Title: Making Up for Lost Time
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~6,200
Characters: Steve/Natasha
Prompt: (link in tumblr and AO3 versions)
Summary: AU. She couldn't care less what people think her relationship with Steve is, and Steve doesn't care, either, and that's one of the reasons why they're best friends.
A/N: I don't usually like this trope, but somehow this idea still appealed to me.
Making Up for Lost Time
She could understand Maria trying to talk her into going to this party, but Steve? That's a new one.
Unless Maria actually put him up to it. Yeah, that seems more likely.
"It'll be fun," he says, and she groans, tossing her pen at his shoulder as she falls back onto his mountain of pillows. (Why does he need so many, exactly?)
They're studying in Steve's room because Nick is out of town for work (again) and his parents insist on having her over for dinner whenever Nick isn't home. She used to sleep over all the time, until they – all three of them – decided at fourteen that she was old enough to be in the house by herself. Natasha still thinks it's kind of hilarious that Sarah and Joseph were in on that conversation to begin with, but who else would Nick turn to for parenting advice? The Rogers have been in her life almost as long as Nick has, because he moved them onto the street right after the adoption, and then Sarah and Joseph invited them for dinner and found out that Natasha would be transferring to the same private school as Steve, and, well.
The rest is history.
Pepper had asked her, once, if this means she sees Steve as a brother, and it sort of caught her off guard. It was just one of those things that wouldn't even cross your mind unless someone else brought it up, you know?
But it's not really like that with them. Mostly because she's never had a brother before (and no, living with other foster kids doesn't really count) and wouldn't know the feeling. She's pretty sure she and Steve don't act like siblings, though. People have, ever since the fourth grade, assumed they liked each other.
She couldn't care less what people think her relationship with Steve is, and Steve doesn't care, either, and that's one of the reasons why they're best friends. It works.
"Did Maria put you up to this?" Natasha questions, narrowing her eyes at him. It's never, ever scared him, when she does that. If anything, it almost always makes him laugh, which pisses her off even more.
"No," he says, and then gets this little grin. "Well, she still thinks you could be less of a shut-in."
"Rude."She reaches behind her and hits him with a pillow.
"Hey," he laughs. He yanks it from her grip and tosses it onto the floor. "Ever heard of not shooting the messenger?" She huffs, lays back down and pulls her AP Biology textbook across her stomach, even though she'll start going cross-eyed if she reads one more paragraph. "And it's just one little party. Since when do you not like parties?"
"Since when do you?" she retorts, arching one eyebrow. He smirks and shakes his head. She's more of a shut-in than he's ever been, but she pretends it's the other way around.
And she's not really a shut-in. She's just been busy, alright? Graduation is right around the corner, and she's been neck-deep in applications and scholarship essays and studying for AP tests since like, October. Nick makes decent money, and they're pretty well off. Obviously, since she's gone to private school this whole time, and he's been saving for this ever since she came into his life. That doesn't change the fact that tuition is ridiculous and only gets more expensive with every year, especially with all the schools she wants to go to. She got a part-time job as soon as she could start working so Nick wouldn't have to pay for everything, and so he could put more towards her college fund, but she'll still need to take out a loan.
It's not like she's the only one dealing with this, either. They all are. So, no, it's not a very good excuse to skip out on a party or two (or all) but whatever.
She's not a shut-in. She's just not in the mood to spend a night in a stuffy house, drinking stale beer and having guys think they can grab her just because they can't hold down their alcohol, thanks, anyway.
"Knock-knock," Sarah says as she appears, tapping on Steve's open door. "Be down in five. Dinner's almost ready."
"Okay, Mom," Steve answers. "Hey, want to convince Natasha to come to a party with me?"
"Steve!"
"Party?" Sarah echoes, an amused smile on her face. Sarah and Joseph – as old-school as they've always been – aren't unrealistic. They know that kids are going to drink underage and get a little crazy, and if Steve (and Natasha) are going to be part of that, they want to know, just in case. "What kind of party?"
"It's just this thing at a house—for the basketball team, after their last home game this Friday. It's nothing crazy, I promise," Steve adds, holding his hands up.
