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It had happened fast.
A portal had opened in the middle of New York City, and didn't that sound familiar? Although it was completely different from the first portal. At least according to Jane, their new resident astrophysicist (Tony and Bruce had successfully irritated Fury so much complaining that they weren't 'huge wormhole in the sky experts' that he'd plucked her out of the desert). She'd given them a briefing in a breathy voice, seemingly torn between horror at the things pouring out of it and fascination with the science behind its appearance.
If you asked Natasha, there was nothing fascinating about this.
The Avengers (minus Hulk) had rushed out into the city for damage control while Jane and Bruce worked on a way to close the damn thing back in the tower. All of which had led her to where she was right now: crouched behind a mangled car, out of bullets, and watching one of the disgusting things advance. She was pretty sure she'd heard Thor muttering about bilgesnipe, whatever they were, before he took off.
Exhaling, Natasha dropped into a fighting stance, activating her gauntlets and pulling her knife from its place on her thigh. Designed by Tony and the best of Stark Industries' R&D department, it was one of her favourites. The blade was made of vibranium, and a more compact version of her Widow’s Bite was built into the top of the hilt, so she could both stab and electrocute in one strike.
Was she a little bit in love? Absolutely.
A chilling snarl echoed above her and she looked up, and up, until she was staring into black, beady eyes. She blinked. The thing lunged forward, spiked tail swinging round- bright light, kaleidoscopic, exploded in front of her eyes.
She was completely blinded, and not for the first time she was appreciative (never grateful) of her Red Room training, as she flipped backwards and away, smelling the burnt asphalt where she'd been a half second before. As though switching to a different frequency, she reassessed the surroundings, blinking to try and clear her vision.
A swish of air past her face: the tail, swinging behind it as it lumbered around to face something. A strangled female yell- definitely a battle cry. Someone then. The creature charged, and Natasha was forced to dive left, and then dodge again as all eight legs made rows of new pot holes in the road.
It was incredibly frustrating being a bystander to a fight, especially in the city the Avengers had adopted as their own, but judging by the distressed noises coming from the creature its opponent was holding her own.
With a howl of pain, the creature crashed to the ground in front of her. Too fast, not enough air disturbance for her to be able to dodge. She hissed as a spike dragged across her shoulder, rolling away and immediately assessing the damage. A scratch running from the back of her neck to the joint, not too deep. She really hoped these things weren't poisonous.
Natasha looked around. It was carnage; she couldn't see an intact window anywhere, and the buildings on either side of the street had worrying damage to support pillars. Gouge marks deep and wide enough for a car to fit comfortably (and she knew because several had disappeared into them) stood out against the asphalt, but her focus was drawn to the looming corpse sprawled before her. More specifically, to the woman kneeling on top of it.
Definitely Asgardian, her armour gleaming in the afternoon sunlight - except in the places it was smeared with the creature’s dark blood. She was gripping a wicked looking double-ended sword, one end buried in the creature’s neck and the other sticking up in front of her. The warrior glanced up, sensing Natasha’s eyes on her, and stood, balancing on the thing’s back to withdraw her sword before jumping to the ground.
Rising from her landing crouch she walked forward confidently; Natasha fell into a defensive stance without thinking.
“Are you an ally of Thor’s?” She called out as she continued to advance, her dark hair flowing out behind her.
“Yes.” Natasha really hoped she was asking because she was Thor’s friend and not his enemy. The last thing they needed was another Loki.
“Then we need not fight. I have travelled here through the Bifrost with orders from the All Father to aid him in the destruction of these foul creatures.”
“Good to know.”
They stood facing each other, a few steps apart in the centre of a battle field. Unlike Natasha, the Asgardian seemed very much in her element; she had been trained to fight openly, in glorious battles. Natasha had been created for a world of espionage, and often felt a powerful urge to slink back into the shadows.
“Lady Natasha,” Thor’s voice blared through her earpiece, and she was glad of Tony’s forethought in permanently lowering Thor’s volume when in the field. “Am I mistaken in thinking that I had witnessed the opening of the Bifrost?”
“No, we have Asgardian back up. Female: sword and shield.”
