Chapter 101: Surprise (IV)

The bonus Chapter for last week’s 5k stones will be up in a few hours.

Its the usual 2.5k stones for this week though.

You can also read ahead on pat.reon if you want to.

That is all.

...

"Where are we going?" John asked.

"Harlem." Natasha put on her shades as they stopped because of a red light.

"A colleague told me about this new fried chicken place there, and I didn’t want to go alone." Feeling his questioning gaze, she shrugged with a rather straightforward reason.

Still, that only made him blink at her subtle smile.

It seemed that there were more surprises to come today, and refusing free fried chicken wasn’t an easy task.

And John was quite curious about what she had planned. But even as they parked in a public parking lot and made their way to the bustling shop and took a seat, no, even after they ordered the specials, there was nothing.

There were no requests, no questions. Even right now, Natasha was simply flipping through a fashion magazine with a mundane look.

The only thing he could point out as odd in this situation, sitting on a table in the quiet corner of the balcony area, was that Natasha sat in the seat beside him rather than across from him.

Was that odd? By her standards, even if she sat down on his lap just to mess with him, that wouldn’t be odd.

Which was a very odd thing in and of itself.

’Nothing is odd. Thus, it is even more odd?’ John decided to shut it down and enjoy the jazz playing in the background.

There was no need to be the odd one out in this groovy atmosphere.

The owner had great taste in music, aesthetic, and vibes. That was all it took for places like these to get famous with 90% of the people. But he was part of the 10%.

It didn’t matter if the chef cooked out of the back of his beat-up Honda or a 7-star hotel. If the taste wasn’t good, nothing else mattered. And this place was a Southern-style chicken place. He could even pick up some Cajuns in the back chatting up a storm, and a dozen others that had this drawl in their words.

At least some part of this establishment should be legit.

"Don’t worry, this place is pretty solid," Natasha reassured him, lightly patting his back as she placed the magazine on the table.

Before he could continue, a steaming plate of golden-brown breast of fried chicken arrived in front of him.

The waiter then placed a towering scoop of baked macaroni and cheese, and a dark, glossy pile of slow-simmered collard greens near the chicken. Then he served Natasha, full of smiles and jokes, unlike the matter-of-fact look he gave him.

John was more focused on the plate before him, though. As his fork pierced the chicken, the crust shattered with an audible crunch, giving way to steaming, incredibly juicy meat. The seasoning was sharp and savory.

Honestly, he finished the thing before the waiter even placed the mac and cheese in front of his physically present partner. Sure, the guy was trying a bit too hard, but John had finished the chicken in 1.2 seconds and turned to him like the Terminator.

"Get me a tray." He demanded.

"Due to high demand that I-" The waiter’s words got stuck in his mouth when he met John’s eyes.

It was the eyes of a man that wouldn’t take no for an answer. In fact, the waiter felt like he might get crushed like a soda can if he said no.

Still, it wasn’t like John was glaring or putting pressure on him, but it certainly did feel like that to the waiter. A bit worried about refusing him, the waiter looked at Natasha, hoping to get some help.

But she simply gave him this expectant gaze, like she was also looking forward to the tray full of chicken. It was hard to say no to such eyes and face.

Why was it that the most adorably hot women were with the biggest of muscleheads? Was muscle all it took? It was truly a mystery.

"I’ll... see what I can do." As an eternally slim guy, the waiter could only curse at John’s impeccable physique and walked to the kitchen even more deflated than he already was.

Since the place was so busy, with a line outside and the tables still waiting on their food, John had expected it would take a while before he could get the tray of chicken. That was speaking if he could get that.

But the waiter came by a bit too soon with the order. Won’t the other customers riot? All of that aside, he was just happy to have more to eat.

’This is the real Jackpot!’ John did a victory pose in his mind; too bad the guy left before he could say thank you.

Honestly, they had gotten their first order pretty fast as well. He could only turn to the woman beside him as she cut into the fried chicken at last.

"Do you know the owner of something?"

"Nope." She shook her head. "It’s my first time here as well."

But looking at the slight smirk on her lips, this seemed like the usual hot woman perk that he had mostly seen in fiction. It was honestly an annoying trope.

