Steve couldn't get Natasha's words off his mind. Three specific sentences actually. The first one being the fact that she straight-on lied to Sharon by saying : 'he doesn't want me. He talks about you every night and day. He loves you.'
First of all, he's not sure if he loves Sharon in a romantic way. At least not yet. Second of all, he really does want Natasha. It's not because of the potion, he thought. He recalled himself waking up at night thinking how lonely he is, hoping Natasha would just randomly step inside his room and tell him that she's scared. "I just had a nightmare. Will you hold me?"
It's not that he wants to see her hurt or terrified, he just wants a motivation−a reason for him to be needed. Other days he'll wake up from a really good dream, it's not until a second after that he'd realize it's highly inappropriate for him to be thinking of Natasha in that kind of way. He never said it to anyone, and he knew he probably shouldn't.
Natasha was peacefully sleeping next to him, silent as ever. He kissed the top of her shoulder and put his clothes back on, figuring he should before she wakes up and make him lose his determination to go anywhere. He needs answers.
Steve waved on the glass wall outside of 's lab, signaling her that he wants a word. She took off the gloves that she was wearing and walked out, giving him a professional nod.
"Captain America wants a word. I'm intrigued."
He pursed his lips together. " You were lying, ."
She was baffled. "About what, exactly?"
"What you read to us just this morning. There was something that you made up. Natasha told me."
"You're clearly mistaken. I would never lie−" She stopped and sighed when Steve glared at her. "You don't want to know."
"Yes I do. Any truth is better than a lie."
turned to her back, then over to the hall behind Steve's back, making sure they're alone before saying: "I didn't want any trouble. That's why I lied."
Steve leaned in closer to the lady. "Which part?"
"The reason you and Romanoff are at each other is not because you are both mutually under the potion's effect. It's because you're attracted at each other to begin with. But that's the only thing I lied about. Everything else is true, I swear."
Steve blushed, opening his mouth to explain, but he came out with nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Dr. Cho looked up at him with sympathy. "I know it's none of my business, but if I were you I'll drop Sharon before things get nastier."
Steve didn't look at her. His voice was distant when he uttered his words of gratitude, and his composure was stoic when he started walking away. Dr. Cho watched him from the distance, wondering what he will possibly do next.
Natasha was sitting on his bed, his blue blanket covering her up to the waist, her hands ruffling through her naturally wavy auburn hair, in hope that she could neat it up a little bit before Steve shows up. When he did before she was even done, she let out a curse inside herself. She just wants to look presentable in front of him for once. Is that too much to ask?
"Hey, handsome." She turned from the mirror across the bed she was so busily staring at. "Glad you took some time to yourself. I know I'm a handful." She showed off her trademark smirk, and she knew Steve wasn't even looking at her eyes. He tried to, he failed.
"I got breakfast." He smiled, innocently like always, turning away quickly to hide his blush. He avoided eye contact, on purpose, so that the world's best lie detector wouldn't see what restlessness lies beneath his eyes. He walked up to her to hand her a bowl of warm ramen, and he sat at his study desk when he ate.
"So." She started, wiping broth from her lips. "It's wearing off."
Steve glanced at her. It took a moment before he realized what she was talking about. "Oh. The potion? Yeah. I think it is."
Silence passed between them, and it lasted pretty long that it reminded them of the old times, the way they used to be, before this messed up few days that changed everything. The way they would just sit next to each other in silence, knowing the other is there but not necessarily obliged to start up a conversation to fill the gap. There was never any awkwardness. They were silence out of comfort from each other's presence.
She glanced up at him. He wasn't looking at her, was rather too indulged in his new favorite meal. She adored him− his blue eyes, sharp jaw, curves of his muscles bulging through his shirt. But it was more than that, though. Yes, he's incredibly attractive and holy hell is he good in bed−but also if you peel the layers, under all that he's still a gentleman. A good man. A man out of time yet still trying to live through the day with a conviction that he can keep the world safe. She saw his profile. That picture of him before the serum− he looked so different, yet the same. Natasha believed that everybody makes their own destiny, but she believed Steve Rogers was born to be a hero.
"Have you taken a shower yet?" He asked, putting his empty bowl aside. Before Natasha could answer he offered to take her bowl. She gave it to him. He frowned when he noticed she barely finished half of it. "I thought you like these."
"I do. I just don't eat as much as you do, Rogers."
He smirked, resting his palms on the bed while leaning his face to hers to close it to a kiss. "We back to surnames now? I liked it when you call me Steve."
She made an inward smirk. "No, I haven't taken a shower, and, I can call you whatever the hell I want."
He shrugged and took her hand in his, guiding her to enter his bathroom. She helped him undress, while dropping kisses all over his body every now and then. But once she got to his briefs he pulled their mouths away and stared at her confusedly.
"What? What's wrong?"
His lips trembled. He said nothing. They just stood there in an odd silence.
"Steve? What's up?" The crease on her forehead deepened.
