The Curious Encounter in East Meadow - Blackhill

Chapter 9 - The Front Porch

Who are you?

The scenes from earlier that night kept replaying in her head as Natasha stared into the dark. She was alone, sitting on the floor of the utility closet, hiding. She tried to get her mind to calm down but to no avail. The whole night felt like a blur ever since the moment she'd pressed her favorite dagger against Robin's throat.

Nothing seemed to make sense. Natasha let out a frustrated groan as she rubbed her thumbs against her temples to try and alleviate the migraine that was getting worse by the minute. How could she have not known? How could she have missed all the signs? That part of Robin that she could never seem to figure out? Guess she finally got her answer.

Letting out a long deep breath, Natasha leaned against the wall and stretched out one of her legs. It hit something, clinking it against the metal shelf beside it. Natasha picked it up. It was half a bottle of scotch. The one from the day when they first kissed. No one had bothered to move it since. Natasha twisted the cap open and took a sip. It tasted exactly the same, yet it now burned in a completely different way.

She should have let it go that day in the closet, when Robin had said she was straight and had pushed her away. She shouldn't have tried a second time. What did she expect? What could she expect? Afterall, this was what it meant to be a spy, an assassin, a Black Widow. There could never be anything real in her life. Not twenty years ago, and definitely not now. Whatever this thing was with Robin, it was not for someone like Natasha.

Robin...

Natasha had had the good sense to grab her laptop on her way into the closet. She flipped it open and started typing. It took her all of five minutes to hack into the CIA system and pull up the profile on one of their undercover agents - Maria Hill. Canadian teenage pop star my ass. It was her own fault for entrusting the newbie agent with the initial report - SHIELD really needed to hire better people.

Agent Maria Hill. Undercover as Robin Scherbatsky since September 19th, 2005. Mission target Barney Stinson, senior officer at Goliath National Bank. Suspected dealings with terrorist groups in East Asia.

Natasha quickly read through the latest progress reports. Looked like it really was just a coincidence that they'd both ended up here in East Meadow. It shouldn't have mattered then, Natasha told herself. As long as she wasn't here to sabotage her mission, it didn't really matter if Robin was really Robin or if she was someone else. This really had no right to sting so much.

She knew she had been a little obsessed with Robin, but she had convinced herself it was just physical. That she just really wanted to sleep with her because she was hot. She was doing so well, making sure to keep it casual and fun. Everything was fine until reality kicked her in the nuts, showing her how every single one of her smiles, every butterfly in her stomach, every ounce of happiness she'd felt in the past month was a lie.

The moment she found out, it was like something snapped in her brain. She didn't understand why she did what she did. She never lost control during sex, whether it was for a mission or for personal recreational fun. And she very rarely reached climax with someone else in the room. Yet both had happened, a few hours ago, right upstairs in Lily and Marshall's guest bedroom in the middle of East Meadow, Long Island, with Robin. No. With Maria.

Maria Hill. Staring at her official CIA issued photo on her computer screen, Natasha's mind involuntarily drifted back to their heated scenes. The taste of those lips. The anger and frustration in those blue eyes. The sensitive spot right behind her ear. Her moans and muffled screams. The tightness and warmth inside of her.

Natasha's hand travelled absentmindedly to the bruise under her collarbone. She'd had much worse injuries on other missions. Bullet wounds and broken bones, punctured lungs and life-threatening burns. But when Maria was trying to leave those bruises on her, it truly hurt. She ran her own thumb across the bruise, just like Maria did. Her heart clenched slightly at the memory of how gentle her touch had been on her skin.