Set between Captain America the Winter Soldier and Captain America Civil War.
Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow is on a mission hunting down Rumlow and his ex-hydra strike team. Injured and on her way to a safe house she comes across someone unexpe...
Natasha woke to find herself alone, disappointing but not unexpected. She could hear the quiet bustle of the city waking and beginning its day. Sitting up to scan the room, she could see James lying asleep on the couch; the notebook in which he'd been writing lay open on the floor by his fingers. The position didn't look comfortable, just where he'd been when exhaustion had taken him. The serum flowing through his veins would hold back fatigue and give him unparalleled stamina, but everyone needed sleep eventually. She crawled out from beneath the warm covers, stood and tiptoed over. He looked peaceful; she smiled to herself. She hoped it was peaceful, with no nightmares. She could barely hear him breathing, but his chest rose and fell steadily. She leaned over him and reached out to sweep a strand of hair from across his face. His arm caught hers before she'd even touched him, and she inhaled sharply in alarm. His eyes took only a moment to register her.
"Morning," she whispered.
He let go of her wrist and sat up as she stepped back lightly, rubbing where he'd grabbed her.
"Sorry."
"It's OK. I didn't mean to wake you; you looked so peaceful. No nightmares?"
"No dreams at all."
"You want a coffee?"
He rubbed his hand over his face, then looked up at her slightly bleary-eyed but smiled, "Yeah, thanks."
She stood in the kitchen area and made coffee, occasionally turning to see him watching her search for items, and she'd smile, and he'd smile in response. She returned to his couch with two steaming cups. "Here. I'm assuming black without sugar because you don't own milk or sugar."
"Yeah, thanks."
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They sat and sipped silently, watching the morning light change the dim grey hues of the apartment to yellows. It didn't make it much more appealing, but the new dawn made everything less gloomy. It was a grim existence, a shoddy rental little more than a bedsit. It could be worse, though; Natasha considered James could be sharing his bathroom, which would invite the opportunity to bump into civilians, which was dangerous. Or worse, he could be squatting somewhere without any comfort at all. Like the other members of Hydra, James was a wanted man; he could neither have nor afford luxuries. This setup was preferable and probably still scraped what he could sustain.
She turned to look at him, "How do you pay for this apartment? All of this?" she inquired, taking another sip of coffee.
"Hydra gold."
Natasha nearly sprayed coffee everywhere; he hadn't smiled, his answer frank, with no hint of irony. His face was deadpan; through coughs and splutters, she responded in disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"
Now he smiled, "Yes. There was no Hydra gold as far as I'm aware."
She shook her head, smiling and hit him playfully with the back of her hand. "So, how'd you pay for it, really?"
