A/N: Because I needed BuckyNat fluff. Based on an idea from an irl friend, and I made an attempt at Natasha's POV this time. Oh, and for reference, I'm using a lot of stuff from their comic book relationship. Hence the use of James and Natalia. Hope y'all like it!

Natasha Romanoff was wary of dates. She always had been, and she always would be. With the KGB, romantic engagements were opportunities for undercover operations and assassinations. With SHIELD, it hadn't been much different. But now, with James - at least something had changed.

Things had been starting to get a little boring, honestly.

It had all started after their reunion make-out session on Stark's couch. They'd both been curled up, watching some crappy TV show or another, when James had suddenly announced that they'd never had an actual, real date. For all their time in the Red Room together, all that secrecy behind closed doors meant it didn't really count to him. Aside from the fact she'd been engaged to marry, at the time.

And so, putting on a mischievous smile and pulling on that old charm Steve had warned her about, he asked her if she'd give him that honor. To which she replied that, yes, she would go out with her idiot, despite how frivolous the whole venture sounded. And then they were quite enjoying each other's company when Stark himself walked in a few minutes later.

The next week, they tried this first date thing.

And the next week, too. And the week after.

Really, neither of them were that surprised. Halfway through a movie, and there was a hostage crisis just north of New York City. Ten minutes into laser tag, and Fury had caught wind of a planned assassination attempt on the head of the Pentagon. Opening the door to a dance hall, and she had to answer a call from a very terrified Stark running for his life from a very pissed-off Banner.

James had been tempted to leave Stark to fend for himself. So had she. In the end, they only went back to make sure they still had a place to sleep for the night. After all, what was the point of abusing Stark's hospitality if there wasn't any place to actually take advantage of?

In the end, Stark apologized with his usual cavalier air. Bruce was more genuine in his apology, offering the fact that, statistically speaking, their first date should go off without a hitch sometime soon.

Funny how that didn't make her feel any better about their chances.

Still, James was adamant about things going right. She didn't really see the need anymore - everyone in the Tower knew about them, and it wasn't like they needed to prove anything to each other - but she wasn't about to stop him. It wasn't like she didn't enjoy the attempts, and it was, she had to admit, just the slightest bit cute to see him try so hard.

Shortly after the incident which had cut short their third first date, she and James cornered Stark, threatening him into booking them a reservation at the most expensive place in town. Now, looking up at the high, vaulted ceilings and chandeliers and every table and groups of rich people showing off their wealth, she knew this wasn't really her kind of place. It wasn't James' either, though she suspected they were the only ones who knew that about each other, with the practiced ease they both wore.

She caught his eye as the waiter finally left. "You know, this probably wasn't worth it for revenge. Doubt this even put a dent in his pocketbook."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah. Didn't realize that 'til after though."

"Shame. There are far more entertaining ways to get revenge." She smirked across the table. "You're making this boring."

That smirk only grew to a full smile as he rose an eyebrow. "I'm boring?" He reclined, arms crossed. "I didn't need to set this up."

"And, for once, you're right." She leaned back, mimicking his posture. "Mr. Our-First-Date-Has-To-Be-Perfect."

"Well I'm sorry for trying," he laughed. "I'll make sure I don't when it comes to the second date."

"And I really appreciate that," she deadpanned in return.

At which point all hell broke loose.

Gunshots. People screaming. Ten men dressed all in black storming through the entrance. "Вы не получаете за это время !"

Natasha couldn't help but roll her eyes.

Both she and James were on their feet, headed to the pillars at the side of the room for cover, yelling for everyone else to get out. Those men weren't here to kill innocents, but they wouldn't mind the casualties.

They both knew that from experience.

"So," James ventured, the two of them waiting for a few moments behind the cover of the pillar, side by side, "how many of these guys you think they're gonna send before they realize neither of us is goin' back to Russia?"

"Hard to say. But they came all this way. I don't see why we shouldn't humor them at least."

The fight didn't last long after that. These men, they were trained, but nowhere near well enough, despite their numbers and their guns. Dispatching the last of them with a swift kick to the head, Natasha took in the overturned tables, the shattered chandeliers, the bullet holes in the walls.

"So, same time next week?"

Translation (At least according to Google Translate. If anyone knows better, feel free to let me know and I'll fix it!):
Вы не получаете за это время ! - You're not getting away this time!
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