liked to listen to based off of her appearance alone.

She said nothing for the rest of the car ride. Neither did Romanoff.

The spy pulled into the parking garage for a Macy's, and by this Penny didn't have it in her to be surprised. She got out of the vehicle, allowing her curiosity to momentarily overtake her. "Aren't you worried about someone recognizing you?"

Romanoff's disguise was good, in that it combined the clothes and an energy she was able to exude which was not like one would expect from her, but it wasn't that good.

"No," the alpha said primly. She lowered the sunglasses so they were resting over her eyes. "People can see with their eyes, but they also need context to make a connection. Who would ever expect Natasha Romanoff to be shopping at a Macy's?"

...She had a point. Huh.

Penny had never had that luck back when she'd been famous.

They entered the department store. Romanoff grabbed a cart, and they headed off to the section for female alphas. She 'tsk'ed at a good portion of the choices, but there were some things she seemed to like. She put various items of those selections into the cart, and once she had a sizable mass went over to a nearby changing room. Penny trailed after her.

As Romanoff tried on the clothes, Penny waited outside. Her eyes wandered. Conveniently, on the other end of the changing rooms was the clothing section for female omegas and betas. The clothing types were almost entirely the same: the only differences were softness and cuts, omega clothes favoring softer material and more emphasis on their chests and hips than beta ones, but it was easy to shop between the two if you were like her and trying to cover up your designation. It didn't matter that the clothes hung a little loosely on her, as long as they fit and didn't make anyone pay her special attention.

She saw a small number of articles she thought she might've liked. She couldn't actually remember when the last time she'd gone clothes shopping was. Probably over a year. All of her clothes felt like it, too; they were threadbare and worn, like the clothes she'd worn as a kid had been. She didn't mind.

"See something you like?"

Penny jolted. "Jesus!" she hissed. "You had to do that?"

Romanoff was unimpressed. "I thought you had some sort of precognition."

Penny's cheeks heated up. "I do," she snapped. She wasn't going to mention how, from the handful of evidence she had to go off of, they never worked when one of them was around. No, it was better to change the subject. "What were you saying?"

"Do you see anything you like?" Romanoff repeated.

She tugged at her purse. Her new paycheck hadn't come in yet, and she'd spent most of her free money last week on decorations. Even with her tips, she couldn't really justify the expenses of buying new clothes when her current ones, as threadbare as they were, still worked and did not have holes in them.

Something in Romanoff's expression changed. "You know Stark would be happy to pay for anything you need, right?" she inquired. "Clothes are part of that."

Penny's back stiffened. "I don't need anymore of his help, I already get plenty of it. I can take care of myself."

"He knows that," the alpha said. "I do, too. But you should be able to treat yourself, every once in a while." Walking over to a rack of brown sweaters, she gestured to them. "You like these, don't you?"

Penny refused to answer her.

The spy threw one of the sweaters at her anyways. "Try it on," she said, even though they both knew it was going to be in the correct size.

Huffing, Penny went back to the changing rooms, not willing to cause a scene. She tried on the sweater quickly; when it fit, she took it off and opened the door to the changing room –

– Only to find Romanoff on the other side, holding more clothes in her arms, all to her style. "Try on these," she told her, switching out the sweater for them.

Penny spluttered, but the alpha was already bringing the changing room door back shut. She couldn't lock it, however her intent was clear enough.

Angrily, she thought about doing nothing as she locked the door. She'd just stand there for the allotted time it would take to try on all the clothes, then tell Romanoff she didn't like them and be done with it.

Before she could fully commit to the plan, Romanoff said, "If you don't try them on, I'll know."

Dammit.

Luckily, Romanoff knew better than to push her luck. She only handed Penny clothing once more; after that, she gripped the handle on the shopping cart and said, "Are you ready to go?"

Unluckily, she'd put all of the clothes she'd forced her to try on in the cart. "You didn't say you were going to make me buy them," yelped Penny.

"I'm not making you buy them. I'm making Stark buy them, as I said. There's a difference."

"And I said I didn't want that!"

"No, you didn't. And even if you did, it's only ten pieces of clothing."

"Only," Penny wanted to say. That was like half the size of her current wardrobe!

