"Don't move."
If anybody were nearby, a person would've most likely deemed him a lunatic that had escaped from Creedmore based on the way he smiled in the face of a woman cocking a gun on him.
"Hi, Natasha."
He's still smiling, and based on the way she's looking at him, she also thinks he's a lunatic. And he just might be. He's stupid, that's for sure, but he's traveled this far already, so he thinks it's okay to be selfish too. Just this time.
He's already returned four of the stones and Mjölnir, and he realizes this detour is a little reckless and maybe a little injudicious, but it doesn't mean it isn't necessary.
This Natasha doesn't know him, not really, just knows what's on his files and that he's being monitored by S.H.I.E.L.D. until Fury decides it's time to recruit him for the day that sends his world into a bit of tailspin and sets his life on a path. He's not yet her friend nor partner, not even a colleague.
So it's all reasonably understandable as to why she's got a Glock 26 perfectly aimed at his forehead as she silently steps closer to him. "Who are you? You're not Steve Rogers."
"Not the correct one, anyway," he mumbles, setting down his glass of water on her counter.
It takes a lot of fast talking and some serious convincing on his part to make sure he doesn't actually die or something, because he's fairly sure that would officially certify him as stupid and idiotic. He answers her questions until she becomes satisfied enough to lower her gun a little, and then he's earned her trust to where the guns back in her holster and his life is no longer in immediate danger.
She's surprised they end up being partners, and even more surprised that they become friends, which makes him want to laugh because the alternative would be to cry, and he doesn't want to explain that.
He tells her that he could use her help in causing a bit of trouble, says he needs her help in performing a time heist which involves putting a fake gem inside the Metropolitan and another in a briefcase at S.H.I.E.L.D. He omits any details about the future or about the Ancient One down at Greenwich Village because he figures that the timeline doesn't need to be blown further into hell than it already is, even if he really wants to tell her about HYDRA and Pierce.
"Why me?" is what she says finally, after he feels a little woozy and relieved.
"You're a good spy," he shrugs, because it's a simple truth. "It'll be fun."
After they complete sneaking the fake stone back into what will be Pierce's briefcase (mostly Natasha, because a man who looks eerily identical to Captain America on board the Triskelion is a little too dangerous), they go back to her apartment to grab her Corvette and head to 5th Avenue.
"I really don't think you understand how heists works," she says at a stop sign. "Age clearly hasn't brought you wisdom. Or Captain America doesn't believe in committing a crime."
He laughs easily, and it also sends a wave of sadness and nostalgia through him. He knew he'd miss her jokes, her jabs at him about his age, but having her tell them straight to his face again reminds him exactly what he's going to miss.
"Captain America lied six times to the government," he quips in return.
"That was Steve Rogers."
He smiles.
Don't think he hadn't considered it. Considered being supremely greedy, considered taking another Natasha Romanoff from another time. It'd been on his list of Ways-to-fix-my-once-again-screwed-up-life, along with stealing a Tony Stark along the way. It'd be easy enough, too easy, and the temptation too strong. But there'd been a list of reasons why that really wouldn't be okay to do, but it'd taken a lot of effort from those other reasons to trump his own.
Power is dangerous, Steve thinks, a little deliriously and still a lot uncaring. Power that can aid in granting things that should be left untouched now, in a world of his where Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff are gone, gone due to the sacrifices they had made for them all. And as he sits beside Natasha, he feels that temptation squeeze its way into his brain once again, wanting to grow roots and twist itself around feelings and hope.
Hope is dangerous too.
So he's basically traded that hope in return for some sort of masochistic effort to have the day with a friend for the last time.
Maybe he really is a fool.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
He snaps back to reality (not his reality, he reminds himself rather pathetically). "Think you need more than a penny for my thoughts," he admits a little too easily.
"Hmm, quite philosophical of you, Rogers. Dime?"
He snorts. "Very generous offer." He waits a minute or so in thought. "Ever wonder...do you ever wonder what you'd do if you got to live a normal life? No S.H.I.E.L.D.? No Black Widow? Just...Natasha Romanoff?"
It's a little different, he thinks, asking the Natasha who doesn't have the Avengers yet, or the harsh truths of what's to come.
She's definitely contemplating her answer. He's sort of expecting a nonchalant answer, maybe no answer at all, but he doesn't feel like taking the question back. "I can't really imagine a normal life," she begins, carefully. "Not one like regular people have, anyways. But I'd like to think that what I have right now is as far as normal as I'll ever get."
He feels like she's being pretty honest though.
"What about you? If you were just Steve Rogers?" she glances over to him, and he sees genuine curiosity. Maybe not the kind his Natasha would've had had she asked, but it's still genuine nonetheless.
It makes him think too. Because what exactly was a normal life? He's beginning to think he's never had one. "I don't think I consider the life I've had normal," he says, drumming along his thigh in thought. "But I think that if age has taught me anything, it's that normal isn't really the way to go for me."
She nods, taking what he says. "And what's your definition of normal?"
He sighs. "I don't know. I don't think I really have one," he laughs. "I think maybe the truth is the matter of the circumstances. It doesn't seem to be all things to all people all the time."
She gives him a strange look, but it's brief, and it's immediately placed with veiled neutrality. "Guess I stand corrected. Age has brought some wisdom after all, Rogers."
"I call her a friend."
When it's over, they drive back to her apartment and she offers him leftover Chinese takeout and he accepts without hesitation.
He has to watch himself while he talks, make sure not to accidentally spill something pertinent to the future, especially when it's so easy talking and sharing with her in an atmosphere that's all too familiar and cozy for him from years ago.
"It's weird seeing Captain America with longer hair."
He chuckles, because Natasha had been the one to convince him of ever growing it out in the first place. "Should've seen the beard."
Her face lightens up in both delight and amusement, and it pleases him very greatly. "Oh, I will."
He thinks that maybe the younger him will be getting his beard sooner this time.
It's just as nice chatting with Natasha as it was making trouble with her, even if it's not his Natasha. It's been fun and deeply satisfying and a little heartbreaking because it's the Natasha that he hadn't gotten to see in awhile, the one who isn't burdened with the years of sorrow and stress and betrayals. The one who still hasn't gotten the rug pulled out from under her, who still hasn't had the universe cruelly tell her that all she'd done to repent for her sins was a waste in the hands of HYDRA, the one who hasn't gotten a family that she ends up losing later. But she's still the Natasha that will sacrifice herself to gain that family back.
And as their time starts to wind down, he realizes that thinking this little extra trip was going to make the goodbye for himself easier was wrong.
"You know, just because I agreed to help you doesn't mean I'm completely sold on this entire thing," she informs him at the door, with a look of consternation and novelty.
He just grins and puts his jacket on. "I know."
"And?"
"And?"
"Don't you dare do that innocent face."
He laughs this time. "Sorry. Never worked on you before, just wanted to make sure."
She doesn't seem to know what to do with that, so she lets it go. "The only reason I agreed and didn't shoot you was because I know I could take you down if I had to."
"Trust me, I know," he says, and maybe he sounds a little proud and a little fond, but he also sounds sincere, which she hears, based on the small look of surprise on her face at his easy honesty.
"So why did you need me? Because you really didn't need my help."
"Guess I just wanted your company."
She frowns back, clearly thinking that as an unsuitable answer.
And he gives her his best smile, not a Captain America one, but a Steve Rogers smile, the one that had once disappeared along with everyone else when Thanos snapped his fingers.
"Goodbye, Nat," he plants a kiss on her forehead. "And thank you. For everything."
And then he's gone.