#thirteenwidow

No one is nearly as afraid of her as they should be, although Natasha thinks that is because she makes oatmeal in the kitchen and Clint also keeps making her laugh. 

(They keep thinking she doesn’t have a sense of humor, which is…odd.) 

One person in particular is the subject of most of her observations, mainly because she was interesting and up and alert at seven a.m., which not even Coulson could boast. 

Agent Thirteen. 

She wasn’t known as anything else. Most people just nodded in her direction, or called her Thirteen. 

Fury has called her a “pest” but Nat thinks that he means it affectionately, because she doesn’t get in trouble for interrupting his lunchtime with her own lunchtime. She actually dragged him out of his office to eat on a bench with her. 

They talk about ordering different printers for some of the agents, she’s been noticing that a few of the buttons are getting sticky and someone accidentally ordered two-thousand copies of some sort of picture rather than the two hundred that they needed. 

She talks about how she found a great burrito truck off of some street near his house (Nat writes this down, because Fury never tells anyone any clues about his residency) and about her new towels. 

It’s mundane. Fury doesn’t usually do mundane. He once threatened a new agent with coffee-run duty when he barely mentioned a new sponge he got for the kitchen. 

With Agent Thirteen, he asks about thread count. 

Natasha notices more and more. 

She also hears about Thirteen’s missions. Apparently, most of her missions go picture-perfect, or about as picture-perfect as missions can get when it’s SHIELD and you have to be an heiress for some obscure east coast family. 

Thirteen has noticeable flaws. She is far from a perfect agent, or at least she is in Nat’s mind. 

But the Red Room does stuff like that. Natasha almost scoffs when Thirteen reveals that her favorite color is orange, because no one ever mentions orange as their favorite color, so it makes her stand out. 

The little things build up until people know exactly who you are. A lot of people don’t realize that, because they think as long as you don’t know their name, then you are fine. 

Natasha cannot count on two hands the number of men she has killed who have never once gotten a credit card, only use computers that run about twenty minutes slower because they’re for public use, and could probably wear tinfoil hats if they really did believe that their brain waves were being read. 

People have habits, and habits reveal far too much about your person. 

- 

Clint says she’s “interested” in Thirteen. 

“Am I?” Natasha asks, curled up on his window seat with coffee. She’s looking out at the rainy night, taking note of all the people who are still out and about. 

“Yes,” Clint says. “You haven’t paid as much attention to anyone else.” 

“Have you considered that she’s the most secretive? After all, everyone else tells everyone else their last name,” she says. 

“What you think is their last name.” 

“I’ll find it out eventually, sooner or later.” 

“That’s not it,” Clint says, sing-song tone raising around the entire apartment. “Besides, you haven’t even done your weird follow technique on Thirteen yet. Why not?” 

“She’s better at detection than you are,” Natasha lies, because Clint is actually one of the best, if not the best. 

“Bullshit,” Clint says. “You want to be her friend or girlfriend or something.” 

“Girlfriend is an awfully strong word,” Natasha says, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, feelings can be pretty damn strong,” Clint answers. “You want more coffee, or am I okay to wash out the pot?” 

“One more cup.” 

- 

Sharon knows that Natasha Romanoff has been watching her. She’s compiled a list of reasons, which Maria and Phil have vetted and said that the reasons were (mostly) ridiculous: 

1.) Natasha is going to try and overpower her and become the supreme agent of SHIELD, crippling the bosses and forcing a takeover. 

2.) She wants skincare tips, despite the fact that her skin is perfect and flawless. 

3.) ??? 

Sharon doesn’t have any more ideas other than that. 

Maria tells her that she is the “most stupid person on the planet, short of maybe Bill from Fourth Floor.” 

(Bill from Fourth Floor only has a job because of an isolated incident in 1985 that could have resulted in a lawsuit. If he gets fired or let go for any reason, then he takes the best goddamn coffeemaker they’ve ever had, because technically it’s not SHIELD property. They’re not risking the lawsuit.) 

