A BLONDE NATASHA WAS AN ODD NATASHA. Terran had woken up that morning thinking that he was going to be fine. His hand was still broken, but it was healing thanks to the medical team at S.H.I.E.L.D., and he had spoken to Janelle about all that he was missing at the compound and watched a movie with Nicky and Rhett over the phone. He had also been able to sleep in, which was nice, though he wondered if something had happened, as he had been expecting to be forced to wake up.

It all made sense when he found Natasha lounging on the couch in a blonde wing, a baggy t-shirt, and no shorts.

He blinked, reaching up towards his arm and pinching his skin, twisting it until he was sure he could definitively feel something. When he was sure that he wasn't dreaming and was actually seeing the tiny woman watching a crime show while wearing a too large t-shirt, he made his way over, lightly tapping her foot, causing her to pull it back, glaring at him.

He couldn't help but grin. "Oh my God, are you ticklish?"

"I will kill you," she hissed, and he laughed, reaching out to grab her foot again, only to narrowly miss getting kicked in the face, grabbing her ankle and holding it in his tight grasp.

The two stared at each other, Natasha practically seething, her eyes trained on Terran's face, but he knew she was acutely aware of the way his other hand was creeping towards her vulnerable foot which, for all she was struggling to break free, twisting against his grip, she couldn't, and she couldn't risk kicking at him with her other foot, lest he grab that as well, leaving her fully vulnerable.

Terran didn't know why he was so ready to die so early in the morning. Truly, he had just gotten up and now he was threatening to tickle the foot of a woman who could kill him and dispose of his body without anyone having known he was alive, grinning madly like had just won a billion dollars.

"Do it, and you die," she whispered, her voice seeming like a scream in the room where all the air had been sucked clear out.

Terran had lived a good life.

Clint and Tensley were startled awake the sound of furniture breaking and bodies hitting the floor, as well as loud shrieks of what seemed to either be agitation and laughter, as well as shouts of glee, the two falling out of bed and rushing out of the room towards the source of the noise, finding Natasha straddling Terran, smothering him to a throw pillow, his arms and legs pinned down.

"How does she-he's twice her size!" Tensley cried, because that was what he chose to focus on out of the entire scene, how Natasha was able to pin him down and keep him there, even with Terran thrashing around in an attempt to stay alive.

"Tasha, no!" Clint cried, grabbing the woman and tossing her over his shoulder, walking back down the hall, "You can't kill him, Fury'll get mad and make us do paperwork and Coulson'll send me a selfie of his disappointed face, you can't do this."

"What did you do?" Tensley asked, holding out his hand, struggling as he helped up the taller man who was struggling to catch his breath.

"I tickled her foot," he explained, and Tensley choked, staring at him with a mix of awe, reverence, and utter disapproval.

"No wonder she tried to kill you," the man scoffed, walking towards the kitchen where he began rummaging around for something to eat, "How'd she pin you down, aren't you, like, uber strong?"

"She had leverage over me, and I could have shoved her off, but she had pinned down my cloths with shards of the broken coffee table and used the rest of her body to keep me down. I honest to God could have died," he explained, still dazed from the encounter, his heart racing at an abnormal pace, and he figured that he should probably lie down.

Tensley pointed to his hand. "But isn't that still broken?"

"Honestly," Terran said, holding up the appendage, "I break bones a lot, but they're never affected. This is still "broken," but I heal at a faster rate than most-not as fast as Natasha, but faster than you regular people-so honestly, I'm all good. Besides, I couldn't pass up the opportunity."

From the looks of Tensley's face, it was clear that Terran's reasoning and overall person were much more foreign and strange than the man was figuring. Of course, that was because Terran had a much harder time grasping emotions than Tensley did, which meant he had to try harder, so whenever he could truly feel anything at all, he clung to it, even if it meant being impulsive and doing things that were against his better judgement.

He had wanted nothing more than to tickle Natasha's foot, so he did. It wound up with him nearly being murdered, but that was just part of the package.

Of course, what Tensley didn't know was that Terran knew Natasha wasn't going to actually hurt him. The two had come in on the most inopportune moment, because Terran had just been in the middle of flailing, pretending to be smothered, and if they had seen Natasha's face, they would've seen she was grinning. He could have thrown her off easily, but he hadn't wanted to, because the both of them could feel the actual, true feelings, and those were hard to come across.

He figured it was primal instinct, the need to fight to get away, and the two lived for the rush. Not many things gave that kind of adrenaline without the need to get away in the face of actual danger.

He had gotten Natasha to smile, but he hadn't been allowed to see. A true Catch-22.

But he kept it to himself, and he knew Natasha would too-except for, possibly, telling Clint-so he simply reached over Tensley and grabbed himself one of the condensed Starbucks drinks that had magically appeared, because Clint was much too attached to his coffee pot to buy the disposable glass bottles.

