Thanks in advance for your Reviews. Keep 'em coming and keep me honest!


"Shut the door!" Natasha bellowed, and Stark quickly did as he was told. Steve didn't want to hurt her, he really didn't, but she needed to get off of him right now. He'd always known that Natasha was stronger than she looked, but when she'd jumped onto his back and slammed her knee into the back of his thigh so that his leg buckled, he was still surprised.

He was back on his feet again, but she was still hanging onto to him, her powerful thighs squeezing painfully into his lower ribs like a python. And worst off all, she had him in a choke hold.

"Calm down, Steven," Natasha hissed next to his ear.

"Gerr-off me!" Steve spluttered. He spun around in a circle, hoping to fling her off onto the bed. All it did was loosen the pressure of her squeezing thighs and tighten the squeezing on his throat.

"Don't do that again. Ste—" Natasha cut off in a growl as he spun them around again anyway. He was going to kill Stark. He was going to bash in his pampered little rich boy face—but only if he could get away from Natasha.

"Tasha, don't wanna hurt you," he grunted.

To his fury, she actually laughed. "Please, you can't hurt me. Plus it won't be the first time I took down a giant." And then she made good on her claim by tightening her stranglehold on his throat. "Time to calm down," she told him patiently.

Her forearm felt like an iron bar across his throat, but he could have easily stopped her—if he'd wanted to break her wrists. Steve didn't want to hurt Natasha, he just needed to get at Stark. That son of a gun was not walking out of this apartment alive.

"Mmmm lemme go!" he tried to roar, but it came out in a strangled croak. Steve took a step towards the door and she increased the pressure.

"Take one more step and I swear to God I will black you out."

True to her word, he was starting to see black spots swimming at the edges of his vision. But he had to get to Stark and short of smashing Natasha into the wall, this was his only option. So he took another step and heard Natasha mutter something that sounded like stubborn and sonuva bitch in Russian, but he wasn't paying attention anymore. He took another step. It was getting harder to breathe. He was almost there, just a few more feet and—

—something itchy and scratchy was needling into his back and backside. Steve groaned. What the hell? Where was he?

"You done?" Natasha's familiar voice asked.

"Naaa," he tried to say her name, but his throat was on fire. Steve blinked a few times and then lifted his head. He'd been lying flat on the carpet just a few steps from the door. Natasha's cool hand grabbed him roughly by the chin and yanked his attention back to her.

She was sitting astride him, wearing the white and royal blue silk kimono he'd bought her for Christmas. It was untied and underneath she was still naked as a jaybird. The irony of their position was not lost on him and Natasha smiled as she saw it dawn on his face. He started to push himself up onto his elbows, but she growled at him.

"I said, are you done?"

The blood was still wooshing in his ears and he felt as if someone had walloped him in the face. Steve sighed defeatedly and flopped back down. "Yeah."


Natasha was livid. She'd sent Steve into the bathroom to shower and cool off after he'd promised that he wouldn't try to kill Tony. Now she sat on Steve's bed perfectly still, barely hearing the shower running just a door away. The white and blue of the kimono set off her red hair and complimented her pale skin. She loved this robe. Steve had given it to her on their first Christmas together.

He'd tried to make everything perfect. He'd gotten a tree, hung lights around his apartment, put stockings above the gas fireplace and made homemade eggnog that turned out to be silky and delicious. Neither of them had ever had Christmases like this growing up, and he'd tried so hard to make it nice. And she loved it. The cozy feel in the room, the smell of pine in the air and her lover, Steve, grinning at her sheepishly when he'd shown her in. She'd stepped into his apartment and then stopped cold as she took everything in. A sudden flood of emotions rushed through her. Steve had done all of this for them. She'd whipped around and kissed him. He'd been surprised, but pleased, and told her she hadn't even gotten her presents yet.