"We're buying them," informed her Romanoff. "Now, come on."

At the cash register, she balked at the prices of everything. She opened up her purse to pay for at least some of it, yet in the time it took her to do that, Romanoff had already inserted a shiny metal credit card into the card reader. "I told you, I was going to pay for it," she faux-laughed in a tone completely unbecoming of her. "Relax, Mary."

Behind the cash register, the cashier hid a smile. She was maybe thinking they were friends. Probably more than that, since they were an alpha and an omega a beta.

Penny internally screamed at the notion.

They went back to the car, where they put the bags of clothes into the backseat. Romanoff started up the car and pulled out of the parking garage. Penny stared out the car window, her arms crossed, quietly simmering in anger.

She didn't immediately notice because of this they weren't heading back to the Tower. It was only as she glanced at the radio when it started to play Material Girl by Madonna that her vision focused and she realized they weren't anywhere near Park Avenue. "Romanoff, where are we going?"

"There's this cafe I've been wanting to try out."

Penny scowled. "I thought we were just going clothes shopping."

"It's almost one o'clock," Romanoff replied. "I'd like something to eat, while we're out. You don't have to get anything if you don't want to."

The cafe, it turned out, was a hole-in-the-wall type of place. It was a sit-down restaurant, but it was small, and it wasn't busy. There was only one other customer in the place besides themselves. The host was also their waitress, and she gave them a sunny smile as she led them to a table situated up against the windows of its front. "I'll give you a few minutes to decide what you want to eat and drink," she said before she left.

Penny looked down at her menu. To her surprise, nothing was...expensive. The cafe specialized in coffee, as one would expect. The aroma of it swirled in the room, making her hunger apparent; her breakfast had been light. There were other things, too, like fresh made pastries the smell of which made her hunger worse, sandwiches, and salads.

Taking her wallet out of her purse, she checked the amount of cash she had. She had enough to splurge on this, and she put the dollar bills on the table next to her, momentarily locking eyes with Romanoff. Her message was clear, causing the spy to smile some in a show of emotion.

The waitress came back. "Alright, what can I get you?"

Penny went first, in case Romanoff was even thinking about trying to order for her. "I'll have the cafe au Lait," she requested, "and the large caesar salad."

"With grilled chicken?"

"Yes."

The waitress made her notations. "And for you?"

"A red eye with the turkey BLT," Romanoff answered.

After the waitress left, promising their orders would be out soon, Penny rapped her fingertips against the table. She would be due to go out as Spider-Woman in about an hour or two.

"So," Romanoff spoke. "How are you settling in?"

Penny raised an eyebrow. "Do you really want to know, or are you just trying to make small talk?"

"I really want to know."

"It's...fine." She blew out a short breath. "Everything's fine."

"Today's one of your days off?" Romanoff asked, elaborating with, "You're still working at your job, aren't you?"

"That's allowed, isn't it?"

"You're free to do whatever you want, nobody is trying to control you," the spy responded. "You willingly chose to move into the Tower."

Well, she couldn't refute that.

The waitress came back with their drinks. Penny sipped her coffee. The flavor was splendid, a delicious treat compared to the filtered coffee she always drank at the restaurant and had at the studio.

The drink loosened her tongue, almost like it was alcohol. "I like the apartment," she revealed. "But it's too much."

Romanoff smirked. "Steve thought you would say that."

...So the other Avengers were talking about her behind her back, more so than what she already knew. Nice.

Penny brought her cup back to her lips.

"Tony's always showered the people he cares about in extravagance," Romanoff carried on. "He's been rich his entire life. He doesn't know anything else."

"Can we not talk about Stark?" she interjected. She was getting tired of hearing about him. He was her soulmate, yes, but technically he was only one of them. Having to listen to the others prattle on over him was getting to be obnoxious.

"Sure," the alpha agreed easily. "Do you like your job?"

Penny glowered. "Ask something else."

"I was just curious. It must be a dang good job if – "

"Ask. A. Different. Question."

Their food came out then. The waitress, oblivious to her discomfort, set the two plates down in front of them. There was a third table waiting for her at the door. "I'll be back in a few minutes to check on ya, okay?"

"Thank you," Penny answered.