Regardless, the one with the perk was sitting beside him, so he decided to just enjoy it and went for the next piece of chicken with zero shame. If it helped him, it was all good.

After having about three of them, his mouth filled with the peppery aftertaste, it was time to try the sides.

John took a spoonful of mac and cheese. The focus instantly shifted to rich, sharp creaminess. Calming down his fired-up taste buds.

It wasn’t just melted cheese; it was a baked custard of sharp cheddar and gruyère. The taste was intensely savory, heavy with butter.

’I can definitely be a good food critic. Like for real, for real.’ John rubbed his hands, wondering how much free food he could get that way.

Honestly, this was exactly what he needed after the sparring session. So, he ate enough to burst the stomach of a normal man three times over before they settled the bill and left; it almost looked like he was in a speed-eating competition.

Natasha had only eaten one serving of everything and nothing more; she was already full. In fact, she had overeaten today. Her diet was a lot stricter to maintain herself, and she rarely indulged in fried food, not to mention something as heavy as mac and cheese.

On the other hand, even after consuming that much chicken, he had his eyes on the nearby restaurant signs. It was like he was evaluating which place he should raid next.

And knowing the place, with information on all the nearby areas while choosing a spot, Natasha decided to be the guide for John’s food tour.

From big steak houses to food truck chicken bowls, by the time the moon came up, they had been through most of the good places around the area.

Right now, they were sitting at a booth by the wall in a languid pizza place that smelled of sundried tomatoes. And John had not stopped eating yet; he was on the third pizza already, and the old Italian lady running the place had taken a great liking to him because of his appetite.

Still, how could he eat that much? He had surely eaten enough food for a dozen or more by now, and he didn’t exactly seem to be counting calories either.

The bigger mystery was how he stayed this ripped after eating like that?

’Since when did junk food turn into muscles?’ She wasn’t sure if this was something to be amazed by or be jealous of.

But watching him eat was quite entertaining, and filling in a weird way. Honestly, Natasha enjoyed watching him eat more than eating herself.

It wasn’t about the words or poetic praise; John rarely spoke while eating. She was more taken in by his facial expression, the shine of his eyes, and the absolute joy exuding from his body in something as simple as eating.

If it wasn’t for his body and what she had seen him do, Natasha couldn’t have seen him as anything else but a normal guy who enjoyed eating.

’I should come out more often.’ Unlike being cooped up in the safehouse, binging TV shows and movies on her day offs, this was much better.

That was pretty much all she did aside from visiting Clint’s family once or twice a year. At that point, even taking a day off was sort of meaningless.

’It is time to cash in all those leaves I have been saving up.’ It was funny to think about Fury’s reaction to her request, but more than that, she had to use those vacation days for something else.

As Natasha enjoyed some of her cherry slushy, she found John looking right at her.

"Out with it already." He had noticed all of her staring.

"There’s marinara sauce on your lips." He would’ve looked a lot cooler if not for that.

"Don’t try to change the subject." John licked the sauce clean, turning even more serious.

There was no denying that there was a reason Natasha had brought him along today. And even though it had been a fun time, no, especially because it had been a fun time, at this point it had become grating to him.

It would’ve been easier if she just said it.

Although Natasha had tried to not make it obvious, he had noticed it in her body language. Since his Haki was fully concentrated on suppressing the overflowing Cursed energy right now, his supernatural senses weren’t at their peak.

But that opened the doors for his innate senses to take over. Observation Haki had been so much of a cheat that he hadn’t noticed just how much information he could get from just the usual observation.

Because of that, he had been able to notice the tumultuous waves below the Black Widow’s perfect mask.

"You really make me look bad at this." Since her graduation, Natasha had not been caught like this, at least when she didn’t want to be caught.

It could be that John was just naturally attuned to reading other people on an inhuman level, or it was another result of the body-altering power used on him.

Still, this wasn’t the time to be hung up on that detail. In truth, Natasha did have something to discuss with John.

But it wasn’t the reason she brought him here today. Still, she couldn’t get it out of her head since he had a hand in it too.

And now that he had said it out loud, there was no point in beating around the bush.

"I found some information related to her... about Yelena."