"Sweets," Natasha called from where she and Clint were huddled underneath her blanket, Clint hugging away her angry feelings, "Get ready, we're going out."

º º º

"You can't wear these kinds of hats in America, I look like a mobster."

Natasha let out a small snort as she looked up to where Terran was adjusting his cap which obscured his face and hid all of his hair, the shadows giving him a sharper look. He had been instructed not to smile and to not shave off the growing stubble that was starting to form, in order to give him a more rugged look.

"It fits what we're going for," she explained, barely feeling her blonde wig as the two made their way towards the general area where Milo and his small team had pinpointed as to where the second safe house was most likely at.

The plan was, as it was every single time the two went out together for a mission, they were meant to be a couple just walking around, the two wearing wires that had tech to analyze the layout and other levels that Terran wasn't willing to listen to the explanation to when Natasha recited the information, instead focusing on trying to tickle her again.

It had quickly developed into an obsession, and since she hadn't cut off his air supply just yet, he figured it was fine to periodically indulge in aforementioned obsession.

The two continued down the sidewalk, falling into an awkward silence, and Terran sighed, reaching out to take her hand, and she slipped her hand into his own, because she was in character and was able to distance herself.

Terran could distance himself as well, but he didn't try to. That was his problem, he didn't use the disassociation to his advantage, he fought against it constantly, wanting to make himself feel anything and everything in an attempt to remind himself that, despite everything, he was still human.

He had a feeling that Natasha leaned into it in an attempt to forget that she was as well.

He looked down at her as they walked, taking in just how small she was in comparison. He knew that she could take him down in the blink of an eye, but her entire body was rather lithe, hardly five foot, like that of a ballerina, effortlessly powerful and strong without looking the part, deceiving all who looked upon her until it was too late.

"Can I pick you up?" he asked, and it came out just as curious as he truly felt, wanting to see just how light she was without the fear of being attacked in the process.

Natasha sighed, and he felt a spike of victory at getting her to break character to react to him, even if it wasn't positive, looking up towards him with a resigned look on her face.

He kept his features as relative as possible, allowing himself to look curious, but not truly letting her in as to whether or not he was asking as his own person or as the person he was portraying, which left her at an impasse as to whether she wanted to fit into her character and indulge him or not.

Finally, her training got the best of her.

"Okay," she said, though it wasn't as airy or lovestruck as it should have been, but that was fine with Terran who honestly couldn't care very much.

Grinning, he bent down, reaching out with one arm and scooping her up, resting one arm underneath her for support, while his other held her steady at her back, cradling her close, her legs now wrapped around him in a vice-like grip that was just a little too strong to be friendly, but hardly noticeable to anyone else.

She was lighter than he expected, which was already light, and he wasn't sure if it was because she was simply small or if he was just strong, but he felt a strange feeling as he cradled her; it was a reminder that, despite his strength, he could still be soft and delicate, especially to things that were important.

"Relax," he said, grinning and his tone disgustingly sweet, and he laughed as Natasha huffed, hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

"I feel like a child," she grumbled, and it was clear she wasn't happy with their current situation, which made Terran feel bad, at least in his mind.

"I can put you down now," he said, because he didn't like making her uncomfortable, "I just wanted to see how light you were."

"Well, I can't really back down now," she sighed, and he felt his stomach physically twist as he realized he had just put her in an uncomfortable situation she wasn't willing to get herself out of.

"God, I'm sorry," he said, and he couldn't believe how wrecked his voice truly sounded, hoarse and cracking at parts, and she simply raised a hand to rest at the back of his neck, squeezing softly.

Reaching his hand up, he placed it between her shoulder blades, a feather light touch, only to anchor her, waiting until she finally relaxed to return his hand to where it had originally been, and he realized that part of why she had been so light was because she was holding herself up.

"We're on the same team," he said softly, the two making their way away from the museums and stores and towards the residential buildings, "I won't hurt you, I promise. You can trust me."

There was a long pause, then, "I can't trust anyone."

Terran sighed, shifting her so he could nose at her shoulder. "You can. I know it's hard to believe, but you can trust people, at least the ones closest to you. You trust Clint, don't you? And the rest of the Avengers?"

Her pause hurt him more than it should have. "I try to."

He sighed, closing his eyes as he turned his head to nose against her jaw. "Natasha..."

"You know," she said, fisting the back of his shirt in her hands, "You told me you know what it's like. But you don't. Because you never had to do anything that I did."

"I remember the stories," was all he said, and it was pathetic in comparison, pathetic in every way, but it was all he could say at the end of it.

Natasha didn't say anything, and he sighed heavily, simply making his way towards the residential buildings, looking up towards all the closed windows and doors, wishing that he could just see through them and find who they were looking for so they could just go home.

