The first time it happened, it was because of the lingering nightmares that never seemed to leave him alone. He had woken up sweaty and breathing heavier than normal. The back of his shirt felt damp and it stuck to his skin like glue, it was hardly comfortable. The clock on his right flashed a quarter past two in the morning, and he realised that it was the third time this week he hadn't been able to sleep through the night. Steve ran a hand across his face, trying to get rid of the perspiration. He probably needed therapy, like how Sam kept telling him, but he crossed off the thought as soon as it appeared. He could get by on his own.
It was still early, and he wasn't due at work until half past eight. Contemplating his choices, he got up anyway; it wasn't as if he was going to get much sleep either way. He didn't bother to flip the light switches as he made his way towards the living room; enjoying the darkness that shrouded the entire room. Faint lights peeked through the curtains that he put up several months ago when he first moved in. The city that never sleeps definitely lived up to its reputation. It was times like these that he was grateful for living in New York. He didn't have to be alone. As he made his way to the bathroom, he was running on autopilot, his mind wandering elsewhere. By the time he made it to the kitchen, it was ten minutes past three. Standing by the kitchen sink, he poured himself the holy concoction that was coffee; he could barely function without it. As he stood there, he looked out his window to see the lights on in the opposite apartment on. Nothing strange at all, considering he was awake as well. The first thing that caught his eye was the colour of her hair. It was not quite the deep shade of scarlet he was used to seeing, but rather, it held an orange hue that he was strangely attracted to. She was dressed in work clothes, a simple white dress under a blue cropped blazer. It was simple, and half the female doctors in his department dressed similarly, but she made it look effortless and just downright classy. He watched as she poured herself a mug of what he recognised as coffee and flipped through a stack of papers.
He felt like a class A creep.
Tearing his gaze away, he could only wonder what she could possibly be doing at three in the morning. A plethora of reasons crossed his mind, but he didn't feed his thoughts. He had no business staring at a complete stranger who happened to live across the street. That was just plain creepy.
The trip to the New York-Presbyterian Hospital was short, especially at this hour where traffic was as light as it would ever be. He clocked in and headed towards the paediatrics department, pulling on his white coat as he went. It had been a difficult week, more cases coming in compared to any other month. A little boy, Michael, had come in, last week. He suffered from multiple sclerosis, a condition which affected the nervous system and could be fatal. There was no known cure for it yet. Steve was hardly a pessimist but it was times like this that he wondered what made him take up medical school anyway.
After he was discharged from the army, he still had a whole life ahead of him. At the age of twenty-two he had gained the rank of Captain, but due to circumstances, he had to go. Somehow he had taken the decision to enter medical school, and he had taken up being a paediatrician. He loved kids, and they were the cutest little rascals running around. It was a three hundred sixty degree turn around from his life in the army. Children were mostly just starting out life, and all he ever saw on the battlefield were dead corpses. He loved his job, even though it was difficult seeing some of them who come in suffering as much as they were and he couldn't do a single thing about it. Kids like Michael made him wonder if he ever appreciated his life enough.
"No, I want this report done before five tomorrow evening," Natasha sighed, the agitated tone in her voice making her blood boil. It was one thing being a lawyer in a well-known law firm in New York City, and it was a whole other thing being stuck with a bunch of new interns.
"Yes Ms Romanoff, I'll get it done right away," the new intern squeaked, scurrying away as quick as he had walked in through her office door.
She pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a sigh, the higher-ups were clearly testing her patience.
"Jesus, calm down Nat, you're scaring the shit out of them," Clint Barton grunted, pulling his tie lower as he dropped a file on her table.
Clint had been her partner-in-crime since they had met in the freshman year of law school in NYU. They graduated together and even now, as he stood in front of her desk, they were the best of friends.
"You'd think that they would have more brains than that, considering the fact that he wrote he graduated from Oxford in his resume."
"He's fresh out of grad school Nat, he's still learning," Clint chided, "Besides, we were once like him."
"I did not give my superiors a migraine the moment I walked into their office, Barton."
"Oh sure you did, you gave me one the moment I walked in here," he chuckled, an amused smirk on his face.
"Get that shit-eating grin off your face, I'm exhausted," she sighed, "If I die young, remember to pen my will properly."
"I'll make sure to include the fact that the cause of death was indeed stress. It'll raise awareness once it appears in the Wall Street Journal that New York's top lawyer died from overworking herself."
"I'm not ready to throw in the towel just yet," she grumbled, turning her gaze to her laptop.
"Jesus Christ Nat, stop staring at that computer, it's already well past midnight. When was the last time you slept?"
"About two days ago, it was hardly what you would call a good night's sleep, though."
"That's it, take the day off tomorrow. I'll handle the Kingston case. This isn't up for discussion."
"You're fucking kidding right?"
Natasha wanted to protest, or at least smack him. She didn't spend weeks preparing this presentation just for it to just slide through her fingers. The Kingston case was massive, and if she could be the one to represent at that meeting tomorrow morning, it might just skyrocket her career even further.
"Barton, you can't just do this to me." She said, running her hands through her already messy shoulder length curls. "You know I spent weeks on this."
"No means no Romanoff, I'll postpone the meeting."
"That'll ruin our image! Clint, you're being a fucking asshole right now."
