Natasha stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom in the early morning light. Same faux 19th century crown molding. Same gaudy light fixture she'd never gotten around to changing. Same crack in the plaster near the east wall. Was it a different woman in the bed? She looked down at where Steve had his head pillowed on her stomach and smiled. If she'd been impressed with his libido in Bali, she'd been completely blown away last night. A continuous, multi-hour orgasm seemed like a reductive description, but she couldn't put any other words to what she had felt. Maybe she didn't need to define it; it wasn't like she had girlfriends to gossip with and Clint would never want to hear about it – not in those terms, anyway. She was perfectly willing to be selfish about her time alone with Steve.

She began to trace the strong lines of his features with the fingertips of her right hand. She'd spent enough time convincing herself that she wasn't attracted to him that his handsome face came as a strangely pleasant surprise now that she had let him in. It was still the face she'd grown accustomed to seeing during missions, the source of the smile that had comforted her unadmitted countless times. And he was Captain America, of course – men drooled over the physique he presented so effortlessly, to say nothing of the women who openly gaped at him on a daily basis. It was hardly their first time together, so his gorgeous body shouldn't have been unexpected. Now, though…now he was hers. It felt strange and exhilarating and frightening. Steve Rogers had given her his heart, his soul, himself and she was willing to do anything to keep him safe and happy. She could already tell that love was exhausting.

He suddenly sighed and rubbed his nose against her stomach. "If there's a better way to wake up, I can't think of it."

She was tempted to suggest an idea or two, but decided that she could always surprise him at some point. "Good morning."

"Mornin', beautiful." He yawned widely. "It occurs to me that this is the first time I've ever been in your apartment, you know."

"Mmm." She ran her fingers through his soft hair as he opened his eyes and looked up at her. "Sorry if I didn't think to give you the grand tour before…"

"Oh, I'm not complaining. Believe me." They had barely made it out of the Triskelion after Clint had tipped him off to her hiding place the previous day. He hadn't even been angry about her somewhat awkward delivery of her first 'I love you,' being too thrilled about hearing it to consider anything else. As her apartment had been closest and she'd been driving, she had brought them here without a second thought. She didn't normally let anyone other than Clint through her front door, but this was a nice change. Steve seemed equally unconcerned about their location now as he turned his head and began kissing her abdomen lightly, his stubble pleasantly scratchy against her skin. "God, Natasha, I love you so much and I…"

"Steve?"

"Hm?"

"Look at me." He obliged, resting his chin on her stomach. It was impossible not to smile back at him. She resumed stroking his hair. "You know I…" she had to fight back a moment of terror before she continued, "I love you, right?"

"Of course. I love you, too."

"Well, do I have to keep saying it all the time?"

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"I think…I think I may need to ease into it a little." She bit her lip as he crept up her body, trailing wet kisses along his route to her face. "I just…I want to make sure that you know, y'know?"

He was hovering over her now. "Oh, I know." His kiss was soft against her lips, intensifying as it continued. She could feel him between her legs, hard and ready. He made no move, however, to initiate another incredible round of lovemaking. Lovemaking? Really, Natasha? It was damn lucky she wasn't facing a mirror right about now. She focused her full attention back on his mouth until he finally pulled back. "Um, is it okay if I keep saying it? I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but…I just really like saying it. It's like the floodgates of a dam opened and I can't find the shutoff."

"Should never have let you on that Hoover Dam tour," she complained while pushing her hips against him.

"Sadly, that is one of my better memories of our time in Las Vegas."

"Steve, I'm…"

"Don't apologize. I didn't understand how hard I was pushing you and…"

"Look, I think we both screwed up. Can we just move on?"

He finally settled into position on top of her. "How do you suggest we do that?"

Half an hour later she was brushing sweaty curls from her forehead and wondering how long it would take before SHIELD noticed their absence and started calling. She could probably hear her phone from here if her bag wasn't buried under discarded clothing in the hallway. For his part, Steve seemed completely unconcerned that they were due at work five minutes ago and had found a spot behind her left ear with some strange attraction. She let out a squeal as he found a nerve cluster she never would have thought to use that way. He chuckled and kissed the outer shell of her ear, whispering, "I hope you've got understanding neighbors. Or deaf ones."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm just thinking that we're not exactly quiet. Much as I like hearing you scream my name, they may not be as appreciative."

"Oh, won't be a problem. It's just me on this floor and Clint on the fifth. We use the other units for storage mostly."

He rolled to the side, pulling her into his chest as he did so. "Wait, you live in a building where you and Barton are the only tenants?"

"We thought about renting some of the other apartments, but there's a lot of legal red tape and it just seemed like more trouble than it was worth." She snuggled closer, flicking her tongue against one of his flat nipples and tasting the salt of his sweat. "Besides, who would sign a lease with two master assassins as landlords?"

"You own the whole building?"

"Well, Clint and I do." She was starting to feel a little self-conscious, so redoubled her efforts on distracting him with her lips on his chest, adding in a pec-addled mumble, "Real estate is a good investment."

"What? Oh, yeah, sure, I just…I didn't expect you to be the, uh, property owning type. Ties you down, right?"

"Wouldn't be a hard sell. Multi-unit brownstone in the Southwest Waterfront? Liquid in a week on the outside. Besides, I have assets to cover me in an emergency." She kissed his chest just over his heart. "Or cover us, I guess."

"Like your metal credit card?"

"Steve, it's not…" She felt an awkward romantic comedy plot coming on. "We're not going to fight about money, are we?"

