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Just a Spark, Just a Taste (what it's like to be you and me)

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"Oh you have got to be kidding me."

This is the first thing Natasha hears one crisp April morning, three years and two days after the alien invasion of New York, and three months after she's moved into the Stark mansion. To be fair, most of the Avengers had moved into the Stark mansion by then too, it had just taken her awhile to join their little crime-fighting club.

Natasha groggily swipes at her eyes, wishing she hadn't actually accepted the damn offer. She'd really liked her old apartment, what with all the quiet and it being hers and all, except some douchebag bad guys had blown it up - again - so here she was. Getting woken up at five o'clock in the morning to curses and grumbles and people.

Except, wait-

Natasha sits up, realizing that no one was actually in her room, except her.

But it had sounded like the voice was right in her ear.

"Hey, could you keep it down?" The voice grumbles again, stressed, and shit-that was Pepper's voice wasn't it?

"Are you invisible or something, fuck, where the hell are you Pepper?" she asks to empty space, feeling an itch at the back of her neck, the prickling fear of wanting to strike out, to hit, except there was nothing for her to hit.

"Um...not quite. You should probably come to the kitchen," Pepper says, whisper close and full of confusion, frustration. Natasha catches a glimpse of simmering bacon and the sweeping expanse of the kitchen. She smells grease and toast and woah, yep, something weird was definitely going on.

She can taste stress, discomfort, and everything in between, except it's tinged with golds and orange and a steady thrum of power. Somehow it all feels distinctly like Pepper.

What the hell, she thinks, reeling.

Yea, tell me about it, she more feels than hears Pepper's words this time, feels the accompanying sigh. Yep, Natasha was definitely regretting her decision to move here times a thousand.


"So you're telling me we're 'connected'?" Natasha says, drawing out the words in long syllables.

Pepper nods.

"Connected up here?" she continues, tapping on her temple.

"Yes," Pepper replies, the word full of half-baked anger.

"How? More importantly, why and also, can we turn it the fuck off?" Natasha doesn't pace, but she clenches and unclenches her hands, her hackles raised and defensive.

Pepper is, well, calm but not, a stormy sea brewing beneath her calculating eyes, the faint glow of the Extremis sparking under the kitchen lights. Natasha can feel Pepper's anger, her power, the taste of strength that's flooding her system with adrenaline and desire, that's pushing her to fix something or maybe fight it.

It's somehow deeply reassuring, that need, it twinned with her own and she basked in it, for just a moment, feeling comforted.

"If I knew, it would already be done, cause not a fan. You're great, really, but I don't like knowing what you're thinking anymore than you do. And can you please stop thinking about punching things, it's not helping my calm," Pepper's voice is edged with panic at the end as her fingers glow a bright orange-red-yellow.

Natasha holds up her hands, peaceful and placating.

"Easy there tiger."

Pepper takes a couple heavy breaths, the light fading, the anger getting tucked back away. It's a wonder to watch, like she's sliding back into herself, into what she thinks of as normal.

"Maybe it's a side effect of that whole thing," Natasha says, motioning at the whole of Pepper. "Like a delayed reaction or something?"

"Maybe," Pepper replies, sliding her eyes to the side, clearing not believing her. "Whatever it is, I don't like it," she continues with a grumble.

"Think JARVIS will have any answers?"

Pepper shrugs, heading to the science lair. "Can't hurt."


Turns out JARVIS doesn't know shit.

Natasha's pretty sure he snickers at them though.


Phil is their next best bet, but it turns out that he has about as few answers as JARVIS. S.H.I.E.L.D has never had a case of spontaneous telekinetic connections before. There'd been a set of twins born with it, and a psychic who could nose their way into everybody's business, but nothing like what they'd waken up with.

Phil says they should come in for testing, but one quickly smashed console convinces Natasha that Pepper really didn't like the sound of tests. Natasha wasn't a big fan either, but damn, that girl had some problems.

The sparks behind Pepper's eyes speaks of hatred, but when Aldrich Killian's face flashes behind Natasha's eyes, she understands it's more fear than anything else.


"At least this'll be useful for secret ops," Natasha says, hopeful.

Pepper's eyes gleam. "No headset required," she replies with a playful smirk.


As with most of her gifts, Natasha wants to return the whole telepathic bond thing the moment she realizes that's what it was.

And as with most gifts, there is no return-to-sender label.

