Target (Romanogers Fanfic)

Chapter 12

TRIGGER WARNING: THE CHAPTER MENTIONS RAPE

Natasha didn't want to do this.

But Peggy forced her to.

She just really wanted to spend the night going to bed early. She didn't want to go to the bar because she knew she would have some gross guy slobbering all over her. And she would have to fake her way through a conversation, and she wasn't in the mood. Not to mention she would have to deal with Steve again. 

Never in her life had she felt more useless than she had in the three and a half weeks that she'd been there.

And now what was she doing? Getting dressed up for a meeting in a bar. It was already a quarter to eight, so she got down to finishing up. Her red hair was accentuated in big curls. She settled on simple makeup, some black eyeliner to highlight her eyes and lashes. And rose pink lipstick.

And once she was done, she was glowing flawlessly (modestly speaking).

She took out a dress she bought with Peggy. She smiled at the memory. It was a gray fitted number that went down just above her knees. It had short sleeves and made green eyes stand out. She put on her pearl earing and cream-coloured pumps, which gave the outfit the final touch.

With one final glance at her reflection, she stepped out of her room and took a cab to lead her to the pub.

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Peggy offered to wait for her, even offering to drop by her room so they could go together, but she knew she would be taking a long time considering all of the second thoughts that were clouding up her mind, so she politely declined.

Taking a deep breath she pushed open the doors of the bar. The first thing she saw were men drinking and laughing at one table. Her heels clicked against the wooden floor as she tried her best to walk by without gathering too much attention.

She made her way to the best part of the bar. The bartender station. She sat on one of the wooden stools and ordered a drink. "A medium dry vodka martini, lemon peel. Shaken, not stirred." She ordered. The bartender blinked. "Are you sure you can handle it? The vodka here is kinda strong." He said. Natasha glared. "I can handle it. I'm Russian." She said. "Or was."

"And what are you now?" The bartender asked grinning, intrigued by the mysterious woman. Natasha raised an eyebrow. "I don't believe that's any of your business." The man's confidence crumbled and his grin fell from his face. He then walked away to make her drink.

"Wow. Natasha Romanoff. Alone at a bar. That's very unlike you." A voice spoke. Natasha turned around. "Well, Peggy. Unlike you, I prefer to stay in the shadows." Natasha said while paying the bartender. Peggy stared at her, she was wearing a red dress that fitted her dainty body perfectly, her brown curls framed her face. "Sorry," Natasha muttered while sipping her drink. Peggy scoffed and sat down on the stool beside her.

"Bullshit," Peggy said. Natasha stared at her. "As your sister. I need to know why you are over here and not dancing with someone." Peggy said. "You aren't really my sister," Natasha fired back. "Okay, now you're just in a mood,"

"Wait, Peg. No. Stop. I'm sorry." Natasha said pulling Peggy back. "It's just." Natasha started. Peggy stared at her. "Everywhere I go I see flashbacks. Memories of the Red Room, KGB and other missions and assassinations I've done." Natasha paused and continued.

"And everyone is asking me what to do. And I used to know everything. And then Johann Schmidt mentions he knows Ivan, and now I know nothing." She chuckled without humour. "And now I'm starting to believe that everything is... meaningless," Natasha said while sipping her martini.