#forensic scientist reader

Pulling yourself out of your brief reverie, though, you steadied your stance and threw it at the target on the wall, the point sticking just outside the concentric circles on the small pine backboard downrange.

You groaned, brushing the hair back out of your face with both hands and turning around to the instructor behind you. She laughed and shrugged.

“Might not be a bullseye, but you’re getting there. Your technique is much better. Now that you know what you’re doing, why don’t I get you a few more of those so you don’t have to keep walking to get it? And don’t worry, we’ll make sure to mark which knives are which so you don’t lose yours.”

You blew out a breath and put your hands on your hips, nodding while you paced in the narrow, yet long private room. One of a 24-hour shooting range you’d found not too far from your work that some of the cops would visit often to keep up on their skills.

“Yeah, that’s good. Thanks, Becca.”

She smiled. “No problem.”

Steve stood behind his office chair staring at the surveillance footage that played on his laptop screen as he continued to button his black dress shirt, fingers nimbly moving as they had thousands of times to help him get dressed. He slung the silk tie around his neck, expertly knotting it without even looking, his gaze avoiding the two penetrating ones from his friends perched on either side of the mahogany work surface, watching the scene with him.

“You know, she’s getting pretty good at that. Can at least hit near the target on purpose now.”

Steve finally tore his eyes from the screen to scowl at Sam but was quickly redirected by Bucky.

“Yeah, she is. She’s also draining our buddy’s pockets. You’re gonna go broke, punk.”

Steve met Bucky’s amused face with a stern look. “Good. I deserve to after all that I did to her. All the money in the world couldn’t properly fix it, but I hope she knows I’m sorry and will come around. I can wait.”

Bucky snorted, “Yeah, but your wallet can’t.”

Steve sighed, shrugging on his suit jacket and straightening out the lapels. “Bucky, she hasn’t purposely used any of my money. As far as she knows, she’s on a free trial at the range, and she’ll get billed at the end of the month. I can deal with it all then, and even so, I can afford to take that hit financially. Plus, she hasn’t used my card or been in one of the restaurants or shops a single time. But even if she had been draining my funds, would you not do the same for Bee?”

Steve’s best friend straightened up at that, his hand brushing contemplatively over the stubble on his face.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Just….don’t beat yourself up too much on this, alright?”

Steve gave no response as he adjusted his cufflinks.

Your arms shot up in the air in a silent cheer, commemorating a DNA match for the nearly unsolvable case that you and Scott had been working. As you spun around, finally lifting your eyes from your workbench, you caught a glimpse of the precinct through the cracks of the blinds in your window. The natural light that usually bounced across the white walls was long gone, meaning the sun had set. And you’d gotten in today before the sunrise. And now that you thought about it, you hadn’t eaten, either. As if on cue, your stomach grumbled and suddenly all you could think about was your next meal.

Not having eaten all day wasn’t entirely true. There was that one candy bar you had grabbed off Scott’s desk, but that was at the beginning of his shift, and he was long gone by now.

In fact, most of the detectives were gone, leaving a skeleton night crew and the other new forensic scientist sitting at his desk, passing time with a game of Tetris. No one worth asking to join you for a celebratory meal was left, so you guessed that meant dinner alone, yet again. Which was….fine. Everything was fine right now, because it needed to be, you needed to be. But perhaps you could get some good food in your system that was a little more than fine. You deserved it. Your work maintained quality and it was almost like your personal life hadn’t affected it at all.

You’d never been to this restaurant before, despite its proximity to your apartment, but you’d heard good reviews. It was only a short walk away, too, which was nice, because there was no way you were going to be fit to drive home after the way you needed to decompress.

As you came up to the glass doors and reached for the large wooden handle, the first thing you noticed was just how sharp and modern everything looked, yet somehow homey. Familiarity floated through the space just like the glow of the soft yellow lighting from strands of bulb lights that bounced off of the dark wood detailing and painted brick walls. The place was buzzing already, filled with a happy hour crowd, picking at tapas and upscale drinks, which sounded and smelled so good to your borderline hangry mind.

The bar was only about half full, luckily, giving you plenty of room to separate yourself from others as you slid onto one of the tall stools, arms reaching across the cool marble counter to grab the menu that a redhead was handing you. She gave a small smile, telling you she’d be back in a second as she served a couple of drinks to a waitress at the other end.

