Title: I'm Dying to Catch My Breath [1/3]
Rating: PG-13 (this chapter) / M (overall)
Word Count: ~6,000 (this chapter)
Characters: Steve/Natasha, Wanda, Pietro, and The Avengers
Prompts: a lot
Summary: She remembers sitting with him like this a year ago, in another guest bedroom, and no, she doesn't believe in fate. But she doesn't believe in coincidences, either.
A/N: I'm apologizing in advance for how long it'll take me to get Parts 2 and 3 out to you considering how long it took me to put this first part together.
There are about fourteen different prompts that helped me put this together, so thank you to all of those who've submitted them over the past couple of years! (Yes, years.) Unfortunately, I can no longer link to those prompts and credit those who submitted them because my original blog got deleted. I was able to save the original wording of the prompts, though, so once all three parts are up, I'll post the original prompts and hopefully those of you that submitted them may recognize them and let me know, so I can give you guys the proper dedications!
I'm Dying to Catch My Breath [1/3]
Three days after Sokovia, and piecing together the wreckage that was left from it, they make it back to New York.
It's late enough when they land that it'll be dawn in a matter of hours, which is maybe just as well, because The Avengers coming home would've been a whole scene if it'd happened any closer to morning. As it was, there was a small crowd already camping out by Tony and Pepper's New York penthouse, and they'd had to drive around the back to avoid being seen. She doesn't want to know how long those journalists and photographers waited just to get a damn picture and some sound bite they'll spin terribly out of proportion. She doesn't care. She's too tired to care about anything, frankly. She aches all the way down to her bones, and she's going to get in a few decent hours of sleep while the dust is settling around them.
Natasha knows that Tony had called Pepper to let them know they were coming, and of course the woman took it upon herself to be prepared.
There're blankets and pillows for everyone, and sweatpants and white shirts to change into, and she makes tea while they take showers in shifts. There are more bathrooms in this place than is necessary, but hell. There are also a lot of them staying the night.
Natasha wonders, briefly, how the woman could be okay with housing so many people on such short notice – three of which are perfect strangers, and two of those strangers had, for the better half of the last few days, had their hearts set on revenge against Tony, and of course Pepper was made aware of that. But then she remembers that it's Pepper. She doesn't have to put up with any of this, but she does, because it's worth it to her. She will always try to keep up with all the craziness they bring because that's how much she cares for them.
Natasha showers in the bathroom of one of the guest bedrooms on the second floor, then sits on the edge of the bed after she's changed and dries her hair with a towel.
There's a knock on the door, and then Steve's voice asks, "Natasha?"
"You can come in," she replies.
The door opens and he walks in, pillows tucked under one arm and a blanket tucked under the other. "Pepper wanted to make sure you and Maria had enough in here."
Natasha glances to the bed, with its patterned duvet and abundance of matching pillows. "I think we'll be fine," she says, lips curving into a bit of a grin.
He chuckles softly and walks over to the chair in the corner, setting everything on top of it. She knows he and Clint are sharing the guest bedroom next to hers and Maria's, because she'd heard Pepper leading them there right before she'd gotten into the shower. She wonders, sometimes, what those two talk about when she isn't around.
She shakes her head. It's really none of her business, but she can't always help where her mind wanders.
"What?" he asks.
She shakes her head again. "It's nothing." It really isn't. Nothing that needs to be discussed here and now, and with him, of all people.
He presses his lips together, crosses the distance between them in a few strides and sits down beside her, distracted for a moment as she continues wringing the tips of her hair out with the towel. She remembers sitting with him like this a year ago, in another guest bedroom, and no, she doesn't believe in fate. But she doesn't believe in coincidences, either.
Then he meets her gaze and her hands pause for a moment. If he asked her to, she'd spill her heart out to him just as easily as she did the first time. She would in a second.
(But he doesn't, and she's glad. She really, really does not need to have that conversation with him right now.)
"I thought you were going to die," he says, so softly that, even with how close they're sitting, she almost doesn't catch it.
"I did, too," she replies, voice coming out hallow.
