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"You know, the last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everybody else, we ended up disagreeing." Independent Steve Rogers RoleplaySelective and NSFW Mun & Muse both 23+
“Steve Rogers did you buy yourself a car because Barton, Stark and I are all disasters?”
She shrugged, winced, and then lifted her shoulder in a half shrug.
"Would that make you feel better about the pseudo-midlife crisis you seem to be going through? Alright. Ha. Ha. Ha.”
"It might’ve been a factor I played in my head when I considered the car in the first place. But, it wasn’t the only reason, I’ve been listening to a lot of music, stuff Sam has been lending me. It’s easier to do that in a car.”
The Captain noticed her wince and looked at her with a disapproving expression, "Really, Natasha? Keep your arm down, alright?”
He offered a smirk after, “Can I help you into the passenger seat?”
“I was actually gonna go with something more to the effect that you’d make a good stepping stool and you’re a good influence on my moral compass, but I like your idea better.” She offered a triumphant grin to a passing nurse to let her know that she was escaping from the hospital, and then snorted at Steve’s next comment.
Saying that Steve wasn’t a terrible liar was like saying that Robin Williams was still funny.
"Did you actually have a choice in what color they made your suit though? And your still a shitty liar—” Natasha reached up, patting him on the shoulder. “But don’t worry, your secret thing for redheads is safe with me.”
"Stepping stool, huh? Well, I dunno about that but I can definitely do the moral compass things, on a good day.” Steve watched her little smirk at the nurse, of course Natasha would brag to the poor nurse just trying to do her job. As unpredictable as she was on the field, off the clock, Natasha was like this all the time.
He chuckled a bit, looking up to Natasha as she assured keeping his type to herself. Well, his type was a bit more specific than just redhead, but that was besides the point.
“Specially for me. Having a super soldier for a super secret ‘bestie’ probably has serious advantages that I haven’t thought about. All we have to do is work on your lying capabilities, and then you’ll be perfect.”
She tipped her head back and laughed at the quip. “I hope you like crocheted beanies, home made doilies and canasta as well, because that’s what you’d be looking at.”
"It’s my job to know people. And you’re just predictable.” There was a knowing look on her face as she leaned over, gently bumping Steve’s arm with her good shoulder. “It’s red, isn’t it? You don’t have to say yes, but even if you don’t say anything you kinda give the answer away.”
“You never know when you’ll find that jar of jam that just won’t open. I have my uses.” He can’t help himself, laughing about dating an elderly woman was terrible, he had friends in nursing homes. Still, better to laugh than to try and come up with some mock offense.
She bumped into him and gave him the same line from the last awkward question she’d asked. Steve knew he was caught, he made no qualms about it either, better to put it out there. Maybe her never-ending quest to put some poor woman in his bed would end. With his lack of finesse, it was for the better.
"Possibly. How ‘bout that? My suit is mostly blue, so hey, maybe I’m not as bad a liar as you make me out to be.”
“Yeah, because you were here and I figured that getting you to drive me home would be better than me scaling the side of the building one handed and then catching the bus.”
She grinned teasingly, taking the jacket and sliding the left arm very gingerly up to her shoulder and then hooking her right arm into the other sleeve with only a wrinkling of her nose as the movement jostled her shoulder. And then she turned, gave Steve a suspicious look.
"So the Star Spangled Man cooks. You know, Sharon probably wouldn’t mind a good meal. Or there’s Carly from R&D, she’s real nice.”
"Well, I’m going to drive you, just not to your place. So, you got half of what you wanted. Not bad if you ask me.”
Steve resisted the urge to baby Natasha and help her put the jacket on. He knew she’d just as soon give him a swift kick somewhere unpleasant than allow him to coddle. Instead, he decided to address the redhead’s need to give him romantic advice.
“I thought we were over this, setting me up with Agents who were babysitting me, or R&D girls who take samples of my blood on a weekly basis. Besides, blondes aren’t my type, Natasha.”
A tiny little glint of wickedness flashed across the Captain’s features as he began to walk toward the door.
“This, coming from Captain America? Hypocrisy at it’s finest, I’ll say.”
She’d liked Spongebob because she didn’t have to think too hard to understand it, and, at the time, her English had been good but not amazing. Scooby Doo had been nice too, but Spongebob was hours of mindless entertainment without the need for a comprehensive plotline, and she had still been entertained by the voices and the animations when all of the dialogue had gone straight over her head.
Natasha nods to the doctor in lieu of a verbal thanks, and slides slowly off the counter, careful not to jar her busted shoulder too much. And then she gives Steve a look, because…really?
"Seriously?”
Oh if looks could kill. Steve would’ve died twice. The Captain was completely serious though, he couldn’t in good conscious let his friend wander around with a messed up soldier and reckless attitude.
“Seriously.”
It was one night, anyway, what would the harm be? Steve was sure that she’d give him what he wanted. Taking a moment to think of how he’d make his point, Steve cleared his throat.
"Look at how gingerly you’re treating your arm. If I let you go on your own, you’ll be back here getting a sling fitted. C'mon Natasha when’s the last time you let someone fix you a plate of something good?
She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but Rogers showing up, for whatever reason, isn’t one of those things. Still, she gives him a practically trademarked ‘Natasha Romanoff’ smile, with the corners of her mouth just barely tipping upwards, and her eyes lighting up at the terrible joke.
“Spongebob Squarepants was one of my favorite shows when I first joined SHIELD,” she admits, turning her eyes down to the doctor at Steve’s proposition.
She gives the poor doctor a blank gaze, one that promises a whole lot if she doesn’t get her way, and the doctor merely looks up at her for a moment before his eyes go wide and his head jerks in a brief nod.
Natasha nods in return, triumphantly, and looks back to Steve. “I’m good. Grab my jacket?”
“Hell of a name, Spongebob Squarepants.”
Steve missed the good old cartoons, Mickey Mouse and Popeye. Those were cartoons. Everything he’d seen since thawing was just so, noisy and too odd for him. Refocusing, Cap’s mind returns to the room as Natasha’s finished threatening the poor physician with a look.
Flashing an apologetic gaze to the man only trying to do his job, Steve goes to take Natasha’s jackets off the rack for her.
“On one condition.”
He knows how dangerous it is to trick the Black Widow. It’s worth the risk, maybe.
“You let me keep an eye on you till I’m satisfied you won’t do anything, y'know, you-like.”
She’s sitting stock-still, her face pale, but stoic, as the doctor presses butterfly bandages across the back of her left shoulder. She doesn’t like doctors, never has and never will, and normally this would be the kind of thing that Natasha would try to patch up herself, but she’s out of bandages and she can’t walk through a drugstore covered in blood.
Her gaze casts up briefly as the swing of the door echoes in hollow ears. “You coming to bust me outta here?”
When he hears she’s in the hospital, of course he’s there. After being in the foxhole with the spy, he’d jump out of a plane for her. Steve has a look of amusement on his face when she asks if he’ll get her out.
“I brought bandages with the little Japanese cat that wears a bow. Thought you’d appreciate them more than the sponge in pants.”
Obviously he’s amused by his own jokes, even if his references aren’t on point. The Captain waits a moment before making a bargain.
