Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1,500
Characters: Steve/Natasha
Prompt: "College AU where rather then a drunk love confession someone confesses their love out of their pure sleep deprivation and amped on coffee and energy drink- kicker is neither of them remember but someone else heard outside the door and are expecting some sort of change- cue confusion and fluffyness from all parties as whoever heard spread the word and now everyone knows it but the two of them- Romanogers"

For: i-cannot-escape-this-fandoms

A/N: I kept moving this prompt around on the list because I wasn't sure how to tackle it, but then I figured it out!

the most wonderful time of the year - day fifty-two

"What?" Steve asks, because Sam and Bucky are kind of just looking at him but not saying anything and Steve isn't sure what he's missing. Unless he isn't missing anything, which is possible. He'd been up until four finishing his portfolio for his final and honestly, the only thing really keeping him awake right now are the three Red Bulls from last night and the large coffee that Natasha had dropped off before his 8AM lecture. He doesn't really know how she's got it together considering she'd been up with him all night too, but, well. It's Natasha.

She's always got it together.

Steve groans, falls back against the grass where the three of them are lazing on the quad. "Nat keep you up last night?" Sam asks, and there's something in his tone that makes Steve squint up at him, eyebrows furrowed. The guy's got a grin on his face.

"Someone had to make sure I got everything done," Steve replies, laying his forearm over his eyes. Fuck, the sun's bright today.

"Uh-huh," Bucky hums, sounding amused. Okay, Steve's pretty sure he's missing something here. "Bet it was a pretty big moment for you?"

"Um," Steve says slowly. He's not sure what they're trying to get at right now. He'd spent last night pretty much how he spent every other night: in his room drawing at his desk with Natasha perched on his bed, teasing him through mouthfuls of takeout. Honestly, he doesn't know how she manages to eat almost as much as he does all the time and stay so thin. Seriously. It'd been warm yesterday, so she was wearing a pair of shorts and had her legs stretched out over his bed, and maybe he glanced over when she was on her phone and got a little distracted by how slender she was. She's got muscle and he knows it (she's a dancer and has done gymnastics all her life; of course she's toned) but sometimes it's hard to tell.

And, okay. That thing where he kind of checks out his best friend needs to stop, because it's just – really damn confusing.

She's gorgeous. Anyone can see that. She's not just that, though. She's hilarious, and intelligent, and incredibly witty. She's kind of a dork, too (and by kind of, he means completely) and it's hard not to find it adorable when she gets on a tangent about some old movie he's never heard of. She gets this twinkle in her eyes and just looks super happy.

He's attracted to her. He's allowed to admit that as her best friend, because obviously he knows just how awesome she is. The thing is – the thing that makes it so damn confusing is that it's more than just acknowledging that she's great and deserves to date a guy that really appreciates it. He wants to be that guy. He's wanted to for a while, actually, but fuck.

He's sure as hell not going to risk their friendship over it, because he can't lose her as a friend. He can't.

"Well, you look like shit," a voice muses, making him breathe out a laugh. He peeks out from under his forearm to find Natasha standing over him, the sunlight catching in her hair.

She looks like an angel, and he feels like an idiot even thinking it, but whatever. It's true. She'd probably just laugh it off if he tells her that, though.

"Feel like shit, too," he grumbles as she moves to sit down beside him. She crosses her legs and he keeps his arm over his eyes to, you know, keep him from being a total dick and looking. "Makes it worse that you don't look like shit. Thanks for that, by the way."

She laughs, reaches over to mess with his hair, which she does sometimes when it bothers her. "You sound pretty ungrateful to the person who brought you coffee this morning just the way you like it, after she spent all night listening to you whine about what shade of blue you should go with." He smirks because he knows she's teasing. "You're an ass, Rogers."

"I know," he says. She swats his arm and he laughs, grasps her wrist and smooths his thumb over the back of her hand.

"But now he's your ass," Sharon chimes in. Their friends usually give them shit about things, except, there's something almost giddy to her tone that catches his attention.

