Title: Fire and Ice, Chapter 10

Author: SatineSatire

Rating: T

Pairing: Tony Stark/Natasha Romanova

Disclaimer: Marvel owns these awesome characters.

It was nearing the second year of anniversary of when Tony had been held captive. He wasn't very good with dates, didn't even bother to remember his own birthday (although he had recently programmed Jarvis to remind him of Natasha's; despite the likelihood that he would at least recall Halloween if nothing else because of seeing people dressed up in costumes), so he wasn't aware of it and dwelling upon it but somehow his consciousness knew because that's when the nightmares began again.

Natasha, who was observant because her life had literally depended upon it at one point in her murky past, noticed the subtle changes in him. Smiling a little less, the flashes of irritability he later laughed off, the trouble sleeping, and the flinching awakenings.

Her sharp mind put two and two together and the woman in her ached to comfort him. They still had boundaries in their relationship, though, because neither wanted to prod old wounds in the other. So she remained quiet, waiting for him to choose to open up to her, hoping he would do so before the urge to drink overpowered him.

Tony awoke from his nightmare with a strangled sound, and began gulping at air as if he couldn't get enough. For a moment he experienced a moment of utter panic. The room was too dark save for the eerie glow given off by the arc reactor (Oh god, what is in my chest?), and he didn't know where he was. The memories of what had happened along with the horror and guilt of what Stark Industries had been complicit in roared with a cacophony of distorted voices and made the walls press in against him.

He wanted a drink.

The sheets rustled and there was a small hand on his back, soft lips against his ear. A voice, he couldn't hear her words, but he heard the cadence of her tone, always just a little exciting undercurrent of seduction present.

Tash. He couldn't turn his head, not yet, but his mind began to conjure an image of big green eyes and long dark red curls, rosy lips and soft full breasts. Slowly, he began to breathe again, forgetting about the drink.

"Jarvis, uncover the windows," Natasha commanded, and the AI complied immediately. Moonlight filtered in through the glass, chasing away the worst of the shadows and when he finally turned his head her creamy skin was bright against the black sheets.

She cradled his face in her hands, looking into eyes so dark they looked black right now. "Tony, you're at home in Malibu."

"Right… right." He licked his dry lips. "I remember now."

"Tell me your name. Look around you. Tell me what you see."

"My name is Tony Stark. I'm in my bedroom… with you. What do I see? Walls and a ceiling, windows overlooking the ocean, our clothes scattered… we had sex before we went to sleep." He started out talking in almost robotic tone but by the end he sounded almost normal.

"Yes, we did." She smoothed his hair with a tenderness she had not known she was capable of feeling – at all, or for another person.

His lips curled into a familiar smirk and she was thankful to see it, despite knowing that a crack was coming. "You screamed."

"I did not scream."

The smirk widened to a grin. "Jarvis can play it back for you if you'd like—"

"I know you did not record us having sex." She huffed at him and he laughed, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.

"No, I wouldn't without your consent," he assured her, then wrapped his arms tightly around her.

The arc reactor pressed hard into her own chest, but she ignored it and stroked his back. "Tony…? I'd like it if you would talk to me about what's been bothering you. But if you're not ready, that's okay. I'm not going anywhere, either way."

Tony lay back on the bed with her, and pillowed his head on her breasts. Her fingertips traced over his goatee and then up his jawline, finally back up to stroke his hair. He pressed kisses over her breasts and finally rested his cheek down with a sigh, breathing in the faint scent of her berries and vanilla lotion.

"They said I had posttraumatic stress disorder."

"It isn't uncommon to experience that after a traumatic event."

"Did you?"

She thought about how to answer, and then decided that she could only be honest with him. "I did. I had flashbacks, jumped at every sound, was terrified of fire not to mention my own shadow, and cried all the time."

He hadn't known she was afraid of fire, would never have guessed since she remained cool and composed around explosions and flames. "So what changed?"

"I was brainwashed and experienced extensive psychological conditioning. I don't fully remember everything… I remember enough, in a rather disconnected away, as though the events happened to another person entirely and I was merely an observer."

"Tash…. I'm so sorry." His hands, which had been relaxed, clenched into fists at the thought of her being violated like that.

"Shh. It happened a long time ago." She looked down at him and smiled. "I definitely don't recommend that as a treatment, though."

"I don't think I have PTSD."

"Agreed. You don't currently meet the full criteria. But you are still experiencing distress now."

"Yes." He sighed, closing his eyes briefly. "Well… it's because it's the anniversary of when the Ten Rings took me captive. That… you know, that doesn't bother me as much as… Yinsen's death. As knowing what my company did, with my name on all the weapons that killed who knows how many innocent people."

"Tony… you didn't know then. You know now."

"I didn't want to know. I let Obadiah handle everything. I'm still responsible."

"And you're taking accountability for it. What more can you do?" She ran her hand down, pressing her palm over the miniaturized arc reactor in his chest.

