Title: Could You Be Where I've Belonged All Along?
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1,900
Characters: Steve/Natasha
Prompt: "it's been awhile since they've seen each other but the Avengers are needed again to fight a new threat and they've really missed each other (aka Age of Ultron)"
Summary: She couldn't stop thinking about him, trying to picture how he looked and what his voice sounded like and what it was like to be near him, and alright, maybe she checked on him two or three (or twenty) times.

For: the anon that prompted it

A/N: I know almost nothing of the plot of Age of Ultron, so this is kind of just a shot in the dark in terms of setting.

Could You Be Where I've Belonged All Along?

She can feel him standing behind her during the debriefing, his arm brushing against her shoulder blade, which shouldn't feel as nice as it does considering she landed on it when she got tossed off of his motorcycle and now it hurts like hell whenever she tries to move it.

He looks good.

Well, he's always looked good – better than that, actually – and she hadn't forgotten. It's just different when she can see him instead of just trying to remember, and honestly, that was probably her biggest problem. She couldn't stop thinking about him, trying to picture how he looked and what his voice sounded like and what it was like to be near him, and alright, maybe she checked on him two or three (or twenty) times in the last seven months since he and Sam set out to track down Bucky. And maybe, late at night during one of those times, she dropped by the residency he and Sam were staying in and he was there and Sam was asleep in the other room, and she kissed him and he didn't hold back and…

It was incredible, and she's never felt anything like that before, and she's almost convinced no one else will ever make her feel like that again.

(God, she sounds like such a girl, doesn't she?)

Nick presses his lips together as the room grows silent for a fourth time since debriefing began twenty minutes ago. There are too many questions and not enough answers, and it's never felt as frustrating as right now as they find themselves, once again, fighting for humanity. They're terrified, she can tell, but none of them acknowledge it.

Because sometimes that's the only way you can deal with something you're not sure you can handle.

... ...

Steve's sitting alone in the kitchen when she finds him after she's showered and changed (into Maria Stark's old clothes, washed and untouched for years). She's not really sure where everyone else is right now. Washing up or already trying to get some sleep, probably.

"Hey," he greets, giving her a small smile as she walks around the island and sits on the stool beside him. "How's your shoulder?"

"Still a little sore," she admits, because really, there's no use in her lying to him. Not because she can't, but because she hates having to. She's kept more things from him since they've met than she's comfortable admitting, and yes, that was because they were orders – from Nick – and she wasn't about to disobey them, but she still felt awful doing so. She knew how much the truth meant to Steve and what it still means to him, and once he'd gotten her to confess a few things simply because she wanted to, it was a hard thing to stop.

He traces his fingertips gently over her the cut on her collarbone, eyebrows furrowing. He looks so worried.

She hates seeing him like this, but kind of loves it, too, how much he fusses over her. She doesn't understand it, but his touch feels nice and she thinks that that's what's more important right now.

She's really, really missed him.

He slides his fingers over her shoulder, runs his hand down her arm until he's just holding her above her elbow, stroking her skin with the pad of his thumb. His eyes are looking over her almost as desperately as hers had when she'd seen him earlier today, for the first time in weeks – like he's not quite sure if he's convinced she's really in front of him.

Then he asks, "Where have you been?" in this soft voice, and he sounds sad and… not quite betrayed, but almost so.

She presses her lips together because she's been waiting for this and her answer isn't any less pathetic than it had been when he asked her before, that one and only night she'd been with him since D.C. She hates it, but really, she doesn't have anything better to tell him.

"Getting lost," she replies. "It just… It seemed a lot easier than everything else."

He gives her this look. "Since when did you prefer easy?"

She shrugs one shoulder – her good shoulder – and shakes her head a little. "I don't know," she admits.

"Is this…" He looks into her eyes, and he's almost whispering, that's how soft his voice is when he asks, "Is this because of Paris?"

She lets out a breath, and she hates it, that sort of broken look on his face. He's probably let himself believe that her avoiding him this whole time was because of that night – that one, incredible night – rather than the fact that she's quite honestly an idiot and didn't know how to handle how intensely she felt things for him. She's still having a little trouble with that right now, but she's sitting with him, his hand still on her arm and his bright blue eyes staring into hers, and she can't help but think that she'll deal. She'll deal with everything else, all of the doubt and complications that have terrified her enough into staying away for so long, if it means being with him. She hated their time apart, more than anything else.