She made her way back over to you, eyes sparkling as a smirk tugged at the corner of her lip.

“Can I get you started with something?”

You clicked your tongue looking over the menu, seeing so many different wines, none of which strong enough for what you were feeling right now.

“What’s good? And….celebratory?”

She shrugged, tilting her head to look at the menu with you.

“Well, we’re known for our wines…” she looked up and met your eyes, “but you look like you need something better than that.”

She pushed her way back from the bar, turning around and reaching under the counter to pull out a stool.

“Now, the chef doesn’t love that I do this. Says it ‘doesn’t match with the Spanish theme,’ but no one can really argue….”

She reached for a bottle on the top shelf, climbed back down and set a glass in front of you, pouring the clear, yellow-tinted liquid while sliding a lime onto the rim.

“When it’s just so luxurious. Double shot of tequila. This one’s on the house, but I suggest you order something to eat with it. It’s gonna hit harder than you expect.”

You nodded, grabbing the glass and pulling it towards yourself. The volatile liquid pleasantly tickled your nose hairs. Whew.

“Good idea. Thanks…” you looked for a name tag, met with a blank, black shirt. She returned to you from setting the bottle back behind the bar and fished your sentence. “Nat.”

“Nat. Thank you, Nat.”

Four drinks in and six small dish plates piled to the side of you, your words were starting to slur together. The empty pit that had been chipping at your insides was almost fully filled again, from warm food and the action of the tequila. Almost.

With a final bite waving around in your hand, you caught the bartender’s attention as she switched your short-rimmed drink glass with a tall one of water.

Your lips inched themselves over the straw and you took a big sip before popping the final bite in your mouth.

The cold water running down your throat had you blinking into a little alertness when you swallowed, Nat’s bright eyes locking in on you.

“Everything okay?”

You rolled your eyes and blew out a breath that morphed into a dry chuckle, not wanting to directly answer her inquiry.

“You ever been in love, Nat? Or…. I guess… in… like?”

She shrugged with a light laugh, her smirk tugging the corner of her lip upwards once again. “Yeah, I’ve got a guy.”

“What’s his name?” You passed the glass back and forth between your fingertips, eyes not straying too far from the fancy bar top.

“Depends. We talking best friend type of love or romantic? Because I’d give you two different names.”

You nodded, taking another sip before you looked at yourself in the mirror that sat behind the liquor shelves over her shoulder. You looked tired. “Yeah, I get that. I feel like I was almost getting somewhere with the second one, but now sometimes I feel like I have neither. Everything has changed. Both were liars. But is it wrong if I still care? That I don’t want them to just…be out of my life even though I’m actively distancing myself?”

She set the glass she was drying down on the counter and looked you in the eyes. “I’d say it would be wrong if you didn’t care. Lying sucks, but sometimes it’s necessary to protect the ones we love the most. And I’m sure they still love you. Some part of you deep, deep down knows that. Everyone’s got their reasons.”

You grumbled a little at that. “Sounds like something a liar would say….” She shrugged, then urged you to continue. “But yeah, they’ve been reaching out a little, but… I don’t know. I don’t want to crumble so easily. I can handle this by myself, ya know? But somehow, everything that I’m putting so much focus on right now is still unsteady. I’m feeling like the opposite of Midas with all of this. I’m…ssssidam.”

She laughed. “Well, Sidam. Sometimes we know what we want, even when we try to fight it by putting focus somewhere else. Sometimes it’s right in front of our face, and sometimes we have to search for it. But what I’ll say is that anything that falls in our laps is a blessing. Shouldn’t be taken lightly if it works that well. The core of a relationship is the biggest thing. How you are with that person when it’s just the two of you. Away from the rest of the world. All those other bits are secondary. They can be ironed out later.”

You heeded her words, but honestly, they were just too truthful for you right now. Sure, you’d thought of ideas similar to those, but never dared to say them out loud. Before you could gather your thoughts enough to respond, though, you heard a commotion behind you. Someone had walked through the restaurant door, garnering some attention. You heard requests for autographs and pictures. Only a few, though, before it quickly died down and the there was a presence next to you. Directly next to you. In a bar with several empty seats. Weird.

You looked up, straight ahead at the mirror that backed the shelves of liquor of the bar. Who was right at your side? Someone it seemed everyone you grew up around was trying to shove you towards for as long as you could remember, even your own parents: Lucas Bell.

