Black Widow: Dark House

45: "You Give Love a Bad Name"- Bon Jovi

Bold Italics- Russian

Italics- any language besides English

**- thoughts/ memories

Music resounded around the elegant banquette hall as lavishly dressed people moved to and frow, either bouncing from group to group talking about trade plans, golf, or where their new summer home is, or getting more wine and appetizers from the freshly dressed waiters that lined the edge of the room. The hall was bathed in low golden light that seemed to make the round white tablecloths glow and the decorations gleam, as if everyone in the hall was walking amongst the very stars themselves.

Along the hundred of armed guards that lined the room and every entrance and exit, the party seemed to be alive and kicking.

"I still don't see why I have to be a fucking bumkin waiter! I look ridiculous" Ana growled into her earpiece as she stood in her spot on the circumference of the room, dressed like the other waiters around her while she held a silver tray dotted with mini spinach quiche.

Tony was still on route, wanting to make a big entrance, as usual.

"You can get us an inside access kiddo. While we keep everyone busy, you can be scoping out the place in the back, where all the help is" Tony explained.

"Don't call me kiddo. And did you really just use the word 'help' to refer to the waiters? How fucking old are you?" Ana retorted, hardly noticing a well-dressed man with military decorations come and plop four of her quiches onto his crystal plate.

"For what it's worth, I thought you looked sexy. Keep that outfit, we'll use it later" Natasha chimed in, driving up to the building where the party was being held.

"Gross. Keep it in your pants Natasha" Yelena spat as she also lined the room with the rest of the waiters, holding up her tray of glass flutes filled with bubbling champagne.

Despite herself, Ana felt a small grin creep on her face. She bit her lip to make it go away, making sure to keep in character.

She redoubled her efforts though, "I'm not the waiter type. I can rock a suit, like fucking ROCK it. Putting me as a waiter is like putting your best quarterback on the side lines. It's ridiculous."

"Who knew you were such an attention whore Ana" Yelena muttered, rolling her eyes.

Natasha saw her opportunity, "You should see her when she's being the other kind of wh-"

"Tasha, I swear to god, do not finish that sentence."

"Everyone stay focused! We all have jobs to do. Tony are you almost to the plaza?" Steve called over the comms.

"ETA three minutes."

"Clint are you in position?"

"Roger Rogers" Clint said from his sniper's nest, starring down the barrel of his scope as Ana.

"Eh, I think I could have pulled the waiter thing off better. Service with a smile Ana, you look like your puppy died" Clint pointed out.

"Fuck you Francis" Ana shot back.

Clint cocked his head, "Wait, who the fuck told you my middle name?"

Natasha parked her Lamborghini, handing the keys off to a young-looking valet as she walked towards the door. She wore a well-fitting long sparkling red dress that had a slit all the way up to her mid-thigh, showing off a silver jeweled thigh chain that went perfectly well with the silver sparkling pumps she wore.

"Sorry Clint, the damn pillow talk got the best of me."

Clint shook his head and repositioned himself, "Just for that, I hope Laura's having a boy."