Devil of My Word

Chapter Two: Show Us Your Boobs!

You sat quietly in the loud club of Lux as patrons danced below and workers above. Some were with friends, some were customers buying drinks, whilst others seemed shady but you remembered none of their faces. You were mostly glad to have found a table, to which you could inconspicuously take some photos of Natasha.

But when a drink fell onto your table, you looked up to see Wanda in a black spaghetti-strapped shirt, a necklace consisting of a sword charm hanging by her cleavage.

"Oh, I didn't order a drink." You told her.

"Courtesy of the owner." Wanda offered a fake smile, fidgeting with her rings.

"This is from Natasha?"

"She asked me to make you something you'd like. Did I get it wrong?"

"You and Natasha seem really close." You commented, driving the conversation away from the alcoholic beverage.

Wanda leaned on your table. "I followed her through the gates of Hell." She accented the last word with her outstretched tongue, seemingly longer than others you'd seen on TV.

"I'll take that as a yes." You muttered, watching Wanda take the cherry from your drink by sliding it off the umbrella into her mouth, walking away from you with a look of disdain.

But then, the keys of a piano echoed through the club and you looked down onto the main floor, which had been cleared of people except her. Her beautiful open red suit gave you more than enough incentive to look at her chest, even though you didn't. You approached her carefully and watched her fingers glide over the keys with expertise, a gentle sigh coming from her.

"Hello, Detective. How has your undercover surveillance of my activities gone so far?"

You smirked slightly - you should have known you'd get caught. "I've looked into you. As far as I can tell, you didn't exist five years ago."

"On the earthly plane, no." She entertained you.

"People don't appear out of thin air. Who were you? How did you survive getting shot six times by Jimmy Barnes?"

"Is that your normal reaction to someone saving your life? Investigating them?" Natasha raised an eyebrow at you.

You leaned on the top board of the piano. "When I see something I can't explain, yeah, I look for answers."

"Well, I've given you the answer, Detective. It's not my fault you won't accept it." She shrugged, looking at you carefully. "Do you know what I think?"

"I stopped trying to guess." You stood up and folded your arms, waiting to hear her foolish answer.

"I think you like me." She grinned.

*Definitely not.* Your thoughts chuckled, your voice much flatter. "What part of the look on my face gives you that impression?"

Natasha rolled her eyes, sighing. "No, no, no, it's not about the face. It's about the eyes, what's behind them. I think you see something that you truly desire, and you... you don't know what to do with yourself, do you?"

"Really?"

"Uh-huh."

Natasha watched as your expression changed, your pupils slightly more dilated as you sat down next to her. "That's more like it." She murmured, to which you shrugged and leaned into her, your free hand caressing up her suit whilst Natasha was mindful of your injury. "Detective, I never knew you cared."

You chuckled slightly before your nose almost touched hers, your hand lightly patting against her tie. "No bulletproof vest."

Natasha's grin fell. "What?"