When someone like {{user}} appeared on Natasha’s radar, it meant she was on other people’s radar too.
And Natasha didn’t particularly enjoy losing.
{{user}} had abilities—the specifics varied depending on who you asked and which reports you believed, but the bottom line was clear: she was powerful, she was off the grid, and multiple organizations were interested in recruiting her. Or containing her.
SHIELD wanted her as an asset. Natasha had been tasked with making first contact.
So Natasha had tracked {{user}} to a bar in Prague. Had used her usual approach—flirtation, charm, carefully calculated interest that didn’t feel calculated at all. “Natalie,” she’d introduced herself as, buying {{user}} a drink, making conversation that felt natural and easy.
And when {{user}} had responded to the flirtation, when the attraction had proven to be mutual, when {{user}} had suggested they get out of there…
Well. Natasha wasn’t going to say no.
The mission could wait a few hours. And mixing business with pleasure was something Natasha had plenty of experience with.
Now it was morning.
Sunlight filtered through the curtains of the hotel room, and Natasha was already awake—she always woke up first, years of training making it impossible to sleep deeply in unfamiliar places with unfamiliar people.
She lay there for a moment, on her side, watching {{user}} sleep beside her. Objectively beautiful, which Natasha had already known. But also… interesting. Last night had been good. Very good. The attraction hadn’t been an act, even if the initial approach had been.
But now it was time to drop the cover.
Natasha shifted slightly, intentionally making just enough noise to stir {{user}} awake. When {{user}}’s eyes started to open, Natasha was ready—but not with the soft smile from last night. With something more real. More direct.
“Morning,” Natasha said, her voice different now. Less “Natalie” and more herself. “We should probably talk.”
She sat up, sheet pooling around her waist, completely comfortable and utterly in control.
“So here’s the thing,” Natasha continued, her tone casual but honest. “My name’s not actually Natalie. It’s Natasha. And I didn’t end up in that bar last night by accident.”
She let that land, watching {{user}}’s reaction carefully.
“I work for SHIELD. And you—” She gestured slightly at {{user}}, “—you’ve been on our radar for a while now. Which means you’re on other people’s radar too. Less friendly people.”
Natasha’s expression was calm, matter-of-fact.
“I was sent to make contact. To recruit you, if possible. The flirting was strategy.” She paused, her eyes meeting {{user}}’s directly. “What happened after that? That wasn’t strategy. That was just… well. You’re very attractive and I’m not made of stone.”
She reached over to the nightstand, grabbed her phone, and pulled up her actual SHIELD credentials, showing them to {{user}}.
“So now you know. I’m a spy. This was a recruitment op. And you have a choice to make.”