He couldn't have understood that no one had ever gone out their way to do something nice for her, just because. After they'd made love that night she'd put on the kimono and modeled it for him. As his eyes roved over her, hungry and approving, she'd felt a surge of pride that he wanted her. Later it hit her that he hadn't gone out his way to do this just because. Actions always spoke louder than words and Steve was telling her something very important.

That was when she knew. Natasha had heard people say that 'love does,' but she'd never really understood what that meant. But on that cold December night, when she'd been wrapped up warmly in his arms, she'd gotten it. Steve was telling her that he loved her. It was a heady and terrifying awareness.

The only people who knew they were together were Clint and Sam, and neither would give them away. They'd agreed earlier on to keep their relationship quiet, otherwise it would complicate things both professionally and personally.

It had worked for a long time, but as of ten minutes ago shit had just gotten very complicated.

Natasha was sitting perfectly still because she knew that if she got up and met Tony in the living room, she would hurt him. Natasha agreed with the Superhuman Registration Act and she supported Tony. But Tony had just compromised her and Steve. He hadn't known they were together and technically that meant she had just been caught sleeping with the enemy. Even more accurate, sleeping with the soon to be criminal leader of an enemy superhuman army. To put it simply, this was a problem.

She had just forcibly kept Steve from harming Tony, but now she was having second thoughts. The more she thought about it, the more all of Natasha's instincts screamed that she eliminate Tony immediately. It was the old rule of strike fast, strike hard, and don't let them see you coming. He had blown their cover; he was a threat. It could only be rectified in blood. Tony had forced Natasha into this position and she was furious with him for doing it. She did not need another complication, her life was already beyond complicated.

Natasha had already run through a dozen or more scenarios about how she and Steve could escape, where they could go, how long they would need to be underground, which people would probably come after them, who they could ally themselves with, and so on. The new bill meant that they couldn't stay in the States, they'd probably have to be ex-pats for the rest of their lives… That would kill Steve, he was always happiest when his feet were on American soil. And of course, all of these deliriously involved scenarios began with killing Tony.

Steve was many things, but he was not a murderer. He'd been 'in the red,' as they called it in her profession, and would have killed Tony in a fit of rage. She, on the other hand, was prepared to do things differently. This would be a premeditated, meticulously calculated murder. There was no way to do it without Steve knowing, and there was no way he would look at her the same after he found out.

Tony Stark was a powerful and influential man who was at the forefront of Superhuman politics. And, there was also the small business of him being a darling American hero. If Natasha were really calling this a spade, then what she was planning was essentially an assassination. Killing him would have worldwide repercussions which Natasha knew she couldn't begin to predict or fathom. But she had to protect them. Love does. What choice did she have?

Natasha frowned in thought. There was one possibility that she hadn't considered. What would happen if she didn't kill Tony? She should kill him because it was, after all, the most prudent move. But what would happen if she didn't?

She could talk to him. Yes, she could talk to him first and find out where he stood with what he'd just discovered. After that she would decide. There was no need to be hasty, she had time to make an informed decision. Natasha stood and walked over to Steve's dresser. She opened one of the drawers that he'd bequeathed to her and pulled out her spare hairbrush, and began raking it though her tangled tresses. She closed and tied her kimono securely and made her way out into the hallway, closing the bedroom door behind her.

Natasha took slow, measured steps down the hall and immediately she began to feel the surge. Like tiny bolts of electricity zipping up and down her limbs. She began to feel invincible, god-like, and unstoppable—it was thrilling. At the darkest point in her life she had lived for these moments and sought them out like a drug. It was the only time she could erase everything else and just exist in the present. She could taste the power of it rising up the back of her throat like a scream. Only now, the power was tainted. Tainted like a slick of foul grease floating on top of crystal blue water. Natasha wasn't the same broken person she had been back then. She accepted that who she'd been and the things she'd done were wrong and terrible. It was a devastating knowledge that she had to live with every day.

She had no desire to become that woman again, but even still Natasha could admit that there were times when she missed this. Times when the darkness within her longed for these little moments of thrill when she could walk into a room and decide who lived and who died.