"Better not be," Sarah warns, in that tone of hers that's totally serious but also kind of teasing at the same time. "Why don't you want to go, sweetie?" she asks Natasha.
"I haven't even said no yet," Natasha argues, shooting a pointed look at Steve.
"You deserve to have a little fun," Sarah tells her. "You've been working so hard this whole year. One night off won't be a big deal." Steve grins. Natasha resists the urge to roll her eyes again, but, if Sarah is telling her to go out, maybe she should listen. "Great," Sarah says, smiling. "Now that that's solved, why don't you two come down and set the table?"
... ...
Thursday, after Steve gives her a ride from cheerleading, he hangs out in her room while she showers. If she's going to go to this thing, he's going to help her pick out something to wear, or at least sit through it while she decides. She's cheering at the game, obviously, but it's not like the party will start right after it's done. Teens are hardly ever prepared, and it'll take the team some time to get everything together. But she still wants to get this out of the way now. It'll just be one less thing to deal with on Friday before she has to get ready.
She's walking out of the bathroom, twisting her damp hair into a clip, and finds Steve sitting on her bed, legs crossed at the ankles as he flips through channels.
"Hey, what about that blue dress with the zipper on the side?" he asks. It'll always be a little hilarious to her that he knows her wardrobe off the top of his head, but then again, she's dragged him on so many shopping trips. (In her defense, he never puts up much of a fight.) He was probably there when she purchased at least half of the things in her closet.
"A dress?" She gives him a look.
"Well, are you dressing up or dressing down?"
"It's a high school house party," she reminds with a laugh, going to her closet to open it. "I'm dressing down."
He chuckles and shakes his head, switches the TV off and pulls her plush tiger across his lap. (He won it for her at the county fair in the eighth grade, but it's kind of for him, too, since he cuddles with the thing every time he's over.) "Okay, what're our options?"
She grabs an armful of shirts and her two most comfortable pairs of dark-washed skinny jeans (well, no pair of skinny jeans is actually comfortable, but these are already broken in) and steps back into her bathroom to change. He passes on two strapless shirts – which she's inclined to agree with, because she hates having to fuss with a strapless bra – and a top that ties in the back and totally digs into her ribs if she's had it on for too long. (Yeah, good call on that.) She slips into this sheer white top with cutouts over her shoulders and lace along the neckline. It's comfortable but still cute enough to wear out, but it doesn't really go with her jeans, so she changes into this pair of little black shorts that makes her legs look killer.
She steps back out, sets a hand on her hip, and asks, "What about this?"
Steve lifts his eyebrows, eyes widening ever so slightly as his lips part a little. It doesn't seem like much, but she knows from Steve it is.
He's always a lot more subtle when there're more things going on his head. Less of a reaction on the outside means he's definitely reacting on the inside.
She feels her lips curve into a smirk. It's always made her a little too proud, getting that look from him. Maybe because she knows how picky he is. He treats everyone equally and always has, so it's not as if he judges or anything. But when it comes to dating, none of the girls she'd set him up with made an impression. She doesn't know what he wants.
"You look really pretty," he says, finally, getting this small smile on his face.
"Thanks, Cap," she replies, giving him a two-fingered salute, and he breathes out a laugh. Their football season is over but everyone still calls him that, and probably always will.
She changes back into her pajamas, sets her outfit on top of the dresser and sort of launches herself onto her bed, snatching a pillow and hugging it to her chest as she crosses her legs. Nick had sent her a text right after she got out of the shower, saying he was just leaving the office and would be picking up dinner from their favorite Japanese restaurant near his work, so he'll probably be home soon. It's kind of a given that Steve stays for dinner if he's still over by the time Nick comes home, and they'll probably invite Sarah and Joseph, too.
Steve sits at her desk, pulls her typewriter close. Nick had given it to her the Christmas after she started high school, because they'd passed by this thrift shop months before and she'd seen one in the window and mentioned that it'd be cool to have one.
