At Luke's smug remark, Natasha Romanoff felt a flicker of discomfort rise to her usually unreadable face.
She had to admit, grudgingly, that he wasn't really wrong.
Doggo had been the key to their mission's success. And since the dog belonged to Luke... technically, he deserved credit.
But did he really have to say it like that?
Natasha glanced at him.
Not a trace of humility. In fact, he was practically beaming with self-satisfaction.
And then there was that smile, crooked, lazy, and just a bit too focused.
Specifically, not on her face, but just a bit lower.
Could he at least pretend he wasn't staring at her chest?
She was beginning to regret ever coming here in person.
Still, etiquette was etiquette. You didn't slap the hand of someone who'd helped you, no matter how obnoxious and perverted they were.
With visible restraint, Natasha extended her hand.
But before she could make contact…
A voice burst out from behind Luke. A blur of red surged forward and wedged itself between them.
She positioned herself like a shield, back to Natasha, glaring straight at her brother. Her arms were crossed. Her eyes burned with fury.
No way was she letting that fox-faced woman get even a finger near her brother.
Allowing them to talk was already her greatest show of tolerance.
But physical contact? Absolutely not.
Luke's expression darkened.
He tore off his glasses and snapped, "What are you doing?!"
Her glare said everything. That woman was dangerous, and Wanda wasn't about to let her brother fall under her spell.
A silent standoff unfolded.
Brother and sister locked eyes.
Then Luke sighed, defeated, and lowered his hand.
"Fine," he muttered, voice sad and hollow. "You deal with the guests then. I'm feeling tired."
He turned away slowly, shoulders slumped in theatrical exhaustion.
He might as well have been a war veteran trudging into the sunset.
Clutching the railing, Luke began to ascend the stairs like an old man returning from battle.
Just as he reached the midpoint, Wanda's voice rang out sharply.
"Then while I'm dealing with customers, you clean the toilet!"
Luke's foot missed a step.
He wobbled dangerously, arms flailing, before catching himself.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. But most of all, he wanted a nap, and clearly, Wanda had already sniffed out that plan.
No rest for the wicked.
With a growl of frustration, he suddenly picked up speed, bolting up the stairs and disappearing without another word.
Downstairs, Natasha and Coulson stood frozen.
They exchanged glances, equally stunned.
For a moment, they'd actually believed Luke's performance. The heartbreak, the despair, it had felt so real.
Turns out, he was just that good of an actor.
No wonder they'd been played like fiddles on their first visit.
Wanda finally turned to face Natasha, now fully switched into her "guard dog mode."
Her narrowed eyes gleamed with suspicion.
This woman is dangerous, she thought grimly. 'I must protect Luke at all costs.'
Natasha instantly recognized the look.
Years of espionage had trained her to read a room in milliseconds, and it was crystal clear: She was being viewed as a romantic rival.
A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. This might actually be easier than expected.
"Well," Natasha said, keeping her tone casual, "you don't need to worry. I'm not interested in your brother. He's a bit too young for me."
She even gave a half-joking shrug, completely unbothered by mentioning her age.
But Wanda's lips curled into a skeptical smirk.
"In this society, old cows eating tender grass isn't exactly rare."
Natasha blinked. 'Ouch, that one hurt.'
But she held her composure. "I really don't have any thoughts about your brother."
Wanda crossed her arms. "Doesn't mean he doesn't have thoughts about you."
That one hit like a well-placed jab.
Natasha was momentarily speechless.
Her eyes flicked over Wanda's figure, and an idea formed.
She leaned in slightly. "With a beautiful girl like you around, why would your brother even look at me?"
Wanda didn't miss a beat, "But you wear those tight clothes every time you come here!"
Natasha inhaled sharply and resisted the urge to groan.
This girl was too unreasonable.
"Fine," she said, jaw tightening. "Then I just won't come here anymore. Next time there's something, Coulson can handle things by himself."
It wasn't worth the headache.
But Wanda's eyes narrowed again.
"Oh, I see. Playing hard to get now? Take a step back, then seduce my brother in one swoop, right?"
Natasha's eye twitched, her blood pressure surging, 'Lord give me strength.'
"I think it's a little hot in here," she muttered, trying to redirect the conversation. "Maybe I should buy a fan."
Behind her, Coulson, who had wisely kept his silence all this time, finally spoke for the first time.
"I could use a comb," he said carefully, clearly trying to diffuse the situation. "Might as well grab one while I'm here..."
And just like that, the mood shifted. The tension began to evaporate.
Wanda relaxed slightly and her scowl faded into a calculating grin.
Since they said those words, Natasha was no longer a love rival, she was a paying customer.
...needed to pay a premium just for the pleasure of having her as their shopkeeper.
She gave a second look at the naturally seductive Natasha and decided.
No matter what they buy, the price would need to be increased by a hundred times.
Just like love, business was war, and she wasn't going to leave that vixen leave without skinning her off a good chunk of her savings.