Author's Note: Sharon is introduced here, though under her Winter Soldier alias (don't worry, Romanogers is endgame!). I made up a last name, though. We'll see why she's using that name again...
Just not in this chapter. Hehe. (CLUE: She actually has a role.) (Okay, that's not a very nice clue. :P)
ENJOY! x
...
"Ah, he's beautiful," said the German scientist as the rest of his team pulled up the block of ice in the dead of night. "Yes, he will be very good for us. Probably better than the other one."
His assistant giggled, though a shadow crossed her face. "Too bad they didn't find him first." One of the other men came up to her, asking for further instructions. "Put him in the truck. We're bringing him to A."
"Yes ma'am."
The scientist replied then, "Correction: Too good. Though your sarcasm is evident, I'd still like to say that Agent Carter and Howard Stark are fools. They bring up the ship on the surface, but never think to look under."
...
Natasha's most awaited event was coming, and it was only a a week away. She'd spent the last month focused on all the performing arts groups, however, that she'd completely forgotten about informing the art students that they were supposed to showcase their own self-made paintings during that said event of hers. She'd put Steve in charge of this supposed project at the last minute.
That was how he met Kate Young, a girl who managed to make him realize something without knowing it.
Two days after he'd presented Natasha's idea for the gallery she was setting up, a pretty young blonde had walked up to his desk and he recognized her as one of the top students in the class. He didn't really remember her name, though he also couldn't recall most of the student's names from time to time. He may have enhanced memory, but often times he found himself not paying attention anymore because of his memories about Peggy and the war.
He hadn't told Natasha about that. He didn't really tell her anything other than the fact that he used to be Captain America. He liked to keep it that way.
"Excuse me sir, it's Kate," the girl had said shyly, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. Steve found himself amused by her behavior and smiled at her encouragingly. Kate seemed to have gained some courage and continued, "I, um, finished a first draft of my painting. It's already colored in, and I followed all your intructions, but I'd like you to study it. I don't want to embarrass myself."
Steve nodded. "Alright. Let's see what you've done so far, then."
She showed him the canvas she'd been hiding behind her back and looked everywhere but his eyes, as if fearing a negative answer from her mentor.
Steve, on the contrary, was quite surprised. He'd only seen a few of her sketches before, along with the other top students in the class, but he hadn't expected what he was seeing at that moment.
His facial expression faltered for a moment as he examined the red, blue and white strokes across the canvas, highlighting a lone soldier standing to the side, looking at something that seemed to be beyond his reach, and beyond this painting. He saw a soul that was pained and lost, fighting for what was right, yet looking for something more. Something missing.
Kate's painting reminded him of himself.
"It's beautiful," was all he could say, and Kate blushed a deep rosy color, flattered.
"Thank you sir," she replied. "Is there anything I could improve on? Perhaps the back ground or..."
"No, no," Steve protested. He smiled at her again, but a little bit wider than before. "It's perfect. I love it. Nat-" he blushed, realizing he'd reverted back to calling his friend Natasha instead of Ms. Romanoff again, and quickly corrected himself, "-Ms. Romanoff will surely appreciate this work to be in her event."
"Really?"
"Ms. Young, most students tease my relationship with Ms. Romanoff. It is because we're very close," Steve began, "I know her well enough to know she'd love this. Or, I hope she would. She can be very unpredictable when it comes to feelings, though-" He cut himself off, noticing Kate's slight frown and confused stare, and mentally chided himself, knowing he was about to babble about Natasha to another of his students again. He'd done it before, and it cost him a lot of wolf whistles and he was even more embarrassed when he couldn't lie to Natasha when she asked why the nearby classroom of Janet Pym's beginners art class complained about a lot of noise. She'd made him go through hell and back just for babbling to students about her.
("I have a reputation to uphold, Steve," she'd said. He tried to bake something for her as an 'I'm-sorry' gift, but he didn't know how to work the modern oven. Natasha laughed at his efforts and 'painted' his face using the batter he mixed, much to his dismay. "I'm painting on an artist," she teased afterwards. "Oh, the irony.")
"You may, uh, go now, Ms. Young," he said, hoping she wasn't going to ask about what happened earlier. Thankfully, she didn't. "You're a talented woman. I hope to see more of your works soon."
