Bed of Roses [N. Romanoff]

Chapter 7

Bailey sat at the edge of her new bed, soaking in all the memories she had from the past few days.

She had gotten ready for Tony's celebration party, but was too scared to attend until it ends. When this party ends, will her time with the new group end as well? Will everyone go back to what they're supposed to be doing? Will Nat go out into the world once more?

She couldn't help but let the questions and thoughts cloud her mind, and she didn't know what to do about it. It didn't help that every outfit she put on, she would judge every aspect. For the oddest reasons, Bailey wanted to impress Natasha Romanoff, and maybe even the team. She felt that she could do something to convince the Widow to stay, and keep the team as a whole.

With a sigh she stood up and walked into the hallway with a small wave of confidence helping her take each step.

"Jarvis, you think I should add a jersey? Is it going to be cold?" she nervously asked, but received no answer in return.

"Jarvis?" she called out once more, but after getting ignored she figured the A.I is probably trying to just get her out of her room.

"You know what, I'm just gonna quickly get a jacket-" she turned to walk back into her room, but knocked into the chest of a tall figure.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd show up," Steve gave her a pointed look.

"Crowds aren't really my thing," she gave a shrug.

"That's the biggest lie if I've ever heard one," he crossed his arms over his chest, and blocked her from the door to her room.

"That doesn't even make sense," Bailey whispered and shook her head.

Steve raised an eyebrow, and then ducked his head to the direction of the party.

"After you," he held out his hand for her to walk in front of him.

"Don't stare at my ass," she growled, and strutted off.

People were laughing and chatting, as the cheesiest music played in the background, the kind that left people finger-snapping. Drinks were being served from the main bar, and groups of people huddled around to share amazing stories.

"Bailey, I'd like you to meet Sam Wilson," Steve led her by the small of her back to a Darker Man with a flirtatious smile dancing on his lips to the rhythm of the music.

"Nice to meet you," she shook his hand.

"I've heard plenty about you," he greeted her, barely loud enough for her to hear over the music.

"Drink?" Steve offered her a beer bottle in his hand.

"Oh, no thanks," she politely declined, and turned back to face Sam.

"Big place he's got here, hey? Stark's sporting all the new gadgets," Sam complimented.

"Yeah, I feel it's his inner ego needing to shine and show off, but that works too," they both laughed, and Sam took a gulp of his beer.

"I need a partner, wanna play?" Steve tapped her shoulder and beckoned to the pool table behind them.

"I'd much rather watch you and Wilson get your asses kicked," She laughed and took a seat, ready to cheer on the boys.

"I've said it many a-times before, 'butt'," he corrected her, and took the first shot to break the triangle of balls.

"Right. Sorry, you don't like that type of language," she joked and only received a glare in return.

"Stark's rubbing off on you."

"Wouldn't necessarily call that a bad thing," she looked around at everything around her, this being all hers would only ever be a fantasy.