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THIS ROUND IS NOW CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS.
ROUND THIRTEEN WILL OPEN ON SUNDAY THE 30TH.
ROUND TWELVE
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PROMPT FORMATTING:
Alphabetize pairings. They will be archived that way!Put [RPF] before RPF prompts ( Read more... )
“You're not answering your phone,” says the intruder. It's Natasha, dressed in a sweater and jeans but somehow managing to make them look like a catsuit.
“Uh,” says Steve. “I think the battery ran down.” He knows how to recharge the phone, of course, but with any luck playing the idiot will buy him out of any awkward questions.
Natasha gives him a pointed stare. He realises he's fully clothed, apart from his shoes, and glances at the clock beside the bed (an old fashioned one, clockwork, with hands and a face). It's one o'clock, and a quick glance at the window tells Steve it's night-time. So Steve is sleeping at a perfectly reasonable hour. In his clothes. That's normal.
“It's kinda late,” he says. Natasha seems to take that as an invitation to sit down.
“Bad burrito?” she says, and Steve realises she's looking at the bucket.
“Ceiling leaks sometimes,” he says, surprised at how easily the lie rolls off his tongue. Natasha stares at him again, and Steve feels like she knows all his secrets.
“He'd invite you again, if you wanted,” she says.
Steve frowns. “What?” he says. “Who?”
“Tony,” says Natasha. “You don't have to sit out here and sulk just because you said no the first time.”
Steve blinks. He's been alone in his apartment for two weeks, and now Natasha is sitting on his bed in the middle of the night telling him -- what? Telling him that he should be making nice with Stark?
“I like it here,” he says. “I like having the place to myself.”
Natasha raises an eyebrow. She's like a walking lie-detector, Steve knows that. Still, he stares back, mutinous. Even if he did want to move in with Stark and the others, the bucket and the water jug are there to remind him that there's no way he could.
“You should turn on your phone,” Natasha says finally, getting up off the bed and walking toward the door. “There might be an emergency.”
“The battery's dead,” says Steve again, and Natasha turns in the doorway and regards him without smiling.
“Right,” she says. “Of course.”
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