"No, not – not then." He hesitates, and she knows they're both picturing that moment, standing on the edge of the city. She hadn't been joking then. The view was beautiful. "I meant when you'd been taken. We couldn't find you at first, and I thought – I thought…"
He shakes his head ever so slightly. He either can't say the words again, or he won't. (Maybe there isn't a difference.)
"I'm alright," she tells him, because it seems like it needs to be said – like he needs it to be said.
He nods, glancing over her. She remembers doing that same thing a year ago. They'd found him on the edge of the water, beaten and bruised and barely breathing, and she couldn't bring herself to stop looking at him. Half of her felt like she'd been imagining things, like he couldn't really still be alive. Not because she'd been wishing he wasn't, but because it'd be too good to be true. She wouldn't know how she'd react to him dying. She just knows that she got spared from finding that out, and that's the kind of luck that never happens to her.
(No, she knows. She definitely knows how much losing him would've hit her. If she means half to him as he means to her, she can understand why he's so shaken right now.)
She turns to face him a little more, and they're sitting close enough that her knee brushes against his with the movement. "I'm alright," she repeats, voice softer.
He glances over her again, then meets her gaze, nodding once.
There's a pause, but it's not uncomfortable. Neither of them speaks, though, and when he stands up from the bed, she thinks that will be that.
But then he reaches over, places his hand on her arm, above her elbow, and leans down. She closes her eyes as she feels his lips brush against her cheek, smiles a little more as he squeezes her arm ever so slightly.
"Get some rest," he tells her. She nods, and there's a moment of hesitation before he pulls away.
... ...
The media and every government official on the planet, it seems, has something to say and a list of questions that they demand get answered. It's nothing that The Avengers haven't dealt with before, and that doesn't make it any less distressing when they have to go through it, but it's easier for them to maintain their composure. Tony has taken most of the heat and it's not as if this is unexpected, but he's handling it well. He's not dismissing his direct involvement and she knows – they all know – how hard it is for him to do that. His biggest fear was not being able to save them, and yet, it's his involvement that nearly got everyone killed. None of them are holding it against him, except maybe Pietro and Wanda, and they blame him for more than just Ultron. For now, though, they're civil with Tony, and they're willing to stand with the rest of them when it comes to advocating for the man, so it's a start.
After two weeks of senate meetings and court appearances and television interviews, things start to settle down for the most part. It's going to be a while before everyone really moves on from something as big as this, like it had been with New York. And there will always be someone, somewhere, trying to blame The Avengers for something.
But it's nothing they can't handle.
... ...
She has an apartment in New York, one that Tony pays for and neither of them have talked about, other than when he'd first given her the key.
This was after Washington D.C. and Hydra and the collapse of SHIELD, and she found herself in New York before she was going to leave the country altogether. She knows Tony had given the same offer to Maria – a job at Stark Industries and a place to live, until she wanted to pick something out for herself – and maybe if Natasha wasn't itching to get as far away from all of the cameras and questions, she would've taken it. It was almost too good to pass up. But she did, and he didn't seem surprised. He made her promise to send postcards.
(It had been his way of saying that he'd miss her, but they never talked about that, either.)
The place is great – wide and spacious, with tall windows and a beautiful view of the skyline – and there're more rooms than she needs. It's a lot bigger than anything she'd pick out for herself, but definitely something Tony would pick out for her.
It's nice.
They're all sitting in a private room of this restaurant in the hotel that Pietro and Wanda are staying at for the time being. They weren't entirely comfortable with continuing to stay at Tony and Pepper's with the others, though they did thank Tony for taking them in that first night. Tony set them up with a hotel suite while they'd had to stay in New York and make appearance after appearance with the rest of The Avengers to address what'd happened in Sokovia. But now that that's finished, there's really no reason for them to stay in New York.
There's also no reason for them to leave, either. That's another one of the things they're trying to figure out, now that the storm has passed.
"They can stay with me," Natasha offers, sipping on her mimosa.