((It should also be mentioned that Bill from Fourth Floor adamantly refuses to learn how to use a computer and thinks that Microsoft Word is the “Devil’s way of telling us that something sinister is going on upstairs” which is a very horrifying answer, yet an intriguing one.)) 

Sharon doesn’t know why she’s stupid, but it’s not like she can ask Fury, who avoids personal conversation as if it is his worst enemy, and it probably is. He’s been known to tell people that they’re getting “too close” when they ask how his day is going.

-

So she starts subtly watching Natasha back. Two can play at the game, after all.

Natasha is a hard one to watch, especially since she’s trying to watch Sharon. 

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” Coulson asks once, while she’s in his office stealing pens. “She won’t bite your head off.” 

“Of course she won’t, I’m not a prospective mate!” Sharon says cheerily. “But, I might talk to her. I want to figure out why she’s following me first, though.” 

Coulson gives her a look that she thinks is meant to be well-meaning, but mostly tells her that he thinks that she is being ridiculous. 

“You can find things out by talking. You can do that, Sharon.” 

“Sh,” she says, not at all serious, really. Coulson seems to know when is the time for her name and which is not. “You can tell me you’re right later.” 

-

They watch each other for three weeks. In these three weeks, they actually get the wrong sort of idea about each other. Natasha keeps trying to walk past her apartment building to see when she gets home, and Sharon is very confused as to why Clint leaves his windows open even when it’s October and freezing as shit. 

They miss each other, is what happens. 

This all culminates into a chance encounter at a coffee shop, and Sharon zeroes in on Nat. 

“You keep strange hours, Romanov.” 

“Could say the same of you, Thirteen.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You weren’t home until four in the morning last night,” she says. “You call that regular?” 

“Oh, like you were home at two in the morning?” Thirteen asks. 

“Wait. Are you…?” 

“Well I know that you are,” Thirteen says. “By the way, tell Clint to stop leaving the orange juice out.” 

“I will be doing no such thing.” 

“Could be beneficial.” 

“He cannot be babied. He will learn from his mistake.” 

“Nat…he’s twenty-seven.” 

“So? You can still learn.” 

“You shouldn’t have to.” 

Natasha laughs at that, and steps up to order her coffee. She also says to add “whatever this girl is having.” 

“Name for that?” the barista asks, and Thirteen says “Sharon.” 

“That your real name?” 

She blanches, and Nat knows she’s caught her.

She cracks up laughing as they get their coffee and take it outside, and she doesn’t stop laughing until Sharon wacks her on the shoulder. 

“I was under pressure to answer!” 

“Under pressure? From a barista?” 

“You wouldn’t get it,” Sharon says, huffing. 

Natasha laughs again, and smiles as she swipes both of their coffees from the counter. 

“Now, let’s run away together before the baristas discover more about your past, Sharon,” Natasha teases. 

Sharon flips her off. 

“Oh, fuck you. I’ll have you know I have it on good authority that you hold open doors for old ladies.” 

“I’m an assassin, I’m not heartless.” 

“I hate you.” 

“No you don’t,” Natasha says. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be following me.” 

“You don’t have to like someone to follow them.” 

“For a week,” Natasha says, taking a sip. “For a month? Sharon, you have to like something about me.” 

“And what, you don’t?” Sharon asks, face amused. “You followed me for longer, Nat.” 

“You’re calling me Nat?” 

“Natasha is a mouthful.” 

“Fine. I guess I like…your coffee creamers. Where do you get them?” 

“The grocery store, like a normal person,” she says. “We can go later, if you want.” 

“A grocery store date?” 

Sharon grins. 

“Sure. A date at the grocery store. Let’s run away to aisle ten after they find us kissing on aisle four.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Natasha says, smiling. “Tomorrow night work? Six?” 

“Seven?” 

“Works for me. Do you want to go to a restaurant for dinner or cook it?” 

“Hm…what would we make if we cook?” 

“Pizza rolls.”