13024/Hi, I'm a ninja attack.

Hi, I'm a ninja attack.
Date of Scene:	13 April 2021
Location:	A safe house in the city.
Synopsis:	Natasha buys a utility.
Cast of Characters:	Phobos, Black Widow (Romanoff)

---

Phobos has posed:
    For SHIELD there are technically no weekends. No unified time when shifts are over for the majority of personal. No holidays. There are vacations assuredly for some though many times the vacation just sits and accrues. Though when an agent has two days off in a row that can certainly feel like a vacation. Such as now for Alexander Aaron who once again makes his way up out of the Bronx subway station nearest the place he's been resting his head.
    With cellphone in hand and his stride an easy step, he speaks with a casual tone while he navigates through what small crowd there is.
    "I understand, Mrs. Swarovski. I know, but I don't get into the city quite as often as I once did." He switches the phone to the other hand as he walks down the street with a quick stride. At a glance he doesn't stand out from the crowd wearing his blue jeans and a NY Mets t-shirt that hangs loose upon his body. His black SWAT cap is pulled down a bit, just enough to give some hint towards anonymity.
    "If it's a concern about maintenance feel free to go in once a month and check or engage a cleaning service. I'm still good for the rent." A few more step then he pauses outside the old three story home that had served as such for him the last month and some, "Sure, you have my permission. There's nothing really valuable in there." Which has him pausing for a moment to consider, then he shrugs. "Ok, talk to you soon, take care of yourself, Mrs. Swarovski."
    That said he kills the connection and then heads up the stoop and onto the front porch of the safehouse. Key acquired he twists it in the lock then steps on in, dropping his backpack at the front door as he lifts his voice.
    "Hello, I'm a Ninja Attack, I'm here to ninja up the place? Do you need any freestyle Ninja Services while I'm here?"

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"Ninjas make stuff disappear, right?" comes the voice he knows from the second floor. Natasha wandered into view on the landing, dressed down. She's apparently been home a bit. Gray yoga pants and a white tank top, feet bare. Her hair is up in a high ponytail, which means the end of that tail is about shoulder height.

"Because if so, you could do my laundry for me cause it's needing some love." She smirks. "I'll have to get it together and spend a day at my place and get it done." She still has one of those. She just doesn't seem to be spending time there. Not that it mattered, it was much like her office at work: Functional but nothing impressive. She didn't have lots of stuff littering the shelves and the pictures on the walls were ones that could be bought at most home furnishing stores. Nothing to give away any personality or details of the person who lived there.

She had found it the easiest way to live, as the decades passed.

Phobos has posed:
    She'll hear his voice as he meanders downstairs a bit, no mail today which is a nice thing. Then she'll see him come into view at the bottom of the steps as he looks up, resting a hand on the banister as he begins his ascent, "Ninjas don't do laundry, they just keep buying new pajamas every few weeks or so."
    A smirk settles on his features as he meets her gaze, thump, thump thump, up the steps. He stops a step or two down from her so they're both at eye level, his lip twists up. "You know, you could always get a washer dryer thing if you want, while we're in the habit of buying utilities."
    As he says this he leans in and touches a kiss to the tip of her nose, then mouthes the word, "Hi." His eyes drift left and right as he clears his throat then, "I just wanted you to know, that I um, ahem, have achieved the uh, element of surprise. On you? Ninjas do that."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
As he thumps his way up the stairs, Natasha waits for his arrival. Then they are eye to eye and she gets a smooch on the tip of the nose. Which inevitably has her wrinkling up her nose before chuckling softly.

"Hi," she returns. "I think you are missing the concept. Surprise requires you not to announce who you are at the door. I suspect you will be sent back to remedial ninja school after this since I will have to report it."

She grins a little and moves back into the room proper. "And I'm not in the habit. That would require repeats. I've only bought two."

Phobos has posed:
    As she admonishes him for his ninja training he crinkles his nose as well, but in a more sour expression as he makes a face at her judgment of his skeelz. But the smile returns, settling across his features.
    "Two?" The blond youth rolls up the last few steps and follows after her, though he does pause there at the top of the steps to pulls his sneakers off with little fanfare, one dropping to the side of an end table, the other falling a little further in next to a storage crate. With soft foot steps he trails after her.
    Quirking an eyebrow he tilts his head as he follows, "The stove was one, what was the other?" Though as he moves further into the main living area he might well see it perhaps.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"While I love the sparring, I thought it was time to stop myself from honoring your wins," Natasha says as she waves a hand toward the small kitchen. In matching stainless, since of course it has to match, is a new dishwasher. "So I bought a thing. We'll have to spar for other things instead." Not like they need an excuse to spar. They both enjoy the workouts and honing their skills.

