#natsharon

It’s 2:14 a.m.

Sharon jolts awake at the faint sound of her window opening.

Instinct kicks in. Her hand is already reaching for the pistol tucked under her pillow. She stands, silent, and peers through her blinds.

Natasha Romanoff. Carrying.. something fluffy in one hand.

Sharon slides the window open. “Natasha. What the hell—”

Natasha swings one leg inside, totally calm. “Shhh. You’ll wake the neighbors.” She sets down a tiny black kitten, who immediately bolts under Sharon’s couch.

“…Is that a cat?” Sharon blinks.

“Her name’s Liho. She needed a home. You’re perfect.” Natasha brushes some stray fur off her jacket like this is completely normal spy protocol.

Sharon runs a hand down her face. “You broke into my apartment at two in the morning to… give me a kitten?”

Natasha shrugs, lips twitching. “Couldn’t exactly walk her through the front door. Rogers would’ve had questions. He's more observant than you'd assume.”

Sharon stares. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe. But she’ll help sell your cover.”

The kitten chooses that moment to crawl out and mewl at Sharon’s feet. Sharon sighs, scooping her up automatically. “This is ridiculous.”

Natasha, already slipping back onto the fire escape, smirks. “You’re welcome, Kate.”

And she’s gone.