This has been dancing around in my head for a while. I'm moving house and am in need of a new mattress myself, which is what brought this on.
"Of all places we could've come to, why Ikea?"
"Tony recommended it."
"Of course he did." Natasha reached into a basket by the entrance and pulled out a large yellow bag, slinging it over her shoulder. Steve waited for her to catch up, like only a true gentleman could, and frowned when he saw the bag.
"We're going mattress shopping." He pointed out, wondering if she'd forgotten, although that seemed unlikely. She was Black Widow, a highly trained professional spy who usually didn't forget things.
"Hmhmm." She hummed, pushing past him and walking into the first showroom area – the living rooms. He followed.
"It won't fit into a bag."
"I know that, Captain Obvious. Have you seen your apartment?" He wasn't sure where she was going with this, so he chose not to respond to that, waiting for her to elaborate instead. She did, with an impatient sigh. "It's practically bare. You need more stuff, you need to make it more personal. More - " She thought about the right term for a moment, "Steve. Although I'm not sure Ikea is the right place to start. It's all mass-produced." She paused by another basket and fished out two pillows, pushing them into Steve's hands.
"How will pillows make my apartment more personal? And I'm barely there anyway." He squeezed them and had to admit they were soft.
"We all need a place to unwind after a battle, you especially, after trying to boss Tony around all day. A bed, a couch, a fridge and a dining table aren't enough. You need to make it a home. Pillows will make it more homey. Also, they're blue."
"The color blue makes an apartment more homey?"
"They're the color of your eyes, it's Steve. Trust me." Steve was sure his face flushed. He'd had no idea she was so aware of his eye color.
Twenty minutes and an Ikea bag full of knick knacks later, they reached the bedroom area, and Natasha set down the bag. Steve stopped next to her, a little overwhelmed by the amount of choices the store seemed to offer. He didn't know where to begin. Natasha, as always, seemed to have a plan.
"Okay. So what are you looking for?"
"A mattress."
"Are you purposely trying to be sarcastic today? I think you've been spending too much time around Stark. What kind of mattress?" She rolled her eyes and folded her arms, slightly stretching the material of her shirt around her breasts. Steve averted his eyes. He hadn't been trying to be sarcastic at all. He was still a little confused by the fact Natasha had offered to come mattress shopping with him in the first place. Like Black Widow didn't have anything better to do. Little did he know that she'd offered because she was trying to be his friend, like he'd asked.
"Um. A sturdy one?" He honestly didn't have a clue. SHIELD had provided his previous mattress, although he knew that had been too soft.
"Okay. So definitely not this one. Or this one." She handed the yellow bag to Steve and moved past a couple of beds, before stopping in front of a large white bed. "Try this." She waved him over. He obeyed, following orders in stead of giving them out for once, and sat down on a corner of the mattress. He wiggled around slightly, and squeezed the edge of it.
"Hmm. I don't know."
"Lie down, Rogers. You can't test a mattress by sitting on it." He put the bag on the floor and scooted backwards, then reclined until he was staring up at the white ceiling. His body sank a little further down, a little further than he would've liked. Natasha could tell by his frown.
"Okay, not it. Next." She moved on before he was able to sit up and sat down on a larger mattress three beds over, studying the label. He pushed himself up.
"This looks promising." She lay down, her red hair a stark contract against the white bed. "Maybe a little too sturdy for my taste." Steve was hesitating beside the bed, carefully pressing a hand onto the mattress to test its quality. "What are you waiting for? Try it." She looked at him expectantly.
Steve cleared his throat and lowered himself onto it slowly, then awkwardly lay down next to her. "Huh."
"You're such a goody two-shoes. Testing a mattress with me will hardly produce babies, Steve. I assume you're going to invite a woman into your home at some point, so you might as well know if it affects the mattress."
"I wouldn't be so sure." He mumbled under his breath, feeling an embarrassing blush creep up his neck when her arm brushed against his.
"Oh, come on. You're Captain America, women are practically falling over themselves to be with you." Not that they were at the moment. Both of them had dressed inconspicuously. Steve was wearing a baseball cap that hid his tell-tale blonde locks and a slightly oversized sweater to cover the hunk of muscles that was his upper body. He preferred to stay incognito in public.
"Yeah..." He still wasn't sure what to make of that. He'd gone from being completely ignored to women he didn't even know wanting to touch his pectorals. Steve Rogers had always been shy, and he still was. He couldn't get used to 21st century women. Besides, he didn't want women to like him because he was Captain America; he wanted them to like him because he was Steve Rogers. A good man.
"Oh, we'll find you someone, don't worry. You've waited long enough." She patted his bicep and wiggled around slightly, getting more comfortable. "So, what do you think?"
"I think you don't need to waste your time trying to find me someone."
"About the mattress, dumbass."
"Oh." He moved slightly, finding that his body wasn't sinking as far down as it had in the previous one. It was pretty comfortable. He moved onto his side, facing Natasha, and she smiled at him in a way that made him feel like a clueless young boy. In some ways, he was.
"Well?"
"It's nice." He closed his eyes, imagining himself back at his apartment, unwinding after a mission, surrounded by pillows and candle holders Natasha, his friend, had picked out for him. He could take a nap on this mattress. Maybe even fall into a dreamless sleep. A soft sigh escaped his lips before he could stop it, and it earned him a light punch in the ribs. Well, light for Captain America, any other man would've yelped.
"Don't go to sleep on me."
"I'm not," he mumbled, reopening his eyes and pulling himself into an upright position, suddenly feeling tired. "Let's get this one."
"Your call, Cap."