Whiskey Whispers

Steve sighed. He was sitting alone in Tony's kitchen, black marble countertop sparkling dully in the artificial light seeping in from the city. A large glass of whiskey was suspended in mid-air from his right hand; he swirled the amber liquid inside, tired eyes fixed unseeingly on the miniature whirlpool created.

Behind him, the sound of light feet padding over plush carpet could be heard. Steve ignored it, almost confident that his show of stoicism had convinced his teammate to go away until his hope was shattered by the lean hand touched briefly to his bare shoulder.

"You're up late." Natasha commented, settling herself down on the barstool next to Steve. It was almost strange, he thought, to see such an infamous woman dressed in floral pink pyjamas.

"Yep." Steve agreed, gulping down a mouthful of whiskey. The burn he would have felt before the serum was reduced to a mere tingle.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Steve didn't reply, but he was sure the automatic tightening of his jaw was answer enough.

Natasha nodded "Neither could I. Mind if I join you?" she asked, motioning at the tray of decanters at Steve's side. He snorted in a way that managed to convey the words 'Why not? Join the club, at least you have half a chance of getting drunk' and slid the liquor over to her. Natasha caught it deftly - Steve assumed as an assassin you couldn't afford not to have your reflexes primed at 2:34am - and poured herself a generous glass.

"This Tony's?" she queried. Steve nodded. "Excellent." She smirked, downing at least half the glass.

Steve chuckled lightly, all at once very glad to have grown to know the Black Widow better.

The two sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, listening to the tick of the clock and occasionally gracing their throats with more liquor. Eventually, the slight smile on Natasha's lips fell, overcome by a slight frown and haunted eyes. Steve spun around to face her as she spoke.
"I don't remember much from when I was a child, properly a child, I mean. Before my training began. But I remember everything after that." Natasha's voice was quiet, passionate and far from the usually snarky way she normally spoke. She took a deep breath and continued, eyes burning with determination "I've told exactly two people this so far, but I'm willing to add you to the list." Steve nodded, trying to show that she could trust him "I remember everything, which means I remember every single drop of blood I've shed, every single life I've taken and every single plea for mercy. And I can't forget it."

Steve's mouth was hanging slightly open, gawping. Hurriedly, he shut it, but he was unable to erase the surprise etched on to his features. Surprise and righteous indignation, because if there was one thing his life had taught him it was this: be loyal to your friends.

Natasha took another swig of liquor, then concluded "But in a way, I don't want to. I need to remember, because I did that. I killed them. Willingly. And now I can live freely and save the world and that's good, so good… but I have my ghosts like you have yours, only I deserve them."

And with that Natasha was up, striding out of the kitchen. Steve leapt up and caught her arm, calling for her to "Wait!"

"What?" Natasha demanded, surly and suspicious now that her confessional was over.

Steve frowned, dropping his arm. Gingerly, he licked his lips before venturing "We've all killed people. Honestly, you and I have probably killed more people than we've saved. And we're both guilty, angry, bitter, messed up people." Natasha, raised an eyebrow, although Steve could see that underneath it all she was absorbing his words "So, yes we should remember our past, but that doesn't mean we can't embrace the future."

Natasha crossed her arms and leant against the archway, staring at Steve pensively "That's good advice." She told him "Good advice. I think we both need to listen to it."

Steve shifted uncomfortably. He'd kind of set himself up for that one "Well, there's not really much I can do."

Natasha nodded, then smartly turned around and began to walk away. She paused on the threshold of the living room door, calling back to him "It's gonna be a nice afternoon tomorrow and I have to get out of town for a few hours to avoid the KGB- Wilson and I are going to the beach. Come with."

Then she was gone, leaving Steve to ponder whether or not his life really was all that bad.

A/N: All characters owned by Marvel. Takes place sometime after the Winter Soldier and before Age of Ultron (TWO WEEKS!) because I felt like writing some angsty Brotp. I hope you enjoyed it and please review if you have time :)