this is what i am now...

She was good with that smile — captivating, hypnotizing.. That look in her eye where he knew that the night would be not - at -all boring.           ”But you know me, if I don’t incur someone’s wrath           then the night is clearly not complete for me.”  He said tongue pressed against his cheek with a smile.            ” Oh would you now? Then I guess for your sake             I should be a good boy.”  His tone was teasing but pleasant as he snagged her glass to give her that refill. If it got him a little bit of time with Red? Then he’d do it.                                  ” If you find yourself unable to keep it.                                   I know where to find you.” 

Her smile never faltered, genuine at least in its appearance. And perhaps it was real, for him, more than it would be for one of their patrons. Her fingers grasped the now filled glass as she brought it to her lips with a wink.

       "Now, I don't believe I said anything about being a good boy."

The sixteen year old could probably list the number of times that she’d heard a kind word from her father — count them all on one hand truthfully. But right now that was the furthest thing from her mind. On Emery’s mind right now was the  fact that she was away from her father, that she had someone to seemed to approve of her, that had helped to defend her, and was giving her that thing she’d craved since her mother died.

The thought of being called anything other than the name which she’d been assigned at birth actually caused Emery to stop in mid stride, near panic setting over her bruised and battered  features.

          “Ah’ve ne’er been called anyt’ing else.”

Except whatever derogatory thing that Jack might have thought up for that day. Emery remained still as she mulled Natasha’s question over seriously.

            “Mah middle name is Petra.             Et means ‘rock.’”

Announcing her name Emery found her stride again, even as her gimp leg tried to give her trouble. Less than six months ago she’d fallen from a ship and broken her right leg in three places. She’d also decorated her back with a nasty cut, nicely scarring now. Straightening her shoulders Emery fought to keep her steps level and her chin straight even as her body begged her  to not force more than it could bear in its currently disheveled state.

Natasha offered her another broad smile as they continued the discussion of names, nodding at the suggestion offered by Emery in regards to her other name, thoughtful for a moment before she responded.

                 "Rock, it's a good name -- it means you're strong, that you                     can withstand anything. Better than any name I've heard."

It wasn't a lie, necessarily. Names were more potent if they meant some- thing, and the meaning of something strong -- something that could pro- tect seemed like an important thing for Emery to have, something she'd seemingly had little of thus far. And support was something that was too often taken for granted. Nodding once again, she smiled, head tilting ever so slightly as though in thought as they continued along the path.

                            "I like it, Petra. It suits you, you know?"

     The Winter Soldier is efficient, but killing machine though he may have been, now he’s just… well, what is he? A shell, full of mechanical parts that obey orders, but with the cognizance of his past. He knows who she was, even what their connection was. He knows that they were no longer in the same habitat that had incubated their relationship, and he knows that they have fought on opposing sides multiple times. More than anything, he knows that his orders are absolute.

                                And yet?

     He can practically feel her moving in. The experiments they’ve done on him, the enhancements from Hydra mean that he can very nearly hear the blood rushing in her veins, he can see her sillhouette even in the dark. He can reach out, grab the chair, and break her dominant hand in about three seconds and keep her disarmed.

                                But he’s not really in danger, is he?

                    And his orders…

     He grabs the music box and throws it to the ground, not even flinching as it smashes spectacularly and sends shards in all directions, including towards his hands and face. In about 2.3 seconds, he’s out the window and running.

                    He has to for now.

                                Orders.

     But she stirs something in him and he wants to know what. Meanwhile Death waits with open arms, so curious to see it all play out that he doesn’t even bother to interfere. But just in case the Black Widow tracks the Soldier back to the den, he’ll wear a different mask for now.

     Her body is still on high alert when the crash happens somewhere to her right, and she can feel the backlash of it in the form of debris flying, hitting her arms and legs as it does. And then ---- silence. It's the silence that worries her, the lack of attack.

Someone has managed to get her attention and while she wants to believe, with every fiber of her being she wants to believe it's him, it seems improbable.

                          But not impossible.

     Once she's sure that whoever had been existing in the same space with her unseen is gone, Natasha flips on the switch so that light floods into her small apartment, stretching over to illuminate the source of the destruction. It's exactly what she'd suspected, and the sight of the box smashed on the floor does nothing to alleviate the growing dread within her body,

                nor the chill that crawls its way down her spine.

