A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…

And now, Steve and Natasha do their best to spend the day together like normal people.

~Natasha~

The next morning, Steve showed up at her side of the bed, tray in hand, with juice, toast, eggs and fresh fruit.

"What's this?"

"Haven't you heard? Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

It was the way he said it that got to her. As though it was no big deal, not some supreme effort he'd gone through to impress her, that little smile hovering over his lips. It was such a normal thing – two people sharing a meal together, made more intimate by the thoughtful gesture given without expectations.

It was too much.

A lump rose in her throat as her eyes grew shiny with unshed tears. "Excuse me." Natasha bolted for the bathroom, her lungs seizing up as she slammed the door behind her and turned the hot water on in the sink, full blast. Steam began to cloud the mirror and she leaned over the bowl, breathing deeply until the tightness eased, her hair curling damply around her face.

This wasn't how she operated – she didn't do leisurely breakfast in bed, that was for normal people. She couldn't function like this, she'd given up that part of herself a long time ago. Sex was one thing, but she sure as hell couldn't be seriously contemplating a relationship with Rogers, of all people.

Speak of the devil, a soft knock came on the bathroom door. Looking up, she met her eyes in the mirror, the sheen of tears still threatening, and she closed them tight.

"Natasha?"

"I just need a minute," she called back, dipping a washcloth into the scalding water and relishing the burn as she pressed it to her face. Only when her mask was back in place did she turn off the water – but still – she hesitated at the door, feeling his presence through it.

He seemed to guess she was standing there on the other side of the door, his voice soft and gentle. "It's not a crime to let me see you feel things," he ventured.

Was that what she was doing? Feeling things? Why the hell was it so unnerving? Squaring her shoulders, she pulled open the door. "I'm fine. I'm just allergic to orange juice," she quipped, meeting his gaze brazenly.

"And that's why you had it in your fridge…" His smile let her know she wasn't fooling him one bit, but she stuck with it.

"I was trying to be a polite host."

"Well, it worked." Steve leaned in and stole a brief kiss, capturing her hand to tug her back to the bed. "Come on and eat, before it gets cold."

Natasha let herself be led, joining him on top of the covers for a breakfast picnic and coffee the way she liked it – but she purposefully avoided the orange juice, just to make a stubborn point. Steve didn't seem to mind, he polished off everything she didn't eat, reminding her that he was going to end up eating her out of house and home if stayed too much longer. Strangely, that didn't seem to trouble her.

After breakfast, she excused herself to the bathroom for a hot shower, feeling much more like herself when she emerged – until she found Steve doing pull-ups, and all she could do was stop and watch the spectacle. He was right, a good night's sleep had done a lot to restore his vigor. Finally, he hopped down, and she looked away, caught staring.

"Hey, did you save me any hot water?" he asked, his voice tight as he stared at her in a towel. For some reason she didn't feel bold enough to drop it, as she had the other morning. Not now.

"A bit."

They stared at each other, the tension building as they drifted closer, the pull to touch him making her hands clutch the towel tight enough to turn her knuckles white.

"Let's get out of here," Steve said suddenly, breaking the mood.

Natasha blinked, he'd thrown her for a loop, as she'd been sure he was about to make another move – and she might've let him. "And do what?"

"Whatever we want. We could go for a walk, eat lunch in the park, I hear they have these things called talking pictures now," he teased.

"Funny," she smiled. "We just ate breakfast, you can't seriously be hungry for lunch already."

"Well, we wouldn't start off with lunch. The idea is we make a day of it."

"You mean just do nothing all day?"

"It's not nothing, it's down time. Everybody needs it."

"I don't."

"Everybody needs it," he insisted, giving her a pointed look.

"So… we go to the mall and get frozen yogurt and you hold my purse while I try on shoes?" Her voice was heavy with sarcasm, but Steve didn't let it weigh him down.

"If that's what you want to do," he accepted easily enough.

"You mean act like normal people?

"Sure, why not?"

If he didn't understand why, she wasn't sure she could explain it. "I'm not that girl," she said finally.

"And I'm not asking you to be," he replied, holding up a hand to stem her words. "But maybe, just maybe, you might like it every once in a while."

"Like what?"

