In Your Eyes // Steve Rogers

44

We took no offense to Steve's decision to spend time with Sharon instead of us. Sam and I, for the most part, only knew Peggy through stories. Steve needed to be with someone who knew Peggy. Sam and I granted him our blessing to do whatever he felt necessary. We were prepared to do anything for him to feel okay again.

I ended up having to leave Sam as well. The Vienna meeting approached faster than expected. I returned to the hotel room and dressed in a tight, short sleeved, white dress. Hopping around, sliding heels on my feet, I explained to Sam the directions to program my computer search for Barnes.

Once he achieved it, I opened a portal into the conference room of the upcoming U.N. meeting. No one seemed startled by my abrupt appearance.

There was one man standing at the window who eyed me. I did my best to ignore him.

"No matter how many outfits I've fought in, I will always prefer fighting in a dress," I said as I approached Natasha.

She turned. "Very freeing,"

"You're absolutely right."

"How's Steve?" she asked.

"Still putting on a show. Sam and I are doing our best to help. I did leave him with breakfast from France," I said.

"I'd love to see what's for dinner," she teased.

"I'm tempted to bring them lunch right now," I muttered, glancing around the room. "I thought I was going to not be anxious about today."

"And then you got here," said Natasha.

We shared a look of understanding. The future, our future, was minutes away from being decided. Common knowledge frightened us; the fate of the team.

"I suppose," interrupted a voice cautiously. It was the man from the window. "None of us are used to the spotlight."

"Well, it's not very flattering," said Natasha.

"You seem to be doing all right so far," he complimented. "Considering your last trip to Capitol Hill, I didn't think you'd be particularly comfortable in this company."

Natasha tried to hide her smirk. For the first time, I saw her flustered. "I'm not," she said coolly.

"That alone makes me glad you are here, Ms. Romanoff," he said.

I was busy staring at Natasha with inquiring eyes, desperate to address the minor sexual tension between the two.

The man turned to me. "And you are Ms. Clara Blake, if I'm not mistaken."

"That would be me," I agreed, flashing a kind smile. "You are?"

"Clara," snapped Natasha.

"It is not an issue, Ms. Romanoff. My father and I are not widely known by our faces. I am Prince T'Challa--"

"--of Wakanda, oh my God, I am so sorry, your highness. I had no idea," I rambled. I bowed, curtsied, panicked in front of him.

Natasha did her best to avert the attention from me. "You don't approve of all of this?"

"The Accords, yes. The politics, no. Two people in a room can get more done than a hundred," said T'Challa.

"Unless you are moving a piano," said another man.

"Baba," smiled T'Challa.

"Another royalty," warned Natasha in my ear. She sent me an annoyed look before throwing her fake smile on. "Your Highness," she greeted.

"Ms. Romanoff. Ms. Blake," greeted the King in return.

Without meaning to, I curtsied again. "Pleased to meet you, King T'Chaka. I think I speak for the entire team when we extend our apologies for what happened in Nigeria."