{Chapter: 95 - Spending Good Time With Natasha}
"Aiden…" she growled, jaw tightening.
"What?" He leaned in, voice lowered just enough to feel intimate, the edge of a smirk tugging at his lips. "You know I'm not really the boy-scout type. I came here to enjoy a drink, maybe flirt with someone out of my league, not punch ghosts and chase sticks buzzing with cursed energy."
She tilted her head, crossing her arms under her chest, which only made her posture more commanding. "You're a registered consultant with SHIELD. Title or not, you've got responsibilities. Or has the great Aiden turned into a coward who runs at the sight of a lady's little trouble?"
He gave a slow, sarcastic clap. "Beautiful, deadly and manipulative. You've truly got the full spy package."
"Flattery won't get you out of this," she snapped, though a faint smirk betrayed her amusement. "What kind of man sees a woman in danger and decides to run instead of help?"
Aiden leaned forward, his voice velvet-smooth, his tone shifting into something more teasing. "Well now, that depends on the woman. If we're talking about a helpless beauty, sure—maybe I'd leap into action. But if we're talking about you?" He grinned. "A woman trained in the Red Room—Russia's most ruthless intelligence program. A spymaster who's toppled regimes before breakfast, and happens to go by the name of a spider known for eating her mate after sex…"
He took a long, deliberate sip, letting the silence stretch with just the faintest hint of provocation in his eyes.
"…Then I'm pretty confident that woman can handle herself."
Natasha blinked once, then burst out laughing—dry and dark and just a little bit pleased. "You always know how to make everything sound like a compliment and an insult at the same time."
"It's a talent," he said with a wink. "But really, let's not pretend you need saving, Nat. You're the type of woman who is the danger. I'm just the guy with good beer and questionable morals."
"Then how about this…" she leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper, lips brushing the air between them. "Help me finish this little errand, and afterward, we disappear somewhere quiet. You bring the beer, I'll bring the danger."
Aiden gave a low whistle. "Tempting. But what if I say no?"
"Then I get the stick myself… and owe you absolutely nothing," she replied with a dangerous glint in her eye.
"Damn," Aiden muttered with a smile. "You really do know how to negotiate."
"Come on," she said, nudging his foot under the table. "Help me get the stick, and afterward, I'll let you buy me a real drink. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere… more private."
Aiden raised an eyebrow. "Trying to seduce me, Agent Romanoff?"
"If I were trying, you'd already be in my hotel room," she teased with a wink.
"So?" she asked, raising a brow, her expression unreadable. "Are you in?"
He sighed theatrically, finishing the last of his beer and setting the glass down with a soft clink. "Fine. You win. I'll help you snag the murder stick. But only because I find violent women wildly attractive."
Natasha chuckled as she stood, adjusting her jacket. "Careful. Keep talking like that and I might just take you up on the disappearing act after this is over."
"Oh no," Aiden muttered with mock dread. "The spider is flirting again."
She looked over her shoulder, lips curving into a sultry grin. "And you're still here. Who's really in danger, Aiden?"
He chuckled, the rich sound deep in his chest. "Alright, alright. What do you need me to do?"
"We wait until they leave," she said, finishing her drink. "Then we tail them. Fast, quiet, no blood—if possible. Stick's the priority."
Aiden nodded. "Easy enough."
But even as he agreed, his mind was already elsewhere. He'd seen that stick before—or rather, he would. It wasn't meant to end up with Natasha or SHIELD. Eventually, it would land in Phil Coulson's hands. But that was the future. Right now? That stick had value... and secrets.
Secrets he intended to uncover himself.
Natasha took another sip, eyes narrowing slightly. "So how's your new base coming along?"
"Slow. I need more people. Right now I've got an empire's ambition and a startup's workforce."
"Why not ask Nick? You know he'd help."
"Nick?" Aiden rolled his eyes. "Please. That man wouldn't give me a pencil without attaching a tracker and five favors owed. I'd rather build my base with toothpicks than owe him anything."