She moved to the couch and sat down, cross-legged. There was a small glass on the end table with a clear liquid in it, obviously chilled by the condensation on the outside of the glass. She had a book laying next to it, apparently having been reading when he came in.

Phobos has posed:
    A laugh slips from him as he shakes his head looking toward that area that was at first home to just a hot plate and a portable fridge, only now... stove, and dishwasher have this curious place of prominence. It's enough to make him half-smirk and shake his head even as he walks over toward her, "That is..."
    So many words flit through his mind and she likely can see it with the way she can almost casually read his body language. There's a hint of humor there, some feeling of warmth, amusement, but also a gleam of heartfelt sentiment that he doesn't voice. Instead he decides on... "Convenient."
    A pause as he walks across the way and settles down upon the floor in front of the sofa, at first resting cross-legged for a moment, then unfolding his legs and leaning back onto his hands, shoulders raised a bit in that lazy posture on the ground there facing her. "Also kind of nice, thank you. What are you drinking?"

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
She waited for him to say it. Patient. Knowing he knew better than to push it too far and thus he better choose his word carefully. He did and that word gets a nod of approval from her as he settles down on the floor in front of her for conversation.

So far there had been the addition of the cup with toothbrushes, toiletries in the bathroom. Stove and dishwasher. And the hamper for dirty clothes. Actually two of those, one in the work out area for towels and another in the bedroom for clothing. It was become far more organized and livable little by little.

"Vodka. It's a Russian brand that I like though most critics say it is too harsh. They obviously are not Russian," she adds with a decisive nod.

She picks up the glass and offers it to him so he can sniff or taste. Or both! "I just felt we are spending a lot of time here so it might be good to have some ...conveniences."

Phobos has posed:
    Accepting the vodka his smile remains even as he sniffs it, then lightly tastes it with a dab of his tongue into the liquor at first, then a sip. His nose crinkles as he does this, then hands it back to her with a shake of his head. Not that he's not a fan, but alcohol so rarely does anything for him. Yet through it all she can read in him words held in check...
    But the warmth in his eyes might well give a hint that for some reason all of this pleases him. And beyond the level of, 'free dishwasher, yeah!'
    Once she has the drink he settles back into his lazy posture, hands supporting him up and his legs sprawled out before him. Though he does lift a sock-covered foot to lightly touch hers, as if just wanting some small contact. "Tastes a little like Belenkaya." Which it may or may not be.
    "Did you use your own money for this stuff? Since I wouldn't mind going halfsies if you want."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"I'm impressed, you know your vodkas," Natasha says with a smile as she gives an approving nod. She does adjust her setting a little so she has one foot still folded under her but brings the other to touch the floor by his leg. Allowing her to touch him even as he is touching her foot with his own.

"Yeah, using my own money. Not like this is a SHIELD safehouse or we could use theirs. Your father needs to learn to prep better with proper appliances though," she teases lightly.

His offer earns a half shrug. "If you want to, you can't. Not required. Or you can surprise me next time with something new."

Phobos has posed:
    "You know..." Alexander looks down at his t-shirt for a moment, and lifts one hand to fuss at a small unraveled thread, picking at it and then pulling it taut to snap it free from the t-shirt with a faint faint sound. H looks up and scrunches one eye at her, "I don't really go to my apartment anymore. And I was just talking to my landlady."
    Uh oh.
    He looks across the way at the still a bit hodge-podge living area, the storage crates in the safehouse, the half-opened containers that they had raided for supplies at one time or another. His lip twists.
    Then he looks back, "I could sorta use that money instead to try and make things better here." He lays out that possibility without any particular words of ownership, or commitment, perhaps just listing it as a thing that could just 'happen'. Like it might rain tomorrow. And tomorrow he might end up living here for realsies.
    Just a thing.
    But he does keep his foot lightly against hers.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
That has her glancing at him more closely then dropping her gaze to their feet against each other. "It's your father's place. I'm sure that would be simpler. Save you some money instead of pouring it into a place you aren't staying at. But it might be hard to get it back later, if you wanted to."

Very careful. Avoiding the pitfall. She doesn't want to say things out loud that might just be a curse to what's happening. Besides, they are just two people with like interests who spend time together. Right? But as long as she had her place, even if things went sour then he wouldn't be left homeless. It was his place after all. Well, his father's but close enough.

"I'm not going to try to presuade you either way," she says as she lifts her gaze back up, meeting his eyes. "But we do seem to be spending a lot of time here."