Pietro and Wanda sort of glance at each other, surprised, and then at her, and yeah. Natasha isn't entirely sure where this is coming from, either. But it makes sense. She knows that the twins are just starting to get comfortable with the city, so staying with either Steve or Sam back in Washington D.C. wouldn't make much sense. And, other than herself and then Tony and Pepper, Maria is the only other person who lives in New York. She has the rooms to offer, just like Natasha does, and she knows the woman wouldn't turn Pietro and Wanda away if they asked. But Maria is also very particular about her space, and she sort of houses Nick whenever the he's in town, and he's even more particular about his space than she is.
Natasha doesn't need that whole apartment to herself, anyway. It's not a big deal if she lives on her own or has a roommate (or two).
"Thank you," Wanda says in this little voice. Her hand moves atop the table, as if to reach over to take hold of Natasha's, but she seems to decide against it. One thing they're learning about Wanda is that she's a very tactile person.
"No problem, kid," Natasha replies, and she catches Steve smiling at her in her peripheral.
... ...
It's getting warmer and warmer out now that summer is pretty much here, and Natasha gets out of bed a little earlier to get in a decent run before daybreak. She knows sweating is supposed to be good for you when you're working out, but she'd rather not run in the stagnant summer air with the sun in her eyes, thanks, anyway.
Wanda almost always runs with her (and Pietro never does, because the guy doesn't need to, and he loves sleeping in more than Natasha) but the girl is still asleep by the time Natasha's laced up and heading out the door, so it's fine. She knows Sam took Wanda and Pietro out for dinner and drinks since he just got back to New York for the weekend, and obviously he'd invited the rest of them, but she, Maria, Tony, and Nick had some things to talk about (biggest understatement of the decade, probably) and couldn't go with them.
She does laps around the park for about an hour before she gets bored of it and heads back to the apartment.
She's slowed to a fast walk by the time she turns the corner onto her street, but then the door to Starbucks swings open and someone's stepping outside, and Natasha manages to stop herself in time so that she just bumps into his shoulder.
"Steve?" she breathes. She recognizes him in a second, even if the rest of her is still a little disoriented from almost barreling into him.
He sort of blinks, the corners of his lips twitching into a smile. His hand had reached out to grasp her arm and steady her as soon as she'd bumped into him, but she's already regained her footing, so he's sort of just holding onto her now. She doesn't mind. "Natasha," he greets, and maybe it's just her, but he sounds like he's a little breathless, too. "Hey."
"Hey," she echoes. He pulls her in for a hug, balancing his coffee, and doesn't seem to mind that she's all sweaty. She squeezes him a little tighter. "What are you doing here?"
He gives her a look, points a thumb behind him. "Visiting, obviously," he says.
She's smiling as she rolls her eyes. "I meant, what are you doing in New York? I didn't realize you were in town."
"Well, considering I flew in with Sam, I'm here for the same reason he is. Of course," he continues, lips curving into a smirk. It's a sexy look on him and she'll tell him as much if he ever asks. "If you'd come to dinner with us last night, you would already know."
She arches an eyebrow. "I was discussing important business and it ran a little long. Must be a foreign concept to you. How's your retirement to D.C. going, by the way?"
He chuckles. "I'm not that old." She just grins. "And I've been working over there, too, you know. Sam and I had a lot of details to iron out."
"Yeah?" she asks, though she doesn't doubt it. If she'd been under the impression that this New Avengers Initiative was happening without Steve's involvement, she and Nick would've had words. "Why don't we head upstairs, Rogers? We can catch up while you make breakfast." He breathes out a laugh, falling into step beside her. "How long are you in town for?"
"A few days, at least," he answers. "I've got a bit of apartment-hunting to do."
She looks at him. He's pointedly staring ahead, but there's a bit of a smirk on his lips again, and it's kind of stupid how happy this makes her.
... ...
Steve and Sam move in on the Fourth, and there're way too many of them here to help considering neither of them have much stuff to unpack in the first place. They grab brunch before and are still done unpacking everything before evening, so Sam gets the grill going on the porch and Tony produces alcohol from the trunk of his car, and Maria doesn't even pretend to not have had a cake made for Steve since it's, you know – his birthday. He didn't want them to make a fuss and technically they aren't. They're all just staying for dinner.
There isn't a dining room table, and there probably won't be, but that's fine. They sit in the living room and eat around the coffee table.
