ergon | .OPEN POST. (let's play)

.OPEN POST. (let's play)

[ open. texts, messages, rp prompts and starters. gen & nsfw. ]

[ Telling anyone that Hell's Kitchen was a getaway spot for her would probably have raised quite a few eyebrows, but Natasha was always the kind of person who felt more comfortable in areas that weren't quite so nice. She has a place in Avengers tower, but more often than not, she slept at her apartment in Little Ukraine, and when she didn't want to spend time there? Well, there was a loft she could go to. Rogers and Barton were the only ones who knew about this secretive 'third place', and that was only because they were her friends and the two teammates she trusted the most. Time spent with Matt, as little as she got, was precious.

The last time she'd seen him was during the proceedings following the fall of SHIELD and Hydra several months ago. She knew he was in the crowd, but out of necessity hadn't contacted him while they were both in the court room. His presence was welcomed, even if she didn't need a lawyer to deal with assholes on the bench. She'd caught his prideful smirk as she walked out, and returned the favor. She's certain he saw it, somehow. And then had come the raids on Hydra bases. She's been out of the country for months, radio silence on her end which is nothing new. Most people don't hear from her when she's off trying to save the world, and despite how she might feel about him, Matt is no exception. She finds herself missing him towards the end, the casual moments they've spent together, nights (and days) in bed. She has a connection with him that she doesn't share with anyone else. He's her escape.

It doesn't take much to find out what court house he's defending at today. Ask the right questions, read the right files, and you can find out almost anything. She makes it in time to see him leaving, and she smiles to herself as she rolls down the window, parking at the curb right in front of him. ] Hey, fella. Need a lift?

[ There are people who would call Natasha a traitor and a whistleblower, people who think the worst of all the things she's spilled; secrets blown open and ripe for public consumption. Matt is neither one of those people, no matter the reservations he may have when it comes to her methods.

He listens quietly in the roar of the courtroom, and he doesn't reach out to her because that's not how they operate. They're not lovers, not in the most traditional sense of the word even if they do sleep together sometimes, and he might be growing fond of her. Ultimately, he has his own way and she has hers -- theirs just happen to cross from time to time. He's fine with that.

His home also just happens to be the third place she seeks sanctuary in, and he's fine with that, too. Today, however, he's just wrapped up a case, grimly satisfied by the outcome when he hears the familiar purr of an expensive car, catching a whiff of her perfume, and realizing just who's just pulled up.

Matt stops, smiling. ]

Depends on where you have in mind.

Your place or mine.

[ It's said with all the air of cheekiness she can muster, mostly because she already knows the answer: his. They're both more comfortable there. She's not ready to let him into that one private aspect of her life. She doesn't know if she ever will be, even if her feelings for him run a lot deeper than she'd like to admit. He knows his place better, too. It makes things easier in the long run.

Natasha leans over and opens the passenger door, settling back into the driver's seat as she calls out. ]

Meter's running, hot shot.

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.OPEN POST. (let's play)

pre-aou au!!

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