This one isn't an antique, though. It's pale blue with white keys and probably costs a lot more than she realizes, but she still loves it. She mostly just retypes her notes or drafts her essays on it, because it's not as distracting as when she does it on her laptop, and she'll use her phone if she needs to search something. It really does help.
Steve starts typing on it, which he does sometimes, and she doesn't mind. She messes with his stuff in his room all the time, anyway.
"I heard Johnny tried asking you out before practice," he says after a moment.
"He always tries to ask me out," she reminds. She switched the TV back on and grabbed her (favorite) red nail polish off of the vanity, so she can do her toes now and her hands after dinner. She probably shouldn't be doing this on top of her white duvet, but whatever. "And if it's not me, it's Pepper."
"But haven't Pepper and Tony been a thing for over a year now?"
"Yup," she replies. "Maybe he still thinks he has a shot. You know, he's much more charming than Tony. Pepper could still say yes."
Steve laughs because he knows she's just joking. Tony and Pepper have always fought like an old, married couple. They'll be together forever.
"What about you?" Steve asks.
She looks up at him, arching an eyebrow. "Will I say yes?"
He chuckles and shakes his head. "Will you ever date anyone again? It's been a while."
She presses her lips together. Yeah, he's probably right. She hasn't really stopped to count the days, but ever since Bucky moved to London at the end of sophomore year, she hasn't dated anyone else. She doesn't even think they were dating. They – all three of them – have been best friends for a while, because Steve and Bucky were best friends before she got there, and they took her in. Then they got to high school and Bucky started taking her out a lot more, as just the two of them. She'd felt guilty at first, leaving Steve out of the picture. And now that she thinks about it, maybe that has a lot to do with why she and Bucky weren't really broken up about ending things before his family moved away. And of course she still misses him. They both do. But they talk often enough, still text at least once a week and try to sync up their schedules for a video chat now and then. He doesn't feel like an ex to her.
She's not really avoiding being in a relationship, and she doesn't think less of people who want to be in one, or are already in one. If that's what they want, and if they're happy, that's what matters.
That's the thing, though: she's already happy with the way things are. She doesn't have some sort of void she needs to fill with someone's company.
But Steve's never brought it up before, and maybe that's why the question catches her off guard.
"I don't know," she admits. "I mean, I probably will, eventually—maybe after high school. I just…" She trails off, shrugging. She doesn't know how to put it into words.
"Have to find the right person?" he guesses.
"Have to have the right person to ask me out, I think. Not to be old-school, but I don't think I'd make the first move. You know me."
He nods. He does know her. Of course he does. And she knows that, even if he's never asked the question before, they must've had this conversation at least once, or she's said all this to him before, because it happened to come up for one reason or another. He'd probably know without her having to even say anything. That's how it's always been with them.
He turns back to her typewriter, clicking over the keys once more, and she goes back to painting her nails. She doesn't know why he brought that up.
... ...
They win on Friday, which is a pretty big deal, because it's been a tough season for them and it seemed like half the team was injured in that last stretch of games. They're not in the playoffs, and that's got to suck – especially for the seniors – but with all the obstacles thrown their way, their record is still pretty impressive. There's nothing for them to be ashamed about and that's exactly what the coach said to them before the game. And at least they got to end the season on a high note. This was one of the loudest games she's cheered for.
Natasha isn't free to leave until an hour after. The coach made a speech to the team, and then the seniors were presented leis and everything, and then the yearbook staff wanted to take pictures of the team and the squad in like, a hundred different poses. That's what took the longest.
There're still a bunch of people lingering outside the gym, and she spots Steve off to the left, talking with Sam, Thor, and a few others from the football team.
He smiles a little wider when he sees her, lifting his hand in a wave, and the guys turn to watch as she approaches. "Hey, good game out there," Sam says, and she laughs and shakes her head, giving him a high-five when he holds his hand up.
"Free to go?" Steve asks.
"Finally," she breathes. "Let's grab a burger?"
"Of course," he answers with a laugh. She always, always wants a burger after cheering, with an order of fries and a strawberry milkshake. God, she's starving. "See you later," Steve says to the others, bumping his fist against theirs as goodbye, and then throwing an arm over Natasha's shoulders as they head for the parking lot.
