March was settling in when Steve called up Natasha, requesting she go somewhere with him. They hadn't seen each other outside of SHIELD since a little after New Year's when they went to Tony's place. The party was dismantled after an incident with Thor, who visited from Asgard to see them, engaged in a drinking competition of Tony.

Steve, however, had sent a sketch of Natasha and him, modeled after the picture from Christmastime on Valentine's Day. Since then, he had been planning a date. His nightmares had ceased ever since he and Natasha had been outing with each other, but the protection the presence of Natasha created were wearing off. When he woke up crying again, he knew it was time.

And so he picked up the phone.

It was eight o'clock when Steve showed up at Natasha's door, smiling and holding out a helmet. "I want to take you somewhere," he said. She gave him a questioning look before grabbing the helmet. Steve took her hand, pulling her lightly behind him down the stairs.

"Steve, what are you doing?" she asked, a smirk on her face.

"I'm taking you out on my motorcycle." He waved his hand at the motorcycle across the parking lot as they exited the apartment building. To the back he had attached a picnic blanket.

Natasha didn't say anything. Instead, her smile grew as she followed him, position herself behind him as he sat down. "You ready?" he asked.

She answered by letting her arms relax around him and resting her chin on his shoulder.

Steve pulled out of the parking lot, heading down the street. Wind blowing in her face, Natasha closed her eyes and let a content grin spread across her face. Steve wished he could look behind him to see how beautiful she was as the sun teetered between shining and resting for the night, but he would have to wait.

The way her arms wrapped around his waist sent a tingle up his spine. He felt warm as he felt her hair brush against his head, or the way she seemed to be free as she leaned against him. Steve couldn't help but wonder if this was really the true Natasha Romanoff; if she was taking her many masks off and showing him who she really was inside.

It thrilled him.

As the sky was a dusky blue, he pulled up to grassy area somewhere away from the city. Natasha reluctantly let go of him, her eyes opening to see where they were. Steve waited for her to get off the seat before he did so himself, reaching back to grab the picnic basket. In the corner of her eye, she watched him unclasp the basket and spread a blanket on the ground.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Remember that first date when you told me you liked looking at the stars?"

"A long time ago," she sighed.

"It's never too late to start again," he answered, pointing a hand at the sky. The faint light of stars were already starting to shine through. Natasha looked up, her eyes sparkling. There were no city lights or anything to obstruct their view.

She took a seat next to him to be handed a sandwich. "Until the stars are completely ready," he explained. Giving a small smile, she took it. They ate in silence, looking away from each other most of the time. While they did so, the sky darkened even more, and the stars were now prepared to be viewed.

They both watched the show being played above them, a silent film that was still able to tell such a magnificent story. Steve wondered if maybe, somewhere written in the stars, was a tale about a man out of his time and a woman that could kill a man in ways that could make your head spin could somehow find love in each other.

Sighing, he laid back. He suddenly felt her head lean against his arm. Stretching his arm out, he let her situate herself before wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"Natasha… do you believe in fate?"

She was silent for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"Like…." He thought for a moment. "We're not in control for any mistakes we make or any good things we do or anything."

"'The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,'" she started, "'but in ourselves.'"

"Shakespeare," he murmured. "So… is that what you think?"

"I don't know Steve," she said quietly. "I would like to hope that it could be, but I can't believe in such silly things."

"How about true love?"

Natasha stayed even quieter than after the first question. "I've told you about that, Steve."

"You never said if you believed in it."

She sat up, her shoulders slumped over. "I'm not a little kid. I don't think I'm a princess and there's no prince to save me. True love disappeared with those."

Pushing himself up too, he answered, "It doesn't have to be kid stuff."

Their eyes met, her mouth slightly open, as if uncertain whether or not to reply.

And then her lips were on his.

It surprised him how gentle it was, rather than the fierceness he expected. The kiss was timid, almost scared of itself, yet carried enough confidence to send a message loud and clear that there was something.

She pulled away from him, her mouth gaped again, her eyes burning into his. "Steve, I'm sorry," she whispered, "but I don't know if—"

He kissed her again.