Hold On to the Nights || Romanogers AU

Chapter 5

A/N: Please let me know what you guys think of this one. I would appreciate it. Thank you! :)

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Natasha fumbled with the Business section of the morning newspaper as she took a seat in the corner of a local cafe hangout near coast area of Santa Monica. She liked this cafe; it was older, more rustic, personable, less crowded and nosy. It was the perfect place for struggling writers to complete their novels, not that Natasha was a novelist, she dabbled in illustrations often though, but she didn't think she was good enough to take it further.

Sighing within herself she focused on the back part of the paper, circling and giving a "maybe check" to a few job opportunities. It had been 4 weeks since she was fired for being incompetent in Brian Turner's eyes and she tried to not let it get to her. She needed money and it was hard for her to start over. Anya was doing her best to help her in any way but Natasha knew this was something she had to do on her own. All her life people were helping her out and she never knew the fine line between her responsibility and being co-dependent on other people's generosity. She tried to look on the bright side of things, focusing on the silver lining than on the detriments. It was easier said than done.

She randomly took out her sketch pad, knowing she was already distracted but couldn't help herself. There were more drawings in the book than options she had for employment. If her dad could see her now he would wag his finger at her life choices, possibly mock them and give a look of shame for them being related to each other. It was a real tragedy that her father had changed into a person she barely recognized the more she grew to know him. He was part of the crowd and she was someone who didn't fit in anywhere. Even if she tried she couldn't ease into his world.

There was just so much she didn't do and she felt like there was no way to balance any of it. She told herself to take deep calming breaths while closing her eyes. She tried that once again now. It seemed to work somewhat until she heard a loud crash coming from the worker's kitchen. Sounded like they were seldom, it was the kind of cafe where you barely heard even the old cash register make a noise aside from the till opening and the sound of coffee brewed as if it were a lullaby.

Natasha jumped as a high pitched voice of a little girl's timbre suddenly filled the room. Natasha had the urge to look on but she kept her eyes on her job search. She was too curious for her own good; not to mention the child's voice was very loud and persistent. Natasha had lost her place for a moment before going back to the list she kept underneath the newspaper sections, trying not to let the ruckus get to her.

Her eyes flickered to the noise then did a double take again to make sure she saw correctly. A young man, probably no older than she, was attempting to calm little girl with the big voice. She thought she'd seen him before; he looked really familiar. That was until she saw his face; she blinked for a few seconds until rummaging to pull out her sketch pad. She flipped to the page of the young man and his daughter and her mouth hung open. It was virtually the same image, only they were dressed in different clothes.

Natasha thought she might hide for a second, inside she stuck the notepad back into her purse. This was embarrassing for her, she was near the cash register where people ordered drinks and she didn't want to get more distracted at the coincidence playing in front of her. It wasn't that children never came inside the cafe, they had. Tourists had heard of it from friends, it was a sanctuary for people that just wanted to have peace. Children were rare unless they were from a manners school. It wasn't a place for them to make so many racquets.

She felt sorry as she watched the young man—she assumed was the little girl's older brother—tend to the child, almost like he was taking full responsibility on his own. Natasha didn't know their story and it was rude to speculate. He looked as if he had a lot on his plate. The opposite of the time she saw them on the beach that day.