You know this gist of the story from the title, do I really need to explain it? Oh, to the new people clicking on this book, hi. I'm Cyanide, and this is the second chapter of my story.
The Welcome to New Jersey sign sped past as we entered the state where the drive was sourced. "Where did Captain America learn to steal a car?" Romanoff asked, her feet propped up on the dash. "Nazi Germany. And we're borrowing, take your feet off the dash," I rolled my eyes from the backseat. Steve was being oddly stiff, like uncomfortably stiff. "Alright, I have a question for you. Which you do not have to answer. I feel like if you don't answer it though, you're kind of answering it," Romanoff said.
"What?" Steve demanded. "Was that your first kiss since 1945?" She asked suddenly, and I straightened up a little. I was definitely curious about what the answer to that question was. "That bad, huh?" I chuckled silently in the back. "I didn't say that!" Romanoff exclaimed.
"Well, that kinda sounds like what you're saying," He challenged. "No! I did--I just wondered how much practice you've had," She defended. "You don't need practice," He claimed. "Everybody needs practice," She replied. "That was not my first kiss since 1945. I'm 95, not dead," He said indignantly.
"Then who have you been kissing? Your reflection? Stark, maybe?" I asked from the back. "Keep going and I'll take one of the wheels of your wheelchair," He threatened. "Nobody special, though?" Romanoff asked. "Huh. Believe it or not, it's kinda hard to find anyone with shared life experience," He explained. "Well, that's alright. Just make something up," I suggested.
"What, like you?" He said. "The truth is a matter of circumstance. It's not all things to all people all the time. Neither are we," Romanoff said. "That's a tough way to live," He said. "It's a good way not to die though," She said. "You know, it's kinda hard to trust someone when you don't know who that someone really is. Or they're an assassin," He said.
"Yeah. Who do you want me to be?" She asked. "How about a friend?" He suggested, and she chuckled. "Well, there's a chance you might be in the wrong business, Rogers," I said. "Well, you've got that guy...what's his name?" He asked, looking at me through the rearview mirror. I huffed softly through my nose, reading between the lines.
"Wade Wilson. And besides, he has my back. In this day and age, that's hard to find,"
a/n This is probably pretty obvious, but the title's a play on the song 'Highway to Hell'
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a/n Swap the bottom two and we good (I'm the middle child in my family and I'm the most well-behaved)
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