"Us? No. Me and SHIELD's accounting department, on the other hand…"

"Most of it has nothing to do with SHIELD. It's just…it's not the kind of money you can return to the people you got it from." She felt the bottom drop out of her suddenly perfect world and turned away from him. "I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of and it's not like I can just fix all of it with anonymous monthly contributions to UNICEF and the WHO, but…I can't change who I was and if you don't want to deal with…"

"Hey, hey. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up any ugly luggage. I just thought maybe I was investing too much in the 401K and missing out on…hey, Natasha?" She allowed him to turn her chin so their eyes could meet. "I know…well…I don't know, but I've heard…you never really had a choice about being who you really were until a few years ago, right?"

"Doesn't change what I was."

"But it changed who you became. Who you are. And yeah, I probably wouldn't be crazy about you if we'd met five or ten years ago, but now…now… I mean, listen to you. You must be giving a lot to kids and sick people if you have to do it anonymously, huh?"

She accepted his loving kiss for a moment. "I still can't make up for…"

"Shh. The things I've seen you do since we've been working together could make up for a lifetime of wrong."

"Depends on the lifetime."

She felt him heave a deep breath into her neck. "Tell you what – next time you start thinking like that, just remember that you're Captain America's girl. Would Captain America really want to be with someone who didn't mesh with the ideals of loyalty and justice and liberty …and the most perfect ass evolution has ever created?"

He accompanied the final statement with a squeeze and she giggled – giggled! – and turned in his arms to face him again. "I guess I could try thinking a little more positively. On one condition."

"Name it."

"I want to be with Steve Rogers. Captain America is a wonderful ideal, but you, Steve…you are the real thing. You're a man, not just a construct. And I love you," she added in a small voice.

"Oh, Nat. It's gonna make me crazy if you can never see the you that I see. Because the you that I see is the most beautiful, smartest, most caring…"

"Stop!"

"Aw, c'mon. You're gorgeous when you blush." He rested his forehead against hers. "Just remember, you're my girl now. You're my girl."

She considered him seriously. "I won't let you down, Steve."

"I know." He pecked her lips. "I know." They simply lay in each other's arms for a long time before he asked, "You really own this building? And with Barton, huh?"

"Does it bother you?"

"What? No! Why would I be threatened by you owning what amounts to a giant house with your former partner who sort of rescued you from certain death? And who lots of people apparently thought you were involved with before I showed up?"

That drew more than just a giggle from her. "Is Captain America jealous?"

"I thought naked me only counted as Steve. Besides, I'm not jealous, I just…"

"You totally are!" She whacked him lightly with a pillow. "You probably haven't even noticed my new necklace."

"Actually I have and it's killing me not to ask about it. Please tell me I didn't miss your birthday."

She avoided the topic entirely, instead asking, "You know why there's three floors between me and Clint?"

"Why?"

"Because any closer and we'd spend all our time trying to kill each other over poor taste in loud music and arrows coming through the floor at all hours."

Steve narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you saying you have poor taste in loud music?"

"Maybe sometimes. But I make up for it with great taste in super soldiers."

When she finally managed to slink out of bed to check her phone, there was an odd lack of messages. This phenomenon was explained by a note slipped under the front door. You and Rogers both have sick days today and tomorrow. I forged your signatures. Enjoy your four day weekend. And no more making out in my nests. – C

She grinned and grabbed two water bottles from the refrigerator before heading back to the bedroom.


"Damn you, Steve Rogers," Natasha screamed, punching him repeatedly in the chest.

"Hey, hey." She struggled to free herself from the bearhug that suddenly pinned her arms from behind. Men in black were gathering around Steve. "Romanoff, Romanoff! Natasha!"

The odd sound of her first name in an unaccustomed voice broke her trance. She suddenly realized that it was Rumlow restraining her. She stopped struggling quite so hard. "What…?"

"My guys are giving him CPR, okay? Better than beating him back to life, right?"

She shook her head, causing the space to spin. "I…I have to…"

"You took a bullet to the head, Romanoff. You aren't doing him any good like this. Sit the hell down and let me take a look at you." She suddenly felt the strength drain from her limbs as Steve shook with a coughing fit in the back of the jet. Oh, they were in a quinjet. That had to be a good thing, probably. "Hey!"

"What?"

Rumlow was looking at her sternly. "Eyes on me. How many fingers?"

"Three."

"Good. Now follow my finger."

"Use a different finger or I break it."

"Okay, good." She followed his index finger with her eyes for what seemed like an unnecessary number of back and forths. "What do you remember about the mission?"

"Rumlow, is this really necessary?"

"Yeah, it is." He was tearing open a packet of gauze and pressing it to the side of her head. "Now tell me what you remember."

"Karachi. Bohri Bazaar. We were looking into an Al Qaeda recruiting group. We spotted them and followed them back toward a residential area where they ambushed us. Semi-automatic weapons. I…I…"

"No, that's good. You got grazed on the temple after we rushed the door of the house where they fled. Rogers went full-on berserker when he saw you go down. Three to the chest and still kicking ass. Guess that's why he's Captain America and I'm…whoa, Cap. Take it easy."

Natasha settled her arms on his shoulders as Steve replaced Rumlow kneeling in front of her. He was breathing with some difficulty and two members of STRIKE were holding lumps of bloodied gauze against his torso. His eyes, however, were completely clear. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. Better than you, apparently."

She tasted the coppery tang of blood in his mouth when he kissed her. When it ended, there were a group of usually unflappable men in the back of the jet finding either the floor or ceiling incredibly interesting. She whispered, "This might be a problem."

He whispered back, "Yeah, we need to do something about this."

"We could agree not to get shot from now on?"

"Sounds great on paper, but I have my doubts about putting it into practice."

"I think we may have a meeting with Fury in our future." Steve turned and sagged against her legs. She maintained pressure on two of his three wounds for the duration of their trip to a field hospital, where Rumlow had to restrain her once again and convince her to get stitched up while she was waiting for Steve to get out of surgery.