He caressed the top of her head with his thumb, fingers digging into her messy red hair. " Nothing. It's just that−time is running out and all I can think of is the regret of not going to be able to see you like this anymore." His thumb moved to stroke her lips, making a line over the pink plump flesh. She still didn't say a word, but her eyes never left his. She was giving him the exact same stare that she gave him back at Falcon's house; right when she felt most stripped off, feeling naked with the realization that all her covers was blown, gone to waste. Hundreds of past enemies will go after her out of revenge now. No biggie. She'll take care of them all eventually. She did quite a few, without Steve or anybody's knowledge.
But also that day, that one particular day; Steve saw her that day. He caught her off guard, right when she was most vulnerable. When he sat down in front of her and looked at her, she knew it was just the matter of time before she had to trust him. That was the time. The time she had to come out. Let the world see her for who she really is. And man, is that creepy as hell.
"Can I ask you to do something for me?"
"Anything." The word seeped through her breath and came out so naturally from her lips.
"Can we−" He shut his eyes closed with doubt. "I want us to−" He opened them; the blue. The striking blue, bright, beautiful blue eyes of his. "Please make love to me."
"What?" She started chuckling but stopped when she realized something− he was being serious.
"I want to take it slow. I want this to mean something."
"Steve, what's up? What's with the sudden request? What's−" She was speechless when she realized another thing. Something admirable and sweet. But also disturbing at the same time. Something about the way he looks at her right now. It's the same look that she knows far too well. The same look that haunts her; break her with regrets. She's afraid, but she would never say it. Not to him, not anyone.
"I've never done it. I want to try." He said with a persuading tone.
"It's a lot like fucking. It's just slower and with more kissing and exaggerated emotions, Steve." She finally looked away from his eyes, down to the close space between them, the bulge within his pants, and the fact that her hand has been palming on it the whole time.
"So do you mind if we do it?" His cheeks were blushing and his eyes were hopeful.
"No. No, of course not." Her tone was flat; a surrender.
He scoffed with pure glee, tilting her face upwards with a thumb so that their lips could meet. She welcomed the kiss like she longed for it; every time she started kissing him harder and faster he would soften his touches, decreasing their speed, squeezing her hip gently to remind her that he really, really wanted this to be more than just a quick fuck.
She pulled his briefs down, and as he stepped out of it, she switched the shower on. She wondered if he would notice how nervous and put off by this she was− she didn't know how to feel about all this. But she did try to enjoy it, though− she wanted to be with him, no matter how hard her common sense tries to convince her not to.
The shower stream was hot and steamy, igniting their pulses and elevating their heartbeats. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as Steve left her lips, sucking on her neck and making her writhe. His lips made a trail down along her skin until he reached the most fragile part of her−part that made her fall apart in his grasp. He hiked her leg over a shoulder to get better access while she held on to the sides of the shower, hopelessly trying to keep down the moaning. Her ragged breaths echoed and filled the whole space. She came with a long, soft, whine; he quickly returned to her lips right after he made sure she got the chance to catch a breath. He held her, steadied her body as she recovered, kissing the top of her head and along her shoulder blades.
She reached for the shampoo, poured it in her hands, and reached up so she could put it over his blonde hair, massaging his scalp, making him sigh at the pleasure and relief, closing his eyes and putting their foreheads together. She kissed him, trying to be as teasingly slow as possible. It worked; he craved for more, but still managed to maintain their pace.
After he'd put shampoo on her hair and soap all over her; eliciting a few moans from her, it was her turn to do the same for him. She closed them to a kiss, coaxing him with soap, starting from the muscles on his arms, then to the rest of him, driving him crazy with impatience for saving the best part for last. She stroked him slowly, whispering him that it's his fault that they're going so slow, because it's just how he wanted it in the first place; until he gave in and begged for her to go faster. When she did, he kissed her, still slow and loving, tender and caring. It wasn't until he came that their mouths parted, but even until then they knew they were far from done.
Their wet bodies fell onto the bed almost simultaneously. She let him get on top, her tongue licking water that drip from his still wet skin.
He adjusted himself and pushed himself inside her, easing in right away with a hiss, their breaths short and ragged.
She kept her eyes open, to look at him for all he is, to study the lines of his face, the shade of his skin, the blue in his eyes. Her hands grabbed hold on to each of his arms, she felt how his muscles tensed and moved with his movements. His thumb stroked over her forehead, wiping water and strands of hair away. They didn't kiss; their hands didn't travel to places. They simply gazed at each other, with mouths slightly parted and short breaths and moan coming out of them. He was slow and careful but precise; surely three days of excessive sex helped him learn some of the best ways to pleasure her; but there was more to that, too.
He felt like she belongs somewhere for a moment. He felt like she belongs with him, just like this, simple as this.
Natasha curled her fingers when she came with a soft whine, and she pulled their bodies together when he came a few moments after, listening to the sound of his breathing and grunts as he came apart and poured to her insides.
She simply lied there, expressionless, when he pulled out and rolled to lie beside her.
Wasting no time, to cool off, she went ahead and asked him: " Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why− everything. Why me, why now, why that."
It took him an extra second before he answered, "don't tell me the world's best lie detector can't figure it out."
She frowned, went quiet. Deep down her knows the answers. She just isn't brave enough to admit it.
"I don't want a fight." He said later, after a very long silence.
"Then just don't talk at all."
He turned his head and looked at her with disbelief, but complies with her request. She wasn't looking at him, though. She was blankly staring at the ceiling.