Chapter 3

Natasha

A/N:

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY CHARACTERS [EXCEPT FOR THE OCs].

THANK YOU BAIBE AS MY PROOF READER

NATASHA RAN OUT OF THE BATHROOM, ONLY WRAPPED IN A TOWEL WHEN HER PHONE RANG.

She hesitated on whether she should take it, considering that not many people knew of her phone number. Except Steve.

Just stop thinking about him!

It's not like I can control my thoughts!

She shook off the inner battle inside her mind and picked up the phone.

"Hello?" she asked carefully.

"Natasha?" there was a mixture of relieve and gladness when she heard his voice, something she missed the most apart her usual missions. Damn, just stop thinking about him, Nat! You are not supposed to think like this!

"Steve," she breathed out, her tensed body suddenly relaxed, "Where the hell are you? Are you ok?"

Many questions rushed out of her mouth before she could comprehend what she just said. Shit, did I sound too concerned?

"Yea I guess I am," he chuckled, his tone turned serious afterwards, "I need your help to break the guys out."

"What?" she couldn't quite believe what she had just heard. Shocked, she questioned him,

"You want to break the guys out of that goddamned prison in literally the middle of nowhere?"

"Yea," his voice was surprising calm and mocked her, "What? Does that surprise you?"

"First off, this idea is crazy and I don't even know where the hell you are. Second, I do not know where the prison is. Third, –" she was trying to reason with Steve although she knew her reasoning wouldn't stop him anyway (He'd proved that a few months ago, hadn't he? Shut up!).

Her sentence was cut off by Steve, "Nat, the call should be traceable by now, can you just tell me where the hell you are?"

"Hong Kong," she answered, and paced around the bedroom. What the hell do you think you are doing, Steve?

"Alright, I'll come to meet you soon. I'm in Moscow," he told her quickly. There was a small silence before he added, "Just don't dump this phone just yet."

Natasha took in a deep breath and packed her stuff – she was glad she was a light packer – she never needed too much thing to carry along. Merely after 5 minutes, Natasha was all set and ready to head off to the airport.

She knew Steve would be in a big hurry if he was planning to save the guys. She threw her duffle bag across her shoulder and made her way to the garage. Stepping in her Corvette, it quickly roared to life. Natasha grinned as she recognized that familiar voice – it sounded just like Steve's motorcycle – how it would bark when he turned on the engine as they both ready for their carpool on every Friday, before the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., when they still had their missions full of laughter and easiness.

Her duffle bag was shoved to the passenger seat of the car while she drove out of the driveway. Here I come, Stevie, I promised to be there for you. Natasha remembered that time she had to pick Steve up from his run with Sam for their mission with the S.T.R.I.K.E. team.

Damn, his muscles, Nat, the sweat. It did make him look even hotter than usual – was that why you let him to get in the car? You never liked sweaty men. Hm, interesting.

Natasha was starting to be (obviously, like duh) very, very tired of keep thinking of the past. It's not a good habit after all, dwelling too much in the past and never getting over it. Yet, her thoughts of Steve; their missions, their carpools, their picnics… never seemed to cease, ever since she had let him and Bucky leave the airport.

You made the right choice, Natasha, that teeny tiny voice reminded her, choosing to be on the same side with Steve was the right choice.

But –

The ringing of her cell broke the silence in the car, as well as her trains of thoughts.

"Hello?"

"Nat, where the hell are you?" Now he was definitely worried.

"Woah, Rogers, you kissed your mother with that mouth?" she teased him while picking up an out-of-date joke that was once so recognizable to both of them, "You don't like this kind of talk, last I remembered."

Natasha heard a distant chuckle from the end of the line, "Funny, Romanoff, now you are mocking your ol' man too."

"Oh, you're mine now? Didn't notice," she could feel heat rushing upon her cheeks (damn, this guy certainly knew how to make the Black Widow blush) and her heart skipped a beat when he said, 'Your ol' man'. Again, she was mesmerized by his velvet like voice.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny, Nat," he sounded like he was choking when he forced out that dry, weary laugh. Then turned his tone to be more serious like and soft, "Where are you? I am so worried. I can't afford to lose you too."

Natasha swore to God she nearly fainted when she heard that.

"Jesus, Rogers, don't be so cheesy, I'm on my way to the airport," she told him, "I have a jet ready at the southeast corner of the airport, I'll meet you there. Garage 201."

With that, she hung up. She kind of felt sad about it, like, it's not really polite to do that but she wouldn't really care less. Not when he called himself 'yours'.

She quietly giggled at the thought of Steve struggling to survive under her waves of attacks of teasing later on in the jet.

I guess it would be great to hear his laugh again. God, how much I've missed him.

Even though Natasha was the infamous Black Widow that the world both feared and loved as the same time, the road ahead of her and Steve was full of uncertainty. She and Steve might be struggling to catch up with the new age, and might have fallen and crashed on their journey resulting in scratched knees and sprained ankles. They might also have been looking for each other, with full efforts but resulted in nothing. But no matter how long it took them, they would always find their way back to each other's warm embrace and patch themselves up. Natasha knew, deep down, that the future was not clear and not set: the mess they were in now would never bring peace to them, might leave them with nasty scars, scaring them breathless and shitless. However, with Steve by her side, she knew would be able to make it. She had to. Or at least, try to, for Steve.