Ernst's Quarters - Night
Ernst closed the door and locked it.
He turned to Natalia, his expression shifting into a mask of nervous anticipation.
He reached out, his hand sliding down her back.
Natalia flinched, a perfect, practiced reaction, and leaned into him, burying her face in his chest.
Trembling, Ernst noted.
'She's good.'
But Ernst had an advantage she couldn't account for.
As his fingers brushed the nape of her neck, he didn't just feel her pulse; he felt her mind.
His brain, operating at heightened capacity thanks to the CPH4 and the Reality Stone, had unlocked psionic potential that rivaled the telepaths of the X-Men.
He didn't need to ask her who she was.
He simply took the information.
DIVE.
In a microsecond, images flashed through Ernst's mind:
Snow. Brutal training drills.
A cold, gray facility, the Red Room. A mission briefing:
"Infiltrate Hydra. Target: Dr. Ernst. Priority: Capture for weapons development. Secondary: Liquidate."
Ernst smiled internally.
'So, the Soviets want me. I'm flattered.'
He also caught a fascinating detail. In this timeline, the Red Room hadn't sterilized her yet.
Hydra's physical exams for their "comfort women" were invasive; a hysterectomy scar would have raised red flags.
To pass inspection, Natalia had to be physically intact.
She was a weapon, yes. But an incomplete one.
"You're shaking," Ernst whispered, lifting her chin.
"Am I that scary?"
Natalia kept her eyes downcast, her voice trembling.
"No... I just... I don't know what to do."
Ernst chuckled softly.
'Oscar-worthy.'
"Relax," Ernst said, kissing her forehead.
"Tell me about yourself. How did a girl like you end up in a place like this?"
"The war," Natalia lied, a tear slipping down her cheek.
"My family... the bombing in Stalingrad. I had nowhere else to go."
It was a classic sob story, designed to elicit sympathy and lower his guard.
"I see," Ernst said, feigning deep empathy.
"Don't worry, Natalia. You're safe now. As long as you are with me, no one touches you."
He pulled her closer. His hand moved under her shirt.
Natalia let out a soft gasp, part act, part biological reaction.
Ernst knew she was a spy sent to kidnap or kill him.
But looking at her, he felt a strange sense of possession.
She was the Black Widow, one of the deadliest women in comic history, and right now, she was in his bed, playing the innocent.
Two can play this game, Ernst thought.
He stopped holding back.
He kissed her deeply, sweeping her onto the bed.
The night was long. Ernst's enhanced physiology meant he had stamina far beyond a normal man.
For Natalia, the mission required her to submit, but Ernst made sure she didn't have to fake her breathless exhaustion.
The Next Morning
Sunlight streamed through the heavy curtains.
Ernst woke first. He looked at the sleeping woman beside him.
Her guard was down, her breathing shallow.
He pulled back the sheet and noticed the faint stain of blood.
Ernst raised an eyebrow. A virgin assassin.
It made sense; the Red Room protected their assets until deployment.
He was her first mission in every sense of the word.
He felt a dark sense of satisfaction.
He had claimed the Black Widow before the world even knew her name.
Natalia stirred, her eyes snapping open with the alertness of a soldier.
Realizing where she was, she quickly softened her expression, blushing and pulling the sheet up.
"Good morning," Ernst smiled, tracing the line of her jaw.
"Good morning, Doctor," she whispered.
"Ernst," he corrected.
"Call me Ernst."
He leaned in for another kiss, but Natalia flinched slightly, feigning soreness.
"I... I am a little tired," she murmured.
"Can I rest today?"
Ernst knew exactly what she wanted.
She needed him out of the room so she could search for bugs or try to contact her handlers to update them on her position.
"Of course," Ernst said, getting out of bed and dressing briskly.
"I have work to do with Dr. Zola anyway. Sleep. I'll have food sent up."
He leaned down, whispering in her ear.
"Rest up. We have a long time together."
As Ernst left the room, his smile faded into a look of cold calculation.
Go ahead, Natalia, he thought.
'Call the Kremlin.'
'Tell them you have me. Let's see who uses whom.'
Two Weeks Later
The routine was established.
Days were spent in the hangar debating aerodynamics with Dr. Zola or overseeing the construction of the new lab.
Nights were spent with Natalia.
She played the role of the doting lover perfectly, and Ernst played the role of the obsessed scientist who let his guard down in the bedroom.
But the vacation was over.
Ernst stood in the newly completed Laboratory Alpha.
The equipment was installed. The centrifuge was spinning.
Schmidt walked in, his red skull gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights.
"The facility is ready, Dr. Ernst," Schmidt rasped.
"And so am I."
"Good," Ernst said, snapping on a pair of latex gloves.
"Because the second generation of the Serum won't synthesize itself. Bring me the Catalyst."
It was time to get back to work.
——-
Author's Note:
Before anyone rushes to the comments with 'BuT sHe Was BoRn in 1984!', put the keyboards down.
In the comics, Natasha has been kicking around since WWII thanks to the Soviet version of the serum.
So yes, she is technically a grandma in the canon.