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Steve sighed as he pushed himself upright in his bed. The Avengers had all gotten back from their mission late last night, but despite how tired and achy his body was, he just couldn't seem to fall asleep. He glanced over at the clock sitting on his night stand, groaning as he realized that he'd been laying in bed unable to sleep for 2 hours now. Sliding his legs off of the bed, Steve stood up and walked over to the chair in the corner of his room, grabbing his discarded shirt and throwing it on before heading out into the main part of his apartment.
Tony had insisted after the Battle of New York that everyone move into the tower with him and Pepper. They each had their own floors, custom designed to fit them and their needs, as well as access to everything else within the tower. Steve walked into his kitchen to dig through the cabinets, trying to find the box of tea that he kept for this exact reason. When he finally found the box, it was empty, a winky face drawn on it. Nat, he groaned inwardly, despite the smile spreading across his face. He huffed out a laugh and shook his head as he turned to lean back against the counter.
She had a habit of doing this, of sneaking down into is apartment in the middle of the night to steal something she wanted. Sometimes it was tea, other times it was a t-shirt or a pair of sweats. Most commonly though, it was the fuzzy blanket that he kept on his couch. She always insists that it's much softer than the one that she has in her apartment, even though after a few months of her stealing it, he bought her the exact same one (secretly though, he kind of loves that she still insists on taking his). Alright Nat, he thought to himself. Two can play this game.
Steve tossed the box in the trash as he walked over to his front door. After closing it, he walked down the short hall to the elevator located at the end of it. "Nat's floor, please," he called as he stepped inside.
"Yes sir," JARVIS replied. Steve leaned back against the railing as the elevator took him down to her floor. Her floor was located two floors down from him, a guest floor located between the two. "Here you are, sir," JARVIS chimed as the elevator came to a stop.
"Thanks JARVIS," Steve called as he stepped out of the elevator. He furrowed his eyebrows as he walked down the hall. Music? His lips twitched up in a smile as he closed in on the door. He gently pressed his ear to it, hearing a small voice singing along with the music. Reaching for the door knob, he quietly turned it, cracking open the door for a moment before stepping fully into the room.
Natasha was singing quietly and dancing through her kitchen, a mixing bowl nestled in the crook of one arm, while the other worked the spoon through the mixture. There were streamers thrown throughout the room and small bowls of candy sitting out on the counter. She'd had her back turned to him when he entered but didn't seem surprised in the slightest when she turned around to see him standing there. A smile spread across her face as she set the bowl down to look in the oven. Steve's eyebrows knitted together as he walked over to look in the oven with her.
"Uh Nat?"
She raised an eyebrow and hummed as she went back to mixing what Steve could only assume was cake batter.
"It's 4 a.m., why are you baking a cake? And what's with the party decorations and sweets?" He asked, leaning back against the counter and folding his arms over his chest, a fond smile planted on his lips.
Natasha spun around to face him, still working the batter over in the bowl, "I'm celebrating the death of my sleep schedule and sanity." She offered him a cheeky smile before grabbing a pan off the counter and holding it out to him. "Want a cookie?"
Steve chuckled and grabbed a cookie off the tray, popping it into his mouth and humming. Natasha smiled at him as she grabbed the cake pan off the counter behind him. "These are really good, Nat," Steve mumbled through the cookies he'd shoved into his mouth while she was distracted. When he reached for another one, she batted his hand away from it. "Fine, fine!" He laughed and took a step back. He stood there for a moment before reaching out to take the empty bowl from her. "You wouldn't be opposed to me helping you out and joining your celebration, would you?" He walked the bowl over to the sink and began washing it out.
"Even better," she replied as she pulled the cupcakes out of the oven. She slid the tin onto the counter and turned to Steve. "Can you grab the can of frosting out of the cabinet?" she asked.
"What? No!" He replied. Natasha furrowed her eyebrows and narrowed her eyes.
"Why not?" She asked.
Steve quickly moved throughout the kitchen gathering ingredients as he went. "You can't just use frosting from the can. You've got to make it yourself."
"That'd be great, if I knew how to," she scoffed, folding her arms across his chest.
"Well then, Romanoff, I suppose you're in luck," he offered her a boyish grin as he grabbed the last of the ingredients and set them out in front of them. Natasha gave him a skeptical look but took a step closer. "Don't worry, I'll teach you."
"So where did Captain America learn how to make buttercream frosting?" She asked, taking a finger and scooping some of the frosting out of the bowl to eat it. Steve playfully batted her hand away, moving the bowl closer to himself as he brought out a piping bag and started dropping the ice cream inside.
"My Ma used to make sweets whenever we had a bit of extra money and buying the ingredients in bulk was cheaper than buying them for one cake or a batch of cookies. So, I'd spend like a week helping her bake. Then, when she got sick, she couldn't do it any more, so I started doing it. I was sick all the time anyway, so it wasn't like I could do much else, but I liked it. I'd make enough for us and Buck and some of the others that lived nearby. I don't know, it was nice to be able to do something," he replied, adding a shrug at the end. Natasha stood quietly, her eyes intently trained on him even after he finished talking. "What?" He asked, turned to meet her gaze, a small blush rising to his cheeks.
Natasha shook her head and smiled, "nothing. It's just….you never cease to amaze me." She grabbed the cake pan off the counter and slid it into the oven.
"Oh yeah? Well, what about you?" He gently nudged into her arm, a wide grin spreading across his face.
