who we lie beside
covers
rating: pg
characters: Maria Hill, Natasha Romanoff
warnings: none
summary: Histories, identities, and bedspreads; the things we draw over ourselves, the things we share. A mission from their younger years.
They check in under assumed names the lower ranking agents had planned to use, with ‘Amy’ quietly arranging things at the front desk and motioning ‘Heather’ to drive the matte black SUV down to the end of the hotel. No one sees them together for longer than it takes to switch their duffels and slip into the stairwell, empty concrete and echoing doors chasing them to their room, and this is a good thing; the edges of their training show underneath the civilian guises, in smooth motions and wary alertness. They shouldn’t be here, hadn’t prepped for this mission, but the names are ready on the tips of their tongues until they slip across carpeted floors and into the presumed safety of #218.
In the silence of the constrained space, placing their bags on the worn berber and scanning the small room for bugs, they keep their quiet and move swiftly, surely.
Romanoff opts for the first shower and Maria settles onto the single bed, lying on the dingy duvet as the bathroom door closes.
They are only the first pair, the two agents within range who could be sent to take over the cover op. Reinforcements will be here in eighteen hours, their targets unaware that two unassuming women are anything but modest and incapable, and by the time they learn their lesson the op will be complete. But tonight she is in a strange hotel, the bones of the unexpected change clear in her mind, and the AC is winding down with a grinding protest.
The sound of the shower changes as Romanoff steps in, the water pattering and splashing in different tones when she begins to scrub herself clean, and Maria stares at the ceiling, imagines rolling onto her stomach and pressing her face into the cheap pillows.
This is the Black Widow she is listening to, this is one of the deadliest assassins to ever cross through SHIELD’s doors, and she can’t tell if she can forget that record tonight with its keeper lying inches from her.
But when she comes through the door, scrubbing a towel against her curls, there is something unexpectedly hesitant about her, something vulnerable. So Maria watches as she lowers herself on the end of the queen bed, robe wrapped tight around her, and asks, “Will you mind sleeping beside me?”
Maria stares at her, this other agent she is going to trust with her life, this woman who is young and at her level and looking at Maria’s crossed ankles instead of her eyes.
Says, “Of course not.”
And maybe it’s a lie, maybe there’s a hint of a shadowed expression that says Natasha hears it for what it is, but what Maria means is Not tonight.
The springs are palpable, the pillow flat, the AC kicks on in the night with a roar that could rival the Bus. But the Black Widow breathes slow and steady beside her, the curve of her ribs shifting the duvet, and Maria can’t quite remember if this is how it feels with more than duty to keep her company.
For the first time in months, she sleeps so deeply that she does not dream.
rating: pg
characters: Maria Hill, Natasha Romanoff
warnings: none
summary: Histories, identities, and bedspreads; the things we draw over ourselves, the things we share. A mission from their younger years.
They check in under assumed names the lower ranking agents had planned to use, with ‘Amy’ quietly arranging things at the front desk and motioning ‘Heather’ to drive the matte black SUV down to the end of the hotel. No one sees them together for longer than it takes to switch their duffels and slip into the stairwell, empty concrete and echoing doors chasing them to their room, and this is a good thing; the edges of their training show underneath the civilian guises, in smooth motions and wary alertness. They shouldn’t be here, hadn’t prepped for this mission, but the names are ready on the tips of their tongues until they slip across carpeted floors and into the presumed safety of #218.
In the silence of the constrained space, placing their bags on the worn berber and scanning the small room for bugs, they keep their quiet and move swiftly, surely.
Romanoff opts for the first shower and Maria settles onto the single bed, lying on the dingy duvet as the bathroom door closes.
They are only the first pair, the two agents within range who could be sent to take over the cover op. Reinforcements will be here in eighteen hours, their targets unaware that two unassuming women are anything but modest and incapable, and by the time they learn their lesson the op will be complete. But tonight she is in a strange hotel, the bones of the unexpected change clear in her mind, and the AC is winding down with a grinding protest.
The sound of the shower changes as Romanoff steps in, the water pattering and splashing in different tones when she begins to scrub herself clean, and Maria stares at the ceiling, imagines rolling onto her stomach and pressing her face into the cheap pillows.
This is the Black Widow she is listening to, this is one of the deadliest assassins to ever cross through SHIELD’s doors, and she can’t tell if she can forget that record tonight with its keeper lying inches from her.
But when she comes through the door, scrubbing a towel against her curls, there is something unexpectedly hesitant about her, something vulnerable. So Maria watches as she lowers herself on the end of the queen bed, robe wrapped tight around her, and asks, “Will you mind sleeping beside me?”
Maria stares at her, this other agent she is going to trust with her life, this woman who is young and at her level and looking at Maria’s crossed ankles instead of her eyes.
Says, “Of course not.”
And maybe it’s a lie, maybe there’s a hint of a shadowed expression that says Natasha hears it for what it is, but what Maria means is Not tonight.
The springs are palpable, the pillow flat, the AC kicks on in the night with a roar that could rival the Bus. But the Black Widow breathes slow and steady beside her, the curve of her ribs shifting the duvet, and Maria can’t quite remember if this is how it feels with more than duty to keep her company.
For the first time in months, she sleeps so deeply that she does not dream.