"Oh come on, the case can wait, your body can't. You're exhausted and I don't want you to kill yourself doing this." Clint replied earnestly. She knew he was worried, but she worked so damn hard on this and damn it to hell if she died doing her presentation tomorrow. At least she would've died fighting.
Barton glared at her, "Don't even think about coming in tomorrow, I'll have security drag you out from the building and I mean it."
"You're a real asshole you know that?"
But she couldn't argue, not with him. While the two of them had graduated top of their class and ended being New York's finest lawyers, he still held a higher position here. He was one of the major shareholders in the firm, and God was she pissed about it sometimes.
"I'm doing this for you, Nat. It's one day, not the rest of your life." He shrugged, "Besides, you look like the love child of Frankenstein and Igor."
"You sure know the way to a woman's heart," she said, rolling her eyes, arms crossed.
"Oh don't be a sourpuss, I'll buy you lunch tomorrow. Just go home and get some rest."
He leant across her desk and kissed her cheek before turning to leave, "Don't scare the children on your way back."
"Very funny."
She sighed as he closed the door behind him. She had no choice but to go home and drown her sorrows.
The drive back from work was relatively quick, and Natasha couldn't have been more grateful for it. The throbbing in her head was undeniably painful and she just wanted nothing more than a good nap and possibly just the tiniest bit of tea.
Walking into her apartment, she flipped the light switch in the living room. As the chandelier lit up the place, she wondered when was the last time she actually spent more than a couple of hours in this place. There were a few knick-knacks here and there that made it feel a little less than a hotel and more like a home, but it was something she had long grown used to. She shed her blazer and dumped her bag on the couch before making her way to the kitchen. It was almost three and it wasn't the first time she was awake at this ungodly hour of the morning.
As she pushed herself onto the kitchen counter, she was more than grateful for the mug of hot tea in her hands. It was the only thing keeping her from going insane. The last few weeks had been like a trip to hell itself, and while she was pissed, she was still grateful for the time off. She'd have to thank Clint tomorrow.
She turned her gaze out her window to see a blonde-haired man staring blankly at the phone in his hand while the other stirred a drink. Looks like she wasn't the only one with problems.
He looked up and she caught his eye. She was too tired to care what she looked like, or what the stranger must have thought when he saw her sitting on her kitchen counter.
So, she waved.
Surprisingly, he waved back, a smile on his face. She turned away, and that was the beginning of that.
She had waved at him, and he was not entirely sure if it was okay for him to wave back. So, he'd just smiled.
Weeks went by and whenever he came home from a late shift, he would sometimes see the light across his apartment building on. Whenever he saw his neighbour, she would wave and he would wave back. He didn't know her name and they lived across the street from each other, but not once had he ever run into her. But he wanted to get to know her.
Natasha wondered if it was a curse, her and late nights at the office. For once in her life, she just wanted to go home, and for the first time, she got the chance to. Her client cancelled their eight p.m. meeting and she almost, almost, jumped for joy. Not that she'd ever do that, it would've been unprofessional. As she walked towards her car, the white Audi R8 she had bought after her last promotion, she let her thoughts go astray. She would have time to finish that new drama she was hooked on, and maybe she would stop by the grocery store on the way back to replenish the dwindling supplies in her refrigerator.
That sounded nice.
She drove to the one nearest to her place, just anxious to get home. Everything hurt and God forbid, she just wanted to turn in early tonight. She picked up a basket and checked things off her mental list as she went.
Bread. Milk. Cheese. Some vegetables. A couple of fruits. Quinoa. Eggs.
She was practically moving mindlessly as the exhaustion caught up with her. She stopped moving when there were people in front of her. She moved when there wasn't. It had been a long day.
She was just searching for a can of spaghetti sauce when she looked up to see a very tall, at least six feet or more, figure standing by the shelves. He was wearing a blue button down, tucked neatly into his black slacks, and promptly inspecting a can of pickled cucumbers.
He must have noticed her staring because he turned to look at her. It was her neighbour.
"Hey."
"Hi."
What do you say when you finally run into that stranger you'd been waving at for months? She held her tongue for a moment and he offered a hand, "Nice to finally meet you, stranger."
"Well, we're not exactly strangers," she smiles.
There was no denying that her neighbour was certainly attractive. He was a good head taller than her, and he was buff, gym instructor worthy. The messy blonde hair on his head was so artfully messed that she honestly wondered if he had done it himself or he was just that lucky.
She wanted to thank his parents. But she kept that thought to herself.
"I'm Rogers, Steve Rogers."
"Natasha Romanoff.."
"At least now I can put a name to the face, turns out the name is as beautiful as the owner," he smiled.
Her face heated up, but she just smirked, "Thank you. You're not too bad yourself."
He stood there for a few seconds, just looking at her in this adorable way that she had never seen a guy do before.
"Hey... I was thinking, and this is going to make me sound like a total creep, but do you like coffee?"
She couldn't help but smile, her lips curved into a smirk, "Is that something you picked up from all that waving?"
"Couldn't help but notice that you liked it as much as I do." He shrugged, a grin on his face.
"Are you asking me on a date Mr Rogers?"
"I might be, Ms Romanoff. It depends on your answer."
"Coffee sounds great." She smiled.