"No," she tells him, and she's whispering, too, for some reason.

And the smile he gets on his face after hearing this could really only be considered one of absolute relief. She laughs a little, just because.

"I'm sorry," she adds after a moment. She means that for more than one thing and she knows he can tell. "I wanted to be with you, no matter where I was."

He squeezes her arm, gently. "So be with me now," he says, and that's all it takes.

... ...

They're crashing in Tony's house in Seoul, which has enough beds and couches so that no one has to sleep on the floor, and she was supposed to share the master with Maria and Nick while Steve bunked with Sam. But it's almost 4:00 in the morning and there wasn't so much as a knock on the door since they'd locked themselves in the room, so she's sure Sam crashed somewhere else. She feels a little bad, obviously, but she knows the guy won't think twice about it, maybe only to make suggestive comments over breakfast.

She's lying on her back with her hand in his hair, his thumb smoothing over the curve of her hip, gently tracing over the scar there.

"You were more comfortable this time," she points out, and she didn't mean for that to come out so softly, but…

He smiles at her, presses a kiss to her throat and pulls the covers over them a little more, because he knows she gets cold easily even when she's bundled up, let alone when she's not wearing any clothes at all. His body heat is keeping her warm just fine right now, though.

"I promise it's not because I've had practice," he tells her, and it's terribly selfish, but she kind of (really) loves hearing this. She's his first and she wants to be his only.

She loves that he seems to want it, too.

Instead of telling him, though, she moves her hand over the back of his neck and brings him closer, slanting her lips over his. He makes this noise from the back of his throat and presses against her a little more, pushes his fingers into her hair and strokes the pad of his thumb softly over her temple as he kisses her a little deeper and a little harder.

"There's only you, Natasha," he says against her lips, and she loves hearing that, too. "And as long as you're alright with it, there'll only be you."

She smiles androlls them over suddenly, pushes him onto his back and straddles his hips.

He grins.

"Do you always ask silly questions, Rogers?" she teases, but then he moves his hand between them and she tips her head back, letting out this little sound that makes his length harden where it's pressed against her thigh, and yeah, he deserves a real answer, too.

So she smiles down at him, places her hands on either side of his face and kisses him gently and rather innocently, considering their positions.

"I'm more than alright with it."

... ...

The clock on the wall says it's 9:30 when she comes to, and she's a little bit surprised that they've had the luxury of sleeping in a little bit today. But then she feels Steve kissing her skin, moving lower and lower, until he's hooking her leg over his shoulder and she's not really thinking of anything else but him as her eyelids flutter closed.

That's definitely not the worst way to wake up in the morning.

She's barely coming down from her high when there's a knock at the door, and Sam's on the other side, telling them breakfast is ready.

"Thanks, man," Steve speaks up, smiling at her a little too proudly for her liking (aka: she kind of loves that expression on him) when she notices how flushed her cheeks are and how she's gasping a little, trying to steady her breathing. "We'll be down in a minute," he adds, brushing her hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear, and she closes her eyes and leans into the palm of his hand as they listen to Sam's footsteps fade as he walks away. Natasha can practically see the smirk the guy will have when they walk into the kitchen later.

"We have to get up now?"

Steve chuckles, pats her hip a little as he nods. "Yeah, we probably should." She smiles up at him and nods, moving to sit up, but then his hand is on her arm again and she furrows her eyebrows. "Sorry," he says quickly, but doesn't move his hand. "Sorry, I…"

She sets her fingers against his neck, traces her thumb along his jawline. "What's the matter?"

He hesitates, and for a brief moment, she feels as worried as he's trying not to look. But then he asks, "Are you going to walk away again?" and she feels herself smile, because is that all? He seems to miss this, though. "I mean… I'm not trying to pressure you or anything, but… After we're not needed here anymore, am I not going to see you again?"

"You're not getting rid of me that easily." She tilts her head and smiles and he gets that adorable grin on his face again. "Not even if you wanted to."

"I don't," he insists, even though, realistically, he knows she's just teasing.

"Neither do I," she tells him, blinking slowly as he presses his forehead against hers. "There's only you, too, Steve."

"I'm more than alright with that," he says.

She laughs a little breathlessly as he grasps her chin with his fingers and kisses her, and she closes her eyes and smiles against his lips, because yeah, she's pretty sure she can handle this.