I Just Wanna Be Yours
"Steve?" Bucky said, his voice alarmed.
Steve turned to him, reaching out, but it was too late. Bucky disappeared before his very eyes.
Over and over again, this moment replayed in Steve's mind. It had been over 12 hours since Thanos destroyed half the universe, and still, all Steve could see was Bucky's face as he reached out to him for help. He saw himself reaching out…too late. Could he have saved him?
He closed his eyes and sighed in frustration or sadness, he wasn't sure which, as he rested his head against the headboard. He and the other survivors had made their way to the Avengers headquarters to regroup. Though they all knew there would be no coming back from this. They weren't surprised to find that Tony wasn't there, but whether or not he had been one of the ones eradicated, they had no way of knowing. Steve had been quite surprised when Tony's alarm system had still allowed him access to the tower. Despite their differences, he hoped Tony was alive somewhere. They would need him if they had even half a hope of rebuilding. That is, if there was anything left to rebuild.
12 hours gone by and people were still disappearing. Newscasters would disintegrate on screen, looters vanished leaving their loot behind, people were solid one moment and nothing but ash the next. Steve wondered if he would be the next to go. He wondered if it hurt. He hoped it didn't, for Bucky's sake.
Knock knock.
Steve reluctantly opened his eyes.
"Come in," he said hoarsely. He had been expecting this.
The door opened and Natasha shuffled in, closing the door quietly behind her. He looked her over, once again checking for injuries. Checking to see that she was stillwhole. Just as she had when they first arrived, she looked fine. The boxer shorts and tank top she wore did nothing to hide old scars, but as far as he could tell there were no new major injuries. Nothing but a few scrapes and bruises. Her eyes though, told story of a different type of injury.
Wordlessly, he patted the bed next to him. Over the past couple years they had spent many a night like this. Taking comfort in each other's presence when the world got to be too much for them. Some nights, not a word would be spoken. They would just sit together in comfortable silence until they felt they could face the outside world and all the pressures that came with it. Some nights they would talk. Talk about all manner of things from their childhoods to missions to favorite ice cream flavors. Steve's favorite nights were when Natasha gave what she called "How to Not Be An Old Man" lessons, because after all "just because you're old as fuck doesn't mean you have to act like it," she would say.
But he knew, as she settle next to him that tonight would not be one of those nights. She didn't come here for peaceful talks or a movie marathon. She came because today had been hell.
"Bucky?" she asked, though it was not a question. She leaned her own head against the headboard, looking straight ahead.
He ran a hand over his face before responding.
"Yeah," he said. And in that one word he knew that she understood completely.
"Clint?" he asked, hopeful.
"I – I haven't been able to reach him," she said, trying to remain stoic. But he could see through it.
He reached down and put his hand over hers. She finally looked at him. She wasn't one to voice her emotions but he could see the worry in her eyes, and the way her shoulders hunched as if she could curl in on herself.
"Keep trying," he said. It was all he could think to say. She only nodded.
They were silent for a moment. Each lost in their own thoughts, but comforted by the others presence.
"Why are we still here?" Natasha asked, taking her hand from Steve's and running it through her short blonde hair. He was still getting used to that. The blonde.
He sighed, shrugging as he answered.
"I don't know Nat," he said, "I'm not sure there was any logic to who was taken."
"People are still disappearing," she murmured, "we could go at any moment."
He was surprised by her tone. Underneath the sorrow and the worry there was a tinge of hope. He turned to look at her.
"Do you want to disappear?" he asked quietly, a little afraid to hear the answer.
She didn't answer for a long while, but then in a small voice, smaller than he had ever heard from her she said.
"Sometimes"
He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.
"Do you?" she asked.
He thought about it for a moment. He thought of all the pain and the evil he had witnessed. He thought of Bucky and every horrible thing he had gone through. He thought of Peggy and what they might have had. He thought of Sam, and Wanda, and T'Challa. He thought of Nat, and what he would do if she was gone.
"Sometimes," he murmured, agreeing.
They lapsed into a comfortable silence again, their admissions settling into the air. Finally, Natasha turned to him, a teasing smile playing on her lips. She was never serious for long. One of the things Steve appreciated about her.
"I do have one regret though," she said somewhat mischeviously.
"And what's that?" he asked, smiling in return.
"Not getting you to watch Rocky Horror Picture Show," she laughed.
He laughed too.
"Rocky Horror what?" he asked.
"It's a movie," she said, "about a sweet transvestite from transsexual Transylvania."
He looked at her, raising his brows when she sang the last few words.
She laughed, and then looked him up and down, a thoughtful expression crossing her face.
"You know, I think you would look quite nice in a corset and some eyeshadow," she said approvingly.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, shaking his head, giving up on any hope of understanding this conversation.
"You will," she said, "unless we die of course."
"I'm not sure I want to know," he said, chuckling. Sometimes it amazed him how she could find something to smile at even when all hope seemed lost. This was one of her qualities that few ever saw, but he had always admired that sarcastic wit in the face of danger.
"How about you? Any regrets, Rogers?" she asked in that teasing way of hers.
He paused.
"Just one," he said, uncertainly, but seriously.
"Care to elaborate?" she asked, when he didn't go on.