"What do you mean?"
Steve rolled his eyes, "come on Nat. Deadly assassin and an excellent baker?"
Natasha hesitated for a moment, seemingly contemplating answering his question. She eventually huffed out a small laugh as she pushed herself up onto the counter, taking another swirl of the frosting left in the bowl as she went.
"After I defected," she began, letting out a tense breath, "I needed some kind of outlet that wasn't related to work or who I was. The apartment that Fury put me up in used to be a safe house, so it was stocked with lots of books and other things. Nights were the hardest. So, one night, when I couldn't sleep, I started looking through the books. I came across an old cookbook and I don't know," she shrugged slightly, her eyes rising up from where they were trained on the floor to meet his eyes. "I guess it was just what I needed at the time, and it's stuck with me ever since." Steve continued to study her, his eyes running over her features as a small smile made its way onto his lips. "What?" she asked, laughing slightly.
Steve pursed his lips together and shook his head, "I guess you just never cease to amaze me either." He paused for a moment before continuing, "and also a little offended."
Natasha furrowed her eyebrows together, "what do you mean?"
"Well, you've been holding out on me Romanoff. I've known you for what, 4 years now? And you've never once shared your treats with me." He picked up a cookie and bit into it as if to punctuate his point. Natasha threw her head back and laughed, vaguely aware of the cool rush of relief that coursed through her body. She noticed a small flicker of something she couldn't quite pinpoint in his eyes before he spoke again. "But I guess I should apologize as well."
"For what?" she asked, cocking her head to the side slightly.
"This," he replied, grabbing a handful of flour and releasing it in her face. Natasha's mouth dropped open in shock as she looked back at him. He chuckled and set the rest of his cookie down. "I suppose I could consider us even now."
"Oh, no way Rogers," Natasha shouted. She hopped off the counter and grabbed a fist full of flour herself. As she went to release it, Steve grabbed onto her wrist, his face leaned in toward her.
"You don't really want to do that," he whispered, his voice low, a cocky smile perched on his lips. Natasha felt a chill run down her spine, while excitement simultaneously coursed through her veins. She held his gaze, unflinching as she bent her fingers back slightly before releasing the flour onto his face. Steve closed his eyes and nodded, his tongue darting out to swipe across his lips. When he opened his eyes, Natasha could see the mischief sparkling in them. He released her hand and took a step back. "This is war," he stated, matter-of-factly before grabbing a handful of sprinkles from the counter behind them and chucking them at her.
Natasha squealed and ran around the other side of the island, thrusting her hand into a jar of jelly beans and throwing them at him. He laughed and ate one that had landed in his hand before taking another handful of flour and tossing it up into the air causing it to rain down on her. She huffed pulling the sugar jar with her as she crouched down below the island. She heard the unmistakable sound of her fridge opening as she kneeled down on the floor. Her curiosity peaked, she slowly inched up, just her eyes peeking above the counter. The fridge door was shut, and Steve was nowhere in sight. Shit, she thought to herself. She was just about to move around the corner of the island when Steve tackled her (gently, but with enough force to knock her over). He laughed as he pinned her down with his legs, taking the whipped cream can he'd gotten out from the fridge and spraying it all over her. She writhed beneath him, shouting out a string of what he could only assume were curses in Russian.
When she finally wiggled out of his grasp, she took the jar of sugar and dumped it directly over his head. He was stunned enough that she had time to escape from him, running around to the fridge and pulling out the carton of eggs. She quickly dropped to the floor again and out of his sight.
"Oh Naaaat," Steve called from the other side of the counter. She heard him shuffle slightly and popped up herself, arm drawn back, and launched an egg at him, hitting him square in the forehead. She heard him gasp in surprise as the egg made contact with his head making a crrck sound as it burst open. Natasha peeked over the counter again to see him still standing there. He took at hand up to his head and wiped the yolk off of his face, sharply returning his hand to his side and effectively throwing the yolk onto the floor. He made eye contact with her, a devilish smile gracing his lips. "Oh, it's on now," he playfully growled, lunging at her from around the counter.
Natasha hummed at she buried her head further into Steve's chest. She felt his arms tighten around her as she moved. She turned her head up towards him, meeting his sleepy gaze. "Hi," he whispered, his voice heavy with sleep.
"Hi," she whispered back. The credits for the movie they'd turned on when they sat down to eat their cake, after Natasha won the food fight (or so she declared) and they'd changed clothes, were blaring on the TV. Steve groaned, shifting her gently from where she was laying on top of him and grabbed the remote off the coffee table where it was sitting, turning off the TV before setting it back down. He shifted Natasha back to where she was, taking his free hand and brushing it through her hair.
"We should probably clean up the mess in the kitchen," he murmured as his hands ran through her hair.
Natasha groaned. "Noo," she whined, digging her nails into his biceps and burying her face in the crook of his neck. She could feel the chuckle run through his body. It wasn't like he needed much convincing to stay where he was anyway.
He yawned and nuzzled his head against hers, "I suppose we could put it off for a little while." He grabbed the fuzzy blanket Natasha loves so much from where he'd set it on the back of the couch (he'd brought it down from his apartment when he went to change) and pulled it over the top of them.
A sleepy smile found its way to Natasha's face. "I win again," she mumbled as sleep pulled her under.
I'm having writer's block right now, so this was my attempt to cure it! I hope I did it justice and I hope you guys liked it! Please favorite, follow, and review!