“Ah! Lady Sif has come to our aid!” Her head jerked sideways in an attempt to get away from the sheer volume of Thor's excitement - it seemed Tony's precautions could only do so much. She looked up at Sif.
“He says hi.” Sif smiled with a pained understanding.
“I heard.” Natasha grinned.
“Steve, where do you need us?”
“Ask the eyes in the sky, Nat!” Steve’s reply was slightly breathless, and Natasha heard several low growls in the background. Cap was busy then.
“Well, asshole?”
“That hurts,” Clint’s chuckles could be heard in between the rhythmic twanging of his bow string. “The tin can’s surrounded. He's not too far, other side of Central Park.” She signalled to Sif and started jogging in that direction immediately, keeping an eye out for any more of the creatures nearby. “And Nat?”
“What?”
“How come the smoking hot Asgardian falls into your lap?” She switched off her earpiece rather than give that a reply. She could practically hear Clint’s grin.
She turned to tell Sif they were getting close to Tony, she could already hear his blasters in the distance, but was distracted by the blush on her cheeks, which she was fairly sure hadn't been caused by the exertion. Natasha couldn't help thinking how it highlighted her eyes- and yeah, maybe Clint was right about the warrior being extremely attractive.
“Is your comrade always so… brash?” Natasha glanced at her, and Sif resolutely refused to meet her eyes.
“Yes.” And because it was still always satisfying to flirt for her own enjoyment, and Sif was unfairly gorgeous, “He’s not wrong, despite his 'brashness’.” Sif did look at her then, surprised and pleased.
“You think I am… smoking hot?” Natasha couldn't help the laughter that bubbled out of her and Sif’s smile dimmed, unsure of herself. Natasha quickly continued.
“I'd go for 'stunningly beautiful’, but it's the same sentiment.” Sif’s reply was drowned out by a snarl from behind her, and as the Asgardian whirled to face the beast a knife flew past her head, whirring and humming oddly, and buried itself in the creature's shoulder. The beast spasmed and convulsed, crashing to the ground.
Natasha brushed past her, and if she threw Sif a coy smile over her shoulder, there were no other witnesses. She retrieved her weapon from the body and crouched to wipe the blade on a patch of grass.
“You have my thanks, Lady Natasha.” Natasha's mouth twisted in distaste as she stood, sheathing her knife against her thigh once more. Sif frowned, had she blundered? Should not a fraction of Fandral's charm have been gifted to her after their years of companionship? “Is that not the name Thor called you by?”
“Natasha’s fine.” Sif stared at her. “What?”
“Is it common on Midgard, to refer to one another without using one’s proper title?” Natasha considered it.
“It's a sign of friendship, I suppose.” Tension drained from Sif’s shoulders, but she also seemed disappointed. “Why? What does it mean on Asgard?”
“It is a sign of closeness, reserved only for family, the most intimate comrades, and- and lovers- those with a romantic bond.” She was back to avoiding Natasha’s eyes, and so missed the slow smile spreading across her face.
“Well, Sif,” she emphasised the distinct lack of title, “Call me Natasha.” As Sif was trying to work out if Natasha meant what she thought (and thoroughly hoped) she meant, the Ironman suit sailed over them, landing with a spray of concrete in a parking lot to their left. Tony’s loud swearing could be heard from their position.
“Maybe we should go help.” Natasha was eyeing the stampede of creatures closing in on Tony’s metal-covered ass. His suit seemed to be malfunctioning; he wasn't taking off.
“Of course.” Sif was still looking at Natasha. The redhead started to move away, but a hand caught her arm and she turned back to face the other woman.
Sif had never been shy with her affections, a product of her experiences in battle. A warrior could never be sure another opportunity would come. She sheathed her sword.
Gently, she cupped Natasha's face and dropped a chaste kiss onto her lips. Then, charmed by the feeling of Natasha's body swaying further into hers, a less chaste kiss.
“That common on Asgard?” Natasha asked with a raised eyebrow. Sif smirked.
"Yes."
“Don't get me wrong, in different circumstances I would not be complaining about the view, but if you ladies could round it up, I'm in need of rescue!”
One day, Natasha was going to kill Tony Stark.