She's sitting next to Laura on the couch with Steve cross-legged at her feet, leaning against the arm for support. His shoulder keeps brushing against her calf and he's pretending to be too distracted to notice, but she catches the quirk of his lips.
She gets up to use the bathroom, and Steve is in the kitchen when she walks back out, rinsing off the dishes.
"They're making the birthday boy clean up at his own party?" she asks. He looks over his shoulder, smiling when he sees her. "I think you need new friends."
"He offered!" Tony calls from the living room as Steve says, "I offered to." Natasha laughs a little, shakes her head. "And this isn't my party."
She smirks, about to say how it technically is, because they had a birthday cake – but then there's a crackling from outside, and they turn their heads, watching through the glass as a firework goes off, coloring the sky. Wanda is off of the couch in seconds, and Pietro speeds over to slide open the door to the patio just in time for her to hurry through.
The others follow them out, and Natasha glances at Steve. "You don't want to watch your birthday fireworks?"
"They're not my fireworks," he tells her, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel.
"Are you always going to be this much of a bummer?" she asks. He just chuckles. "Because you're not going to make for a very fun neighbor if that's the case. And don't say that we're not technically neighbors, since we're not right next door. We live in the next building. Is that not close enough for you?"
He hums softly, leaning in a little, and… she doesn't remember when she'd ended up in his space. She has to tilt her head back a little to meet his eyes.
"No," he says slowly. (She wonders, briefly, if he has even the smallest urge touch her right now. It kind of seems like he might.) "No, that's not close enough."
... ...
It's nice, not always being alone. Natasha didn't even know what that felt like until Pietro and Wanda had moved in, because now they share the same space, at the beginning and end of every day (more or less, whenever they weren't away on assignments overnight) and it was something she'd adapted to rather quickly.
She doesn't have to rely on takeout for dinner, because Wanda likes to cook for them, and whenever Natasha's in the mood to help, the girl enjoys the company. Pietro doesn't ever offer to lend a hand in the kitchen, but he keeps the place clean, trailing after the messes they leave – sticking coasters under glasses, putting blankets back into the linens closets, emptying the trash and taking down the recycling. And she and Wanda aren't all that messy to begin with. The guy just gets to everything before it can become a mess. Which is alright with Natasha, because she's not all that eager to pick up a duster or a vacuum all the time. She'll clean the bathrooms and the kitchen, pay for the groceries and cover the bills.
It all works out in the end.
She enjoys the company, too. They can lounge in the living room together and talk about whatever, but they can also just sit with each other without having to fill the quiet, and it's pretty great.
Tonight, she's on one end of the sectional, pouring over a stack of new recruit files in her lap. Pietro is stretched out on the other side, flipping too quickly through the channels, and Wanda sits between them, idly levitating her pen in the air by her hand as she marks up a psychology book in her lap.
"Mind if I borrow that for a second?" Natasha asks, already reaching for the pen. She doesn't glance up to notice that Wanda reaches for the thing, too, and when her fingertips graze Wanda's, there's a flash of red around her vision and Natasha flinches.
Her eyes cut to Wanda as the pen falls through the air, bouncing onto the couch between them. Pietro looks over at them and Wanda blinks a few times, surprised.
"Sorry," she says after a moment, sounding distracted. A strange expression crosses her face, but then it's gone in another moment.
"Everything alright, kid?" Natasha asks.
"Well, other than the fact that I levitate when I'm preoccupied, yes," Wanda replies, picking up the pen to hand it to Natasha. "At least I haven't done it with a knife yet."
Pietro chuckles and turns back the TV. Natasha grins and shakes her head. She's cute, this kid.
... ...
The New Avengers Facility opens at the end of July, and by the second week of August, operations have more or less settled in. There're agents working around the clock, it seems—in the labs, in the gym, on the field. They shut down almost two dozen more SHIELD facilities that'd been seized by Hydra during the Uprising, and meet with officials and leaders from a number of countries to rebuild connections and gain immunity. They're nowhere near the capacity of SHIELD, but things are falling together more quickly than anticipated, so it's fine.
They're getting there, and they're building something better. It'll take some time.