He looked at her. Really looked at her. She was looking back at him, and he knew what his regret would be if he were to disappear right now. He had known for a long time. Maybe it was time to tell her. After all, they could die at any moment. Steeling his nerves, he took in a deep breath and opened his mouth.
"I think you know," he said tenderly, reaching out to cup her cheek in his hand as he swiftly lowered his lips to hers.
She was shocked, he could tell, but as he moved to pull away she wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled him closer. He grinned against her lips.
When they finally pulled apart she looked at him suspiciously.
"Was that just because we could die at any minute?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
He couldn't tell if she was joking or serious.
"Not even a little bit," he assured, "that is something I've wanted to do for a long while."
She seemed comforted by his words. Not in any noticeably physical way, but something about her seemed to let go. Like some part of her had been freed.
"Me too," she breathed, looking up at him with darkened eyes. He looked back at her with a matching expression.
Without a seconds hesitation he crashed his lips to hers. She hungrily pulled him down to her so that he was half covering her with his body. He slid his tongue along her bottom lip, reveling in the softness. She ran her hands under his grey t-shirt. He delighted in the feel of her fingers on his skin as she pulled his shirt up higher. He broke away from her lips for only a moment as she pulled the shirt over his head.
"Thank god for super serum," she said, running her hand over his chest. That insufferably sexy smirk played at her lips.
He only winked, and leaned down, burying his head in her neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. He ran his hands up her side, pulling the black tank top with them. She shivered slightly, he hoped in anticipation, as her shirt rose over her breasts, and he pulled it off completely. He cupped her breast in his hand, running his thumb over her nipple. He took in the sight of her voluptuous curves, taking in every inch. He wanted to taste every inch of her. He lowered his head, taking her other nipple in his mouth. She sighed in pleasure as his tongue swept across her.
He made his way back up to her lips, kissing her passionately. His bare chest against hers. She felt so good against him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and let out a slight moan when she felt his hardness against her. Running her hand down his chest, he groaned when she slipped her hand under the waist band of his sweats, wrapping her hand around him. She used her feet to push his pants down the rest of the way, but he barely noticed.
He moaned at her touch, as she slid her hand up and down the length of him. He slid his own hand down her stomach and pushed her boxer shorts down. It was all he could do not to rip them off. She gasped and squeezed him harder when he finally touched her. He moved his fingers in small circles against the sensitive skin, eliciting all sorts of moans. When he slid a finger into her she gasped and arched her back against him. He reveled in her pleasure, sucking on her neck as his fingers went to work.
"Steve," she said breathlessly, a hint of question in her voice. He knew what she was asking.
He moves so that he's fully on top her, her legs on either side of him. She looks up at him, panting. They both groan in pleasure as slides into her, filling her inch by inch, never looking away from each other. He starts to thrust in and out and she moves her hips in time to his. She does this thing where she makes her muscles tighten around him and he thinks he might come undone.
Their moans fill the room, but neither one cares if any one hears. He pulls out almost completely and slams into her.
"Again," she cries. And he does. Again and again. And then he's moving faster and faster inside her. She wraps her legs around his waist, and he slides deeper in than before. She cries out as she orgasms, and with her walls clenching around him he follows seconds later.
He collapses onto her, careful not to let his full weight fall onto her. Burying his face in her neck, he inhales the scent of her hair. They both breathe heavily, satisfied to their cores. He gives her one last slow kiss on the lips before moving off her and flopping down next to her.
Their chests rise and fall in rhythm as they look at each other grinning.
"And here I was, thinking you were a virgin," she said, that damned smirk on her lips.
Steve looked at her sharply.
"I was," he said earnestly, his face expressionless.
She looked at him in disbelief, her face coloring. He could probably count on one hand how many times he had seen her blush over the years.
"Oh…uh…well, you were, I mean, that was," she stammered.
"Nat, I was kidding," he said, nudging her shoulder playfully.
She let out a breath, and then laughed.
"Asshole," she said, lightly smacking his chest, then laying her head down in the same spot.
He ran his fingers through her hair, feeling content, despite the events of the last 24 hours. They lay there like that for a while. He thought she might have fallen asleep, but was startled when she spoke.
"I've never done that before," she said, lazily drawing circles on his abs.
"What do you mean?" he asked. He knew she had been with quite a few men. Not that he cared.
"Let a man be on top," she replied quietly, unsure if she should say it.
His heart broke for her as he thought of what her life had been like. He knew what it meant for her to relinquish control like that, to let herself be vulnerable.
He pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head. She let loose a sigh, like she was finally able to let go of something she had been holding on to for far too long. She looked up at him, resting her chin on his chest.
"Thanks for not being a misogynistic douchebag, Steve," she said playfully.
He chuckled and then grinned devilishly.
"Hey now, just because I'm a gentleman doesn't mean I won't fuck you against a wall," he said, running his hand down her spine. She shivered. "It just means I'll ask first," he murmured.
She looked at him, feigning shock.
"Language, Cap," she said, getting to her knees and bringing a hand to her heart.
"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?" he grumbled.
"Not ever," she said, climbing on top of him, "now what's this you said about a wall?"
He growled and lifted her up, intending on making this night worth every second.