{Chapter: 168 - Steam, Shadows, and Secrets}
Although Jemma had claimed she was going to study the potion to calm herself, Aiden knew it was an excuse. It was well past midnight, and even the most obsessed scientists needed sleep. Her hands had trembled slightly as she accepted the vial, and her eyes lingered on it as though it contained more than just potential—as though it carried fear. Understandable. The air had been thick between them, and the only option left was to change the topic or risk letting everything spiral. Jemma wasn't ready, not mentally, not emotionally. Not yet. And Quake's room was just down the hall. Any emotional fallout might carry farther than just between the two of them.
Aiden, feeling a hint of melancholy despite himself, chose not to linger. He offered Jemma a soft goodbye, his voice calm, almost sweet, and then left, letting the door click gently shut behind him.
He walked the hallway in silence, his mind already shifting gears. Giving Jemma telekinesis would be a game changer. The power to manipulate objects with the mind alone was no small thing—especially for someone like Jemma, a skilled S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, even if she rarely saw field duty. With telekinesis, she wouldn't need to rely on others to protect her. She could become her own guardian angel. But she wasn't the only one he was thinking about.
Quake. Her powers hadn't manifested yet, but Aiden knew when they did, it would be intense. Giving her a potion now could lead to unpredictable consequences. Chaos. Pain. Destruction. She wasn't ready, not until her body was naturally awakened to it. It was Natasha who weighed most heavily on his mind. Of everyone, she needed it. Not because she was weak. On the contrary, she was the second strongest woman he'd slept with in many ways. But she lived a life laced with danger, shadows, and blood. A power would give her an edge she didn't have—and perhaps something more. Hope.
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The morning sun broke through the skyscrapers of New York like a blade of fire, cutting through the haze of the city's exhaustion. The streets pulsed with life. Suited men and women clutched their coffees like lifelines, earbuds jammed in, mouths murmuring deals and deadlines. New York never rested. It demanded more than just time—it demanded a piece of your soul. And yet, in the middle of the chaos, a quiet moment was forming.
Inside a newly opened café tucked between a boutique and a yoga studio, Aiden sat by the window. The coffee shop still had that fresh wood scent, and the sun-drenched window cast golden shadows across his table. Two cups of coffee steamed gently before him.
He checked the time. Not because he was impatient, but because he liked knowing exactly how long he'd been thinking about her.
Ding-ding.
The bell above the door rang.
She walked in like the room belonged to her. The breeze from the street tugged at her auburn hair, and her black leather jacket hugged her like a second skin. Natasha Romanoff scanned the room with those sharp, calculating eyes of hers—and then they softened slightly when they landed on him.
"Did I make you wait?" she asked, her lips curling into a sly smile as she slid into the seat across from him.
"Just got here," Aiden said, returning the smile.
She took a sip of her coffee, then raised an eyebrow, amused. "Is the coffee a little cool?"
"Is it? Let me see," Aiden leaned over, picked up her cup and took a sip, his lips brushing the rim. "Still hot. You're braver than you look."
"Brave? I've seen your arms turn to molten lava," she said, giving him a sideways glance, her lips curving with amusement. "Don't try to flirt with coffee lines."
"Guilty," he said with a chuckle. "But effective."
There was a pause. A comfortable one. Natasha looked at him for a moment longer than she had to, then leaned back slightly.
"You didn't call me here just to make eyes at me in a café, did you?" she asked, tilting her head.
"Maybe," Aiden said smoothly. "But also... I wanted to ask you something."
Natasha raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."
"What if I told you I could give you an ability? Something like... mind control. Sonic scream. Telekinesis. Future sight."
Her eyes narrowed, not with suspicion, but with interest. "That's a hell of a segue."
"I'm serious."
She leaned forward, her chin resting on her knuckles. "You're saying you can give me powers? Like... just hand them out? What, did you find a genie in a bottle?"
"No genie," Aiden said. "Just me."
There was a flicker of something in Natasha's gaze. She was no stranger to the supernatural or the surreal, but what he was saying required more than belief. It required trust.
"You really mean it?" she said, voice lower now. "You can give me a power?"
Aiden nodded.
Natasha didn't smile. Not this time. She sat back and looked out the window for a long second. Then her voice, cool and distant, cut through the hum of the café.
"Back in 1949... there was a boy. I was thirteen. The Red Room wanted to test how far we could go. They locked us in a room with the boy. Said one of us needed to kill him or we all starved. He was just a civilian. Weak. Confused. Didn't understand Russian."
Aiden was quiet. Listening.
"I slit his throat with a shard of glass. We weren't given knives. They wanted creativity. We bled him out over a drain. They watched from behind a window. I still remember the sound he made." She looked back at Aiden. Her eyes were hard, but glistening. "So when you ask me if I want powers? Hell yes. Because I've spent my whole life being turned into a weapon. I'd like to choose the blade for once."
The moment hung between them. Heavy. True.