She can practically feel the guys – specifically, Sam – staring as the two of them walk away. He's done this a few times before, but never in front of anyone else.
She's always liked how it feels to be tucked up against him, though, so she just leans in a little more and says he should pay for her, since she did have such a great game and all.
He laughs and doesn't bother pointing out that he almost always pays for her, anyway.
... ...
The party is at a house only three blocks over from their street, and it's not supposed to be ridiculously cold tonight, so she and Steve just walk. At least this means they won't have to worry about having a designated driver, and their neighborhood is totally safe, anyway, so it won't be a big deal for them to be walking after midnight.
Nick is actually home for the weekend, but he met up with a few co-workers (probably the only people, other than Sarah and Joseph, that Nick considers his friends) for drinks at a bar downtown and left the house before her. He made her promise to text him if she plans to be out later than 1:00 – her curfew, which is technically enforced, but Nick has always been more lenient about it whenever she's with someone he trusts as much as he trusts her. That's basically just Steve, Maria, and Pepper, but that's fine. It's not like she'd feel compelled to hang out with anyone after midnight, without one of them there, too. She's social, but she likes her sleep, okay? And they're the only ones she'd actually want to stay out late with.
That's kind of the whole point of tonight.
Steve gets swept up by Sam as soon as he's through the door, which is pretty hilarious, because didn't they just see each other a few hours ago? What's even more hilarious is that Sam sort of looks at her before dragging Steve away, like he needs her permission, and she just waves a hand at him. She's a big girl. She can socialize on her own.
She heads into the kitchen to get her first cup, but then Peter appears and hands her a chilled beer (awesome) and the two of the sit on the counter of the breakfast bar as they catch up. He's on the team – first sophomore to make starting varsity, and he definitely lives up to all the talk – and the fact that he's two years younger than more than half of the people in this room doesn't seem to bother him. Which is kind of strange to think of, because she was his orientation leader and knew that he pretty much kept to himself that first semester.
Then he went to tryouts and people saw that he was actually an amazing athlete, and made it on the team, and now they're here.
He asks how Steve is, with that cheeky smile on his face, and she shoves at his shoulder as she laughs. Peter has, since the day he met Steve, thought that they were a thing, and now he just likes to pretend they are, because he's a little punk like that.
"Still trying to get your boyfriend another girlfriend?"
She laughs again and shakes her head. "I've decided to stop until we get to college. I think I've gone through our entire senior class, and every junior on the squad."
Peter shrugs a shoulder. "Maybe he just likes what he's already got," he says, swinging his long legs. She gives him a look. "You," he clarifies.
"I think you've gotten fouled in the head one too many times, Parker," she tells him, ruffling his hair. He swats her hand away. "And don't look now, but the girl in the red dress on the couch has been stealing looks at you for the past ten minutes." Natasha grins. "She's cute."
"Stop trying to change the subject."
"I'm not. I've made eye contact with her like, three times already." She takes another sip of beer. "And Steve isn't into me like that. We've discussed this."
"Is that something he told you, or something you assume because you've never brought it up before?" he asks, but, before she can try to reply, he tips his head back and downs the rest of his beer, then hops off of the counter and shakes his hair out. "I'll go say hi. You said she's the one in the red dress, right?"
Natasha hums in reply, mostly because she can't really find her voice, and he walks away as if he didn't just ask the one thing she's been terrified to even consider sober.
Damn him.
"Hey," someone says a few minutes later. Of course it's Steve. Of course.
"Hey," she echoes. Her voice comes out even enough, but she knows by the way he sort of squints his eyes at her that he can tell something is off, or that he at least picked up on something odd in her tone, and her expression.
"You alright?" he asks.
She takes a breath, gives him an easy smile, and replies, "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"
He furrows his eyebrows, and she gets the urge to run her thumb over the crease that forms because of it. She's done it before and would totally do now, if the rest of her wasn't so distracted. So she just takes his hand before waiting for a response, hops off of the counter and asks if Maria's showed up yet, and, at least for now, he lets it go.
