Scared of Lonely
It's been going on for months. Ever since they met, helped save the world from Loki, and started going on missions together. Every time they meet, it has to come up. Every. Single. Time. Even if they meet every day of the week, Monday to Sunday she'll bring it up. They're en route to New Jersey and, just like clockwork, the subject comes up again.
"What about Anne from R and D?" Natasha turns her torso towards him. "She's smart and beautiful."
"Yeah." Steve is very careful to keep his voice neutral lest Natasha decides that Anne is 'the one'. "She is."
He can feel her eyes boring into his skull at his non-committal response. He knows that she's just trying to be helpful, but he can pick up a woman without the help of the Black Widow. Sure, it's been a while since his heart has had some excitement other than from a fight to save the world, but he'll get a girlfriend when the time is right. What he doesn't understand is why she's made it her personal mission in life to play his Cupid. From out of nowhere, a Swahili saying that he read a lifetime ago flits across his memory; 'Why should a chilli that you've not eaten make your mouth hot?' Why did his single state bother her so much? Well, with nothing better to do on this drive, he decides to put this to bed right now.
"Why are you so determined to hook me up?" he asks with an easy smile, expecting a wise crack from her about how an old man like him needs help dating in the 21st century. But a few seconds pass with no such cracks. He slides his gaze to her and is surprised at what he sees expressed in her face. She looks as if she's giving serious consideration on the answer to give him. Her hand flutters to her collarbone to rest lightly on top of the chain she's recently taken to wearing. She strokes the arrow centred on it slowly with her thumb. He doesn't think she's even aware that she's doing it.
A minute passes, then two, and he begins to think that she won't answer his question when she finally opens her mouth. All the laughter from the last few minutes is gone from her voice replaced by a profound wisdom.
"People like us-" she halts mid-sentence and lightly bites the right corner of her lower lip, "-we're bad-ass. We go out every day and fight the bad guys. We have to be tough...tougher than evil, in order to defeat it." She glances out of her window and exhales slowly. "We put on this suit, you know?" She turns to him, her brow furrowed, her eyes asking him if he understands what she's really saying.
He nods once to indicate that he does. And he really does understand. They all wear the suit...not the uniform that they put on to do their jobs, but armour around their hearts. It allows them to fight without the encumbrance that personal feelings would allow to get in the way.
"But when we get home," she continues, "we need to be able to take off the suit. We need to be able to feel...human, even if it's just for a little while. We need to be able to connect with another person who understands us and makes us feel normal. We need to recharge so that we can slip back into the suit ready to fight another day."
A ghost of a smile plays across her face. "I just want you to have that Steve."
He smiles at her, finally understanding her reasoning. They drive on in comfortable silence.