    For a long moment she stares at the splintered wood and ruined artwork that lays across the floor, and makes no move to pick any of it up. While it seems like an eternity has passed since the moment she'd walked in the door, in reality it's only been several seconds, and with renewed determination and no hesitation her eyes dart toward the window, and then she's off -- following after a ghost, wondering if he's who she'll truly find at the end of this endeavor,

" Considering the circumstances — beer is just fine." Jenna flopped. “See, this is why we’re friends. That and we gingers need to stick together. I’ll be damned if I’m letting blondes run this planet.” 

                    "Good ---- beer it is, then.                       Oh, is this why we're friends ? "

Her tone was completely teasing. But she gave the other woman a look of false offense before letting a grin take over her features.

Sister: steam-powered dildos oh my god!

Me: but that sounds really impractical..

Roommate: i mean how else do you think they did it back then?

           ”  If we keep this up we will be passing compliments           back and forth all night, and then we might have           bored patrons on our hands, and you know how they get           when they are not entertained.”  Though the faintest of smiles did brush her lips allowing herself to look up from her , what she would call, chaotic mess.           ” I would never let that happen to you. Not with pipes like            those. Even if you couldn’t sing I’m sure you could             bring in customers. Smile, pass off a drink, you’d have            their attention.” 

She rolled her eyes at Rose, playful as it was, before giving her a smile that was more genuine than most.

                    "Okay, okay. I get it --                       'go get your sexy ass ready, Natasha,'

she said in a terrible impression of the other woman's voice. It was all in fun, at least, and she winked at Rose as she picked up her clutch from the edge of the bar.

He didn’t get the idea that dates had to be such big things. What was the big deal about them? You like a person you ask them to hang out. It doesn’t always mean going out on the town, does it?  He didn’t know exactly what was normal.  "You’re welcome, my lady. " He tried to pull off a rusty British accent, but instead it came out horrible. More like a mix of a confused Australian  lost in Brooklyn.   When she replied to him in said language he blinked, brow up. ” … Yeah I said I like it, didn’t say I know it.” 

The smirk that tugged at the corner of her mouth was smug and quick before she  shrugged once more,  going to fill  the pot with water and place it on the stove. A moment later and she was work- ing on chopping some onions, glancing up at him periodically.

            "Well, that's alright. I didn't say anything important."

With a quiet chuckle she went back to the task at hand, frowning when she discovered they only had canned tomatoes left, but fig- uring it was better than nothing, and she put some oil in the skillet that sat on another burner on the stove, and let it heat as she pre- pared some garlic as well, looking up at him with a look of mock concern.

                    "You're not a vampire or anything, are you ?"

If there was one thing at which Emery was good, it was that she was a quick learner. There were reasons behind this, the first and most prominent being was that the faster she learned something the less likely she was to take a backhand across the face,  compliments of a father who believed he should only have to explain something once. The second was that Emery wanted to learn. The more she learned the more she felt free. What she was learning with Natasha helped reinforce that feeling of freedom.

Natasha was the closest thing that Emery had had to family in a long time and Emery trusted the older girl. Enough that she was less likely now to flinch away when Natasha reached out in any manner. Smiles were more likely to crop up across Emery’s face at random times than ever before. It was a good feeling to know that when things got bad, she always had Natasha.

           ”Dun tell meh yer afrai’.”

The grin across Emery’s face now was positively smug and prideful as she turned to walk toward the kitchens with Natasha.

              “Ah’ll agree tae t’at.”

Her eyes widened in false offense at the younger girl's assumption -- even if it was only in teasing -- and she brought a hand to her chest as though she was truly  and deeply hurt by the  implication that  Natasha would ever be afraid.  And in truth,  fearlessness  was something  that was  meant to be  ingrained into  the girls of the  Red Room,  and while not  always  successful,  she felt  that she  was at  least  somewhat im- pervious to the feeling of being afraid.

But perhaps there was no such thing as true fearlessness, after all, be- cause she often found herself afraid of losing the people close to her, like she'd once lost her family. And yet now she'd found a new family, at least part of one in Emery, and there was a part of her that was both terrified of losing her, and determined to make sure that wouldn't happen.

With a grin to break the expression of shock at the idea that she'd be afraid to take the girl on, Natasha shook her head.

                  "You wish I was afraid of you, little sister."