... ...
A quarter after midnight, she ends up in the den with like, a twenty other people, because it started getting crowded upstairs and there was more room to breathe down here. There's a perfectly good couch that some of them can sit on, but they're all sitting on the carpet around a glass coffee table that's barely a foot off of the floor.
Tony emptied his beer and started randomly spinning it on the table, and because Darcy is totally buzzed and a little more adorable than usual, she pointed to it and said that now they need to play spin-the-bottle, and everyone just decided to go along with it. It's a little ridiculous, and Natasha is pretty sure none of them have even played spin-the-bottle since middle school, but whatever. They add truth-or-dare into the mix, because that's how Darcy has always played spin-the-bottle, and they're definitely all drunk enough to actually find this fun.
Natasha sits a little off to the side with Pepper, because neither of them are playing, and they're sort of paying attention to the game but mostly just catching up.
The last time the two of them hung out off of campus was a little over a month ago, which sucks, but it can't really be helped. They've both been busy, and Pepper's their senior class president, so she's been involved with planning prom since the school year started, basically, amongst a dozen other things. (Natasha is going with Steve, as friends, and honestly? It doesn't really occur to her until now that this wasn't even because they couldn't find anyone else to go with. It was just understood that they'd go together, and the only reason why he'd asked her formally was because he's Steve. He's terribly old-school. He brought her yellow tulips after practice and made this illustration on a poster in watercolor. It was sweet.)
Pepper tells her that the Starks invited her to spend spring break with them in their vacation home in Florida, so Natasha asks how things with her and Tony have been. Pepper just rolls her eyes and says, "He's Tony," in this exasperated tone, and then laughs, getting this smile on her face.
Natasha grins. They're kind of hilarious, those two. They're good together – really good together – but they also bicker over little things all the time, and it's all harmless, so it's fine.
"What about you?" Pepper asks, bringing her cup to her lips. "Still not up to dating?"
Natasha shrugs a shoulder. "I don't think I'm the dating type. I mean, after watching the disaster of you and Tony getting together, I'm a little wary."
Pepper laughs. "Oh, dear god, it really was awful," she admits, shaking her head. "I should've just bit my tongue and let him be the one to suck it up and ask me out."
"Nah," Natasha says. "You're too modern for that."
"Well, that's certainly true." Pepper smiles at Tony and shakes her head again. "I'm too modern for my own good, and you're too old-fashioned." Natasha arches an eyebrow and Pepper tilts her head. "Come on, Natasha. You're an old soul. And there's nothing wrong with that, but I'm just pointing it out."
"You sound like Tony," Natasha huffs, pretending to be upset, but Pepper scoots closer, grabs her hand and laces their fingers. (She always gets a little cuddly after a few drinks.)
"You're a romantic at heart, that's all. That's why you're not into dating." Pepper sips her beer and then leans in a little closer as she goes on. "You don't want to wade out the waters and deal with guy after guy. You want someone to be the one, and get your breath totally taken away, all at once. Nothing about you has ever been half-assed, anyway."
Natasha laughs a little, because she's starting to realize that Pepper is a little drunker than she thought the girl was, but also because all of that still made some kind of sense.
Pepper squeezes their joined hands, earning a smile from Natasha, and then turns her attention back to the game.
Darcy leans forward and spins the bottle, drains the last of her beer as they wait. Someone ought to cut her off soon (or like, now) before she ends up with a massive hangover in the morning, but Jane is next to her and has been all night, and Natasha doesn't doubt that she's been counting Darcy's drinks. If the girl was close to her limit, Jane would've already cut her off by now, so it's fine. Natasha glances at her phone, and it's almost 1:00, so she sends a text to Nick saying that she's still at the party but they'll probably leave in a bit, anyway.
She slips her phone into her pocket again and looks up in time to see the bottle slow to a stop, pointing at Steve. She feels herself laugh.
Darcy hums, tapping her chin as she contemplates. (Seriously, this girl always turns into a ten-year-old when she drinks enough. It's actually kind of cute.)
