𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 | 𝘕𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘢 𝘙𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘧𝘧 [✓]

Ch. 21 Calm Head, Cool Heart

Word count: 1.18k

Nat's POV:

I look at Eliza's clothes-stripped body, my hands shivering at my sides - almost desperate to touch her. I keep myself composed and relaxed, hopefully looking visibly collected. She's not even looking at me so there's no need for me to be sweaty and clammy; yet I still am. The time reads 5:48PM. We're cutting it fine now, but there's no worry in Eliza's face. She's calm, even after the tension between her and Sharon. I don't know what's going on between them, but it's her business, she can tell me when she's ready, if that day ever comes.

I slide the white V-neck blouse from it's hanger and hold it up high enough for her to reach her arms through the sleeves. She does so gracefully and I let the material slip from my fingers. Eliza walks towards the bed, her fingers sliding the buttons through the corresponding holes. An awkward smile tests her lips when she inclines her head towards me as she sits on the very end of the bed, fitting her legs into the trouser holes. In one swift movement, she stands again, fiddling slightly with the belt and buttons. I give a small laugh and help her out, my non-shaking, non-sweaty hands making the job light work. I stand moments away from her, my face inches from hers and my lips only centimetres away from filling the gap. I resist in time and pull away. I am not ruining this for her. Not unless she makes the first move, then clearly, it wouldn't be strictly my fault.

"We're cutting this fine." I murmur, though I'm barely listening to what I'm saying. "Tony will kill us if we're late."

"We won't be late, Nat. I promise."

I look up to meet her eyes. She smiles sweetly at me. I fall for her all over again. An awkward batter of her eyes falters her current mood.

"Do it." She says quietly.

I don't know what to say. "What?"

"N-nothing. Come on," she says, her sudden mood changing back, "let's get going."

I pull on her arm, stopping her. Turning her to face me, I look her up and down, not wanting to push for what she was going to say. "I think I've got something that could finish this off." I gesture at the get-up. She scoffs and touches a hand to her chest, her mouth open in a mock hurt. I laugh a little and rush from the room and head back to my own.

I rummage through my dresser's top draw, knowing I have something in there that was bound to fit her perfectly. My fingers wrap around a pair of earrings in the back and pull them out into the light.

"Yes." I whisper, holding them up to see them easier. Perfect jewels for a perfect woman. I rush back to Eliza, who stands adjusting the blouse. She looks up, slightly confused. I hold out my hand to her, my palm upturned and showing the earrings that rest gently on my skin. Her eyes light up in surprise and I smile softly. "Take them." I insist when she hesitates.

"Nat, I can't do that." She whispers.

"Yes. Yes you can, Elle. I mean it, take them."

I can't tell what she's thinking but she takes them from my hand. I flinch a little when her fingers graze my skin, but relax as soon as I realise what I did. She holds the jewellery up to her ears, looking at her reflection in the mirror. I look at her in awe, a proud smile on my face.

I made her smile like that, and it touches my heart. She slips them through the piercings and spins back around to flash her smile at me, her sea-blue eyes glittering in the dimmed light.

"Thank you, Natasha." she grins, kissing me lightly on the cheek. I freeze to the spot, but melt quickly enough. "Come on, let's get you changed."

We make our way down to the common room, if you will, where I hand Eliza to Wanda. They match perfectly and I don't know if I like it, but I think nothing of it. I head towards the bar. I sit down on the stool, pouring a cocktail into a glass. I wrap my fingers around the thin glass stem, carefully pressing the edge to my lips and taking a sip. I hum impatiently as the liquid runs down my throat, burning softly. I breathe the mild alcoholic fumes back out in a long and tension-free sigh, relaxing my shoulder a little, relieving them of the tenseness. When another person sits next to me, I don't turn my head to see who it is.

"You mind?"

"No." I murmur, though it's a lie. I recognise Sharon's brown hair next to me and bite back a growl. "Vodka?"

"What else?" She laughs, but it doesn't amuse me. I pour her a glass and slide it down the counter. She says a thank you before touching the rim to her mouth and taking a sip or two. "Did you wait too long?" She asks.

I look at her in confusion. "What?" I chew at my cheek to prevent myself from growling. I don't know what she did to Eliza, but if Nick is concerned about it, then maybe I should be too.

"For Eliza, did Wanda get there before you?"

I don't reply, only murmuring something inaudible to even my own ears. I shrug.

"She's a slut, you know. All the women she could get to. Even slept with Carol and Maria." She scoffs as she takes anther drink. I grip tightly to the stem of my glass and clench my fist.

"Really? I was taking her as more of a single-commitment kinda' girl." I joke, trying to my temper in check.

"Not really no." She smiles grimly. Her eyes, I swear, are evil. "Can believe, though, that she got with her best friend. Seems to fit her regime."

"Regime?"

"Sleeping with every woman she meets. It's like a rule."

I swallow. "Why d'you say that? Did you sleep with her?"

"We went out. Look, Romanoff, if you want that girl, you've gotta take what you deserve." She nods and throws her head back to finish the glass.

"And what would that be?" I meet her eyes with a dead straight glare.

"Make her beg for you," the words come slowly but surely, "get her on her knees. She loves it. She's a damned fucking slut for whoever shows her the slightest bit of dominance. Just gotta make her see that she's the one who has to obey." Carter puts the glass down on the counter and wishes me a good evening with a smirk and a slight bow of her head, before finding her way through the pleased crowd towards Steve and Rhodey. The bile in the back of my throat tastes bitter, just like every thing I want to say to that fucking bitch. But I resist, for obvious reasons.