Winter's Widow

Chapter 8: New York Nights

I was being dragged all over New York City by the hand as a certain redhead looked back at me gleefully laughing as I struggled to keep up. "You know, Natasha, we live here. We don't have to see everything in one day." I paused, resting my hands behind my head as I attempted to catch my breath. She spun towards me, an incredulous look on her face.

"How long have you lived in New York City?" She asked, not the least bit phased or sweaty from our rather hasty walk. I bent over at the waist, breathing in deeply.

"It's so not fair that you can still look like that, and I look like roadkill," I groaned. She laughed, walking back towards me and resting a hand on my shoulder as she crouched in front of my face.

"That didn't answer the question, Winter." I rolled my eyes. I knew where this line of questioning was going.

"Five years," I mumbled, trying to look anywhere but her twinkling green eyes.

"Mmmhmm." I was already shaking my head by the time she got out her next sentence.

"In five years, how many days have you taken off to sightsee?" I groaned, finally standing upright again. Natasha rose from her crouch with cat-like grace. I was huffing like some kind of beached sea creature.

"That's not the point." When she didn't answer right away, I was forced to look up at her. If her eyebrows went up any further, they'd be on top of her head.

"How many." I gulped. I lied, sometimes she was intimidating.

"None." I looked up at her sheepishly, only to find her signature shit-eating grin plastered on her face.

"That's what I thought." Once more, she took my hand, pulling me along behind her. I groaned but had little choice but to follow. She was so not above dragging me on the ground, and nobody needed to see that. I sighed in relief as she led me towards an outdoor café, laying my head down on the table as soon as we were seated. "Oh, come on," she teased. "You've trained for longer than that before. I mumbled into the table, but she couldn't hear me. I sat up reluctantly.

"That's different," I laughed when she rolled her eyes at me. "Where are we anyway?" I glanced at the green awning above me, trying to get my bearings. "OUCH!" I shouted as Natasha kicked me in the shin. Instead of answering, she just gestured upwards, and when I followed the direction she was pointing I saw Stark Tower looming overhead.

"Still lost, Winter?" She teased.

"I'm good now, thanks," I snarked, and Natasha's easy laugh caught me by surprise.

"So over there," she gestured to a door on the corner that looked like little more than a delivery address. "That's the best Italian food in miles." I looked at her skeptically.

"Seriously?" She nodded.

"Trust me." I must have still looked skeptical because she stood again suddenly and I groaned as she grabbed my hand. "Let's go." I shook my head, but followed dutifully after her. We were sat immediately in a rear corner booth, and I looked around. The place was packed and it was the middle of the day.

"How on earth did you get us a table here? We just walked in." Natasha smiled at me.

"Standing reservation. We helped evacuate the owner in the battle." I returned the smile. That made sense. Sometimes being on the team had its perks – although I'm not positive that they would work for me. I fully intended on speaking as the server arrived, but I didn't have the chance. The first syllable that attempted to come out of my mouth was cut off by Natasha who was not only shushing me, she was holding a hand up to my face. I didn't have time to feel outraged before she was speaking to the server in fluent, perfect Italian, apparently ordering my meal for me. I blinked at her with my mouth hanging open until long after the server had retreated. She smirked, reaching across the table and pushing my lower jaw up.