"Stopping to smell the roses."

"Roses have thorns," she smirked.

"And so do you, they're still beautiful to look at. Come on, get dressed." He clapped his hands and she raised a single brow.

"You're pretty bossy, you know that?"

"I'm used to giving orders, that's all," he smiled, stalking closer. "Do I need to give you one now?"

"Don't push it." Her hands met the solid wall of his chest and kept him from crowding any closer. "Fine. You go shower and I'll get dressed. I'm not taking one of those carriage rides through the park though, so get that out of your thick skull."

He laughed, deep and hearty, and she felt lighter than she had in… maybe never.


They held hands in the movies.

Went to a dark bar and shot a game of pool in the middle of the day with all the other barflies who didn't clock a nine to five. After lunch in the park, and they joined a pick up game of tag football on opposing teams, tackling each other with abandon in spite of the rules. Even still a little stiff and sore, Captain America dazzled on the playing field, and his team won, despite her best efforts.

They skipped the mall but did a fair amount of window shopping, her arm tucked around his when the wind picked up to steal the heat that poured off of him like a furnace. She stopped to admire a music box that played Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, and he had to be dragged away from the sports memorabilia display.

The daylight faded, but still, they stayed out, grabbing a couple of hotdogs from a street vendor (okay, he ate four to her one). Somehow, they ended up in front of a 1940's dance club, the music spilling out into the street as apple cheeked girls, dressed in seamed stockings, with rolled hair dragged their boyfriends in.

"How about we go in here?" Natasha suggested, when he would've walked on by. "This is kind of your thing, isn't it?"

"Ah… the music is," he admitted. "But I've been trying to live in the now."

"Living in the now doesn't mean you have to forget the past. The trick is to blend them into something new." Something she was still working on. For the most part Natasha tried to bury her past, but now… With the demolition of Hydra, her past was laid bare for the world to see. Sooner or later she'd have to embrace it, just like she was advising him to.

Indecision warred on Steve's face. "I don't know. I've never really…"

"There are a lot of things you haven't done yet. There's a first time for everything, isn't there?" she smiled, and a couple of heartbeats later, he returned it.

"Yeah, there is."

"Come on, I'll be gentle with you." Savoring the taste of victory, she tugged him toward the club entrance.

Steve allowed himself to be led, but wasn't wholly convinced yet. "We're not really dressed for this," he objected.

"Oh, please. This isn't a costume bar. There will be plenty of people wearing regular street clothes."

"I know, it just doesn't feel right to go into a club like this in dungarees."

God, he was adorable. "We could always dig up your old service uniform and come back sometime, but for now, let's keep it low key, huh?"

They started off getting a drink and watching some of the dancers. They were good, and entertaining to watch – if a little intimidating for Steve. Finally, she took the drink out of his hand and led him to the dance floor during a slow number. He was awkward at first, not sure what to do with his hands, and he did little more than lumber back and forth to the beat of the music, but eventually he relaxed, his natural grace and dexterity asserting itself. He even surprised her by being game for the next song, a faster one, following her lead until he caught the hang of it. They moved well together, her natural agility and talent more than making up for his inexperience, and soon he was swinging her around with ease, his grin a mile wide.

Natasha laughed more on that dance floor than she could remember doing in the past year, only stopping to wet her parched throat with a beer and then they hopped right back into the fray. They settled into a slower dance, his hands comfortable on her curves now, squiring her with confidence.

"I have to say, I didn't think this would really be your thing," he observed, bringing a smile to her lips.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me."

"You do keep surprising me," he smiled, tucking the hair back behind her ear.

"I'm going to tell you a secret about women, Rogers. All girls love to dance, it's encoded into our DNA. Learn and you'll never want for a partner."

"Trouble is, I don't want just any partner."

The way he said it robbed the breath from her body. For the first time Natasha realized she wanted to be that partner more than anything. "You have to start somewhere," she replied, unable to say what she was feeling.

Somehow, it felt like he knew anyway, his smile never dimming. "I like where I am now."

"So do I," she said softly, leaning her head against his shoulder as they danced.

A/N: A little bit of a rough start there, but they finally made it to a normal type date! What did you think? The night's not over yet.

~ Feedback is Love ~