Summary: Natasha comes to visit you, an accountant at SHIELD, and learns of your abusive partner. Natasha promises to help you leave and set up a new, safer life.
Rating: Teen/Mature
Warnings: angst, mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of injury, self doubt, self blaming, comfort, protective!Natasha, male ex partner
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"One freshly brewed cup of tea for my favourite accountant."
You looked up, a smile already on your face as Natasha Romanoff perched herself on the edge of your desk. You shifted around a few printouts to make some more room for her and happily accepted the mug, breathing in the calming aromas and savouring the first sip. It had barely passed ten and it was already turning into one of those mornings; this little show of kindness reminded you that all was not lost and that there were decent people out there.
With a quick swipe, you cleared your screen of the classified files and locked the computer - there were some things that not even Natasha had reason, or more crucially, clearance to see - then sunk into your chair. Taking another sip of the tea, touched that she remembered exactly how you liked it, you asked, "How was Prague?"
Natasha grimaced, too dramatic to be real but still a highly effective warning for what was about to come. "We hit a few little snags."
"And how much are these snags going to cost SHIELD?"
"That depends. How much does a new Jag F-Type cost?"
You said a silent prayer for the poor car and resisted the urge to bang your head against the desk. Honestly, why those two were ever allowed out alone anymore was beyond you. They couldn't even manage a simple asset extraction without some kind of incident. You caught Natasha's grin and asked nervously, "What else did you hit on the way?"
"Clint may have clipped Jan Hus Memorial and knocked a few stones on Charles Bridge. He avoided the pedestrians this time, though, so his driving is getting better."
"Have you spoken to International Relations yet?"
Natasha nodded and handed over a folded slip of paper from her pocket, detailing the estimated costs of the repairs, pay-offs and insurance bills that were likely to come from this. You blinked at the obscenely large number on the bottom line - did it really cost that much to fix a 14th century bridge? - already working out how to explain this away to Fury.
This definitely felt like a tomorrow kind of job so you refolded the paper and tossed it onto a pile of other expenses that needed to be covered. Turning your attention back to Natasha, you wrapped your hands around the mug, fingers tingling as the warmth spread, and asked, "So, other than wrecking a beautiful car and destroying some important local history, how was it?"
"Yeah, it was alright," she said, stretching out across your desk. You'd never admit it but you'd had an awful lot of dreams that started this way, although she was often wearing far fewer clothes. Even in jeans and a jacket, though, Natasha was still one of the most beautiful women that you'd ever seen and the way she smiled at you had your heart skip a beat. "How was your weekend?"