She moodily stabbed her salad with her fork. It was pretty darn good, albeit it had a hard boiled egg and kalamata olives on it, a stray from the usual caesar salad. It also had a breadstick that came with it: she was never one to say no to carbs.

Romanoff took a bite of her sandwich. She didn't speak again until she'd swallowed. "You've lived in the city all of your life," she observed.

The remark wasn't too awful. Certainly not something which was identifiable. "Yes."

"You like it here?"

She snorted. "Very much." A pause. "I love it, actually."

"What's your favorite part about it?"

She didn't have to think about it. "The people," she breathed. Her eyes fluttered over to the window, looking at the pedestrians walking on the sidewalk. "Being who I am...I see and meet a lot of people. They're always fascinating. Before," before I got my powers and Uncle Ben died, "I used to take pictures of them with an old camera. Now I save them, or stop them from doing stupid things. I've gained their trust and respect. It's a...very rewarding thing."

The disclosure was far more intimate than she'd intended. Undoubtedly sensing this and the fact she was not going to do the vice versa, Romanoff gave her own answer. "I spent two years in Ohio as a kid. It's my favorite place in the world." At Penny's scoff – who would ever willingly choose Ohio as their favorite place in the entire Earth? – her eyes flashed with...something. "The reason why is also the people. I lived with my family there."

Again, against her wishes, curiosity twinged within her. There had been nothing in Romanoff's SHIELD file about any family – not like Barton, who had a sister who lived with her family in Iowa and she technically wasn't supposed to know about (the forgotten past must've made Fury instinctively want to tell her things he wouldn't an "ordinary" Avenger or stranger), or Banner, who had an estranged father, three aunts (two of which were married), and two cousins.

(This conversation was quickly becoming reminiscent of her one with Rogers, not that she would admit it to herself. It was hard to be angry with someone when they refused to sink down to your level.)

"Your family?"

"Adopted," Romanoff amended. "Not even that, really. The Red Room put us together for a mission. Once it was completed, we were separated. My father is currently in prison in Siberia. My mother is dead. My sister is like me, but never got out."

That was...depressing.

Unlike with Rogers, she didn't tell Romanoff "sorry." She figured she wouldn't appreciate it.

The waitress returned, checking up on them. After she left, Romanoff picked back up the conversation. "I am sorry, again, for what I did." Her voice was low; if not for Penny's enhanced hearing, it would have been indiscernible. "I shouldn't have done it."

It took a moment for her to remember what she was talking about. After all, it had been a week and a half since the incident. "No, you shouldn't've," she said. "Is that why we're doing this today? To make up for it?"

"Please, I'm not the one who begs for forgiveness with money." That drew a second snort from Penny. "I wanted to see how you were settling in."

"Oh, so you're not interested in trying to find out anything about me or my identity?"

The alpha didn't even bat an eye. "I know you're approximately twenty-two years old. You're originally from Queens. You've been doing what you do for six years now. You're left-handed, but you've taught yourself to use your right as Spider-Woman since being left-handed is so uncommon. Your IQ surpasses 140. You prefer to wear baggier clothes specifically in moderate colors, and to listen to '70s and '80s music. Your favorite band is probably Queen or Fleetwood Mac. You don't like physical contact. You prefer being on your own, as has been made abundantly clear by your behavior over the past year, and you're depressed. Is there anything I'm missing?"

All of this, she said, then calmly drank about a quarter of her previously mostly untouched coffee.

"I'm not depressed," Penny stated finally.

"That's all you took from that?" Romanoff queried. "I would've thought the conclusion was: yes, I know all of these things about you, and yet I still haven't looked into your identity. Because I respect your wishes, and your right for privacy."

She narrowed her eyes. "You could be lying."

"I always tell the truth."

"You're a spy. Lying is what you do for a living," Penny pointed out.

"When it comes to gaining a colleague's trust, I never lie."

Romanoff let her pay her own bill at the end. They went back to the Tower, each of them grabbing the Macy's bags for their respective clothes. "Did you have fun?" the other woman pestered.

No, her mind said silently. Penny did not have fun these days, not ever since Harry had died. Every last thing that was good about her life had perished with him.

She chose a neutral answer. "It was interesting."

(Interesting, it was, indeed.)

Word Count: 3,785

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