He turned his head and smiled at you as you continued to glare at his reflection, remaining silent. With a sigh, you finally turned your body to face his.

His overly white smile gleamed at you as he said your name.

“Fancy meeting you here! I wasn’t sure if you got my flowers. You didn’t say anything. I’ve been hoping we could meet up.”

You unsuccessfully fought the urge to roll your eyes as you took another sip of your water.

“Listen, Lucas. That was nice and all, but I’m going through a time, okay? I really don’t have the patience for you, for this, right now.”

His lips closed, hiding his teeth, but he continued to grin, nonetheless.

“I have the patience for you, though. That’s gotta count for something. Misery loves company, right?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion at his relentlessness. Was your face not as aversive as it used to be? The tequila must’ve been messing with your rbf muscles.

“I don’t think this is what the saying meant.”

You pointed between the two of you, and he just shrugged.

Before you could open your mouth to further tell him off, though, he held up a finger as he knocked on the bar for Nat’s attention. She turned around, looking at him with a raised brow, but not saying anything.

“I’ve got an order for Bell. I called ahead.”

He turned back to you and sighed.

“Anyway, what I wanted to do was ask you to dinner. You and I have known each other so long. Don’t you think that we would look great together, too? Both of us, taking care of the city in our own ways. A power couple!”

For a second, bile began to rise up in your throat, and you weren’t sure if it was from the sight of his fake tan that was really popping to you now, the offer, his floral cologne, or the several double shots you’d consumed. But everything was so screwed up, that you didn’t think it could get any worse. Maybe your mom really was right, and this was worth a shot. So before that idea could even get vetted by any hint of higher-level functioning, the words tumbled out of your mouth.

“You know what? Sure. Yeah, whatever. When do you want, this weekend?”

He winced, yet his face still seemed like it was trying to be performatively handsome. One shouldn’t have to try that hard. “No can do. I anchor the evening news on the weekends. I’ve got availability Monday evening, though. I can pick you up after work. It’ll be nice, yeah?”

You opened your mouth to answer but before you even got a word out, Nat was returning with his to-go bag and his phone was ringing. He scrambled to answer it.

In seconds, he was already walking backwards towards the door, phone pressed up to his ear. “Duty calls. Gotta go catch this story. But I’ll see you then!”

You rolled your eyes at the whole thing before resting them on the heels of your palms. When you finally sat up again, you signaled Nat to bring another drink.

As soon as you downed the last shot of what likely should’ve been a sipping tequila, you checked your watch, and groaned, dreading the next day that you’d have to go into work. When you looked up to ask for the bill, it was like Nat apparated before you.

“So what was that about? Hot date?”

You scoffed while opening up your wallet and setting your card down on the receipt. “I don’t know about hot, but yeah. It would seem like a date.”

She looked down at where you placed the plastic and shook her head. “We can’t accept that card, got another?”

You sighed, sifting through to find another, but before you could pull it out, she piped up again, “Nope. Not that one, either. One more try. What’s that black one?”

You looked up at her through your eyelashes, questioning how keen her sight was and if that really was the only option. She urged you on, holding out her hand as you tentatively handed over Steve’s black card and watched her go back to the billing station where a waitress, a blonde who had been passing through all night, was leaning.

You watched as they exchanged words before the blond began strutting over to you. Her hair was braided in a crown around her head, the occasional strand framing her face that held a similar smirk to Nat’s. She began shuffling and organizing the well of the bar before she spoke to you.

“Heard you’ve got a date. Does this mean Steve finally got the courage to make an actual move?”

At that, your eyes went wide, and so did Nat’s. You had never mentioned Steve this whole night. You made sure of it. She rushed over to you, shoving the blond out of the way with a deadly side eye. “You’ll have to excuse my sister. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

You laughed dryly, grabbing the check from her hands. “Sure she does. It all makes a lot of sense now. The atmosphere, your constant checking in on me.”

She nodded. “And we’ve been instructed to not take your money.”

“Yup. That, too,” you breathed out as you signed the check and slid it back to her. “Well, thanks for at least a few hours away from everything.”

Without lifting your head, you slipped your wallet away and slid off the stool, heading straight for the door to go back to your apartment. Nat stood there watching you with the intent to later ensure that you got home safely. She looked at the check in her hands and the black ink scrawled on it: your attempt at Steve’s signature and a 300% tip.

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Bonus A/N: Meet Number Four (and Yelena)