OOM: Moscow, USSR, January 1947

[redintheledger]

Natasha should be in her room, studying. Unlike her fellow students at the Moscow State University, her semester breaks are spent back at the Red Room, where she has little time for her textbooks. Today is the first day she's been back in Moscow in (once she added up the hours) four days.

Four days spent in the nearest approximation to wilderness that geography had to offer near Moscow, which in the middle of winter was no joke. She is glad to be back in the warm and dry, with hot water and no need to try and melt the ice from her eyelashes. Not to mention the ability to wear a civilian girl's clothes, instead of a soldier's layers.

But after four days with the company of Comrade Winter, her room with a bed just for her seems too much like a cell for her to be comfortable in it.

So Natasha is in the common room, newly outfitted with amenities such as some sofas, tables, and a wireless. There is also a piano, old like the sofas but kept in good condition. Despite herself, she gravitates towards it, and walks her fingers across the keys. It reminds her of Papa, and today isn't a very good day for that.

Natasha sits down, and tries to play anyway. She can't remember any of the music Papa taught her, but she can stumble her way through some chords. It's better than sitting in her room and wallowing.

Comments

[nerves_of_ice]

"More than you know."

For an instant, there's a flicker of grimness to his tone.

(It says something that he doesn't try to hide it from her.)

[redintheledger]

Natasha regards him for a moment, and then squeezes his elbow briefly. She has no idea if he can feel it through the layers and the sensors under the metal, but it's a gesture nonetheless.

"I might have an idea," she says, because it is - as far as she can understand his meaning - the truth.

Then she rests her head against his shoulder, and while she could just playing her part for their cover, the impulse is both honest, and far younger than the role she is playing.

(She did not really want to be alone today)

[nerves_of_ice]

He looks down at her, startled out of his inward-turning thoughts, and something in his expression softens as he does.

Alex shifts just enough to slip his left arm free and put it gently around her shoulders - not restraining her in any way, of course not, but instead offering silent, shared comfort.

[redintheledger]

She doesn't say anything, and neither does she snuggle in closer, but something in her relaxes as the comfortable silence stretches.

It lasts until after the second stop, when she shakes her head slightly and sits up.

"We should move closer to the doors, otherwise we're going to be stuck here until we reach Red Square," she says with a quick smile at her own exaggeration. "Ready for the crowd?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"You bet."

He suits actions to words, getting to his feet and positioning himself to give her room to rise, too.

[redintheledger]

Well, if he's being helpful, Alex is going to find himself being used as leverage as she gets up just as the train goes around a corner. Then she grabs his left elbow again, and pulls him through the crowd to the doors just in time for them to open.

The resulting crush isn't anything worse than normal for a commuter-population in an incredibly busy station, but it's very different from how Department X runs things. And despite all of Alex's confidence, Natasha is fairly certain it's been a while since he's had to navigate all of this, so she keeps a tight hold of him until they are in the clear.

"Having fun?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"How could I not?"

He feels at home in the city crowds for some reason, but he's appreciative of her efforts all the same. She may be small, but she's not delicate, oh no - Nataliya, no, Natasha is as fierce as her hair is bright.

"This was a good idea."

[redintheledger]

Natasha glances up at him, and huffs a laugh.

"We haven't even got to the circus yet," she points out, but she's pleased and it shows. "Obviously, you need ride the Metro more often."

[nerves_of_ice]

He glances back at her, with a small answering smile.

"I've missed it," is all he says.

[redintheledger]

Her smile falters a little before she smooths her expression over.

"It's...good to be back in a city," she agrees, and then lets out an oddly long breath. "Now, this bit, is the bit I hate," she adds quickly, as they walk up the stairs towards the night-time street above.

Moscow seems doubly-cold after the warmth of the underground, and she's fairly certain that no one appreciates the blast of cold air. Get resigned to it, yes, but appreciate it?

Hell no.

[nerves_of_ice]

Evidently Alex agrees with her, to judge from his muffled curse as he hunches his shoulders a bit against the sharp wind.

"I can see why."

[redintheledger]

Natasha smirks a bit as she leads him down the street.

"Maybe we could be assigned to Sochi, and stay there over winter," she says with another quick laugh, adjusting her scarf. "We'd even be able to miss everyone taking their summer holiday that way."

[nerves_of_ice]

He flashes her a grin, reminded of their previous similar conversations at the end of long training days.