After a team briefing, moderate smirks and chuckles from Clint, one lewd comment by Tony, and a whole lot of sighs from Pepper, Natasha figures it couldn't get any worse.

She was wrong of course, but well, that's never a surprise anymore.


Three weeks, lots of false hope, and a plethora of failed attempts at creating mental barriers later, Natasha realizes what worse looks like.

Or rather, what it feels like.

And it feels an awful lot like fucking Tony.

She can sense it, the swelling lust and arousal permeating Pepper's body, the flooding want and electric-fire spark of the Extremis quivering underneath her skin.

It wakes her up, along with muffled moans swirling around her head. There's a cold sweat on her brow and Pepper's need is cramming itself into her skull.

Her own body thrums in response, she feels a rush of longing and the sharp taste of desire flicker along her nerves.

"Well, shit," she mumbles, half-awake and horny, hands already slipping towards her clit before she even realizes it.

The heady mix of Pepper's want and her own lust isn't bad, not by a long shot, better than porn but about seven kinds of fucked up.

She rubs her inner thigh, skirting nails hard enough to leave a mark.

Pepper, what the hell?

She hears Pepper gasp, half-surprise and half-moan, the other woman too caught up in Tony rubbing her off.

Fuck, Tasha, I thought you were asleep.

Well I was until you decided to play a porno through my head.

Natasha feels Pepper's dread, cool water through her veins, and she starts pushing Tony's hands away as shame curls in her belly.

Sorry, I didn't-

Natasha shakes her head, not sure if she's trying to clear the tangled web of desire or trying to tell Pepper not to stop.

Before she can even think the words back, she knows Pepper has felt it, the matching want, the pulsing of her own clit striving of friction.

We shouldn't, Pepper thinks back, but her hands have stopped pushing Tony away, have already started pulling them back and begun guiding them to her breasts.

Yea, we shouldn't, Natasha thinks back, but they both knew it's platitudes, that they're both too far gone already

Natasha tweaks a nipple, sharp pain-pleasure making her gasp even as she feels Tony doing the same to Pepper, his rough palms knowing all the right places.

Natasha is frantic, barely able to contain her own need to rub herself, to get off fast and dirty and hard, as the feel of Pepper's own body clouds her mind, driving her crazy.

She wants to fuck and be fucked, to have hands in her cunt, and sharp nails grazing her sides. She wants to get eaten out, for Tony to take her from behind, she wants deep kisses and shattered moans.

She wants - no Pepper wants-

It doesn't matter, she stops thinking, and just rides it out, feels Tony lick and finger and fuck and suckle along Pepper's body, drawing gasps from her like sparks from a fire. Pepper is spiraling and Natasha goes with her, fingers pumping her own cunt eagerly, already slick and wet.

It doesn't take long before Natasha comes, her sharp cries muffled in her pillow. She feels Pepper's body shake in response, her cunt quivering with it, her legs shaking.

When Pepper comes a few moments later, Tony fucking her hard with one hand rubbing across her clit, Natasha comes all over again, wrung out and helpless, whimpering with need.

Sparks dapple her vision, her skin too hot, too tight, the coursing heat of sex and superpowers making her body light up like a christmas tree.

Wait-no, not hers.


Natasha breathes deep, tries to disentangle herself, reigns herself in and focuses on building a nice picket fence between the two of them. Her head still swirls with golden light and contented purrs, but at least she can feel her own toes again. She pokes at the bruise on her shin from the other day, her own pain reassuring, a comfort.

She can feel Pepper dose off a minute later, her thoughts hazy and half-formed. It's a mix of relief and sadness.

Natasha sucks on her bottom lip, flushed from what just happened.

Breakfast sure as hell was going to be awkward in the morning.

Natasha pushes it out her mind, knowing there's no use dwelling on it at the moment.

Maybe the whole telepathy thing isn't so bad after all.

Tony was gonna have a field day with it though. Natasha rolls her eyes, already hearing the smarmy words, and turns over.

She catches a stray fragment of Pepper's dream, a soft kiss and gentle words. It feels like a warm embrace. She smiles to herself, her own eyelids drooping.

She's content, if confused, but she knows they can work something out. If they were going to be brain buddies forever, the whole sex thing was bound to happen sooner or later.


As it turns out, actually fucking someone you have a telepathic bond with is even better.

Much much better.