Kate let out an excited squeal and sauntered back to her seat.
Steve let out a soft sigh and slouched back on his his chair. He couldn't help but notice his gaze hadn't left the interesting, bubbly Kate Young.
...
It was funny how even though he'd known and spent almost every hour getting to know Natasha for at least two weeks only, he found himself trusting her and confiding in her.
So, while he sat at the dinner table and she cooked for them, he'd asked, "Natasha, is it kind of weird for someone to um, like someone even if they'd only had a short encounter once?"
Natasha looked at him weirdly before shrugging and turning back to what she'd been cooking. "Go on," she said, at the the cream sauce to her dish which was simmering in the pan, almost ready.
"Well, uh," Steve fidgeted in his seat, struggling to put what he'd been feeling into words. "There's this student in my class. She's one of the best there, actually. She asked me to review her painting for your gallery earlier today and it was... it was beautiful. Amazing, even. I feel a little lost in how I see her. From what I could tell, she's very nice, and..." He slouched and sighed as Natasha finished cooking and placed the food into a large bowl. "I don't know..."
She set the bowl down in between them and sat at her place on the table. They said grace and as Steve bit on a piece of meat Natasha smirked and said, "Seems like you're on the border of experiencing the well known case of a teacher-student relationship."
Steve only stared at her with wide eyes. Natasha laughed. "I actually have done a little research about it, since there was something going on in the center a few months back. I could explain the concept to you."
The soldier shook his head. "No thanks, Nat," he answered, looking at her thoughtfully. "I don't want to explore this though. I mean, I could only be feeling this way because of her painting. I don't know a thing about her. It might just be an infatuation."
Natasha shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat, Steve," she replied. "Why don't you offer her a small visit to a coffee shop or something? It could help you with your current dilemma. You can get to know her a little, and try to see if you want to continue to persue her or not. Easy as pie."
"Pie isn't easy, Nat," Steve said. "Neither is cake."
She stuck out her tongue. "You only hate baking because I painted on your face with cake batter."
"That wasn't painting!"
Natasha only laughed, and Steve felt comfort in it despite his grumbling.
...
"I absolutely love all your painting ideas so far," Steve commented. His class cheered. "Ms. Romanoff has convinced me to let her view them today, though, since she's the one in charge. I'm sure you all will do fine and pass her little test." A few nervous chuckles were heard by Steve.
A kknock on the door sent the class back into silence. Steve strided over to the entrance of the classroom and let Natasha in, who was sporting what he'd come to call "the General" demeanor around him and his class.
"Good morning, students," Natasha spoke, her eyes cold and calculating, her voice cool and calm.
"Good morning, Ms. Romanoff," came the tentative, unified reply.
Natasha turned to Steve, and he smiled at her only to get an unamused stare in return. Steve was used to that response whenever they weren't in private at the Red Room, and only laughed softly, gesturing to the paintings he'd helped the students hang on the wall opposite the one with windows showing the busy streets of New York. "The paintings I've told you about, Ms. Romanoff."
"Thank you, Mr. Rogers." She walked in the direction he'd pointed out to her and he followed. He commented on his students art work, and brought up mostly the beauty, the charm and/or elegance of each painting.
Natasha would never admit it to Steve, but she was only half listening to his rambling. She mostly paid more attention to the names he listed off as she studied each painting, telling her who had painted it. It had been two days since he'd spoken to her about Kate Young (she'd forced him to tell her the name) and she was curious to see if that girl's work was as amazing as Steve thought it was.
She stopped at the last piece or art on the wall and knew it was Kate's way before Steve had even said her name. She cut him off. "This is a beautiful painting," Natasha commented. It was the first thing she'd said about a painting one of the students had done. The class erupted in soft whispers, and out of the corner of Natasha's eye she saw a blonde girl in the corner blush.
She continued, "A war hero, I think. A soldier, looking for something missing." Steve tried not to gape at her choice of words. They were more or less the same as what he'd thought of the painting. Natasha turned and feigned scanning the students' faces. She turned to Steve. "A Kate Young, was it?" Steve nodded. "Alright, Ms. Young, identify yourself."