The team ends up in the gym after arms training, and they work with Pietro and Wanda on hand-to-hand for a good hour and a half before dispersing. She ends up sparring with Steve on the mats, and maybe it's kind of stupid, but she misses this—the way her muscles ache and her lungs burn and her gut swoops whenever his punch nearly grazes her.
He'd never, ever hurt her, but he never holds back with her, either. She can handle herself and she likes that he knows that.
She knocks him down three times before he manages to pin her, pressing her wrist to the small of her back. It doesn't hurt, but it's not comfortable, either.
"I'm pretty sure you cheated," she says, and he breathes out a laugh, grip loosening over her wrist.
His arm brushes against hers as he leans forward, chest pressing into her back a little as he props himself up with his elbow against the mat somewhere next to her. His breath is warm against her skin, and she knows that if she tried looking over her shoulder, his face would probably be inches away from hers.
Her skin is flushed and sweaty, and Steve's ridiculous body heat crowding her space isn't helping. But she feels a tingle slide down her spine, and has the strongest urge to shiver.
Focus, Natasha.
"You alright?" he asks, voice close to her ear.
"Yeah," she breathes. She tilts her head, meeting his eyes.
"Best four out of seven?"
"You're on, Rogers."
... ...
The two of them track down the signatures of an extraterrestrial chemical being moved across Costa Rica. All things considered, everything goes smoothly. The facility it ends up in is a few good miles away from the nearest population, and its guard detail is almost nothing. A guy gets in a few nicks with his blade after she'd disarmed him, and there's a bruise or two on her arm that'll hurt more tomorrow than it does now, but she's fine. Agents swarm around them, collecting materials and taking the dealers into custody, and it's the first moment in the last few weeks that she really gets to just stop and take everything in. She's been in five different countries over the span of three weeks and now it's all finally catching up to her.
There's actually a little lounge in the corner of this lab and she has the strongest urge to just sit down for a moment, so she does. It's fine. Her end of this assignment is up.
She sits on the couch and sinks against the cushions, taking a breath.
"You alright?"
Steve walks over, glancing at the couch, and she knows he's probably just as exhausted as she is. It's been a hectic few weeks.
"I am now," she answers, smoothing her hand over the spot beside her. "Care to join me?"
He breathes out a laugh and nods, pulling the shield off of his back and setting it down before settling onto the couch. She turns toward him a little more, crossing her legs, and for a moment she feels like closing her eyes. She won't, though. They're fine now, but she's still a little on edge, and that's just how she is when she's on an assignment.
"Sometimes I feel like those sixty years are finally catching up with me," he says, and she breathes out a laugh.
"Well, you are way passed the retirement age." He chuckles, shaking his head. "No one would blame you if you wanted to leave," she goes on, and maybe she's not joking as much this time. He turns to look at her. She shrugs. "Not everyone is made to do this for the rest of their lives."
"Are you?" he asks. There's something to his stare that feels different, but she also knows she's seen it before. She just can't remember when.
She shrugs again, looking away. "I don't think I'm wired any other way. Missions and covers—the organizations have changed, but this has always been what I was made to do." It doesn't bother her anymore, though, and when she glances at Steve, somehow she knows that he understands. She doesn't believe in fate, but this? This is just something she's meant to do. She's probably never going to have some semblance of a normal life, probably never going to settle down. But at this point, it's not as if she deserves any of that, so.
"Guess that makes two of us," he says, giving her a bit of a smile, and if it's inappropriate that this makes her laugh, he doesn't act like it is. He just smiles a little wider and lets her.
... ...
Coming home from an assignment after midnight always screws with her sleeping pattern, because she's usually too buzzed off of the adrenaline to get to sleep right away, so she ends up curling on the couch under a blanket and watching Netflix until daylight. Sometimes this can put her to sleep, but she's usually not that lucky.
