𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞
In which an adventurous history professor gives herself to a lonely assassin and they find that life can be a great adventure.
post civil war - endgame
Natasha Rom...
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Rhea lived in her childhood home all her life, with the lovely brownstone left to her when her parents moved to Scotland after their retirement. It was old, though just enough to be cozy and charming. There were three bedrooms, all decorated with quilts from her mother after she decided that she needed a hobby.
The house had three bedrooms which meant one of her strange new guests will have to sleep on Rhea's very stylish but uncomfortable couch. Steve was the one to volunteer to squeeze himself under a fuzzy blanket and a pink quilt that had yellow ducks all over it on the white loveseat.
Rhea showed Sam and Natasha up the oak stairs to the guest bedroom. Sam was chatting up a storm about almost anything, Rhea's accent, England, how she could afford the house. Rhea simply responded with nods and hums of agreement.
The red haired woman was quiet, not just her voice but everything about her. The skilled assassins footsteps and breath seemed to be nonexistent. Rhea would have turned around multiple time to check if she was still following, if not for Sam trying to include her in the one sided conversation.
After showing her guests to their rooms, Rhea decided to try and get some sleep in her own bed and not think about her stupid decision to bring fugitives into her home. Rhea isn't even she why she did it, there was just an urge to help them. They have saved countless innocent lives, the least she could do was try and do the same for the three avengers.
The master bedroom of the house was spacious, without being overly large. It had wallpaper with little green and pink flowers all over it and a polished wooden bed frame. The sheets on the queen sized bed were white and comfy, made of warm cotton and feathers. In all truth, the room looked almost exactly as it had when Rhea's parents first purchased the home in the late 70's. The only new addition was a large bookcase filled to the brim with piles of books, some old and others new.
With the exhaustion from the day hitting her, the dark haired woman changed into an old shirt, sporting the logo of her work. Rhea pulled her hair back and climbed into bed. The woman tried to get some sleep with her head on her pillow and legs curled up to her chest.
As much as she tried, Rhea couldn't get any sleep. She could barely keep her eyes closed as her brain refused to slow. She tossed and turned but every position felt awkward and unnatural, Rhea was either too hot or too cold.
Eventually she decided that she would definitely not be getting any sleep that night. The Lawson woman thought it would be better to get a cup of tea and read a good book then to be unproductive and lay in bed.
Rhea searches for her glasses that she despised wearing, they were too nerdy and large for her face. However, she couldn't see without them and trying to make a kettle of tea, in the dark, with no glasses, seemed a little too unpredictable to her.
Rhea was just on the last step of the staircase when she realized that the kitchen light was on, giving off a soft glow in the dark night. She rounded the corner and saw a red haired woman sitting gracefully on her counter, with a knife that was definitely not meant for chopping vegetables in her hand.
Not sure how to approach the woman, Rhea awkwardly tried to make as much noise as possible to alert Natasha to her presence. However, she already seemed to know that the English woman was near, glancing quickly in her direction. The look was something that even Rhea, who was so good with people couldn't decipher.
"Having trouble sleeping?" There was an awkward pause when Natasha didn't answer. She just continued to study Rhea. "Well I was going to make a cup of tea, if you want one?"
At first it seemed as though there would be another empty response when the quiet woman answered in a raspy voice, "You got anything a bit stronger then tea?" There was a hint of a smirk on Natasha's face and it was calculated, forced to ease Rhea into believing that she was comfortable and relaxed, that she was dropping her guard.
Rhea knee that it wAsnt a real smile, but still felt prettygood that she had made Natasha Romanoff smirk. She wasn't sure why it made her feel the way it did, all warm with a light blush on her cheeks. Rhea ignored it and turned to open her liquor cabinet. The cannot was really her father's to use when he visited. Except for the occasional glass of wine, Rhea didn't really like the taste of alcohol.
"We have whatever your in the mood for really, I like to keep it stocked but I don't use it very much," Rhea tried to make sure that it didn't sound like she was a lonely alcoholic who lived in a house by herself. "My father loves whiskey and scotch, but if you aren't into that we have vodka-"
Rhea was cut off by Natasha's voice behind her, "How could I pass up a good vodka?" The words were thought out and carful, as if the res haired woman was daring her to challenge her.
"Ok! Umm- there are shot glasses in the cabinet behind you, could you grab some please?"
Natasha raised an eyebrow before doing just that. The glasses clinked together and were set down on the island in the middle of the kitchen. Rhea politely poured the clear liquid into the small glass, then slid it over to Natasha.
The woman took the glass but didn't move to drink it. She was starring at Rhea with a curious look in her eyes. As if Natasha was just as confused by her as Rhea was of the red haired woman.
Rhea broke eye contact and reached to the kettle. As she watches the water fill it, she felt Natasha's eyes on her. The stove lit and the water began boiling. Rhea was humming a song her mother sang when she was younger.
"That's a pretty song, where did you learn it?" Natasha asked. The ex-assassin genuinely wanted to get to know the woman across from her.
And so that's what they did. Rhea telling stories of her childhood or stories of her work. Natasha listening and learning about her passion for history and teaching. They both drank tea and vodka until sunrise.
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𝐤𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬! This chapter sucks but thanks so much for reading! Also I found this fan art on Pinterest- it's not mine so credit to the owner- right after I published this chapter and it looked exactly what I was imagining in this chapter imao
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