Kate shyly raised her hand. Natasha smiled at the girl, though most of the people in the room thought it to be sinister. Steve fought the urge to groan. He knew that smile. That was the smile of a Natasha who was planning some sort of devious plan to get what she wanted. Currently, Steve believed that what Natasha was looking for was information about the girl he'd talked to her about two days prior.
"What was your inspiration for this... beautiful piece?" It wasn't an insult, Steve knew (it was a gut feeling), but Kate didn't know that. The poor girl tried to hide a frown, though her disappointment still showed.
"My uh, family has always told me stories about Captain America. I guess I always thought of him as someone who fought for what he believed in, but was lost because he died young and wasn't able to live the rest of his life," Kate answered, her voice soft and her eyes uncertain.
Both Natasha and Steve didn't expect such an answer, and the former turned to the other, judging his reaction. Steve didn't look her in the eye. She turned back to the girl and hid her growing suspicion and instead smiled. "Very touching," she said. Kate looked up at her in surprise. She looked at Steve. "Mr. Rogers, I believe I owe you an apology. I underestimated your thoughts about these students paintings."
Steve glanced at her with surprise. He never knew she thought that way. The class murmured amongst themselves. Kate's gaze was kept on her teacher, as if trying to see what his response would be.
Natasha caught his shocked look and winked. It was a gesture only Kate noticed, and she frowned. Steve understood the meaning behind Natasha's wink and tried not to roll his eyes.
"Good day to you all."
With that rather quick farewell, Natasha patted Steve's shoulder and walked out of the room. Steve turned to his students and said, "Well, that will be all for today. I told you Ms. Romanoff would be impressed." Steve smiled inwardly, realizing Natasha may have been at the classroom door longer than he thought and was listening in. She had helped him boost up his reputation among these students, knowing they would think Mr. Rogers's opinion about their work was true.
He continued, "You may all leave. I hope I'll see you all tomorrow, as we have a project to discuss."
The class packed up and left as Steve sat at the teacher's desk, watching. He noticed Kate was lingering at her seat and wondered why. Once there was no one left in the classroom but him and her, she walked up to him, Steve remembering Natasha's advice. Why don't you offer her a small visit to a coffee shop or something?
"Hello, uh, sir," Kate greeted shyly. "I wanted to ask you something, and I hope you don't get weirded out."
"Go ahead."
"Could you and I, um, have dinner or something sometime?" Kate asked shyly. Steve looked bewildered. "I mean it's okay if you don't want to..."
"Oh, no," Steve answered, smiling at her. "It's no problem. How about right now? We could head for some coffee." Kate beamed. "I'll have to ask for a ride though," Steve added sheepishly.
"It's no problem," Kate answered quickly. "I'll wait for you at the parking lot." She left the room with a skip in her step.
Steve quickly made his way to Natasha's ballet studio, hoping she would save the teasing he knew was about to come for later.
...
Natasha looked up from her plate of take-out cake when Steve walked into her apartment. She smirked up at him. "It's eight o'clock, Rogers. You've been gone a whole day. I was so worried," she said, her last sentence taking on a sarcastic tone.
"I've been fine," was Steve's reply, and it was only at that moment that she noticed his seemingly sad posture.
"It didn't go too well?" she asked, setting her plate down on the coffee table, thus putting all of her attention on Steve. The guy tried not to look at her concerned and worried stare.
Steve only grumbled unintelligent words in response. "What happened?" Natasha persisted, getting up from her seat at the couch and walking over to him.
He growled. "I don't want to talk about it. I'm going to go to bed."
True to his words, he briskly walked over to the couch, and lay down, leaving Natasha to wonder what exactly appened that made Steve so sad and angry. Once she finished wondering why he was so down, she tried to go to sleep, though her thoughts wandered over to hatred for the girl who appeared to have broken his heart.
Steve lie awake on the couch for hours, constantly looking at Natasha's bedroom door. He knew the way he treated her was way out of line since she was genuinely concerned about him, and he really appreciated that, but he couldn't find a better way to tell her that he found out while on a small outing with Kate that his feelings for the red head was stronger than the small crush he had on the blonde.
He also couldn't find the strength to tell her he'd only spent an hour with Kate, and had spent the rest of the day retracing his steps to the Art Center then to Natasha's apartment, all the while thinking of how he could tell her he felt something more passionate than friendship towards her.
