Chapter Text
Time is a strange concept. It's impalpable yet heavily perceptible. It can make a moment linger forever or go by fleetly. It stretches or shrinks. It is mysterious and unfathomable.
Or so, it was.
It all changed fifteen years ago when scientists finally deciphered its secret code. At a time when divorces were skyrocketing in the world, a company came up with an algorithm capable of determining when you were to meet your significant other and encapsulated it in the modest form of a watch.
LOVE IS ONLY A TICK AWAY the slogan read on every TV commercial and banner in the streets and online.
Skepticism gave way to curiosity and hope. And as hard as it was to admit— and still is for some — the Watch had startling results. Every encounter predicted led to a successful relationship. Love blossomed everywhere and never perished. The divorce rate fell significantly across the world and the efficiency of the Watch became indisputable.
The principle is astoundingly simple. The Watch activates around the wrist of the wearer the first time it is worn and sets automatically. When the countdown reaches 0, which means you are standing in front of your soulmate, it beeps (along with theirs) then turns off completely.
Of course, a small, trivial object with such power stirs strong opinions. People began to argue over it — some asked to make it illegal and have it banned. The initiative was strongly supported by the main Churches, but not only. Over time, — after the heated debate wore off—, you could pretty much find three categories of people. The overwhelming majority — who wore the Watch and waited expectantly waited for the last tick; the minority — those who'd refused to buy or activate it altogether; and those who knew, but vehemently tried to fight against fate...at their own scale.
Now, whether people live by or abhor it, the Watch has become a trivial object omnipresent in your everyday life. Like a phone or tablet.
The many people currently bustling in the small Manhattan coffee shop are walking past, waiting in line for their orders with a Watch around their wrist. Or not. It's something you don't dwell on.
Natasha Romanoff is sipping coffee at her usual table by the window, right next to the tall plant. She looks up from the book she's reading and notices a man is staring at her from the sugar counter across the room. She dismisses it and goes on to take another sip before resuming her reading. Her cup is nearly empty when a tall, broad figure comes to stand above her.
"Excuse me," a male voice calls. She takes her eyes off of the page and looks up. It is the same man from earlier. He's holding his cup and has a notebook clutched under his arm.
His blue eyes stare into hers with an unexpected combination of boldness and bashfulness.
"I couldn't help admiring you from across the room and, as I was about to leave, I thought I had to take a chance and come and speak to you."
She raises her eyebrow. His advances certainly are flattering. And she'll admit, he is strikingly handsome. His sharp, square jaw, his full lips, and the golden hair, without mentioning his incredible athletic figure — the man has it all.
"May I?" he asks, pointing at the chair across from her.
She nods. He smiles and sits down. He puts down on the table what she realizes is a leather sketchbook, creased in the middle for often being folded with the corners worn out. He attentively watches her.
“You come here a lot?” he asks.
“Probably more than I should,” she says with a smirk. “You?”
“First time, actually. And I’m glad I did.”
The smirk tugging at his lips is compelling. Almost irresistible.
“Yeah. Their lattes sure are the best,” she chimes in. Her humor makes him smile.
They chat, mostly banter in the most natural and familiar way until he finally asks:
“Can I give you my number? See how things could develop…”
She eyes him without a word.
“They wouldn’t develop much unless you are…,” she trails off as she pulls up her sleeve, “3 months, 5 days and 37 minutes early.”
He brushes his thumb over his bottom lip with a slightly stern expression. He takes a breath in and leans back on the chair. His eyes dive into hers, unwavering.
“You didn’t come off as the type to wear the Watch,” he says. He doesn’t sound disappointed or judging. Maybe the contrary intrigued and willing to tackle that unexpected challenge.
“I like to keep people on their toes.”
“3 months, huh? That’s quite close,” he comments.
She smiles unabashedly. He nods to himself.
“I’ll admit I didn’t see this hold-up coming but I’m a good judge of character.”
“And?” she cocks an eyebrow.
He extends his forearms on the table and leans over, creating an unsettling kind of intimacy.
“You’re not the type to let an algorithm take control of your life.”
His bold statement and the quiet confidence he displays draw her in. She smiles and glances away quietly.
“Or maybe I believe in destiny.” A short, contemplative silence follows.
He quickly looks at the clock on the wall across.
“Time seems to be against us today. But I’m pretty stubborn. What’s your name?” he asks, casually.
“Natasha.”
It makes him smile. “Let’s make a deal, Natasha,” he purrs her name like hot and sweet liquor. “If we meet again, you’ll owe me a date. It’ll be my honor to ask you out again.”
“Why would I make such a deal?” she questions daringly.
“Because if we meet again we can definitely agree it was meant to be, right?”
The corner of his mouth curls up. He takes his sketchbook, folds it under his arm then gets up. As he walks away, she calls out.
“If I choose to honor this deal, I should at least know your name.”
His large shoulders spin around. He smiles triumphantly.
“Steve Rogers.”
That evening Natasha Romanoff comes home from work and smiles as she finds herself almost wishing to meet that stranger in the coffee shop again.
2 MONTHS, 30 DAYS, 18 HOURS AND 12 MINUTES AND 33 SECONDS
And indeed, they do. It happens very randomly about a week later. Natasha is chatting alongside her colleague and friend Maria Hill at a fancy but relaxed banquet party they have been invited to when she sees him, watching her from across the room. He is standing with a group of people who are laughing loudly, totally oblivious of the scene that seems to unfold in slow motion.
He is wearing an elegant black shirt with sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms with a pair of black trousers. It strikingly contrasts with his light hair and turquoise blue eyes. He is a guest, too, but he has the attention of half the females in the audience without even trying. But he doesn’t seem to notice. His eyes are fixed on her with a satisfying smirk playing on his lips.
He lets the moment linger as a way to savor his victory. And oddly perhaps, she is too. Maybe she likes the thrill of this adventurous curve in the straight and steady path lying ahead of her.
She whispers a couple of words into Maria’s ear, apologizes to her company and goes out on the large terrace looking over Manhattan and its skyline. It only takes a few seconds before she hears him approach.
“Quite a lovely evening, isn’t it?” he says after standing by the guardrail.
“And full of surprises,” she finishes with a smile.
She turns to face him. “Ok, what’s your secret? How’d you know you’d find me here?”
He leans an elbow on the rail and turns towards her, too.
“I didn’t. I’m pleasantly surprised too, to be honest.”
She snorts and shakes her head, then gazes at the floodlit landscape in front of them.
“So how come you were invited? Who are you friends with?”
He points at the exuberant man giving a grandiloquent speech to his assembly.
“I’m Tony Stark’s lawyer.”
She nods to herself. “I guess that explains the whole ‘good judge of character’ talk.”
“Becoming his lawyer may not have been my brightest moment,” he jokes. “And you?”
“I’m a pianist. Stark has been funding many of my concerts across the city.”
“You must be very good at it, then. Tony doesn’t choose to be someone’s patron lightly.”
She smiles silently. She can feel his expectant gaze upon her.
“So…Natasha, will you have dinner with me? And who knows? I might even surprise you.”
His boyish smile forces a giggle out of her. She reaches over to take the flute of champagne in his hand and takes a sip.
“Maybe you already have,” she murmurs.
The date was agreed on for the following Friday in a busy street in Brooklyn. She finds him standing on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets. He is wearing a dark brown leather jacket. She has put on a pair of blue high-waist jeans with a silky maroon cropped top with a jacket. Her hair is up in a bun.
He flashes a wide when he sees her coming up.
“You look stupendous,” he says. For a pair of jeans and a jacket?
“That’s…quite an enthusiastic response.”
He chuckles. “You’ll understand later.”
“So where are we going?” she asks.
“I know a local Italian around the corner. It’s been open for as far as I can remember.”
They make their way there. The interior is as modest as the outside façade. It surprises her — not a common choice for a Wall Street lawyer. He’s not trying to dazzle her and she likes it.
“Steve!” a man calls loudly in a thick Italian accent. He warmly shakes his hand and taps his shoulder then turns to greet Natasha with the same friendly enthusiasm. “Welcome to Giovanni’s, darling. I have kept the best table for you.”
They go and sit and Giovanni lights up the half-used candle.
“They serve the best lasagna. I know, I’ve tried at other places.”
Giovanni casts him the glare. Steve gulps. “Not that many.”
The wine is exquisite in an authentic type of way. There is nothing glittery or arrogant at Giovanni’s but it’s charming all the same. She can see why he’s chosen this place for their first date.
"Of course we could only meet again, and in these circumstances. This is Tony Stark's world and we all live in it," she remarks and they both laugh.
The conversation eventually shifts to the Watch.
“What’s your story? Why aren’t you wearing one?”
“Why should I?” he laughs. “Half my family is obsessed with it and I’m not sure they are any happier.”
“So your family doesn’t share your views?”
“The day my parents got theirs it struck the end of their marriage. My father was never truly involved anyways; it simply gave him an excuse to leave us. My mom’s Watch beeped eventually and she re-married. He’s a nice guy; his wife had passed many years before. They’re doing well. His son — my step-brother — who’s about my age, has patiently been waiting for his Watch to beep.”
“And what’s so wrong about it?” she asks.
He shakes his head. “Call me old-fashioned or stubborn, but I like the idea that I have chosen the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
“Some people need a little help, sometimes. It is scary to fall in love.”
“It’s always been. I’m not scared to have my heart broken so long as I allowed it to work.”
She eyes him from behind her glass of red wine.
“You think people don’t fall in love nowadays?”
He stares into her emerald eyes. “I think they forget to be spontaneous.”
They’re words she hasn’t heard in years and that bring back fond nostalgia.
“Spontaneous?” she trails off as she plays with the spoon of her dessert. “Show me.”
He cracks a smile.
He lays bills on the table and gets up, flaunts his leather jacket over his shoulder then stretches a hand out to her. “I was hoping you would ask.”
She looks up at him with inquisitive but beguiled eyes then glances down at his hand. She gently slips her fingers onto his palm.
A couple of minutes later, they are walking along the street. He halts and looks at her.
“Why are we stopping?” she asks.
He smiles. “Our ride is here.”
She stares in disbelief at the big motorcycle parked behind him. She chuckles.
“You’re the first lawyer I meet who rides one of these!”
“I guess I like to keep people on their toes,” he echoes her words, earning a smirk from her, then leans over to get the helmet. He steps in front of her and gently lays it over her head. He then fastens the clip.
He teasingly pokes the tip of her nose with his finger. “It looks cute on you.”
He puts his helmet on and straddles the motorcycle. She watches with an agape mouth — what a sight!
“When you’re ready,” he says kindly.
Her heartbeat quickens. The exhilaration is slowly surging up her body. It feels like old times again. She smiles and gives an encouraging nod to herself before getting on. Her hands gently slip around his waist.
The engine roars fiercely. It sends shivers down her spine. Steve pulls back slowly then engages on the road. As they enter the freeway, his hand swiftly pulls around the handle, launching the bike forward. Her fingers grasp the fabric of his shirt. They soon get away from the bustling city and the light turns dim as they dive into the night. Steve drives fast along the deserted roads lined with trees. She slowly looks up and catches sight of the thousand stars glowing in the sky. It seems like ages since she last saw them.
The mild air sweeps across her face and she breathes in the scent of humid grass and leaves. She loosens her grip and bends backward, taking in the view, enjoying the moment. She lets out a joyful and carefree squeal whose echo dies down in the distance. He smiles from where he is sitting.
Thirty minutes later, he pulls over on the side of a quiet rural road. They are both leaning on the bike, gazing at the splendorous untouched nature in front of them.
She taps her finger on the screen of her Watch.
“My father bought it for me when it came out. I’d just turned 18. He had great hopes for me which involved being in a happy marriage and having children. But I wasn’t ready for any of it. I was…,” she smiles blankly, “rebellious. Hardly contented with anything. I took his gift as a leash so I protested. Commitment meant little to me. I’d date around for the sake of proving I could. Then I met this guy, a singer, he offered me my ticket out. I went with him on a tour around Europe. It was fun, and I felt free. Alive.” She pauses and takes a deep breath in. “My father had a heart attack. He died alone and it took days before someone even realized and found him. It took even longer before I came back and claimed his body at the morgue. After that, I saw why family was important. And I put the Watch on.”
She turns to look at him with watery eyes and shrugs slightly as she sniffs and forces a smile. “Never took it off once ever since.”
Steve is watching her quietly. She notices his eyes are slightly gleaming too under the moonlight. “I’m sorry,” he says.
She shakes her head. “It’s ok. It was years ago. Anyways, when I came back I settled down and resumed my studies. I started a new life and it hasn’t been an unhappy one so far.”
The corner of his mouth goes up slightly. “Has it been a happy, fulfilling one, though?”
She runs her fingers through her hair. “I don’t know. It’s been so long. But it feels safe.”
“I get it. I really do.”
They look at each other without a word. She bites her bottom lip and shuts her eyelids. Her mind runs through a thousand thoughts, once of which is far more obsessive than the others and she can no longer pretend to ignore. Looking back at him staring at her with such candor and yearning, she feels the pull to lean in.
She makes a resolute nod and stands on her feet. She turns to face him.
“If we’re doing this,” she begins, “we can’t get attached. We’re just being spontaneous and going along with it…for the time it lasts.”
Still sitting on the bike, he looks at her with meek, but lustful, eyes. He looks down and shakes his head, snorting.
“Natasha. I like you,” he admits. “I like you. I think part of me will always want more but I can’t risk losing it all for being too greedy. We’ll go with your terms.”
She smiles. “Great,” she says and holds her hand up to make it an official shake.
He laughs softly. Taking hold of it, he softly yanks her up to him, crushing his lips against hers, sealing the deal with a kiss.
2 MONTHS, 28 DAYS, 14 HOURS, 41 MINUTES AND 7 SECONDS