Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1,300
Characters: Steve/Natasha
Prompt: "the other Avengers noticing Natasha has a habit of stealing Steve's shirts and sweaters, both before and after they get together"
For: bloodredmoon87
... ...
It starts with a jacket.
Natasha has the thing loosely draped off of her shoulders when she shows up for Sunday brunch—which Sam gets invited to now, because apparently he's one of the team. He never actually gave Tony an answer when the guy had asked in his own vague sense of an invitation, but Tony never really pauses long enough for Sam to point that out, so he doubts that the guy would even take no for an answer at this point. Not that Sam would've actually backed out, because it's not such a bad gig, being part of a team again. He definitely missed it.
They show up separately, but Sam is observant and always has been, and he recognizes the blue hoodie Natasha has on when she enters the restaurant.
Steve smiles at her like he always does, and there's nothing incredibly out of the ordinary about it. If he's surprised about her wearing his jacket, it doesn't show.
"That's a good color on you, Nat," Sam tells her.
No one else catches it but her, and she just grins a little, taking the menu Steve hands her. "Thanks," she replies, a touch of amusement in her a tone, but then again, that's just her tone, isn't it?
... ...
His first winter since moving to New York hits him in full force, with eight inches of snow and a biting chill in the air.
It's nothing he hadn't seen while living in Washington D.C. the last few years, but there's something different about it here, lounging on the chaise sectional in the apartment Natasha shares with Pietro and Wanda. Sam sips on his mug of hot cider and listens to Laura and Clint bicker about the guy's latest home improvement project, the smell of fresh gingerbread drifting in from the kitchen. Wanda has gone through every holiday recipe the internet could find, and tonight she got Lyla and Cooper involved in frosting two dozen eggnog cookies.
Natasha is tucked under two blankets and sitting right by the fireplace, but apparently she's still cold, because she gets up to put on another layer—and Sam feels his eyebrows lift when she comes back, tugging at the hem of a Captain America sweater.
The same one Clint gifted to Steve as a joke for his birthday.
"You look cute, Natasha," Pietro comments, smirking at Natasha as she sinks back into her nest of blankets beside him. Natasha slugs his arm and he laughs.
"Huh."
Sam glances at Clint, watching as the guy squints at Natasha for a moment, then shifts his gaze to where Steve is assembling gingerbread houses with Wanda, Lyla, and Cooper in the kitchen. The guy seems too preoccupied to notice Clint's staring, or Natasha's wardrobe change, for that matter, but that doesn't mean much.
Steve is a lot better at keeping up appearances than you'd think.
... ...
He and Steve know they're in the apartment when they get back from their morning run, but it's not much of a surprise at this point. Steve gave Natasha a spare key when they first moved in, even though she doesn't really need one, but whatever. It seemed neater than having her break into their apartment every time she felt like coming over, and Sam didn't mind. It's kind of great, actually, coming home to find Wanda already finishing up with breakfast as Pietro and Natasha are sitting at the kitchen table, Pietro laughing over his coffee.
"Welcome home," Wanda greets, setting a platter of blueberry pancakes in the middle of the table. "Breakfast is ready."
"Took you two long enough," Pietro says. "I've been starving."
"Good, then you can get served last," Natasha replies, earning a huff from him. She grins, but then absently rolls her shoulder and makes a bit of a face behind the rim of her coffee mug. She fell pretty hard on her right shoulder on her mission two days ago and it must still be bothering her.
Steve touches her left shoulder gently, eyebrows furrowed. "You sure you don't want Helen to give that a quick look?"
Natasha tries to look exasperated, but her grin gives her away. "I'm fine. Just eat your pancakes, Rogers."
"Kind of demanding for someone eating our food in our kitchen, wearing a shirt that isn't hers," Sam teases, earning a smirk from Natasha.
Because yes, Sam recognized Steve's plaid button-down on her, and even if it isn't all that unusual to see anymore, he still points it out every now and then. It's something that he, Clint, and Tony like to muse about when the three of them are together, though it's more of an excuse for Tony to insinuate as often and as graphically as possible that she and Steve are sleeping together behind everyone's backs. It's a theory Sam hasn't entirely passed up himself, since it hasn't left his attention that Steve doesn't always spend the night in their apartment, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. Steve and Natasha have always been close—certainly (strangely) close enough that borrowing clothes isn't much of a red flag.
Steve settles into the seat beside Natasha, resting his elbow on the back of her chair, and she wrinkles her nose at him.
"You smell like sweat," she complains, making a show of leaning away, but Steve just laughs, slides his hand down from her shoulder to the small of her back, letting it rest there. Natasha doesn't even blink at the contact.
Sam raises his eyebrows. Interesting, he thinks, but then Pietro tries to grab the plate of bacon before Sam, and the thought is gone as he smacks the guy's hand away.
... ...
The whole thing feels rather anticlimactic when it comes to light, but it also doesn't, because he's known – they've all known – where Steve and Natasha were headed. He just wasn't expecting the two of them to get there before the rest of them could catch on.
He's meeting Maria for breakfast in fifteen, but she asks him if he can pick up the files she'd left for Natasha on his way to the café, and he doesn't mind. It's hardly as if Natasha lives out of his way, and he's always had a particularly hard time denying Maria anything, though that may also be for lack of trying. But he's not sure if anyone will answer the door. Wanda likes to take a morning walk through the city on her days off if she can help it, and Pietro is supposed to be in Tokyo until later tonight. Natasha isn't exactly a morning person, either.
He tries, anyway, and stands outside the door for almost two-and-a-half minutes, about to turn and leave when he hears the door unlock.
Natasha is the one to answer, and Sam finds his eyes drawn to the large, white shirt she has on – the way it practically falls off of her shoulders, that's how wide it is on her, and to the fading military logo stamped onto the material.
"Maria told me you were dropping by," Natasha says as greeting, already stepping back into her apartment.
She reaches for the stack of folders on the breakfast bar, sitting next to a chair that has Steve's jacket draped over the back, and Sam finds himself grinning.
"Do I want to know how that got there?" he asks. She glances down to the bruise coloring the inside of her thigh, and then looks back up, lips twitching in a smirk. "Never mind," he murmurs with a shake of his head, holding his hand out for the files. "That's a good look on you, by the way," he adds.
Steve would probably be halfway to mortified hearing that kind of a compliment, but Natasha just laughs, eyes sparkling with amusement.
And happiness, he notes, taking in the slight flush of her cheeks, the brightness to her expression. She's definitely happy, and that may be her best look of all.