A couple of months had passed since the engine core mission. Eli was still working with Natasha, and they had gotten close—which was to be expected, really, considering they spent most of their time together. Missions, safehouse dinners, late-night debriefs that somehow turned into conversations about nothing at all.
Rumors had started circulating among the lower-level S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Whispered comments in hallways. Meaningful glances when they walked into a room together. None of it was true, of course. At least, that's what both of them told themselves.
Tonight's mission had brought them to a warehouse on the edge of the city, a place that looked more like an abandoned junkyard than a smuggling hub. It had gone smoothly. Almost too smoothly.
The warehouse was quiet now.
Too quiet.
Broken crates were scattered across the concrete floor. The last of the smugglers—the ones Natasha had left conscious for questioning—were unconscious near the loading dock. Extraction teams were five minutes out.
Eli brushed dust from his jacket. "Well… that was easier than usual."
Natasha holstered her pistol. "Don't say that."
"Why?"
"Because every time someone says that—"
The ceiling groaned.
Both of them looked up.
Cracks spread through the concrete above them, spiderwebbing outward from the hole Eli had made earlier. The structural damage from his exit was finally catching up with them.
Eli sighed. "…You were saying?"
The roof collapsed.
Dust exploded into the air as metal beams and chunks of concrete crashed down. Natasha barely had time to react before Eli grabbed her, pulling her backward with force that would have dislocated a normal person's arm.
The impact shook the entire building.
For a moment, everything disappeared in grey dust.
When it finally settled, they were pressed against the wall. Very close. Too close.
Eli still had one arm around her waist from pulling her away. Natasha's hand was braced against his chest, right over where his heart would be if he had a normal heartbeat.
They both froze.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Natasha slowly looked up at him. Her green eyes were clear even through the dust, sharp and assessing.
Eli suddenly became very aware of how close their faces were. Close enough that if either of them leaned forward even slightly—
Natasha didn't move away.
Which somehow made it worse.
Eli cleared his throat. "…You're staring."
Natasha tilted her head slightly. "You're holding me."
He let go immediately, stepping back like he'd just touched a live wire. "Right. Yeah. Structural safety thing."
Natasha brushed dust off her sleeve, completely composed again. "Of course."
Eli rubbed the back of his neck. "Had to stop you getting crushed by a roof."
"Very heroic."
"I try."
A small silence settled between them, filled only by the distant sound of approaching sirens.
Then Natasha smirked. "You know," she said casually, "most people would have taken advantage of that moment."
Eli blinked. "…Taken advantage?"
"You know." She gestured vaguely between them. "The dramatic rescue. The proximity. The fact that we were basically inches apart."
It took him a second. Then his eyes widened slightly. "Wait—"
Natasha watched him with obvious amusement.
"You're saying you expected me to kiss you because of falling debris?"
"I didn't say expected."
"You definitely implied expected."
Her smile widened slightly. "You didn't even consider it."
Eli stared at her. "Natasha."
"Yes?"
"We were under a collapsing roof."
She shrugged. "Still counts."
He shook his head, walking toward the exit. "You are unbelievable."
Natasha followed beside him, matching his pace easily. "But you thought about it now."
Eli stopped mid-step. "…I hate you."
"You don't hate me."
They stepped outside into the cool night air. The extraction quinjet could already be heard approaching, its engines a familiar thrum in the distance.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Eli muttered, "Besides… if anyone almost kissed someone in there…"
Natasha looked over. "Yes?"
"…It would have been you."
Her eyebrow lifted. "Oh?"
Eli pointed back toward the hole in the roof. "You're the one who didn't move."
Natasha walked ahead of him toward the landing zone. But he caught the tiny smile on her face before she turned away.
"Careful," she said over her shoulder. "You're starting to sound confident."
Eli followed her, a small smirk of his own forming.
"…I learned from the best."
The quinjet descended, its landing lights cutting through the darkness. As they walked toward it together, something had shifted between them. Almost imperceptible. But there.
Natasha glanced at him one more time.
Little red bean.
It was stupid.
She kind of liked it.
Later that night, back at the safehouse, Eli sat on the couch scrolling through a tablet while Natasha made tea in the kitchen. The comfortable silence had become routine.
Without looking up, Eli said, "You know the rumors, right?"
Natasha didn't turn around. "Which ones?"
"The ones about us."
She paused, tea kettle in hand. "I've heard things."
"And?"
She finally glanced over her shoulder. "And what?"
Eli set the tablet down. "And… you don't care?"
Natasha considered the question. She thought about the months of missions. The way he always positioned himself between her and danger without making it obvious. The stupid nickname that had somehow become endearing.
She turned back to the kettle. "Let them talk."
Eli was quiet for a moment. Then, softly: "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
A small smile tugged at his lips as he picked the tablet back up.
Natasha hid her own smile behind a sip of tea.
Neither of them said anything more.
They didn't need to.