"Then congratulations, you can approach me openly," Ethan Hayes said, inviting Natasha Romanoff into his apartment.
"Do you need some rest?" he asked, noticing the slight puffiness in her eyes and the lack of luster in her complexion. It was clear she hadn't had any sleep, likely weighed down by stress.
Natasha, ever the composed agent, smiled slightly. "Does Mr. Hayes want me to fulfill my promise now?" Her voice carried a playful edge, but she was visibly exhausted.
Ethan, sensing the flirtatiousness but seeing the fatigue in her face, replied earnestly, "Natasha, I just see you're not in the best state. I'll lend you my bed to rest, nothing more."
She looked at him with her signature charm, her eyes teasing. "You're quite the gentleman now, Ethan." Finally allowing herself to show her tiredness, she relaxed.
"The bedroom is upstairs, on the second floor," Ethan said, motioning toward the staircase.
Without hesitation, Natasha took off her high heels, casually slipping out of her blue, form-fitting dress, leaving very little to the imagination. Her confident movements and bare feet on the cold floor caught Ethan's attention—he couldn't help but admire her figure, which exuded both strength and allure. She was, after all, a warrior who had faced countless life-and-death situations.
Catching Ethan's gaze, Natasha smirked, completely unbothered by his stare, reveling in the power she held over him.
Thump, thump, thump. Her bare feet softly hit the stairs as she made her way up, moving with the ease and grace of someone entirely at home in her own skin.
Soon after, Ethan heard the sound of the shower starting. He sighed, reaching for a glass of water. The frost from his freezing abilities cooled the glass instantly as he took a large gulp, attempting to quench more than just his thirst. Natasha's undeniable appeal had stirred something in him that was hard to ignore.
He muttered to himself with a small grin, "She'd be quite something in the ring."
Ethan decided to distract himself by making breakfast. He chose lobster and king crab, freshly caught from the deep sea, to prepare a delicious seafood porridge. Bread and milk just didn't do it for him in the mornings—he was used to more flavorful meals.
By the time he finished cooking, Natasha had come back down the stairs, now wearing one of his shirts, and nothing else.
"It smells amazing," she said, sitting down at the table. She took a bite of the seafood porridge and smiled, giving him a thumbs-up. "I've been to China and tried a lot of Chinese food, but none of it compares to this."
Ethan chuckled. "When you live alone, you learn to cook for yourself. I'm picky when it comes to food, and it's hard to find places in New York that suit my tastes, so I've had to experiment with recipes on my own."
Natasha nodded, realizing just how much Ethan had been through in the past few years. She asked, "Why did you rent a place in Hell's Kitchen?"
"Are you asking as a friend, or as an agent?" Ethan replied, his tone calm but his gaze sharp.
"Friend," Natasha said, smiling, though her eyes hinted at deeper curiosity.
"Well, as a friend, I'll tell you everything. If you were asking as an agent, I'd probably hold back." Ethan grinned.
Natasha's smile deepened. She was intrigued. Ethan was much different from Tony Stark. Tony was reckless and immature despite his genius. But Ethan? He had a maturity that belied his age.
"Hell's Kitchen has its dangers, but it operates by certain rules. You know, like Daredevil watching over the streets," Ethan began. He noticed Natasha's reaction but pressed on. "And then there's Jessica Jones. She's been a good neighbor. Lastly, I wanted to track down the people responsible for my parents' deaths."
Natasha nodded thoughtfully. "So, you lived in Hell's Kitchen, saw its darkest sides, and ended up writing Fifty Shades of Grey? I have to admit, it's an interesting book."
Ethan smirked. "It was more about making money than anything else. If you look at how society's changed over the years, you'll see how distorted people's values have become. People need something extreme to break through their emotional numbness and give them a sense of excitement."
"You're saying people want something shocking, and you want their money," Natasha mused.
"Exactly. Give them what they want, and you'll make a fortune," Ethan said, leaning back in his chair. His analysis impressed Natasha even more. She knew Ethan was a top student at Midtown Tech, but now she realized just how sharp his mind was.
"You also made quite the bet on Stark Industries," she remarked, her curiosity deepening. "Everyone expected Tony Stark's return to send the stock soaring, but you bet against it—and won."
"It wasn't much of a gamble," Ethan replied. "I watched Stark's press conference. His health was clearly in decline. I just made a calculated guess that his condition wouldn't allow him to stay at the helm of the company."
He smirked inwardly. I can't exactly tell her I know the future, now can I?
Natasha studied him. "So, how did you manage to get such a deep understanding of S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
Ethan merely smiled, taking a sip of his porridge. "Let's just say that, as an intelligence agency, S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't as airtight as you'd think."
She didn't press further, knowing that this was as much of an answer as she was going to get. But she wasn't done yet.
"Tell me about that island in the Atlantic—the one frozen over," Natasha asked.
Ethan paused before replying with a grin. "I encountered some ancient species on that island. Fire-breathing pythons, Tyrannosauruses with scales like steel, and more. Someone built a biological research lab there, but it was out of control. I figured freezing the whole thing would keep them contained."
Natasha was surprised. This was information even S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't have.
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