Disclaimer: Nothing is owned and the amount of owning is nothing.
Spoilers: MCU through AoU.
Future (totally non-canonical) Assumptions: No war, neither Civil nor Infinity, is in the offing. Just imagine Thanos decided on a long, long vacation and forgot about the extra bling for his Michael Jackson glove. The government let the Avengers go avenging merrily along and maybe they were up all night to get Bucky at some point, too.
Pairings: Unrequited Hill for Cap, canon-level Brutasha, happy headcanon Romanogers.
Summary: Hill coatnaps Steve's leather jacket, then wonders why he never asks for it back. Begins in the AoU afterparty, continues at the new Avengers' HQ. This has just been banging around my brain since I got my AoU digital download with red wine supplement.
"Is it just me, or is it a little chilly in here?"
"No one's turned down the air since the crowd left. Here."
And, just like that, I'm snuggled up in the manliest jacket ever. I have to push the sleeves up to find my hands and the shoulder seams are somewhere halfway down my arms and I could probably use it as a robe. I want to sleep in it. The scent engulfing me is leather and engines and subtle cologne and I don't know what. It just smells like him. I feel like I'm in an old movie and the captain of the football team has just given me his varsity letterman's jacket. I try to take a moment to remind myself that I'm a grown woman who might want to consider saying 'no' to another drink. Unless, of course, that drink prolongs the evening and I get to keep sitting across from him.
I should be paying more attention to the poker game I've let Stark talk me into, but he smiles at me for a moment and I wonder if he's thinking about how I look in his coat. I could be betting my entire salary on this hand and I'd never notice. Then his eyes flick away before I can come up with something intelligent to say. I watch him for a little while anyway. He doesn't look back. He's taking in the whole room, gaze drifting as he participates in the conversation while assessing the exits and angles of potential attack. Even relaxed, he's the perfect soldier.
Or maybe not so perfect. Every sweep of the room includes several interludes when he focuses on her. She's looking engrossed in conversation with Banner, but she's too good not to realize he's looking. And she's not looking. I wonder if she somehow remained in earshot of the little talk he had with Banner earlier that I just happened to overhear, because I was definitely not eavesdropping. Even if she hadn't heard what he said, I know she's noticed he's been using her last name lately. She doesn't like it and I'm good enough to stay out of her way when she's annoyed with him; for all her training, it's surprisingly easy to tell when he's gotten under her skin. Or maybe I've just gotten better at seeing the signs. Or maybe she's really interested in Banner, now. They have that lullaby thing going on. If he's conceded, why does he keep looking at her like that?
I realize I've been staring at him when the conversation turns to Mjolnir and Barton stops playing with the drumsticks picked up somewhere. There's no end to the random items Stark seems to pack into the Tower; if not for the money to provide endless space, Tony Stark would be the subject of an episode of Hoarding: Buried Alive. It would film right after the one on Fury. I find myself doing an unconscious supply inventory until he stands to take a turn lifting the hammer. I hold my breath as his shoulders and arms flex with effort. Does it move? I think so. I glance at her almost involuntarily; she's looking at the floor, smirking. He can't lift it. She won't even try. No one asks me.
Why the hell is there a robot stumbling into the room?
Things are back to normal. It's not SHIELD, not exactly, and GrubHub doesn't deliver in this particular backwater, but Fury is in charge and I know what I'm doing. There are new recruits, new technicians, old employees getting used to the new facility and protocols. And there are new Avengers. He's still their leader, and she's his second because they trust each other implicitly when the time comes. A natural partnership. Banner is gone and I can't tell if she minds. Honestly, it's like things were before we all got together in a cave under a dam and took down the most important intelligence agency in the country.
He's using her first name again. I notice that right away.
It's more pronounced while they're preparing for their first mission with the new team. We've found the Winter Soldier and the Avengers have been instructed to bring Barnes in alive. The plan is to rehabilitate the asset into the man and maybe into another teammate. I restrain myself from calling it the Black Widow model.
I'm in the hanger, updating the latest information for the mission when I hear them talking. They're standing by the ramp of the quinjet and she's smirking at him. She can smirk like she trained for it; she probably did. He leans in while she smirks. "I know he's your buddy from back in the day, but I'm just saying that you have to make it clear to him that he's not allowed to shoot me."
He's working his own smirk, though it doesn't yet have the studied impertinence of hers. "Bucky's a really good guy when he's not brainwashed. You'll like him once he's himself again and flirting with you."
Her expression somehow hardens for a moment without changing in the least. "Look, I'm just saying that I've met him twice and he shot me both times. Not a good track record."
"Should I tell him to send you flowers or something?"
"Oh, so he's gonna send me flowers?" She walks up the ramp.
He's right on her heels. "You like flowers?"
The jet closes up and taxis away, cutting off the rest of the conversation. I take my tablet back to the Ops Center. I'm the point person at HQ, a position I take very seriously.
The mission lasts two weeks and ends in success. Barnes is led through the complex, wide-eyed but unrestrained. The Winter Soldier gets private quarters instead of a cell.