Phobos has posed:
    They had been spending a lot of time there. Almost all of their down time, no nights spent elsewhere save when on mission or duty, and the mornings waking up together had been nice. But Alexander wasn't ignorant to the fact that Natasha... had her own way of viewing things. And that she had to.
    "Well yeah, there was this car I was thinking about getting, has nothing to do with you." He says as his foot presses against hers, causing their legs to lift upwards and balance against each other, like an arch or a bridge. "I just need to save up some scratch once I get it together I'm totally out of here."
    His lip twists and she doesn't need that intense ability to read another's body language to tell he's having her on. Then those pale eyes meet hers and he draws his lower lip between his teeth before he takes a breath and then says, "I do like this, though."
    And that has a curious feel of sincerity.
    Before he adds with a roguish smile as he looks downwards, "I mean. It's cheap, convenient. And hey free dishwasher."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
She balances her foot against his. An easy, comfortable position. Neither pushing hard to throw the other off balance, no challenge being presented. Just two pieces making something work.

"Laugh it up. It's only here on a temporary basis until we..."

Her eye widen a little at what she almost said and she frowns, changing it to something else so as not to even consider that. Because really, now she was just being silly. She was a realist. That wouldn't be happening.

"Completely remodel the kitchen." Okay, that was /not/ better. Dammit.

She looked to the side, grabbing her vodka and taking a sip before glancing back to him. When she speaks, it is barely above a whisper.

"I like this too."

Phobos has posed:
    "So alright," Alex meets her gaze and can't help that silly thing he does when he nips at his lower lip, in some ways making him seem his age, and yet still with those seemingly ethereal pale eyes. A glance is made to the side, then he looks back to her. "Might be fun to remodel, but then it might cease to be a safehouse if too many people know about it."
    Then his lip twists, "And if we try to do it ourselves we might end up murdering each other." Such is the fate of many couples that try home renovation.
    Then, perhaps seemingly non-sequitir, he says. "I was thinking about you today."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"I made sure we had the same delivery man on both. And the salesman." Natasha is not letting a lot of people know. Might be a bit of overkill. She'd learned that just because one was paranoid didn't mean there wasn't someone out to get them still!

"True. I admittedly am not super handy with construction. Your father would probably come in handy though. He could help. Then we just ant to kill him instead of each other."

At that last statement, she tilts her head as she takes another sip of her liquor. "Oh? Anything specific?"

Phobos has posed:
    "Yes, actually." And then his smile just /widens/ and she likely can tell whatever is coming likely is not good news if it amuses him so. But he looks to the side even as he pushes their feet up higher, as if they were stretching a bit, but then casually sways back and forth in a languid drift, just enjoying that connection.
    "I was talking with Kelso, mid-shift. And you know, talk with him for any length of time and things always round back to the 80s." Since that was the guy's fandom he enjoyed.
    "And I started wondering, which by the way I didn't mention to him, so no need to kill him. But I started wondering what your hair was like in the 80s." His smile is wicked, then he added, "And what your favorite songs were."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
That earns a laugh and a shove of her foot against his, purposefully messing up their balance. She shakes her head negatively.

"My hair looked like you expect it looked. I cannot show you as I made sure all photos from that decade were destroyed. Like I wanted there to be evidence of that?!" She let out a scoffing noise.

"As for music, there was a lot of good stuff all over in those days. But I still worked for the Russians then. Even though the Cold War was coming to an end officially, we all know such things never really do. Thankfully I was on assignment in the United States a lot." Then she switches to her Russian acccent. "Otherwise, we were forced to bootleg back in Mother Russia, da?"

Phobos has posed:
    "C'mon there has to be at least /one/ photo that survived." Alex grins as his leg is pushed back and now hers is straight out and forward while his supports hers. "One tiny photo with giganto hair Natasha?" He leans back a little and pushes just his toes against hers before adding "One magazine article with a hurried glimpse of short hair pixie cut Natasha?"
    Though when she doesn't clarify which bits of music she likes she can see him crinkle his nose, entirely unaccepting of her answers. Yet it's when she slips into that accent that his eyes close and he bites his lower lip as he breathes in.
    "Ok don't do that." He tells her, admonishing as he lifts a hand and curls it around her ankle to /pull/ her sloooowly down off the couch toward him.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"Fury probably has something in a file somewhere. I know the KGB certainly does. I wouldn't suggest asking either for it. And my pixie cut was more in late seventies," Natasha offers helpfully. "Then to the Farah Fawcett wings then to the giant hair that made our heads look enormous."

As he bites his lip and pulls at her leg, she laughs softly and puts her other foot on the floor, moving to join him on the floor as the amusement is dancing in her emerald eyes.

She makes sure not to use the Russian accent this time. "Seriously, I loved the Stones. A lot of metal bands. Anything by Bowie was gold."

