For Natasha

[jetpacking]

[The idea of missions is different now since they've all had to go off the grid, but none of them are exactly content sitting idle. Today's mission however had gone sideways very quickly. Somehow they'd all gotten out with their lives, a small favor, and eked out a win. If you can call it that. The thing with being fugitives from -- well, is it even the law so much as the world at this point -- the law is that they don't have a home to return to at the end of the day. Sometimes the best they can do is a rundown safe house.

And honestly Sam has never seen a better place in his life. He's exhausted, bruised and aching from the fight, but alive. He'll take it.

They'd wound up scattered, and it's only him and Natasha that have taken refuge in this particular location.] You want the shower first? I'll see what options we have for dinner. Might have to get creative. No guarantees on anything gourmet.

[It'll be whatever dry goods and canned goods that are stashed away in the cupboards. Sam will do his best.]

Comments

[expionage]

[What Sam doesn't know is that this is pretty much how Natasha worked before S.H.I.E.L.D. Life as a Russian spy wasn't as glamourous as Bond movies made it seem. It was a lot of sleeping in dirty places, trying to sneak into government buildings, lying, stealing, and hiding from everyone. Sometimes everyone was even your handler.

As she steps into the safe house, she looks around. It's definitely better than some of the places she lived before the KGB took her in for training. And she doesn't see any cameras or microphones that are obvious, which is always a bonus.

As he talks about a shower, she can feel the dirt and grime on her skin and hair and the pull of sore, bruised muscles.]

I don't expect gourmet. I'm fine with "edible". I'm not a prima donna.

[If she had been, her life would have been much worse. She's heard and seen the horrors that the Russian ballet has always been.]

I'll be quick.

[She heads to where she thinks there's a bag of stashed clothes and rummages through it for something to wear after a shower. The fact that this place has working plumbing at all is a miracle.]

Try not to burn anything while I'm gone.

[jetpacking]

[It's true. He's a soldier, not a spy. He's used to rougher accommodations, but with orders and organization behind it. In any case, they'll both manage to get by here.]

No promises!

[He calls out with a grin, waving the can of Chef Boyardee that he just found. This actually won't be that bad; he remembers having this when he was a kid, usually when his parents trusted him and his sister enough to fend for themselves as young teenagers. He can cook the hell out of some canned ravioli. He finds green beans too. Look at that. Downright balanced.

And a sleeve of fig newtons. Dessert.

He'll even have the table set and a couple candles lit by the time Natasha makes her way out -- as much of a flourish as he can manage.]

[expionage]

[Nat comes out of the shower about ten minutes later, feeling more like a human being than in the last twenty-four hours, wearing a man's tank top, jogging pants that are practically molded to her ass and legs and nothing else. She doesn't care what she looks like, so much that she's clean again.

She looks around and then gives him a small smile before affecting a thick Russian accent that isn't so far removed from what she sounded like before being forced into voice training.]

Typical American decadence. Green beans and small fig cookies. This is why you will lose Cold War.

[jetpacking]

Hey. If we lose, we're losing with style.

[Sam informs her before moving to pull out a chair and gesture. Sit, Natasha. He's being a full on gentleman right now.]

Now sit and eat your Chef Boyardee.

[Once she's seated, he'll take his own chair. He's starving honestly, so anything edible would more than suffice right now.]

[expionage]

Is there such a thing?

[Losing is still losing, no matter how it happens. And she's definitely been under the boot of the 'winner' far too many times to vocalize.

When he pulls out the chair for her, she shakes her head at the manners being used. Usually those who try to do that think she'll sleep with them. So sad for them she usually ends up beating them up and extracting data out of them before leaving them to themselves.]

You know, I don't think I've actually had this before. Isn't it typically for children?

[She'll still sit, because like Sam, she's very hungry and will eat anything that will fill her belly.]

[jetpacking]

Style, grace. Sure. Not always fun, but there's such a thing. Battles aren't wars, after all.

[But he gets it too. Too many losses have consequences and costs that are too heavy to bear.

Hell, so dot he victories sometimes. They're living a little bit of both of that right now, with this life on the run.]

Children. Stoned college students. Broke bachelors. It's a versatile meal.

[He's already digging in once his ass is in his chair though.] Don't think I've had it since I was a teenager.

[expionage]

[She doesn't even answer that. Her life has been one war from another. There's always a war going on, and the life of someone who is so versatile means she can't escape it.

So, the remark about style and grace does strike something inside of her. She likes to do things a certain way because she likes order and most of the time it's achievable, if she's not paired up with someone who is pure chaos like most of the other Avengers.]

In Russia, it was beans. [She takes a small bite, eating slowly so that her stomach doesn't roil at the thought of all the meals that were composed of only beans.] The thing we heard all of the time is that you must be grateful for what the government managed to get to us from the bread regions or the countries willing to trade with Soviets.

[She knows that now the scarcity was mostly a control tactic used by the government, but it wasn't exactly easy to find that information out when the government comrades were living like fat cats while the peasants continued to starve. Not much of a change, if she's honest, between Imperial Russia and the Soviet Union. New name, new rules, same bullshit in the end.]

I've had worse. Have you let Steve cook for you yet?