Natasha laughed softly, the kind of laugh that came with warmth and danger wrapped in silk. "You're impossible."
"And yet," Aiden grinned, "you keep coming back."
She arched a brow. "Maybe I like impossible men."
"Careful, Nat," he said, finishing his beer, "keep flirting like that and I might start thinking you're falling for me."
"Keep helping like this," she replied, standing up gracefully, "and maybe I will."
---
"They went out."
Inside the softly lit bar, the mellow hum of conversation filled the air, accompanied by faint music trickling from old speakers. The clinking of glasses added a rhythmic backdrop as two people sat tucked into a booth near the back. Aiden leaned back casually in his seat, nursing a glass of something amber. Across from him sat a striking red-haired woman—poised, composed, with a subtle gleam of amusement in her sharp green eyes.
They spoke in hushed tones, their words flowing naturally, with the ease of two people who shared a complicated familiarity. One, a man who had journeyed through galaxies; the other, a woman who had walked the tightrope of espionage, always on the edge of life and death.
To any casual observer, they could have been mistaken for lovers. Their body language, the occasional shared glance, the smirking exchanges—it all painted a convincing picture.
But nothing about Natasha Romanoff was ever accidental.
As the two others they'd been watching exited the bar and climbed into a waiting car, Natasha leaned toward Aiden. Her lips barely moved, but her voice was clear as a razor whisper.
"They're making their move."
Aiden drained the last of his drink, the burn of alcohol a distant afterthought. "Then let's follow."
He stood up, stretching slightly. Natasha rose with him and, without missing a beat, slipped her arm through his. She leaned gently against him, a smile playing on her lips.
So soft, so warm—too comfortable for coincidence.
Aiden's mind briefly wandered. Whoever designed Natasha's physique—be it fate, genetics, or a cruel god with a sense of humor—had truly outdone themselves.
But before he could dwell on the thoughts swirling in his head, Natasha's voice interrupted them like a bullet.
"Don't even think about it."
He blinked. "Think about what?"
She pulled him along, her smirk barely hidden. "Your face just betrayed every thought running through your head, big guy. And trust me, I've seen that look on men before they got a broken nose."
Outside, the street was quieter now. The car they were tailing was already pulling into traffic. The scent of wet asphalt and city grime lingered in the air as neon lights reflected off the puddles.
"Are you driving?" Aiden asked, glancing toward a nearby car rental.
"Me? I'm buzzed. What about you?" she replied, eyebrows raised. "Didn't you finish an entire bottle back there?"
"I have a high tolerance."
"So do I. Still doesn't mean I should operate heavy machinery."
They exchanged a look—half amused, half strategic.
"We could steal one," she offered coolly. "Just like the old days. No keys, no paperwork. Clean getaway."
"I've got something better."
Without further explanation, Aiden tugged her hand and led her down a side alley. It was narrow, flanked by rusted fire escapes and flickering wall lights. Natasha didn't resist—she was too curious.
"You planning on mugging me?" she teased. "Because I've been mugged by professionals, and you don't look like one."
Aiden gave her a half-smile. "Not quite."
He stopped at the dead end of the alley, where the shadows were thickest, and reached out to her. Natasha, without hesitation, stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist.
"Then what?" she asked, playful but sharp. Her instincts never stopped calculating.
"I'm taking you to fly."
A soft hum vibrated through the air. A dull emerald light pulsed around them, forming a sphere of translucent energy. The alleyway disappeared beneath their feet as the world around them blurred.
Natasha's eyes widened—but she didn't scream, or flinch. She simply adjusted her posture to maintain balance, eyes scanning the horizon as the cityscape shrank below.
"What is this?" she finally asked, tilting her head slightly. "No g-forces. No wind drag. My hair's not even moving."
"Is this your ability? This layer of energy feels so special" Natasha curiously asked. 'Did Aiden devour another special ability? However, I had not heard anything about Aiden except… him going on a trip out of earth.'
*****
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