Devotion [Book 1]

Good At Goodbyes

Chapter 10

***

"Line two, Boss. It's Barton." Nick Fury tore his gaze away from the computer screen and promptly snatched up the phone.

It was about damn time the archer called him back with an update on Natasha's condition.

"Barton, what's the damage?"

"Jobs done," the younger man on the other end answered, sounding smug. A little too smug. Fury's brow furrowed as Barton continued. "In fact - I'd say you owe me double considering I solved two of your major headaches."

"Meaning?"

"Your star pupil is good as new thanks to some super solider juice, and your spangled pain in the ass has finally come to his senses."

"I see." Nick released an internal sigh of relief. Thank God for small mercies. "Anything else?"

Barton sniggered. "Yeah, you also owe Wanda the pot. She called it. He kissed her this morning."

"Dammit," Fury grumbled and opened the top draw of his desk to retrieve a small black notebook. Flicking through dozens of pages of dates and money pledged, he finally settled on a page full of scribbles and crossed out lines. At the bottom of the page was the current monetary value of the betting pool labeled 'First Kiss'. He circled Wanda's name and bet placed. "I was sure it would happen during the rescue mission."

"Well I had my money on it taking at least another month for them to sort their shit out, so shows what I know. So much for being best friends; I'm always the last to know these days."

Fury snorted, and turned the page over, and began titling it 'Caught in the Act'. "So, double or nothing on being caught in a broom closet by November?"

"Ha! Oh, wait... Hang on." There was some scuffling in the background and a series of hissed exchanges before Clint returned to the phone. "Wanda says deal, but her money is on a month from today. Put me down for a week from now and caught in the Quinjet."

Chuckling, Nick jotted down the bet details. "Done. Anything else?"

"Double time, Fury. I'm expecting double time for all this."

"You drive a hard bargain, Barton. Send the invoice to Maria and I'll approve it."

Without waiting for his reply he promptly hung up the phone and tossed the notebook back into the draw. Idiots, he thought to himself. Some days it felt like he was running a high school not a super-secret organization.

"Boss, I've got Melinda on the line again. She says it's urgent."

"I guess there really is no rest for the wicked," he growled out and picked the phone back up.

Night had well and truly fallen in Wakanda by the time Natasha finally persuaded a nurse to discharge her from the medical ward. After a final battery of tests, she was eventually allocated an opulent guest suite next to her teammates and the first thing she did (after scouring the room) was indulge in a long hot shower.

An hour later she was wrapped in a luxurious black silk robe that she had found hanging on the back of the bathroom door and was inspecting her upper thigh for any strain or painful evidence of her recent brush with death. Much to her disappointment, there was nothing more than a faint pink line where the scrap of metal had punctured her femoral artery.

According to Shuri, if it hadn't been for Wanda's powers sealing the wound long enough to get them to Wakanda, her teammates would be holding a funeral for her right now.

She shivered, dropping her leg back to the floor and became running her fingers through the tangled wet strands of her hair in an attempt to comb it back into some semblance of tidy.