Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1,500
Characters: Steve/Natasha
Prompt: "Red Dress" by MAGIC!

For: marvelousdorito

A/N: It turned a little more emotional than I intended. Oops?

the most wonderful time of the year - day thirty-seven

He's not surprised that Peter is here.

"Hey, Cap!" he greets from the kitchen, kicking the door to the pantry shut as he grips onto the milk with one hand, two boxes of cereal and bowl tucked under his arm. Steve laughs and shakes his head. The kid must've eaten through the last of Natasha's chips if he's snacking on cereal already. "Nat's still in her room."

Steve laughs again and glances at his watch. Natasha text him an hour ago that she was going to start getting ready. They have fifteen minutes to their reservations, but still.

Natasha could get ready in twenty minutes if she wanted to, but he hardly minds. He knows that he'd wait as long as she needed him to, even though she's the most beautiful person he's ever seen and doesn't need all this time just to get dressed. He's seen her all dolled up in her favorite stilettos and a gorgeous dress that probably costs more than it looks, and he's seen her at home on the couch in her favorite pair of sweats and one of her old shirts, and he's seen her in nothing. He knows she's beautiful and he's sure to tell her all the time.

He likes when other people acknowledge it, too.

"She looks great, by the way," Peter adds as they head into the living room. He's spread his stuff across the coffee table, so he has to push some of his papers aside to make a space for his bowl. It's kind of hilarious that Peter is so comfortable in Natasha's apartment, but mostly it's just cute that he's over so often. It's cuter that Natasha doesn't mind at all.

"She always does," Steve says. Peter hums, spoons some cereal into his mouth as he nudges his skateboard under the coffee table with his foot. "Did you skate all the way here?"

He laughs. "No, Nat picked me up. She wanted my help getting ready." Steve raises his eyebrows. Peter grins. "Okay, I wanted to help her, but she agreed!"

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. "Do you think it'll take much longer before she's done?"

Peter's lips twitch into a bit of a smirk at the corners, and shit. It's almost kind of scary how much that reminds him of Natasha. The kid definitely spends a lot of time with her.

"Like you wouldn't wait for hours if she made you." Steve laughs. He isn't wrong, so. "Besides, you know Nat. She likes driving you crazy."

"You picked up on that, huh?" Steve asks, sliding his hands into his pockets and leaning an arm against the wall. Peter nods, flops back against the couch and almost spills some of his milk with the motion, but Steve lets it slide. Natasha doesn't mind a little mess, and Peter's good about cleaning up after himself, anyway. "Does that make you her accomplice now?"

"It's always better to be with her rather than against her, right?"

Steve hums, glances over his shoulder at where her bedroom door is shut at the end of the hallway. "Yeah, it is," Steve answers, turning to look at Peter again, whose expression tugs into a wince as he realizes what he's said. Steve knows the kid hadn't been aware of anything other than what Tony told him that day at the airport; that his friends would be making a mistake if they couldn't be stopped. But Peter still regrets being involved in their fight to begin with. He's just got the kind of a heart and Steve admires that. He really does. It's why he can't bring himself to be as upset as he should be about encouraging Peter to risk his life the way they all do. Because it's his choice, and Steve knows if anyone can handle it, it's Peter.

Steve's glad that they're on the same side now. Steve's glad that there aren't any sides to choose between at all.

"She forgives you, you know," Peter says in this soft voice, sitting up a little straighter. "She said there was no way she wouldn't."

"It's because she's too good for me. She always has been."

"Funny." Peter smiles a little. "She always says the same thing about you."

Steve feels something tug at his chest, fingers curling and uncurling in his pockets. "Did she tell you how she warned me against it? Against going after Buck in the first place?" He shakes his head, leans off of the wall. "Everything that happened – all that fighting, and the stuff we all had to deal with after the fact – it's all because I didn't listen to her."

"You got him back, though. You got everyone back. You got her back." Peter shrugs his shoulders. "And, not to sound like a jerk, but you got me now, too."

"Peter," Steve says, lips tugging at the corners. The kid's got a point. "Do you really think she's forgiven me?"

The boy smiles, perking up, but before he has a chance to respond, Natasha's breath is warm against Steve's ear as she says, "Why don't you ask her yourself?" in this teasing voice that always, always drives him crazy. He grins. Peter's face brightens at the sight of her.

"You look awesome!" Peter exclaims.

Steve sort of laughs before he can help it. That word doesn't do her justice at all. She looks… she looks breathtaking, with her hair braided elegantly atop her head, her cheeks pink and her lips red, almost as red as her dress. It dips just low enough at the neckline, hugs her curves before falling away from her waist to her ankles, teasing a glimpse of the black stilettos he knows she loves. Her shoulders are bared, drawing his eyes right to the necklace (the necklace he gave her) draped over her collarbones, a small, gold star resting against her skin.

"You…" He trails off, reaches for her hands. She lets him curl his fingers around hers and give them a little squeeze. "Natasha, you look…" He shakes his head.

"Wow," Natasha says with a bit of a laugh, her tone teasing, even as a faint blush touches her cheeks. "I guess if I can make you of all people speechless, I did a good job."

He breathes out a chuckle, dips his head forward and presses his lips to hers. He means for the kiss to be short but sweet, soft but brief, but—

But he can't help but kiss her a little harder, licking at the seam of her lips. She makes this soft, barely there noise that he almost doesn't catch, leans into him ever so slightly, and he brings a hand up to cup her jaw. He wants to tangle his fingers in her hair and kiss her harder, but she'd definitely be pissed at him if he messed it up before they even.

(It's happened before.)

She presses a hand against his chest, pushing gently as she eases her lips off of his in a breathy chuckle. "Easy, soldier," she whispers. "There are children present."

"Hey!" Peter protests. Steve chuckles, too, and pulls back, grinning as Natasha rubs at his lips, smearing off the smudge of her lipstick. "I'm sixteen. I've seen people kiss before."

Steve smirks a little. There would've been a little bit more than kissing if she hadn't stopped them. He's not about to tell Peter that, though.

Natasha hums, walks over to the hallway closet to grab her coat. Steve helps her into it, presses a kiss to her temple as she buttons herself in, just because he can and he wants to. She grins and shakes her head before turning to Peter. "Make sure you lock up when your aunt gets you." Peter gives her a two-fingered salute. "And don't eat her cookies."

"You made cookies?" Steve asks as Peter says, "Uh, no promises!" Natasha laughs – at the both of them, Steve's sure. "You kids have fun!" he adds as they head for the door.

Steve chuckles as they step outside, closing the door behind them. He reaches for her hand, threads their fingers together and gives a little squeeze, and she glances at him with this little smile as they step onto the elevator. She takes a step closer, until she's pressing against him, and he lets go of her hand to pull her into his arms.

"I did, you know," she says after a moment, winding her arms around his neck. She leans up, nudges her nose against his. He breathes her in. "I forgave you a long time ago."

"I didn't deserve it," he murmurs against her skin, brushing a kiss to her cheek before trailing his lips down, along the underside of her jaw, the column of her throat. She tucks her fingers into his hair and sucks in a breath, clings onto him a little tighter. "And I don't deserve it now."

"Steve—"

He smirks nips at her skin, smirks against it as she lets out this little noise. "Because right now, all I want to do is tear you out of that dress."

"Steve," she breathes, arching into. He thinks she means to sound stern, but her voice quivers. "We haven't even gotten to the restaurant. We haven't even left the building."

He slips his hand under her coat, slides it up her side, over her curves. Her eyelashes flutter.

"So?"