His mouth twisted. "You've only ever known me with the nightlight in my chest. Sometimes… sometimes I wish you could've known me before it was…"

"I don't."

"What?"

"I don't wish I could have known you before then. Because let's be honest. Back then, you'd probably have screwed me for a night – or two, if I were lucky. And then you'd have forgotten me and my name by the next weekend."

"Natasha—" He wanted to protest but she was right.

"Do you think the arc reactor bothers me? It doesn't. It keeps you alive, Tony, so how could a little glow bother me?" She leaned down, kissing him slowly and somehow, helping to chase away the demons. "I'm glad I met you when I did," she whispers. "I'm glad you didn't give up on me, even when I rejected you so many times. I won't give up on you, either. No matter what you think you've done."

Tony shifted on the bed, moving over her and leaning down to kiss her again, slowly and deeply. She hadn't tried to minimize his role in things by trying to claim that he was innocent. She acknowledged the part that he had played and pointed out that he was trying to do the right thing now. He was trying to atone, even as she was for her own bloody past. And she understood.

Afterward, when he breathlessly moved off her, she caught her own breath and then contentedly curled up against him, speaking softly to him until he was able to drift off.

When he slept, it was deeply and dreamlessly.

The next night was an event for Stark Industries that Pepper had convinced him he had to attend, or at least make an appearance. He arrived with Natasha as his date, the dark burgundy color of his shirt matching her dress.

Inside, it wasn't hard to find Pepper – he looked for the only six foot tall strawberry blonde in the room. She was dancing with Happy but when she noticed him she smiled and waved.

"Don't beat up on Happy again," he told Natasha.

"I didn't beat up on him. He startled me and I just… put him on the mat."

"What a delicate way to describe how you took him down." Tony laughed.

She looked at him demurely and smiled, still firmly in her public persona.

Happy was a good-natured man and had forgiven Natasha for the demonstration. He was just pleased his former boss had someone that was looking out for him. She stood by Tony as he chatted with his friends, then he led her to the dance floor.

"One dance and we'll get out of here, I promise," he told her.

"Yes, Mr. Stark," she purred and he laughed, pulling her closer.

"Why can't I get you to say that at home?"

"I'll say it. I just won't mean it." Her lashes dipped and she looked at him, one corner of her mouth slightly tilted as though she were trying not to smile or laugh.

"Tease," he said, then leaned down and kissed her slowly.

Natasha froze, because it was the first time he had kissed her in public. There had been speculation, of course, but after this there would be no going back, no ability to deny a relationship with him.

Her eyes shut and she gripped his shoulders, kissing him deeply.

So be it.

If he could – with eyes wide open – choose to be with her, even after knowing all the horrible things she had done, how could she not be proud to stand by him in public?

It wasn't only one dance, it was actually several because they were enjoying themselves, but eventually they decided to leave and of course, the press followed them out. She was irritated because she disliked people being so close to her, and their recording devices and the flashes of their cameras bothered her.

"I'm sorry, we're almost to the car," Tony said under his breath, knowing how uncomfortable she was. He handed his ticket to the valet, who took his keys off the hook and jogged to retrieve his car.

Tony stood with his arm around her waist, able to ignore the yammering from the press.

Until one male spoke up behind them, "So, do you really think being Iron Man and playing at being a superhero is really going to undo all the murders that were sanctioned by you and your company?"

He went cold and as he turned to answer he felt Natasha spin around and the reporter cry out.

"I'm so sorry," Natasha said earnestly, her eyes wide. "Did I hurt you? You must have been standing too close to me because I felt your hand touch my rear and that startled me."

The other reporters were staring at the man who had been smacked in the face by Natasha's little purse. He turned red. "I wasn't— I didn't touch you!"

"Could you please move back?" Natasha asked, looking uncomfortable.

A female reporter glared at him. "We're here to ask Tony Stark questions, not to grope women."

Another male chimed in. "Show the lady some respect."

"If you want to interview me, make an appointment. But keep your hands off my girlfriend," Tony told him haughtily.

"Girlfriend?" One began taking furious notes, while the first reporter continued to argue with the others that he had not behaved inappropriately.

The valet returned with the car and got out, running around to open up Natasha's door. She slid in gracefully as Tony took the keys, generously tipped the valet, and got into the driver's side letting the reporters squabble it out.

"Thanks," he said to her, glancing over once they were at a red light. "For deflecting that."

"I love you," she said, simply and without fanfare. She hadn't meant to say it, but it had slipped out and there was no going back. Still a part of her worried he didn't feel the same way.

His heart skipped a beat and he looked at her for a long moment, feeling incredibly happy. "I love you, too, Tash. I may suck at saying it, and will forget things… a lot of things. But…"

"Shh. We're not good at saying these types of things. And it's okay." She leaned over and kissed him, caressing his cheek, feeling almost intoxicated with relief and pleasure. "Show me when we get home."

He returned the kiss heatedly, pulling away when someone behind them honked because the light had changed.

Tony laughed and sped all the way home, joyous because she loved him, in spite of him.