Chapter 38
The morning came with the rustle of frost-touched branches and soft snow falling from overhead trees. Ash emerged from the woods, brushing off a few leaves clinging to his shoulders after another round of projection training. The smell of smoke and metal greeted him, along with the sound of Natasha starting the engine to warm up her car. She looked up and smiled through the morning chill.
"Stay another day, and I might need to prepare you another bed," she said with teasing ease. Ash chuckled as he approached. "Another bed would be nice." Without warning, she tossed him an axe. "Well, since you're already here… help me chop up some firewood." He caught it easily, then grinned as he pulled the dragon fang from his back. "I've got a better tool," he said. Natasha raised an eyebrow in amusement.
They spent the morning like that, laughing between the rhythmic chops of Ash's blade and the sound of Natasha washing vegetables near the cabin sink. The air was filled with fresh pine, dirt, and the scent of clean snow melting slowly underfoot. By afternoon, they had a small barbecue going. They grilled moose steaks with a side of sautéed vegetables, corn, and freshly sliced tomatoes.
Natasha sprinkled herbs over the meat as Ash turned the skewers, smoke wafting between them. They talked about everything but their past—about flavors, food, odd places they had slept in, the worst missions, and the best cups of coffee they'd ever had. Every word chipped away at the walls they had around them.
Each passing day felt quieter, lighter, less like survival and more like living. The woods seemed more welcoming. The snow softer. They stopped looking over their shoulders. Being near each other offered a small window where neither had to confront the weight chasing them.
That night, under the soft lantern light of the porch, they sat with another round of drinks. Their laughter echoed gently across the quiet trees, the forest giving nothing back but stillness. Natasha yawned and got up, brushing her arms. "I'm going to bed," she said, walking toward the door again.
This time, she paused with her hand on the knob and turned back. "It's cold," she said, meeting his eyes. "Won't you feel a little cold sitting in the Porsche?" Ash was about to answer with the same line—but stopped. She knew. Of course, she knew. And still, she asked. He turned toward her slowly as she flashed him a tired smile and disappeared into the house. Ash chuckled softly, shaking his head. Might as well… I need something to take my mind off Kamar-Taj.
Inside, the room was dimly lit, the warm glow from a fireplace crackling in the corner. Natasha sat on the bed, her jacket gone, wearing a soft cotton shirt. Her back was slightly slouched as she looked at him. Ash walked forward and placed a hand on her cheek, his fingers rough but his touch surprisingly soft. "You're gentle," she whispered, eyes meeting his. "That's… unexpected." Before she could say more, Ash leaned in, grabbing the back of her neck and kissed her, firm and deliberate. Her eyes widened for a moment before closing. Then, she kissed him back.
What followed was heat—hungry, tangled, relentless. The blankets were kicked away, the mattress groaning in protest. Limbs tangled, breathless gasps filled the room, and neither one slowed. Pillows fell. The old wooden frame cracked beneath them. The night stretched on, firelight dancing on their skin. The bed would never be the same again.
The morning sun peeked in through the broken blinds, casting strips of light across the wooden walls of the cabin. Ash sat at the table, shirtless, scarfing down plate after plate of breakfast with unbothered joy. The floor creaked with every shift of his chair, and the sizzling from the stove still lingered faintly in the air. Across from him, Natasha sat with a mug in hand, watching him with tired but amused eyes. She smiled slightly and said, "You're surprisingly cute," snapping him out of his trance mid-chew.
Ash chuckled with his mouth half-full as he leaned back and grinned. "You're surprisingly a screamer," he said casually. "I expected one of the Avengers to be the silent type." Natasha gave him an unimpressed look, her expression deadpan as she sipped her coffee. Just as the tension began to ease, Ash suddenly stopped eating, his fork hovering in midair. "Are you expecting a guest?" he asked, his tone quiet but sharp. The air inside shifted, the birds outside no longer chirped, and a distant metallic clank echoed outside the window.
Natasha frowned and shook her head. "Not today," she muttered, standing slowly and placing her mug down with a soft clink. Ash didn't move, his eyes narrowing. "Then she's definitely not a guest," he said, pointing through the window where a figure in combat armor was kneeling with a launcher. "She's got a shield—and she's currently firing an RPG." Natasha's eyes widened in disbelief as she stepped toward the window. "An RPG?" she said sharply. "Relax," Ash replied calmly. "It's just an RPG." "Yes, but I'm just a human," Natasha snapped, stepping back from the blast radius. "I'll make sure it doesn't hit you," he assured her, "but what about the cabin? How attached are you to it?"
Natasha took a breath, already calming down as the floor creaked again beneath her step. "It's okay," she said. "I was never content with the cabin's location anyway." Ash nodded slightly before reaching under the table, placing his hand on the side of a metal crate. "Also," he added, "she's not after us—she's here for a packet. The one from Budapest." Natasha's eyes shot toward him as recognition hit. Her posture stiffened, and she sighed deeply. "It's Budapest," she corrected. Ash just shrugged, unconcerned, as the distant whoosh of the rocket drew closer.
The RPG struck with a deafening roar, a flash of orange and white light engulfing the entire front wall of the cabin. Wood shattered like glass, splinters flying in all directions, flames curling against the collapsing ceiling. The roof cracked with a groan before giving way, collapsing inward as smoke poured out through every gap. Dust and ash filled the room in an instant, and everything seemed to vanish into chaos. Yet, as the dust slowly cleared, one part of the cabin remained untouched—the wooden table where Ash and Natasha had been sitting.
In a perfect circular radius around Ash, the floor, walls, and ceiling were pristine, untouched by the fire or debris. The box from Budapest sat in the center, unharmed, glowing faintly under a shimmering energy shell that pulsed once before fading. Ash still sat calmly in his seat, flicking a piece of toast off his shoulder.
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A/N hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh