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The first time Steve Rogers met Natasha Antonia Stark, he stood and removed his cap respectfully as she entered. It was, as later described by Nick Fury—the only witness present—the first volly in a vicious, take-no-prisoners war that ten years and two children later would still be on-going.
"Natasha Antonia Stark, meet Steven Rogers." Nick grinned at them as if the air weren't heating from the force of Natasha's glare. "Now sit down an' play nice."
"You should know I never play nice, Nick." Stark paused in the doorway, perfectly plucked eyebrows lifted in derision. From her carefully messy up-do to her elegant mini-skirted suit, she was the picture of a business woman with too little time on her hands to worry about her appearance and yet somehow absolutely classy. Steve felt underdressed in his jeans and t-shirt, but it had been the only thing that would fit him and he hadn't been issued a new costume yet. "Put your hat back on, Rogers," she snapped. Black heels clicked against the floor as she strode to her seat. "Unless your brain is over-heating. Then, by all means, leave it off. We need you at full mental capacity."
Steve blinked. Nick had told him "Tony" would be coming, so he'd expected a man. Not a dame and definitely not someone looking at him like he'd spit on the floor. After gaping for a few second, years of dealing with Nick Fury kicked in. He dropped his baseball cap to the table and sat down. "Sorry, Ma'am. I didn't know showing respect for a lady was out of style these days."
Her lips twitched as she took the third seat. The pin-striped skirt was so short that she had to smooth it down as she sat. "It's not, but I'm not a lady. What have you got for me, Fury? I'm blowing off a meeting in Berlin for this."
"Captain America ain't enough?" Nick chewed on the end of his cigar, grinning like he was watching the best stage show in the world. Steve had to concede that maybe he was. The colonel seemed to get a lot of pleasure from surprising Steve with the changes in the world since he'd been frozen, the more shocking the better. If any word could be ascribed to someone within five minutes of meeting them, "shocking" definitely fit the slender woman across from him.
"Pretty as he is, no, he's not." Stark leaned forward and brushed a long black curl back behind her ear. "Unless this is about that Avengers thing you were talking about."
"Got it in one. And he's the start of it."
"I was afraid of that." She sighed and reached into the tiny attaché case she'd brought with her, pulling a folder out of a side pocket. The next thing she did was slip on a pair of reading glasses. Fake reading glasses, Steve could tell even across the table. The lenses didn't magnify her eyes at all. "I've got copies of all the relevant laws. I won't have Iron Man working as a government agent, but there's precedent for federally sanctioned groups that work outside the system."
Having people talk over his head wasn't any more fun now than it had been in the Army, and Steve wasn't even being paid for it this time. "Iron Man?" That name sounded familiar. Nick had mentioned it, he was sure, but Nick had mentioned a lot of things Steve hadn't had time to process. "Who's that?"
"My bodyguard. You met him briefly when you were pulled from the Antarctic. A vaguely robotic person in red." Steve wasn't imagining the amusement in Stark's voice, as if there were a joke Steve were missing out on. Now that she mentioned it, he did remember seeing a robot before he'd passed out. "He's agreed to be part of any group of high-powered troubleshooters Fury gets going. As long as he's capable of performing his duties, of course."
"And Mr. Stark is okay with that?" Steve knew he'd made a mistake when Stark's blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "I mean, wouldn't he want his wife's bodyguard concentrating on his job?"
Now her teeth were showing in an expression that was too unpleasant to be called a smile. "There is no Mr. Stark since my father died. I'm single, and intend to stay that way."
"Thank god," Nick snorted, propping his heels up onto the table with a loud bang. "Last thing we need is you finding a match. We'd have to put the whole damn world on orange alert. Not to mention the kids."
Steve tensed, expecting Stark to snap since she'd been so prickly with him, but she just rolled her eyes with a small smile. "There's always in-vitro. Don't forget that."
"I shudder at the thought." Nick made a gesture at the folder, and Natasha slid it across the table for him to flip through. "This Iron Man's demands? What about my base?"
"A few of my own demands, too. I don't trust SHIELD's HR department." Another folder magically appeared from the side pocket of the attaché case. "I also have the schematics for your base right here. It's going to cost the government a pretty penny, but I think I can save some cash by dealing directly with the vendors. If, of course, Stark Industries gets the job."
"Of course."
"And what about Captain Courtesy over here?" Stark folded her hands and rested her chin on them in a move that was probably supposed to give anyone across from her a framed view down the front of her shirt. It would have worked, if her blouse that day hadn't been buttoned up to the collarbone. "You said he's the start of it?"
"I can speak for myself." Well, normally he would have let Nick handle it, but he was still looking at the papers Stark had given him, and her attitude rubbed Steve in exactly the wrong way. "Nick wants me to be part of the team."
"Not leading it." She didn't even bother to phrase it as a question. "I'm not going to take—to have Iron Man take orders from some out-dated relic with a pretty shield just because he's got some history behind him."
"Rotating chairmanship," Nick grunted without even looking up from the file. "Tactical expertise in the field. Iron Man'll take orders from whoever's best for the job."
Steve had never seen anyone actually grind their teeth in rage before, but Natasha gave an excellent demonstration. "Fine, but I expect to see some proof of this 'expertise' before signing off on anything."
"You'll have it," Steve replied sharply. It was one thing for her to question his conduct, but he knew himself for a damn good tactician.
Paper slapped down onto the table as Nick finished pretending not to listen. "Wouldn't expect anything else of ya. There anything else you want?"
"Not a thing, Nick." Stark stood with the sort of crispness that would have made a Nazi general tear up with pride. She smoothed down her skirt again before picking up her case. "Iron Man will be by for a meet and greet later. If you'll excuse me, I have a missile to design."
Neither man said anything until the sharp click click of her heels had faded.
"Ya survived. Good job." Nick leaned back in his chair, grinning with far too much cheer. "Not many do."
"Why is she so..." The word shrewish came to mind, but even with Stark gone, Steve wasn't comfortable talking about anyone in those sorts of terms. "Aggressive?"
"Ask her." Nicks boots thudded onto the conference table. The treads dropped a small pile of dirt as they did. "I'd make sure to be wearin' yer mail when you do. And maybe have a handy wall ta hide behind."
Steve's eyebrows shot up. "That bad?"
"Oh, son, you've got no idea."