It's a little after 4:00 in the morning when she gets back to the apartment, which is pretty late, even for her, so she doubts she'd be able to squeeze in a nap now. She knows that Pietro left for Dubai yesterday, and Wanda came back from London a few hours ago. Natasha doesn't expect the girl to still be awake, or for the TV to still be on, but that's what she comes home to, and it doesn't really hit her how comforting it is to actually come home to someone until now. Wanda lifts her head and smiles when she sees Natasha, pulling the blanket up around her shoulders and tucking it under her chin. God, this girl is adorable. Natasha grins and walks around the couch, drops her bag onto the floor as she plops down.
"Rough mission?" Wanda asks.
"Long mission," Natasha exhales, sliding off her shoes and tucking her legs up. Wanda shifts a little closer and draws the blanket over Natasha, too. "Thanks, kid."
"For what it's worth, London wasn't very exciting, either," Wanda says. Natasha laughs a little. "I suppose that's a good thing, though."
"Says who?" Natasha arches an eyebrow and Wanda giggles, shaking her head. "The target ended up being half of a criminal couple, so that made it more amusing, at least."
Wanda smiles a little, but it doesn't quite touch her eyes, either. "Your tone doesn't sound very amused."
Natasha exhales as she tips her head back against the couch to stare at the ceiling. "The girl almost lost it when I dragged the guy in. He was just unconscious, and I think even she could tell, but—she still went crazy. Like she knew it was because of her that he'd gotten mixed up in all of this in the first place." Natasha shakes her head. "Love is for children."
"You don't really believe that," Wanda says, and it's not a question. There's something so certain to her tone and it catches Natasha's attention.
"Maybe," Natasha says, glancing at her before looking at the TV. "I don't know about love, but—I guess, as screwed up as it sounds, I kind of envied him for a moment." She shrugs a shoulder. "He has someone that's afraid to lose him."
"Natasha—"
"No, I know," Natasha interrupts. "I have you and the team. I have more strings now than I ever did before, and I'm grateful. I am. But this is different." She exhales a laugh and then turns to find Wanda staring at her, lips parted, eyebrows furrowed a little. "Hey," she says, reaching over to brush the girl's hair from her face. "Your odds are way better than mine. It will be better for you." Wanda swallows, wiping at the corners of her eyes. "You've always had people that cared for you. You know what love is supposed to feel like. You'll be just fine."
"You have love in your life, too, Natasha," Wanda says, and Natasha can tell that the girl means it. It's sweet.
"Thanks," Natasha says, and then leans forward, grabbing the remote off of the coffee table. Wanda shifts a little closer, but Natasha doesn't mind.
... ...
Clint and Laura invite everyone to the farm for dinner one night in October, and, okay, maybe that's because Natasha put it in their heads to do so, but whatever. It's been a while since they've been together, because obviously they can't take the same days off—not often, anyway. But one night isn't such a big deal.
Lila and Cooper had roped them all into going outside and raking leaves so they can jump into piles of them, and then Lila says that she wanted to make s'mores around the campfire for dessert, so Sam and Pepper get started on the wood while Steve and Clint start grilling. Pietro and Rhodey are still running around in the leaves with Lila and Cooper, and Wanda's sitting with Baby Nathaniel cradled in her arms as she, Tony, and Maria are on the patio swing. It's mostly Wanda and Maria doing the talking, but Tony chimes in a few times, and once or twice he actually gets a laugh out of the girl, so it's fine. Pietro and Wanda have had a chance to sort of warm up to him a little more, so this? This is definitely some big progress.
Natasha is in the kitchen with Laura, the two of them sitting at the table as the potatoes bake and the vegetables steam, and Laura is in the middle of explaining Lila's latest art project when Wanda walks in, cooing to a fussy Baby Nathaniel.
Laura's eyes brighten at the sight of him and it makes Natasha smile.
"Looks like he's finally hungry," Laura says as she stands, taking him from Wanda. "Time for dinner, huh, little guy?" He lets out a cry. "Alright, alright. Natasha, can you—"
"I'll finish up in here," Natasha finishes. "Duty calls, right?"
"All the time," Laura breathes out on a laugh, shifting Nathaniel so that he's more comfortable in her arms as she heads up the stairs.
Wanda smiles, watching them go, and then sits in Laura's empty chair opposite of Natasha as she glances around the house. "It's nice, what they have here," she says, her soft tone belittling the surprise in her eyes. Natasha smiles a little and sips her wine. (That had been her first reaction, too.) "Clint is lucky to have this for himself."
