It seemed strange, wrong almost to be discussing what they were in the Barton family kitchen; no longer did they feel a right be there, to be anywhere in fact. Creators of destruction and chaos, here they were invading the sacred domestic home of one of their own, bringing with them the potential dangers that only their company held. The glints of hope that had once captured all of them had now tarnished to nothing, the edges of their features embellished with severe and unyielding lines of concern. The words of Fury sliced through the air, his familiar rough tone resonated against the walls and cut through the heavy silence of forethought and doubt that now held them all. Everyone had seemingly dispersed around the room, condemning themselves to out of reach corners and crevices as a means to remain apart from the other. The shadows becoming a rather inviting place to be.
Sat at the family dining table, central to the room and everyone placed upon the edge of its boundaries, Natasha observed and commented according to the discussion. Her nature and past had taught her that to hide from the inevitable was a failing that would indeed scold later, to embrace and tackle the problems of yesterday was to solve the future of tomorrow. Leant upon the wall opposite was one Steve Rogers, his casual attire and relaxed stance a decoy to the tension he so failed to conceal. His arms were crossed tightly upon his chest, a distinctive show of defence and fortification, closed off and removed from those surrounding him. His chiselled features still portrayed the beauty of an un-marred youth, although the corners of his eyes creased and wrinkled with unease, whilst the edges of his lips preferred a fixed and downturned position. It didn't suit him. Apprehension and trepidation did not sit upon him right in her view, it seemed to dull the blue of his eyes and curtail the strength in his posture in a manner that brought her a foreign discomfort. They needed him, they needed each other and in this very moment they needed it all more than ever.
An oncoming pitter patter thrummed upon the floorboards and bounded towards her, their conductor the one radiant Lila Barton. Natasha could not deny that the presence of her beloved niece brought a type of light and becoming that was much needed within the room that now held such oppressive weight and substance. The young girl, despite sensing the attendance of her father's friends and colleagues to be one of a foreign nature, lived blissfully amongst the innocence of ignorance. Something Natasha rather envied at times, to be carefree and unaware of all the evils of the world was a gift given to only those lucky children. Nestled into her side Lila presented the gift she had worked so hard on, a piece of art that had become from her fruitful and bright mind.
The world offered much and many things, Steve had seen the best and worst of a lot of it but there was one thing he did not realise he had missed. The soft curve of Natasha's lips, crafted a smile that was timeless, a classic that would never age or decay, forever a wonder. Of course he had seen her smile... countless times, but this one was different. Lighter, more gentle... but then perhaps it was her eyes too that changed its appearance. Their glisten and shine was not sharp and wicked with wit, but held a warming glow of compassion and appreciation that was wholeheartedly bequeathed to Barton's daughter. A subtle bloom crept upon her cheeks as she observed the piece of paper proffered to her, altering her smile into a beaming grin one that savoured the silence of rapture. Yes the world had given him many things, experience, love, loss, purpose, memories and friendships, yet it had kept hidden the way to make a woman like her smile like that. If only he knew.
Natasha had never been one to be creative in an artistic sense; her childhood had been occupied by the study of combat, espionage and concealment. Yes it required an imaginative flair however all of it was aimed towards an intended purpose, a result that no child should have been asked to procure. Inspired and inventive thinking was controlled and incited, prompted and moulded into a process that would become instinctive under the pressures of spontaneity, a means to an end and an objective. In those terms the nature of the creativity encouraged was in fact not creative at all; it was as everything had been in her childhood: a weapon.
Her fingertips traced the outline of the two figures drawn with such care and precision, the vibrant colours of crayon used liberally to portray an image that brought Natasha much forethought. A breathy chuckle escaped her, as she turned to Lila and animatedly conveyed all the thanks and appreciation that words could not with an endearing brush of her thumb upon her niece's cheek. The action of affection itself guided her to return an errant tendril of hair back behind the girl's ear, as she uttered benevolently,
"Thank you sweetie, it's lovely." As such words of precious praise fell upon a grateful and enthusiastic ear, Lila skipped and scuttled excitedly to where her newly beloved Captain stood. It seemed Steve's days of winning the hearts and affections of women the world over had not ceased yet. A petite fist that tugged timidly upon his trouser leg alerted him to the presence of his newest friend; her lips pursed and pulled into a nervous line as she awaited his attentions. As if the mere vicinity of Lila eased all the worries and tension Steve held upon him, his features noticeably softened making way for a warm assuring smile that was only ever his. His hands reached out and clasped around the child's waist before he gathered her into his arms with elegant ease, Lila positively melted into his embrace as her body moulded to him. Once settled Steve whispered to his new companion,
"You okay?" Her little head nodded enthusiastically, an adorable beaming smile providing the evidence to show there was nowhere she would rather be. As if to further cement that fact she snuggled further into him, her head now leant upon his shoulder as her fingers tapped upon his shoulders playfully. Natasha could not deny that the vision before her was certainly a delectable sight to be seen, although yet again she could not shake the notion that this was what Steve had missed. This part of life where family became the most important element, had been lost to him, a clear wish that had been scuppered the moment he became Captain America. The moment he sacrificed it all for everyone.
The remnants of that thought coerced her to glance back to the picture before her, an image that she too had allow to cross her mind despite its fleeting and unwanted presence. The paper before her pictured two people holding hands, one wore black with vibrant red curls that seemed to almost overcome the small female figure. Beside her was a man, a man with golden hair, bright azure eyes and the all too famous shield that indicated this was in fact Steve Rogers, the Captain America. This was them, together. Broad and blissful smiles beheld their round faces, whilst above their linked hands a crimson heart hovered. How easy in a child's mind was it to visualize and portray love, to make and create what was known as a 'happily ever after', to envision what should be. If only it was that easy, if only everything was black and white and so clear cut. Life was not that and Natasha's had certainly taught her that to assume that anything was easy or to an end was indeed a mere thought of folly, something time and effort could not afford. Especially now.
Casting one last glance toward her colleague and niece she noted how the latter's limbs hung loosely, her shoulders rising and falling in a soft tandem of sleeping breaths. Steve himself had not noticed, his attention still bequeathed upon the room and the solemn discussion that held it, as his strong arms remained holding his new friend. The sanctuary they had made clearly a place where safety and contentment was held in abundance, where all fears and worries were shed and left behind. That didn't look like a bad place to be.