He caught sight of someone peering out through their curtains and he gave them a pursed lipped smile before nudging Natasha lightly, murmuring, "Someone's watching us from their window."

She hummed, shifting so she could nose against his jaw, her eyes closed as she pressed kisses to his neck, mumbling, "Don't look, just describe them."

He let his eyes slipped closed, looking up through his lashes to find a man looking down at him, and he felt a himself break into a cold sweat, thinking it was Constantin, but then he saw he looked too young and not as scarred, still brunette with a mustache.

"Not Constantin, brunette, young, mustache-" he was interrupted by Natasha pressing a kiss to his lips.

He froze, his eyes slipping fully closed as he held her close, titling his head as he forgot himself, allured by her soft lips and nimble hands which tugged off his hat, running a hand through his hair, shielding their faces with the hat, and Natasha pulled away to giggle as she shielded their faces, and he remembered.

She was making sure they couldn't be caught.

"He's the only one there, but I think there are others with him, I don't know if he's the one we're looking for, though," he said, and she let the hat slip slightly as he kissed the side of her neck, only for her to right it.

It was planned and formulaic, and if he was anyone else, he wouldn't have been able to tell, but he could see the blank stare in her eyes despite the way she smiled and scrunched up her nose and kissed him.

He wanted to know what she was really like. He wanted to see what she was like when she was happy, what it was like for her to kiss him for real, but all he had was a spy who wanted to get their job done.

"Someone's looking through the other window," she mumbled, lowering the hat to throw both arms around him, and suddenly there was a tongue in his mouth, and he struggled to look towards the other window, spinning them around and bending forward towards the ground, obscuring both of their faces.

"He's got a scar and a hand down his pants, I'm not sure if these are our guys if they're just interested, I'm not comfortable with them looking at you, can we leave?" he asked, freezing when he caught sight of the man's arm, "No, it's them, he's got a tattoo of the symbol."

"Great, let's go," Natasha said, unhooking her legs from his hips, holding on as her feet dropped down the short way back down to the ground.

Terran righted himself, letting her stand up straight herself, nearly toppling over as she jumped into his arms, shoving his hat back onto his head, pressing herself flush against him, telling to start heading back home.

In case they were listening in. Because this was a mission, and Terran needed to stop caring.

º º º

"Good work, Sweets, you held up well."

Terran smiled at her over the top of his ice cream, the two sitting in a booth towards the back, Terran with his back to everyone else while Natasha faced them, because he trusted too much and she trusted too little.

"Thanks, I had to improvise all of it," he said, laughing at his own joke, and she gave him a mocking smile, rolling her eyes and going back to eating her ice cream.

She had simply gotten two scoops of chocolate and strawberry, no toppings at all, and he was surprised that she hadn't gotten vanilla, but wasn't surprised to find she wasn't a toppings fan. He, on the other hand, had gotten his rocky road and cookies and cream scoops piled high with the sweetest toppings, with caramel and chocolate and cookie dough and Oreos, and Natasha hadn't been subtle in her distaste.

As Terran turned around in his seat to smile at the baby that was tapping his shoulder, trying to get him to play, Natasha watched him carefully, taking in his body language.

From the moment she met him, she knew that he wasn't as emotional as he showed himself to be, she could see the way he tried to force himself to feel, how the feelings in his head were more real than the void of his heart, and she didn't understand.

She didn't understand him at all. Nothing made sense to her, especially not the way he kissed her earlier that day. He kissed her like he meant it, like he cared about her, yet he didn't take anything. He didn't kiss her like he wanted her, just that he wanted her there.

She watched as he made faces with the baby, opening his mouth and pretending to eat its hand, the baby shrieking with laughter and batting at his face, Terran pretending to be brutally hurt, making faces and pained noises, the baby continuing to shriek with laughter.

Terran glanced over at her briefly, his smile bright and his eyes full of life, so different from her own, and she tried not to fidget under the short time under the full force of his gaze, her entire person warming at the very feeling of being the attention of his smile.

As he turned back to the baby, Natasha allowed herself the briefest of smiles, her lips tugging upward, a warmth blooming in her chest.

Maybe, one day, she would trust him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

( 09.29.18 )

The tickling bit wasn't planned, but I love it a lot, because this was just meant for them to bond and really start to be friends, and the tickling thing was just...really helpful, because it also acknowledges Terran's inability to really feel anything (like you know when you don't feel angry, but your brain tells you you should be, but you don't feel it in your chest? That's how he feels most of the time)

I also wasn't expecting the whole kissing thing, but while this chapter was them "staking out the scene" it was actually about them interacting, because this had a lot of physicality, but the kissing wasn't actually them, it was them on a mission, when they're together, they're very much just connecting and relating to each other, so just keep that in mind, their relationship isn't physical, it's supposed to contrast the way they have to act on their mission, you know?

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!