"Clint is lucky to have Laura," Natasha agrees. "This wouldn't be possible if she wasn't willing to wait every time he had to leave—if she wasn't willing to take the good with the bad."
"If she wasn't so afraid of losing him," Wanda guesses, watching Natasha with a strange expression – careful, with something in her eyes weighing down the brightness Natasha had come to expect from the girl.
It's unsettling.
Before Natasha can begin to ask what could be bothering Wanda, however, the door bursts open as Lila and Cooper hurry inside, Steve and Pietro jogging in behind them. Cooper and Lila erupt into breathless cheers, evidently having beat them in a race inside the house, and Steve catches her eyes over the tops of their heads and winks. Natasha grins and takes another sip. When she glances back at Wanda, the girl is smiling as brightly as ever. "Alright, champs," Pietro says, nudging Lila and Cooper forward. "Wash up. Dinner is almost ready."
Lila and Cooper take off again, heading down the hallway for the bathroom. Steve walks over and sets a hand over the back of her chair.
Natasha tilts her head back as she offers her glass. "Want a taste?"
"Since when did you share your wine?" he teases, but she can tell by the furrow of his eyebrows that he's been distracted. "When did this happen?" He brushes the pad of his thumb over the dip of her neck, over the scar she knows must still be there from her little mishap in Shanghai the other day.
"Last week," she answers. He just blinks, still smoothing his thumb over the spot. She feels a tingle slide down her spine. "Relax. It was barely a scratch."
"Still enough to leave a mark," he murmurs. It's so low that she's sure she wasn't actually meant to hear it. "It got pretty close to your neck, huh?"
"Steve," she says, so he'll meet her gaze. His expression is calm, almost nonchalant, even, but she can see the concern in it. She knows he worries about her, that he worries about all of them getting hurt, but something about this time feels different. "I'm alright," she tells him.
It's familiar, the way he looks over her, as if needing to affirm it himself, before meeting her eyes again and nodding. A pause follows, but then the door swings open again, chatter filling the room as everyone starts filing in, and Natasha feels herself let out a breath she hadn't realizes she'd been holding. She nudges the chair next to hers, raising an eyebrow at him, and he grins a little as he sits down. Then Pepper says his name, grabbing his attention, and Natasha glances away to find Wanda staring at her with another strange expression.
... ...
She runs into him at the airport in the middle of the night, after her mission in Cabo and his in Sydney, and somehow she's not all that surprised, even though their flights hadn't been planned this way. He pulls her into a hug and then grabs the strap of her duffel, hooking it over his shoulder as he falls into step beside her. She tried not to, but she'd taken a nap on the flight, and now she's a little too awake. It's not a big deal, though. As far as she knows, there's nothing pressing for her to deal with in the morning. She can afford to sleep in a bit.
"Feel like grabbing a bite?" Steve asks, and she grins a little. He knows she always has an appetite right after a mission.
They end up at the 24-hour Starbucks down the block from their apartments, and she sits across the table from him, watching as he polishes off two cheese Danishes and a bagel with cream cheese and half of his coffee before she's gotten halfway through her chocolate croissant. Not that this is new to her or anything, but still.
"What?" he asks after swallowing a gulp of coffee and wiping his lips with a napkin.
She grins. "Are you always this well-mannered, or am I a special case?"
He chuckles, sitting back in his chair. "That bad, huh?" he asks, tearing off a piece of his muffin.
"Barbaric, really," she teases. Her foot brushes against his as she crosses her legs. "At this rate, you may never get a girl to date you."
"Ah, well." He gives her a smile, small but sincere, and her heart does that stupid fluttering thing as he says, "Guess that means you're stuck with me."
There's a retort or two already on the tip of her tongue – how awful, talk about a consolation prize – but his tone lingers in the air between them, his words sounding far too much like some kind of promise to her ears, and she's not quite sure what she wants to do with it. He holds her stare, and there's something about it that sort of takes her breath away.
"Yeah," she says after a moment, voice barely above a whisper. "I guess I am."