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No matter what city Pepper found herself in, Luxembourg or Cairo or Samarkand, she sought out art. Sometimes in the great museums, with tall imposing columns, and sometimes in the bustling markets, where an unknown painter might be discovered amongst stalls of spices or cell phones. Pepper met with art dealers and gallery owners, with collectors and sculptors and artists of all levels of celebrity or notoriety. Sometimes she bought, for herself or for the Stark collection, and sometimes she just looked, admiring anything skillful.
Often, Natasha found her on these excursions. Pepper would feel her gaze first, the sensation of being looked at. Sometimes that would be the end of it. She’d turn around, searching out the source of the feeling, but of course no one ever saw Nat if she didn’t want to be seen. Pepper would continue with her day, wondering what had happened. She’d be just a bit more alert than usual, more on-guard, more aware of her surroundings. Which of course was what Nat wanted, after all.
And then sometimes she’d look around the room, checking the sightlines, searching out hiding spaces in the balconies above her. And when she’d finally given up and turned back to the art, Natasha would be standing beside her.
It was startling at first, then annoying, then endearing. Natasha was good company, friendly and beautiful and competent. She figured out which museums Pepper would be visiting and then memorized their blueprints. Pepper initially thought that Nat had been sent as a discreet bodyguard, but when she delved into the paperwork, it seemed that the role had been self-assigned.
“Why are you here?” she’d asked, at first, when she’d still thought Nat’s concern was just about security. “Is something wrong? Do we need to leave?”
Nat shook her head, smiling. “Sometimes, you just need to slip away from it all and go admire a masterpiece.”
And Pepper could relate to that, of course. But Natasha wasn’t looking at the art.
*
It became a thing, city after city, month after month. Pepper started looking forward to Natasha’s appearances as much as the art. When she slipped away from meetings in Perugia to gaze upon a painted saint, or from a dinner in Taichung City to look at a landscape lost to time, Nat found her. She’d sidle up and touch Pepper’s arm and tease her about her quest for beauty. They’d tour the rest of the gallery together, side by side. Then, Natasha would buy her a martini, watch her drink it, and disappear from the lobby of whatever hotel Pepper was staying at.
Pepper thought they were about eight cities in before she allowed herself to flirt back. Natasha took it in stride.
“Tell me about the art you like,” she said, eyes sparkling. They were on a rooftop in San Cristobal, the space open to the night sky and filled with paintings by unknown artists. The lights of the town below them glinted off red-tiled roofs, and music drifted from a courtyard party a block away.
Pepper relaxed against Natasha, and pointed out the details she loved: Bright eyes, a seductive gaze, an unexpected twist of red or gold. Stars emerging from a darkening sky. A void of night. A seashore in darkness. Fire, or snow, or feminine rage.
“Your taste isn’t exactly what I expected.”
Pepper raised an eyebrow.
“It’s darker. Angrier.”
“You thought I only loved pastels, or something?”
Natasha watched her thoughtfully. She sipped her drink and didn’t answer.
*
“A bold move, to leave the frames up,” Natasha said, gesturing at the empty space left by a missing painting.
Pepper, who no longer startled when Natasha appeared out of nowhere, indulged herself by grabbing Nat’s hand in her own. Natasha turned and beamed at her, and Pepper felt her heart take flight.
“I think it heightens the sense of mystery,” she said. “And shows that the museum is hopeful about getting the paintings back, someday.”
“And until then, I guess we’ll just have to use our imaginations.” Nat’s gaze was direct, and Pepper felt herself blush.
“Nothing wrong with that,” Pepper said, trying to recover. She looked at Natasha and wanted to kiss her, and managed, just barely, to restrain herself. “How long are you in Boston?” she heard herself say.
“As long as you are,” Natasha answered, almost too quickly. She looked vulnerable for a second but recovered almost instantly.
“Perfect,” Pepper said. “Let’s get dinner.”
*
“Do you like her breasts?”
A teasing voice, soft and lilting and right behind her, sent a shiver down Pepper's spine. Natasha stepped into her space, heels somehow utterly silent on the tiled gallery floor. She tucked herself in beside Pepper, leaning against her. Pepper could feel the gun tucked discreetly into Nat’s clothing and didn’t bother asking how she’d gotten it through the metal detectors. She didn’t turn to acknowledge Nat, just stared straight ahead at the painting.
“There’s nothing wrong with them,” she stated, feeling her cheeks heat. “She looks a little bored though.”
“Well, she’s spent about a hundred years in the nude, lying on a sofa. It’s bound to get tiring after a while.”
“I’m sure she has a rich interior life,” Pepper said. She reached for Natasha’s hand, pleased when it was immediately given to her. She squeezed it gently, and Natasha, much stronger, squeezed back.
“And she’s in a jungle. Something exciting could happen.” Nat pressed a little closer, so Pepper could feel the warmth of her. She released Pepper’s hand to slowly stroke a line up her thigh.
Pepper tried to suppress a shiver. She could feel Natasha looking at her, her gaze hot and appreciative. Pepper took a deep breath to steady herself and turned to look at Natasha. She saw her own desire mirrored back at her.
“We’ll have to check back on her later,” Pepper said, surprised at the huskiness of her voice, at how quickly Natasha could enchant her. She let herself be guided towards the exit, feeling as though she was in a dream.
*
“She doesn’t look repentant,” Natasha said. She and Pepper stood, hands entwined, gazing at a Gentileschi.
“Not at all,” Pepper agreed. “That’s a woman who’s getting the job done.”
“Who’s not afraid to get blood on her hands.”
“Sometimes it’s unavoidable,” Pepper said. She lifted Natasha’s hand to her mouth and kissed her knuckles. It’d been a while since she’d seen her, with Nat on the run once more. Maybe forever, this time, after Sokovia, and then, after that... Pepper pushed the thoughts away and forced herself to focus on her lover.
Natasha smiled back at her. Her real smile, Pepper thought, the only true one. Just for her alone.
“Be careful,” Pepper said. “They won’t stop hunting you. If they catch you-”
“They won’t catch me.”
“Be careful, then.”
“Always,” Natasha promised, and kissed her.