He's as happy as I've ever seen him. She's hiding a bouquet of roses behind her back when I see her heading back to her room later. I check on Sam in the Med Bay before turning in for the night.
His leather jacket is hanging in the back of my closet and I run my fingers over the soft grain of it before slamming the door. I have other things to do. Better things. My alarm goes off before I've even closed my eyes.
The New Avengers are away again on a mission. No matter how hard I try, I can't think of them as anything other than 'New.' There are seven of them now, including Bucky. The former Winter Soldier has proven a valuable addition to the team, even according to her. I heard her tell Fury, "I'd much rather have him shooting at people trying to kill me than trying to kill me. For once, the middleman is a good thing."
It's essentially a simple smash and grab, destroying an arms dealing operation. They're back in record time, with a haul of illegal weapons and injuries requiring further treatment for Rhody and Wanda only. The rest brush off the medical staff like gnats, as usual. I handle the after-action reports and log the captured missiles. I'm done well before midnight, so I decide to catch up on intelligence briefings.
I'm on chapter 26 of Moby-Dick when temptation overcomes common sense. I push through sensible suits and conservative casualwear to his leather jacket. It still smells like him, but barely. I inhale deeply, despite the fact that I think it's been in my closet long enough to lose its intoxicating effect. I should probably give it back to him.
I check my watch as I stride through the halls in the living quarters of Avengers' HQ. It's three in the morning and I am totally casual and nonchalant. It could be noon. I could be on my way to lunch.
In spite of the fact that my knuckles hurt by the time he opens the door, the fist clutching his jacket is still the anxious hand. He's shirtless, bleary-eyed with sleep, but he immediately tries to shake it off when he realizes it's me. "Hill. What's wrong?"
Crap, I should have thought up an emergency before leaving my room. "I found this!" I shout instead. Totally casually.
"Is that my…"
"Your jacket!" I really have to stop yelling. "Yeah, I couldn't sleep, so I was reading and, um, doing some research and remembered something I might have had in a box in the back of my closet that I haven't checked in forever and there was your jacket and I thought you'd want it back, since I've had it since I don't even know when and…" I would probably go on increasing the volume and speed of my voice forever if not for the arm reaching around him to snatch the jacket from his hands.
"Now you can stop accusing me of stealing it. Thanks, Hill." She saunters away from the door, not having bothered to put anything on. "Cut down on the espresso!"
I look up and realize he's watching her walk away with a grin that becomes sheepish when he turns back to me. "So grumpy when you wake her up. Thanks. For my coat, I mean."
"Right. Sorry. Wasn't thinking of the time." I nod like a bobble-head until he closes the door after a final 'thank you.' I put myself on autopilot to the nearest source of caffeine. The rec room isn't empty, unfortunately.
Sam mutes the TV and turns to hang over the back of the couch. "Now, I know you're not on the late watch or I wouldn't have been so bored for the last few hours."
"I just get busy and lose track of time sometimes. I'm surprised you drew the short straw, considering you just got back."
"I gotta catch up on my DVR share before Vision deletes my stuff. How can an AI dude be so into nature documentaries? Still, it's better than the time Steve and me tried to take him to the Bronx Zoo."
I don't ask for details and take my time making up a cup of coffee, but it's hard to linger over black coffee with one Splenda. I turn slowly. "Sam, can I ask you a question?"
He gives me a half-grin. "Sure, I'll tuck you in."
Normally I'd humor him. He's a nice guy. Right now, though… "No, seriously. How long have Steve and Natasha, um…" While thinking about which word to use, I abruptly realize I don't want to know what they are and how long they've been…them. "Forget it."
"Uh-huh. Maybe I'll just have a chat with Cap in the morning when…"
"No!" Dammit. "Fine. Steve loaned me his jacket a while ago and I just returned it to him and…"
"Just now?"
"Yeah."
"And you woke up Nat?"
So Sam knows. Obviously. And when did she become 'Nat' to Sam? Another thing I've missed. I lamely repeat, "Yeah."
"Uh-huh. Just be thankful she didn't break your nose."
I have to think back – a lot further back than I'd like. "You broke your nose, like, a year and a half ago."
"I figured the motel was too seedy to be interrupting anything, but I learned my lesson and now I always knock, no matter where we're sleeping. If I gotta chuck a snowball at their tent, fine. You don't poke a sleeping bear. Hey, you okay?"
Who's not okay after her world's been turned upside down? A year and a half. He and she have been them for eighteen months. At least. "Good night, Sam."
"You want your coffee?"
I'm already staggering down the hallway. "I should cut down."
I'm up to chapter 52 by the time the sun rises.
They don't leave the base often. There's only one nice restaurant within fifty miles, a family-run Italian place. It's good. I assume that's where they're going as she gingerly gets on the back of his Harley in a skirt and heels. She almost never wears a skirt. He's wearing a tie and his leather jacket. As she loops her arms around him, I notice she has a ring on her left hand that catches the light just so. It can't possibly be…
A puff of dust and they're gone. I turn back toward HQ, thinking I should have held onto that damn jacket.