"Okay, Steve," she says slowly, twirling the finger she points at him. Steve presses his lips together, trying and totally failing to act serious. And it's technically supposed to be truth-or-dare, but everyone's just been doing dares for the last ten turns, so he's probably not going to get a choice in the matter. "I dare you to…" She trails off, glancing around.
And then her gaze finds Natasha's, and she practically beams.
"I dare you," Darcy starts, voice getting a little louder as she points another finger in her direction and adds, "to play seven minutes in heaven with Nat!"
"Holy crap," Pepper mutters, and Natasha catches it in her peripheral as Pepper turns to stare at her, which really, really doesn't help, because then everyone is staring at her. There're a few cheers, a few catcalls, way too many amused expressions, and Darcy claps her hands a little.
Sam raises his eyebrows, looking at Steve the same way Pepper is looking at Natasha, and Maria says, "I don't think Nat's playing."
"Everyone is playing," Darcy argues. "It just hasn't landed on her yet, and—okay, it still hasn't, but she's involved, anyway. The dare is half hers."
"It's just one little kiss," Tony says, holding his fingers an inch apart. There's totally a smirk on his face, but then Pepper glares at him and the expression fades in seconds. He raises his eyebrows, mouthing, "What?" and Pepper just shakes her head.
"Come on, Nat," Clint calls out, twirling his drumsticks (and how he got those, she has no idea) between his fingers. "Since when do you back down from a dare?"
She just narrows her eyes at him. She has no idea why she considers the guy one of her closest friends, because he always pushes her buttons likes this, to get a rise out of her, and he thinks it's hilarious. But, whatever—he's not wrong. Everyone knows that she's competitive as hell, and never, ever backs down from a challenge.
She meets Steve's gaze and he lifts his eyebrows ever so slightly, rubs his lips together, and she can see it in his eyes, the moment he knows what she's choosing to do.
They're getting up at the same time, and, because he's an ass, Tony whistles at them.
There isn't a closet in the den, but there is one underneath the staircase right outside the entryway, and Steve takes her hand and squeezes onto it a little as he leads her there. She glances over her shoulder as Steve opens the door and Darcy lifts her phone up, waving the timer on the screen at them.
"I'm not starting it until the door closes!" she sings (sings; she's totally drunk) and Natasha can't really help but laugh at how ridiculous the girl sounds.
Steve takes her other hand and she turns around to look at him again. He offers a smile, runs the pad of his thumbs over her knuckles, and then tugs her closer.
The closet is mostly empty, except for a few coats hanging from a hook on the wall, and a few board games stacked in the corner, but it's still small, and the ceiling is slanted because it's under the staircase, so Steve has to duck his head a little to fit into the smaller side. He reaches for the door, and someone else lets out a whistle as he shuts it closed. It's totally dark, except for the sliver of light where there's a gap under the door, but that doesn't do much to help her see. She reaches into her back pocket for her phone, turns it on and then swipes a few times until she gets the flashlight on, and then she glances up and can't help but grin when she's actually able to see Steve, head still hunched over from having to duck.
"Okay, you look ridiculous," she says. He chuckles. "Come on, just… Sit down."
He nods, but then hesitates for a moment. There's barely enough room for the two of them to just stand more than a foot apart. The fact that Steve is just huge to begin with doesn't help. But he presses his back to the wall and manages to lower himself pretty easily until he's sitting on the floor, legs bent at the knees.
She braces her free hand against his shoulder for balance, moving to straddle his hips, and she swears she hears this little grunt from the back of his throat as she gets settled.
"Good?" he asks, hand curving over her hip.
She leans over, sets her phone on the floor with the light shining up, and then sets both hands against his shoulders. "Good," she replies.
"Good," he repeats. He glances at her lips, parting his own. "We – don't have to do anything, if you don't want to."
She hums softly, tracing over the neckline of his shirt. It's blue, to go with the blue and white plaid shirt he'd worn, unbuttoned, over it, though he took that off once they got down to the den because it'd been too warm for him to keep the thing on. She can imagine her red nails standing out against the color as she grasps the material between her fingers.
"Is that because you're afraid I'm a better kisser than you?" she asks, one eyebrow arched.
