Marvel One-Shots

Romanogers (Romanoff + Rogers)

Title: The Art of Flirting (or Lack Thereof)

Steve and Natasha were sitting by the Avengers’ training grounds, the sun just beginning to set. They’d spent the afternoon sparring, each pretending not to notice how close the other was standing, or how their hands would brush when they traded weapons.

Finally, Natasha turned to him, taking a deep breath to muster her courage. With a dead-serious expression, she said, “Steve… I value you almost as much as my knives.”

Steve blinked, a little thrown. “Uh… thank you?”

She nodded, as if she’d just delivered the most heartfelt confession in the world, then leaned over to Clint, who had been listening from the other side of the bench, pretending to be engrossed in sharpening an arrowhead.

“Clint,” she whispered, “how was my flirting?”

Clint choked on a laugh, then whispered back in disbelief, “That was flirting?”

“Yes!” she hissed defensively. “My knives are important to me. Comparing him to them is, like, the highest compliment I could give!”

Clint snorted. “Nat, you basically just told Captain America that you care about him as much as a drawer full of pointy metal.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Okay, that’s… a very limited interpretation.”

“Is it, though?” Clint whispered back, barely holding in his laughter. “You might as well have compared him to your toaster.”

Meanwhile, Steve was glancing between the two, raising an eyebrow. “Everything good over there?”

Natasha turned back to him, totally calm, like she hadn’t just staged a whole whispered crisis. “Yep. Just, uh… enjoying the view.”

Steve looked more confused. “Right… because it kinda looks like you’re plotting something.”

Clint had to bite down hard on his knuckle to keep from laughing, whispering again to Natasha, “Next time just tell him he’s as reliable as a tactical vest. Same message, fewer murder vibes.”

Natasha glared. “Fine. And how would you flirt?”

Clint shrugged with a grin. “I’d tell Laura she lights up my day brighter than a sun.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “That’s sappy.”

“Yeah, well, at least she wouldn’t be wondering if I thought she was as thrilling as a combat knife,” Clint retorted.

Natasha let out an exasperated sigh, glancing back at Steve, who was still giving them both that confused-but-amused look.

She finally muttered, “Alright, maybe I’ll try something more… obvious.”

Clint gave her a supportive pat on the back. “Good call. And hey, if he’s still clueless… just throw a knife at him. He’ll take the hint eventually.”