It catches Natasha's, too, because her tone is a little off as she retorts with, "I think I'll pass."

"You know, you two are awfully nonchalant about saying that you love each other," Wanda says with a bit of a giggle, and Steve feels his heart skip. He pulls his forearm out from over his eyes to find Wanda grinning at them. Everyone is grinning at them, actually. "If James and I hadn't heard it ourselves, I'd be more upset about neither of you saying anything yet."

"What are you talking about?" Natasha asks. She doesn't sound upset, exactly, just confused. A bit of Wanda's smile fades.

"You…" She trails off, glancing at Bucky. "You heard it too, right?" He nods, giving Steve and Natasha a strange look. "We came by the room this morning so that James could grab something, but you two sounded—busy, and then you said that you loved each other."

Shit. Shit. Steve sits up slowly, turning to Natasha, but she looks just as lost as he feels. She obviously doesn't remember any of this, either.

"You don't remember?" Bucky asks. He sounds totally serious.

"No," Natasha says, eyebrows furrowing. Steve doesn't really realize that he's still holding onto her until he feels her arm go limp, and he rubs his thumb over her knuckles almost absently, the way he always does when he can tell that she needs a moment. He needs a moment, too, because there's no way that everyone would just mess with them. Not with something like this. "We'd been up for twenty hours and running on nothing but sugar and Red Bulls," she tells them, glancing at Steve. "I don't really remember anything, actually."

"Me neither," he admits, squeezing his other hand around a patch of grass, because fuck. What the hell did he say to her last night?

Not that she even remembers. He's not sure if that's a blessing or a curse.

Bucky blinks at them, surprised, and Wanda actually blushes a little, flustered by the confusion. "Wait," Sharon says, "you really don't remember?"

"Babe, they've been pining after each other for three semesters now," Sam says almost nonchalantly. "If they remembered, they definitely wouldn't be acting like this."

Steve closes his eyes. God. Spill his heart out, why don't they? He might need better friends.

"Steve?" Natasha says, voice soft, and he opens his eyes to glance at her. She looks – kind of endearing, peering at him from under those ridiculously long eyelashes of hers. She's nervous, he can tell, and he gets this urge to pull her into a hug. Fuck. She doesn't get overwhelmed very easily, but she looks so damn upset when she does and he hates it.

"Yeah," he breathes out, even though she technically didn't ask anything yet. She doesn't need to, though. He already knows what she should've asked anyway.

"How long?"

"Since we met, basically." No sense in trying to downplay it.

She sucks in a soft breath and he almost winces. He expects her to be pissed. She has every right. He's never taken advantage of their friendship and wouldn't dare, but, she's slept in his room and he's slept in hers. Hell, they've slept in the same bed, and she's changed around him. He never, ever looked, but still. He hid this from her and it wasn't fair, because she might not have been so comfortable around him if she knew that he thought about her like that. It almost hurts to think of it like that, but it's the truth. Natasha always has people that want to sleep with her and most of the time she brushes it off. But finding out that one of your best friends might also be one of those guys is a good reason to be pissed. Shit. Shit.

"Fuck," Natasha mutters, cutting off his thoughts, and before he can even react, she hooks one of her hands over the back of his neck and tugs him close and—

She kisses him, hard and hot and heavy, and he feels his heart skip. He lets go of her wrist to tangle his fingers in her hair and she cups his jaw with both of her hands, kisses him a little harder, a little deeper. He makes this sound from the back of his throat, vaguely registers Bucky and Sharon whistling, Wanda and Sam laughing.

"You ass," she breathes when she pulls away. Just far enough to catch her breath, because he doesn't really let her go. He doesn't ever want to. "You kept this from me."

"I know."

"You're always in my ear about not keeping things, and yet—" She huffs out a breath, lips twitching into a smile. "You're an ass."

"I know," he says with a chuckle, nudging his nose against hers. "But now I'm your ass."

Their friends laugh, and Natasha smiles, beautiful and bright. She winds her arms around his neck, nips at his lower lip. "Mine, indeed."