NOTE: This is a companion fic to Worst Laid Plans and part of a series. You'll need to read both to understand what is going on in upcoming chapters.

Natasha closed the door to her suite behind her and walked down the hall toward the elevator. She passed Clint's door (still open, pants on the floor, snores echoing through the halfway) and closed it. Thank God for ear plugs, she thought. She'd never get any sleep otherwise, between Clint's chronically broken nose and her upstairs neighbors. Jane and Thor were very... active.

She pushed the "up" button and waited. Natasha and Clint had been notified by Tony of their extraterrestrial visitors earlier that morning. Luckily, their field op was just wrapping up and they were on their way back anyway. Natasha grabbed a quick cat-nap and was ready to meet within an hour. Clint would need another ten hours to recover, not due to any major injury but because he tended to live on coffee and energy drinks on missions. ("I'll sleep when I'm dead, Nat," he'd said, tossing back a swig of Red Bull. "Or when we get home. Whichever comes first.")

The elevator doors opened and Natasha stepped on. Music started playing, a calm classical piano piece, and she leaned against the back wall of the elevator and shut her eyes.

"Thank you, Jarvis," she said to the AI. "You always know just what to do."

"My pleasure, Miss Romanoff," he replied. "Enjoy your evening."

Natasha grinned. Living in the tower tried her patience most of the time, entirely due to a few certain residents, but Jarvis more than made up for it. She had lived without luxuries or companionship for most of her life. It was nice to have someone thinking of her comfort.

Tony's penthouse was only a few floors up so that comfort was short-lived. She walked through the entry and quietly kept to the unoccupied portion of the oversized living room.

If there was an aspect of her personality that Natasha was exceptionally proud of, it was her ability to keep her composure in all scenarios. Watching a raccoon walk around the kitchen with a tree? Severely testing that ability.

"You are Natasha Romanoff," a smooth female voice said next to her. Natasha didn't turn. Although she had admittedly been distracted by the tree, this woman had to be good to sneak up on her like that

"Possibly. Who are you?"

The other woman stepped in front of her and Natasha held back another shocked response. The woman's skin was bright green with (beautiful) intricate markings across her face and arms.

"I do not wish you harm. We are here to help." The green woman held out her hand to Natasha. "I am Gamora."

Natasha shook her hand and forced herself to glance around the room instead of staring at Gamora. She didn't appreciate it when people gawked at her anyway. "And I'm Natasha." Gamora moved back to her side. They watched as Rocket, held by Groot, dug through a tool box Tony had set on the counter.

Someone cursed outside, drawing their attention. Thor was out there with two other men and they were lifting what looked like a piece of the...

"Really?" Natasha groaned. "Not the Jacuzzi!" She quickly crossed the living room and went outside, slamming the patio door (after pausing for Gamora to slip through.)

"What. Happened." she said tersely. "Who broke it and who's fixing it?"

Thor dropped a piece of broken tub and frowned at her. "Yes, we are all grieving. Our visitors' ship did irrepairable damage. Do not despair, Lady Natasha. Stark is procuring a new one and it shall be here within a fortnight!" He grabbed a shovel and went back to cleaning up the broken Iandscaping.

"What the heck is a fortnight?" Natasha glared at the speaker, a seemingly human man with a dopey expression on his face. "Is it how long it takes to make a fort?" He smiled at her. "Which you are totally invited to. My fort, that is. Pillow fort."

Before he could complete his wink, Natasha had his right arm twisted behind his back. She brought her face close to his.

"You know, I really don't like people breaking my things and then hitting on me."

"Okay, okay, OKAY!" Peter yelped and tried to bring his arm back down. "I'm sorry! It won't happen again!" Natasha let him struggle for a minute before releasing him. He quickly put distance between them.

"That's Peter," Gamora said and waved a hand towards him. "He was raised by mercenaries. We are working on his manners." She glared at Peter.

"I said I was sorry!" Peter whined. "Stop staring at me like that! I'm already going to have nightmares about Red over there."

Natasha looked at him with one eyebrow cocked. "My name is Natasha and you will refer to me by that unless you want me to finish breaking your arm."

Gamora smirked. Peter blanched. "Oh, no. This is bad." He backed away and looked around desperately. "Drax! DRAX! There's a Terran version of Gamora!" He ran of to the other side of the patio, leaving Gamora and Natasha alone.

"Does he do that often?" Natasha asked, watching the man on question gesticulate wildly to a shirtless grayish blue man with red markings.

Gamora sighed. "Yes. He is very annoying at times, but he has a good heart. He is my friend."

Natasha looked at the woman next to her and could see a hint of sadness in her face. She could also see multiple weapons that would be concealed to most people's eyes. Not Natasha's, of course.

Gamora watched Natasha's gaze. "Want to compare? I am certain we have different equipment."

"I'm sure we do," Natasha said, smirking and folding her arms over her chest

"I meant our weapons." Gamora mimicked her pose.

"So did I. Training room is downstairs." Natasha turned and walked back inside and to the elevator. She pushed the "down" button and waited, knowing Gamora was behind her despite the silence. She still didn't trust this new person, but having another quiet person in this obnoxiously loud tower was already sounding like a fantastic idea.