Devil of Menace

25 - Drinks

A few days later booming music fills my ears as Nat and I cradle vodka martinis, heavy on the vodka. "How's the move going?" She asks. I sigh heavily, "Finding a place in Washington was harder than I thought. Steve's helping me decorate the place in two weeks." I answer, "We had to wait for SHIELD's approval on the location." I explain. Nat laughs, "Never gonna get used to that one. SHIELD wanting to know where you are at all times." I nod, "I just say fuck 'em." I laugh, "They don't need to know where I am as long as I have contact with them." Nat nods in agreement, "Cheers to that." She shouts over the music and we clink glasses before finishing off the martinis. I slam my hands on the bar, "Shots." I say to the bartender, who winks in acknowledgement of the order. "She's cute." I nudge Natasha, she smirks. "Hmm yeah. Think she's more your type." She hums. I laugh, "You might be right there." I answer as the bartender slides us three shots each. We drink them in quick succession, enjoying the burn.

Nat and I are surrounded by sweaty bodies as we move our own to the beat of the music. Nat's hands roamed my body as mine returned the favour, the two of us getting lost in the atmosphere. Coloured lights danced over Natasha's features, hues of pink and blue highlighting the ever-growing smile on the woman's face. We danced for what felt like hours although it may simply have been minutes before we headed back to the bar. Taking a seat once again I order a long island iced tea for the two of us. With the drinks in hand we sat and people watched before noticing two men eyeing us from across the dance floor. One of the men stood at around 6 foot tall with cropped black hair whilst his friend stood slightly shorter with mousy brown hair. "You interested in either of them?" I ask Natasha. She scans them once, "Not at all." I laugh at her bluntness and we turn back to the bar.

We sense a presence behind us and turn at the sound of a throat clearing only to be greeted by the two men from earlier. The dark haired man smiles, "I couldn't help but notice you were checking us out, so I thought we'd introduce ourselves. I'm Jake and this is Mike." He says, gesturing to his friend who smiles politely. Nat and I sigh, "Um, we weren't checking you out. Sorry about that." Nat says and we spin back around. "Come on, you totally were." Jake persists, much to Mike's chagrin. Nat clicks her teeth and looks at me, "Can you hit him with your knife?" She mumbles. I laugh loudly, "I believe the technical term is 'stab'." Jake, clearly agitated by the ignorance of his presence, puts his hand on my lower back to gain my attention. Before I can think I grab the arm reaching for my shoulder and flip him onto the ground, pressing my heel into a pressure point on his lower back. Nat's stool scrapes against the chair as she stands abruptly. "Vik, let him up." I sigh heavily before removing foot. "Fuck off." I spit at him and he scurries away, his friend in tow.

Nat and I make our way to the private bathrooms at the back of the club and I sigh as I look in the mirror. "What was that?" Nat asks. "I don't know," I murmur, "The second his hand touched me I saw red. I couldn't stop myself." I explain. "We need to work on that because you looked ready to kill the guy." Nat jokes, joining me at the mirror and reapplying her lipstick. "Murder wasn't on today's agenda." I grumble. "It's not usually on anyone's." Nat adds. I look at her in the mirror, "No it's on mine, just not until next Thursday." I say, completely deadpan. Nat narrows her eyes at me, "Are you serious?" She asks. I slip out the door but not before sticking my head back through the gap, "You'll never know." I whisper threateningly and go back to pay the tab.

As the two of us leave the club we're hit by the cold night air. Nat pulls her keys out of her bag and makes her way over to her car, "Are you sober Natalia?" I question. She looks up at me, "I'm moderately functional." She replies. I snatch the keys from her hand, "I'm taking that as a no." I say, "Get in the passenger side." I instruct and she does, albeit begrudgingly.  I slide into the driver's seat and turn on the radio, the charts blaring as we drive home. Natasha looks deep in thought when I glance over, "What's on your mind baby?" I ask curiously. Nat looks up at me through her dark lashes.

"I really don't understand mayonnaise." She answers.