These are the Hands of Fate - Steve Rogers x OC

Eight: Long Nights with Your Hands Up in My Hair

August 23, 2020

"It keeps you on your toes!"

Rolling her eyes at Natasha's shoddy defense, Maggie easily dodged the swat she tried to land on her hand as she stole another fry from the platinum blonde's plate. She and Poppy had planned on going out for lunch together since she was back in town, but the older woman had been recruited to tag along when Maggie saw her going after, yet another, handful of dry cereal as she sat on the kitchen counter.

At least Steve hadn't been the one to spot her; she would have been subjected to a stern look and a lecture about how unsanitary the practice was and respecting your roommates. Instead, Maggie just snatched the box, closed it, and told her to come along and order some type of vegetable because she couldn't understand how the woman could survive purely on processed snacks that were adored by toddlers and school children alike.

"It keeps me on edge." Maggie corrected, dipping the crispy potato into the dollop of ketchup on Nat's plate.

The latest training endeavor the friends had embarked on was what Natasha and Steve had deemed 'immersive tactical response.'

Maggie had deemed it bullshit.

It felt like sorority hazing in the worst way as she cautiously stepped around every corner in their apartment with the fear that either her boyfriend or best friend would attack out of nowhere. The first time Maggie had been pinned to the ground, Natasha had explained that it was time to test her fighting abilities and response time.

Since that day, it had resulted in several knees to Steve's groin (Maggie had apologized profusely for that reflex), two bloody noses for each of the women, and countless bruises that were scattered across all of their bodies.

Maggie looked to Poppy exasperatedly, begging for some type of backup from her other, civilian, best friend, "What would you think if you got up for a glass of water in the middle of the night and got fucking tackled from across the kitchen table—"

Natasha cut her off with a protest, "That was one time and, besides, you were fine! You took me down in less than a minute."

"Yeah, and I almost had a heart attack in the process." Grumbling annoyedly, Maggie took a sip of the vaguely tart, watered-down lemonade from the sweating glass in front of her.

Poppy gave a small shrug as she met Maggie's eyes with a half-smile, using her knife to carefully cut off a piece of the spicy grilled fish that she'd been pecking at for the past twenty minutes, "You know, getting your heartrate up is actually good for you."

"Not when it's stress-induced." The brunette countered with a knowing look; neither the spy nor the doctoral student could argue with that point. Maggie continued salaciously with a small, self-satisfied smirk playing on her lips as she popped a cherry tomato in her mouth, "And I do increase my heart rate but usually it's a little more fun."

"Mags!" Poppy, though hardly the prude, whispered harshly at Maggie as she looked around for anyone who could have been listening just a little too closely to the three women. Ever since Maggie and Steve had been on that magazine cover months earlier, Poppy worried that her friend would end up embroiled in some kind of scandal to rival that of Princess Diana and Prince Charles.

Not that it would matter too much if she did get caught gossiping while out and about—Tony had been associated with countless scandals and the Stark Foundation was his. As a result, Maggie, though careful, was mostly unworried about being overheard when it came to discussing her personal life.

Natasha gave her a pointed look as she spoke through a half-chewed bite of her food, "I didn't teach you to fight for my own health."

"You literally did!" Maggie looked at her, both entertained and exasperated as she threw her hands up defeatedly, "It was because you wanted me to workout with you!"