𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 - 𝓑𝓾𝓬𝓴𝔂 𝓑𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼 [1]

13. {Speeches and Prenups}

As the night wears on and the birthday celebrations continue, you find yourself engrossed in conversation with Natasha, catching up on each other's lives and reminiscing about past missions. The atmosphere is lively, with laughter and chatter filling the air as everyone enjoys the festivities.

Suddenly, a waiter approaches with a single drink on a tray, presenting it to you with a courteous smile. You accept the drink without a second thought, assuming it's just another round from the bar staff catering to the party.

However, Natasha's sharp observation catches your attention, and you notice the puzzled expression on her face as she watches the exchange. When you take a sip from the drink, she leans in closer, her voice laced with curiosity and concern.

"Who keeps sending you drinks?" Natasha asks, her tone firm as she searches your eyes for an answer.

You're taken aback by her question, momentarily confused by her insistence. "What do you mean?" you reply, furrowing your brow in confusion. "I thought they were just part of the service here. This place is pretty upscale, after all."

Natasha shakes her head, her expression adamant. "No, someone would have to be ordering those drinks specifically for you to have them brought to the table like this," she explains, her gaze unwavering as she waits for your response.

"Oh..." You respond, feeling a tad sheepish but also somewhat disappointed, and you carefully set the drink down, earning another quizzical glance from Romanoff. "They could be poisoned," you offer as your rationale for declining any more alcohol, and she rolls her eyes playfully, taking the drink for herself.

"Y/N, I understand we're spies and must remain vigilant at all times, but if someone were trying to poison you tonight, given the amount I've seen you consume, you'd likely be unconscious by now," she remarks, casually sipping from the straw as you recline in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest lightly.

"Hope you choke, Romanoff," you retort with a hint of jest, and she raises the glass, winking at your response, eliciting a smile from you.

"So, we've been catching up for an hour or two now, and not once have you brought up the fucked-up craziness that is you and James Buchanan Barnes?" Natasha inquires after finishing your drink, placing it on the table and plucking the cherry garnish to enjoy.

You maintain an impassive expression, arms still folded. There was a deliberate reason you hadn't mentioned him since your chat with Steve; you simply didn't want to talk about him anymore. Yet, with Natasha, discussing yours and Barnes' escapades used to be the highlight of your days, or any encounter either of you had with someone. "He's been screwing other women," you counter bluntly, with a shrug, knowing you don't need to censor yourself with Natasha.

She leans forward, her expression betraying nothing as she discards the cherry stem into the glass before returning her gaze to you, her brow slightly furrowed. "And you're making that sound as though you are the woman in his life, Y/N?" She questions curiously, a twinge of a smirk gracing her lips as she settles back into her chair, her eyes still fixed on you.

You sit up abruptly, your brow furrowing in contemplation as your eyes convey a flicker of irritation. "Well, maybe I fucking should be, Nat!" you assert unexpectedly. If not for the liberating influence of the drink, you might have hesitated, startled by your own candor. But emboldened by the alcohol, you forge ahead with this impromptu outburst, even catching Natasha off guard. Her eyes widen in surprise, but she remains amused, nonetheless. 

Your impassioned tirade continues, the pulsating beat of the music drowning out your words, but Natasha and those nearby can still discern your sentiments crystal clear. "I've been in actual relationships shorter than the mess I'm in with him!" you declare, your frustration palpable in every word. "He fucks me around like I'm his! The only consistent in my life is the certainty that he and I will always end up infuriating each other enough to reach the same fucking end. It's fucked, Nat!"