Aiden reached out slowly, covering her hand with his. "Then I'll help you choose. Not because you're broken. But because you deserve the choice."
Natasha's lips twitched. Not quite a smile. More like the ghost of one. "Careful. That almost sounded romantic."
"What if it was?"
She leaned closer, her breath brushing his jaw. "Then maybe I'd let you make it up to me... with dinner. Or something... a little more private."
"I'll take you up on that. After your first dose."
She raised an eyebrow. "You're saying there's more than one?"
"Maybe. Powers evolve. And so do people."
There was heat now, unspoken but tangible. Natasha ran her tongue across her bottom lip slowly, purposefully. "Then I hope you're as good at evolving powers... as you are at reading a woman's mood."
He leaned back, laughing softly. "I think I'm getting the hang of it."
Natasha glanced over, her tone lighter. "So if I asked for a power... what would you give me?"
"You?" he murmured, lips curling into a smirk. "Probably something like... adaptive reflexes. You'd never be caught off guard. Your body would remember every move. Every hit."
She leaned forward, lowering her voice slightly, tone as smooth as silk and just as teasing. "Sexy."
Aiden choked slightly on his coffee. "Did you just call your future power sexy?"
She winked. "No," she said, setting her cup down. "I called the man giving it to me sexy."
That did it. Aiden flushed—his cool demeanor cracking for just a second.
Natasha chuckled. "Gotcha."
"You're unbelievable."
She shrugged, brushing a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "You started it."
He laughed softly, the tension ebbing. "I should've known better than to think I could keep up with you in verbal sparring."
"You should've," he said playfully. Then his voice lowered again, more serious this time. "But sadly, I don't have those powers just yet. So for now… you'll have to compromise with me."
She lifted her cup again, but her grip had tightened. Her knuckles whitened faintly. She held the heat against her palms and let out a slow exhale. Her tone dipped lower—weighted with something else. Not flirtation this time.
"There was a time I couldn't sleep," she admitted. "I'd see the faces of the dead. All of them. I stopped feeling sharp. I felt… cold. And lethal." She paused. "If I had a way to block all that… to calm it? It'd help."
Aiden didn't rush to reply. He simply looked at her—not with pity, not even with sympathy, but with something stronger. A soft, unwavering sort of regard.
"I can give you something to protect you," he said. "From the inside out."
Her brows lifted. "You always do this," she said, a little too affectionately. "Combine strategy with… with heart. It's infuriating."
"Why infuriating?"
"Because it makes you hard to resist."
His lips parted.
"Maybe telepathy," she whispered. "Or… future sight."
He slid the second coffee closer to her again. "Then it's yours. No strings."
Her eyes locked on his. "Just… one question," she said, voice barely above a breath.
Aiden leaned forward. "Ask me anything."
She tilted her head. "After you share that with me… will you still be the same? Or does giving away a part of you change something inside?"
"I didn't say it had something to do with my ability," Aiden explained. "I have several potions in my possession. Each with a 101% success rate—no side effects. But the catch? There aren't many powers it can grant. Four, to be exact: Future prediction. Mind control. Telekinesis. Sonic scream."
Her green eyes flickered with consideration. "Potion?" she whispered, like the word itself was laced with superstition. But then she stared into the vial again, watching the liquid swirl like it held secrets.
"I know what you're thinking," he said gently.
"No," she replied, lifting her gaze to meet his. "I don't think you'd lie to me."
That sentence hung heavier than he expected. Something in the way she said it—low, intimate, earnest—stirred the space between them.
"Then I'll go with… Telekinesis." She said it slowly, like tasting the word. "Feels more me than the rest."
Aiden nodded, then reached into his inner coat pocket. He withdrew the vial and carefully placed it in her hand. "Then drink it."
"Right now?" She hesitated, lifting the vial. She uncorked it and held it under her nose. No smell. No color when tilted in the light. Just shimmering neutrality.
She brought it to her lips and drank. It slid down smooth, tasteless—just like water.
"Is that… all?" she asked, licking her lips.
"That's all," Aiden replied. "Now…" He smiled playfully, "…let's go to a room."
Natasha arched a brow. "What?"
There was a flash of suspicion, which quickly melted into amusement. "Is this that kind of potion?" she teased.
He laughed. "If I needed to seduce you, I wouldn't use a potion. I'd just ask."
Natasha smirked. "You're cocky today."
"You may need about three to four hours," Aiden explained. "You'll fall asleep. And when you wake up, your power will have settled in."
He left a few bills on the table and stood. Natasha followed, amused and curious in equal measure.
She stood up. "Walk with me."
Aiden followed her out of the café. Outside, New York roared around them, but the world felt narrowed to just two.
As they walked side by side, Natasha glanced over, She looped her arm through his. For a brief moment, under the sharp sunlight of a city too fast for emotion, the Widow and the Warlord strolled like lovers. Like two ghosts in a world they were never meant to belong to.