His lips twitch into a bit of a smirk. "Well, I've dated way more than you have."
"That doesn't mean I'm inexperienced."
"I'm pretty sure that's what it means," he says, voice barely above a whisper, and she's letting out a breathy laugh as she kisses him.
His lips are soft and gentle against hers, and the kiss is simple, sweet. He's hesitant, she can tell.
Then his hand squeezes over her hip a little, drawing her close – even closer – and she makes this noise of surprise, parting their lips. She doesn't pull away, but he leans forward as if to stop her from doing so, captures her bottom lip between his, and she grasps onto his bicep as he kisses her a little harder, a little deeper.
She tucks herself against him even more, drapes an arm around his neck as she meets his kiss. He tastes a little bitter from the beer and a little sweet from something else.
She wants more.
He brings a hand up, cards it through her hair as he nips at her lower lip, then sucks over it as she lets out this little noise.
Her heart is thumping in chest, blood thrumming, and it feels as if she's flushed all over. She tips her head, hair falling around them, and he gathers it up and sweeps it over one shoulder before sliding his hand over the back of her neck, thumb brushing over her pulse. She wonders if he can feel how quick it is.
He licks at the seam of her lips, then pushes his tongue passed them once she lets him, and she all but whimpers. Shit. She feels a warmth coil within her, her skin tingling. Her lungs burn for air, but every time she tries to part their lips, he's kissing her harder, longer, bringing her even closer, and she doesn't want to stop it. Her mind is spinning a little, because it went from being slightly terrified at the idea of kissing Steve, and not having it feel right – to wanting nothing more but to let him kiss her until she can't breathe, until she sees stars.
And he does. God, he does.
After a moment, both of his hands slide up, settling over her arms as he gently pushes her back, just enough to part their lips, and she sort of gasps for air.
She keeps her eyes closed, licks her lips a little and just listens as they both try to catch their breath.
Then, slowly, he lifts a hand up and traces his fingertips against her cheek, brushing her hair from her face, and her eyelids flutter open. He's smiling at her under the dim glow of her phone's light, only breaking their gaze once to glance at her lips when she licks them again.
"So, am I the better kisser?" he asks, voice low.
She breathes out a laugh, leaning forward so that she's laying against his chest, forehead resting against his neck. "I think it's a tie."
... ...
"So, are you two – you're what now, exactly?"
Natasha presses her lips, trying not to laugh, and Steve brings his mug up and takes a gulp of coffee to hide his smile.
The weekend after the party is also the second weekend of the month, which is the weekend that Sunday brunch with the Rogers always falls on, and she knows that Joseph has been itching to ask that question all day—all week, actually, after she crashed in Steve's room right after the party. That in itself wasn't unusual, and neither was her staying over for most of the day on Wednesday because they had it off as a school holiday, or the two of them going out for dinner on Friday for no particular reason that his parents or Nick were aware of, but still. She could tell that the more often he and Sarah and Nick kept stumbling upon the two of them together, they knew that something was different now, even though it really wasn't.
They don't make an announcement or anything, but after they all move onto the back porch for their typical after-brunch coffee and pie, she'd sat herself across his lap and he'd kissed her cheek, and that definitely caught their attention. It was kind of hilarious, actually.
"They're still best friends, dear," Sarah laughs.
Joseph's eyes fall onto Steve's hand resting over Natasha's hip, an amused smile on his face. "Clearly," he says.
"Nothing's changed all that much," Nick tells Joe, turning a page in the crossword booklet that Sarah keeps on hand for him when he's over. "The boy still knows I own guns."
"Nick," Natasha says.
He meets her gaze, expression serious, but there's a spark in his eyes. "Just leaving it out there."
She rolls her eyes and Steve grins. "Yeah, I know. I'm pretty sure you were the one that took me shooting."
"Steve," Sarah scolds, though the effect is lost when she can't stop from smiling. Joseph laughs and claps a hand against Nick's shoulder.
Natasha tilts her head, kisses the spot next to Steve's ear. He tips his head back to smile at her.
"This'll be fun."