"I wouldn't object at all," he replies, blandly. "Much more comfortable than, say, Paris."

[redintheledger]

Had they been at the end of one of those training days, she would have replied in French herself. As it is, she just smiles quickly back.

Paris sounds...interesting.

When they reach the Circus on Tsvetnoy Boulevard, Natasha glances at the queue, and then back up at Alex.

"I know a man who works here," she says, casually. Unspoken, I can pull in a favour if you're game.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Do you."

He gives the queue a once-over of his own, then turns back to her. A flicker of teasing challenge is clear in his glance.

"Maybe you should see if he's around."

[redintheledger]

"I think I will," Natasha replies, and then rolls her shoulder back. The movement is subtle, but when she starts to walk again, her gait is different. Instead of a fairly normal Muscovite minding her own business, there is now the complete confidence that normally only the children of high officials show in public.

She heads straight to ticket-booth, and the girl selling the tickets isn't quite quick enough to hide the look of resignation on her face. Party brats pushing in is hardly new.

Natasha smiles a little at her. "Please let Fyodor Antonovich know that Nataliya Ivanovna is here to collect her tickets."

The girl looks from Natasha to the queue, and then just nods. "I'll be right back, comrade," she says, and then leaves her seat. There is a tiny bit of grumbling behind Natasha, but she ignores it. Quickly, the girl returns with a man in his forties.

"Ah, Nataliya Ivanovna," he says, and the Volga is still - defiantly, almost - heavy in his voice. "Come right in."

Natasha inclines her head gracefully, and then gestures for Alex to follow her. As soon as the doors shut behind them, Fyodor Antonovich pulls Natasha into a quick hug and kisses her cheek. There is a shrapnel scar clear on his forehead, and he still stands like a solider.

"You're brazen, Natashenka," he says, tone genuinely fond, and she grins at him. "And this your young man?" he continues, glancing at Alex.

[nerves_of_ice]

"For as long as she'll keep me," he says, easily.

His own stance is outwardly relaxed, his smile polite and restrained, even as he takes in the other man's scar and military demeanor.

After all, it's Natasha's contact; it's her lead.

[redintheledger]

There is a moment where it looks like Fyodor might something, but in the end he just shakes his head with a quiet, "She can handle herself."

"Of course I can, Fedya," Natasha protests, having dropped the Muscovite accent she'd slid over her vowels. Her hand dives into her purse, and there is a quick exchange of roubles for the tickets.

"You give Ivan Petrovich my regards, girl," Fyodor says, glancing again at Alex.

"I will."

Fyodor nods, and then gestures them away. "Enjoy the show," he says, and Natasha tosses him a salute before curling her arm through Alex's and pulling him down the hall.

"We fought together," she says quietly by way of an explanation.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Ah," he murmurs. "I see."

"He has the look."

[redintheledger]

"It's...hard to hide," she says, but the wryness is directed more at herself than at Fedya.

Then she glances at at him, mouth dimpling in one side. "You have it, too, otherwise he'd probably have said something...embarrassing."

Her subsequent sigh is very, very adolescent.

[nerves_of_ice]

Inwardly he notes that he'll have to work on that, in case he's ever sent on an assignment where his cover calls for it.

Outwardly, he grins at her.

"Embarrassing? Like what?"

[redintheledger]

Natasha grins back at him, and then deliberately presses her lips together.

"Allow me, Alex, my dignity," she says archly as they walk into the seating area. "Where do you want to sit?"

Not that she'd ever change the subject, oh no.

[nerves_of_ice]

He laughs, but leaves it at that as he scans the circus arena.

Nowhere too high, not if they want a good view - and besides, being in a crowd is its own sort of protection. Still, somewhere that it'd be hard to line up a shot on them would be best, just in case, and near an exit, which means not in the center of any row...

It takes him all of five seconds, if that.

"There." He nods toward a couple of empty seats, and glances at her for her reaction.

[redintheledger]

There is a pause as she follows his gaze, and she nods confirmation.

"Let's go," she says, with a bright smile as if she never looked for the nearest exit. They make their way over, and she does no more than glance at him when he ends up closer to the aisle than her.

Men.

"When was the last time you saw the circus? Or...haven't you?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"I ..."

WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF TOMORROW!

"... don't remember, actually. Never here, though."