This is just a short idea that popped into my head, without any real rhyme, reason, or plot. Just a hopefully cute Romanogers oneshot, something to help the lack of my OTP from The Age of Ultron :) I know, both of them wouldn't get tired this easily, but for this story, they are. Hope you enjoy!
I don't own Captain America and I edited a photo I found online for the cover.
It had been a long day, longer than usual even for Steve. His muscles ached from exertion and his eyes could barely focus on the road. Streetlights passed by, shining yellow hues throughout the car for a second before flitting out. They were in a constant pattern of yellow light and darkness as the car made its way down the road. If Natasha were awake, she would blame his slow driving on being a grandpa. She was sleeping in the passenger seat of the car, her face peaceful and emotionless.
They were up before dawn tracking a sniper who had been taking down SHIELD agents. It took them all day to get him, running through bustling streets and getting on multiple modes of transportation in order to do so. They deposited him at SHIELD to answer for his crimes around midnight. No major injuries occurred, which was a pleasant relief for both of them. Steve still had to drive back to his apartment, which was closer than the Stark Tower was to their location. As the car made its way to the borders of the city, the high rises gradually began to dissipate, the amount of cars growing less. He stopped at a red light, made fuzzy and glowing with his closing eyes, gently pressing his foot on the gas pedal when the red changed to green. Trying to not wake Natasha, he let out a long yawn.
He had been up for over a day now, almost two. Even with the serum, he was still human, and it was very human to be tired after not sleeping. First, the nightmares had him not sleeping the night before. They got called away, with no time to rest. Natasha had been up almost thirty-six hours. In the hotel room they shared before tracking down the sniper, nightmares had plagued her and she was not able to sleep. Steve prayed that she would be able to get some rest once they got back.
After another turn down a small street, Steve typed in the code for the apartment complex and proceeded under the metal bar, which raised after the code was plugged in. He pulled slowly into the parking garage under the apartment complex. Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Steve opened the door to the car, listening to the echo it created in the cement structure. He could not wait to get inside and scrub the dirt from beneath his fingernails. Steve walked around to the other side of the car and opened the passenger door. Natasha was still sleeping, curled in on herself, her red hair matted from a day of fighting.
"Natasha," he whispered to her still form. She did not respond. Steve sighed and got one arm under her knees, the other under her back. He placed her arms around his neck and lifted. "Please don't kill me," he said and smiled. Soon she was in his arms, her lithe frame breathing steadily as he closed and locked the car.
Steve shifted her in his arms and began climbing the stairs up to the apartment. The ten steps were hard to climb even for him. He was constantly blinking out sleep as he hoisted both himself and Natasha to where the elevators were stationed. Grasped in one of his hands was a duffel bag, which held their undercover clothes, various weapons, and Steve's shield. They had both thrown on a jacket over their uniforms to avoid drawing too much attention if a passerby should notice them on the drive home.
With an extended finger, he pushed the button and waited for the silver elevator to come and greet them. After a few seconds, the green light blinked on and the doors opened.
Steve entered the elevator and pressed his floor button, listening for the soft ding that would signify their arrival. He missed the music in the elevators. Sure, it was awkward at times, but it gave him something to think about other than who was standing next to him.
Natasha's form was still in his arms, her chest moving up and down with each quiet breath.
The elevator dinged and Steve got out.
"Long night?" a soft voice asked.
Steve turned around to see Mrs. Kelley, an elderly woman that had the apartment at the end of the hall of his floor.
"Yes, ma'am," Steve replied and smiled.
"You get some sleep then," Mrs. Kelley replied and entered the elevator, seemingly paying no attention to the passed-put red head in his arms. Where she was going at two in the morning, Steve had no idea, but it was not his place to ask.
He rummaged the key out of his pocket and opened the door. "We're home, Natasha," Steve said as he closed the door behind him. Technically, it was his apartment, but they both had started sharing a floor at the tower not too long ago, so this one night arrangement was not a problem. She snuggled closer to him, burying her head in his shoulder.
"I was always home," she whispered.
Steve smiled and walked into the bedroom. He carefully lay her down in the bed and went into the bathroom after placing the duffel bag on the floor by the closet. He peeled off his uniform and changed into a tank top and sweatpants. It felt good to be out of the dirty material. He could offer Natasha some clothes, but one look at her told Steve that she was not moving until the morning. Instead, he let her lay in the bed, jacket covering the top half of her widow outfit, but the tight leather pants still visible among the white sheets.
In the bathroom he washed his hands, scrubbing the blood from various cuts and getting the dirt out from under his nails. He then wet a cloth, bringing it back to where Natasha lay. He carefully wiped off what grime he could from her hands, tenderly cleaning her face as well. He dabbed away blood from a cut on her arm and she did not flinch in the slightest. Then he put the rag back and turned off the light. Steve lifted up the sheets on the bed and gracefully placed them over Natasha before walking out of the room.
"Steve," Natasha mumbled from the bed.
"Hm?" Steve asked, stopping his walk out of the room.
"I'm cold," she said.
"Want me to turn up the heat?"
Natasha shook her head no. Steve smirked and returned to the bed. He turned off the light switch on the wall and the room was delved into darkness. He gently slid in next to her. She moved and curled up next to him, placing her head on his chest. He put his arm around her and sighed.
"Better?" he asked.
"Mhm. Thanks," she replied.
"Night, Tasha."
"Night, soldier."
Her form was warm against his and soon her breathing became normal again. "I was always home," she had said. It was not until now that he realized what she meant. They had grown incredibly close as the years went by, being paired up for every mission Fury had to offer. They were complete opposites, yet they worked at their peak when they were together. He was the only one other than Clint that had seen the vulnerable woman beneath the marble statue she had put in place.
Steve would be lying to himself if he said he didn't have feelings for Natasha. If she reciprocated, he had no idea, so he decided to take a chance. Using the arm that was around her, he began gently stroking her back in soothing motions. On the light jacket that covered her back, he wrote 'I love you' with a delicate finger. Then he opened his hand and simply placed it next to her back, sighing.
His eyes were about to close when Natasha started talking.
"I love you too, Steve. And that isn't the tiredness talking." Her voice and what she said startled him. His cheeks burned and he was glad the light was off. She smirked at him, her eyes still closed.
"Glad to know I'm not alone then," was his soft and almost embarrassed reply.
She curled up closer to him, throwing one arm over his stomach. He smiled in the dark and closed his eyes. Sleep was a welcome guest in his apartment that night and for the first time in a while, both the soldier and the spy were not awakened until morning.
Reviews are always appreciated! ;)