Phobos has posed:
    "Mmmhmm," He says softly, likely still hearing the echoes of that accent as he settles her in his lap, but then he takes a deep breath, and his eyes open again to meet those dark green irises of hers. He smiles into her gaze and touches the tip of his nose to hers, "I will admit to some curiousity."
    About the photos. The hair, my god the hair.
    But she tells him more of the music as he then asks, "I liked..." Alexander lifts his eyes upwards searching his memory. "Journey, the main guy. He could really sing. Was more pitch perfect than the lead guitarist in some ways." Which might surprise her he pays attention to such things.
    "I liked..." He tilts his head the other way, replaying some of Kelso's playlist that seemed like it was running in the background each night they had monitor and data analyst duty. "Men at Work. They sounded neat."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"My guess is you mean Steve Perry. He did some solo stuff as well. Beautiful voice." Natasha agrees as she settles in comfortably, not minding the change of position. Other than her drink was now out of reach. Small price to pay. She'd just chill it again later and finish it up.

"Men at Work were fun. There were some of the big names then like Duran Duran, Madonna, Cyndi Lauper. Michael Jackson's solo career took off in that decade. A lot of great artists. A lot of good music."

She looks at him curiously. "Didn't know you knew so much about 80s music. Did you like it before or something Kelso got you listening to?"

Phobos has posed:
    Settled together it's a wonderfully comfortable thing. She's so light and seems to fit so well against him, and his arms around her back give enough support so she can just relax while he casually sneaks a hand around to catch at the scrunchy elastic holding her pony tail into place and then lazily start to ease it free. Not quite yet, but starting to draw it back.
    "My father has some vinyl, old keepsakes and things in the lower superstructure of the bunker beneath his house. A few times I'd sneak down there and fiddle around, listen to some things, read some things. I know he knew I did it, but he never stopped me."
    A small kiss is given to her cheek as he manages to finally pull that elastic free, letting her hair down in a crimson cascade, fingers casually brushing through it affectionately. "Kelso's playlists reminded me though that 'hey... I have good taste.'" His lip twists up wryly.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
She doesn't resist as he pulls the scrunchy out of her hair. Just remains utterly relaxed using him as something to lean on.

"That surprises me for some reason. Never imagined your dad with records. Although I suppose that's rather narrow minded of me. Music goes well with battle, after all. Or so it seems from every movie soundtrack out there."

She pokes him in the ribs playfully as his ever-so-modest confession about his musical tastes. "You should hit some 70s stuff if you haven't. Really, ever decade has their thing but the 70s have some of my favorites as well. Queen for a big one. Styx another. A lot of AC/DC back then." She shrugs. "I could take you through the decades sometime if you wanted."

Phobos has posed:
    "That might be fun," Alexander says as he slips that elastic over his wrist and then just rests there with his brow against hers, taking in a deep breath for a moment and then murmurs, "Like if we ever need to go on a long road trip. Could do a decade per state while we drive West. Start with the first decade when you were born."
    She can see his smile twist and likely she knows what's coming even before he speaks it as he murmurs with a wicked lilt to his voice, "Though we'd probably run out of states before we ran out of musical decades since then."
    Such courage to crack so wise with the deadly Black Widow in arm's reach, but his grin reaches his eyes as he teases her so.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"Ha. Ha." Spoken like words, the sarcasm dripping in her tone. "Very funny. We would not run out of states before we got there." Natasha counters as she gets a mock grumpy look on her face.

Until she thinks about it. "Well, maybe. Depends on the route we took. Nevermind!"

That discussion needed to end before it started. Although she realizes they are discussing taking a long trip together here. Not for work. But together for fun. Like a vacation. She tries to remember when she last took one of those and fails. She was the one that was always around and available for SHIELD.

Sobering thought. Not that she hadn't taken a vacation but that she was considering one with the man in front of her. "I'll just hack into your phone and add stuff to your playlist randomly."

Phobos has posed:
    "Well," Alexander says as he slips his arms back around her and grins crookedly, "That might be kind of nice in general, the password is my service number and birthday interwoven with alternating digits converted to hexadecimal. Knock yourself out."
    That said he touches a small kiss to the corner of her mouth and then murmurs quietly, "Now, we should probably get dinner going, unless you..."
    His eyes hood, half-lidded and looking a little sleepy as he murmurs with a hint of a tease, "Had something you wished to say to me, da comrade?"

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"And here I was sure it was 1-2-3-4. Silly me," Natasha jokes back playfully. The kiss is returned, just a brief moment then she nods at the suggestion about dinner.

Then he gets that look. And says those words.

Her impish smile is back. "Perhaps," she says, Russian accent back. "We could order in and to something better with the preparation time, da?"