Hello, dear reader! So... I was pretty obsessed w/ Romanogers stories a while ago and because of the pandemic last year, I started reading them again. Then, a few ideas popped into my head and I finally had gathered enough courage to post some of them.

A heads up before you begin: in this story, there's no age of ultron or winter soldier. So, it's kinda an AU, I suppose.

English is not my first language, so, please, forgive me for any mistake I might have made.

I hope you enjoy it!

ps: characters belong to marvel, obviously. I'm just borrowing them :)

"It looks nice".

His voice warm as he tries to lighten the mood.

It just pisses her off. His endless optimism. She doesn't care about giving him an answer. Instead, she readjusts the handle of the heavy bag on her shoulder and walks the distance between herself and the front door.

Natasha opens the door to the house she and Steve would be living in for god knows how long.

Yes, it is a nice house. Small, but organized and apparently it has everything they could need. A living room, a kitchen already stashed with plenty of food and equipment she doesn't know how to use. Thankfully, two bedrooms, an office.

Still, Natasha was mad.

That's not how things should be.

She was supposed to track and kill the motherfuckers who turned her life upside down. She was supposed to be on a mission right now. Not hiding in the San Francisco suburbs playing Steve's wife.

Not hiding. Period.

Taking a deep, and very annoyed, breath, she took the stairs.

Steve obviously always tried to see the silver lining.

He would always try to be grateful for the things he had, instead of complain and be upset about the things he could or wanted to have but didn't.

He knew Natasha was mad. She wanted to go after the men who compromised them and their mission. She wanted a chance to kill them herself.

Steve only wanted her to be safe.

He had to admit he did not expect Fury to send them away once things started to get bad. It did feel odd to stand back and wait for others to fix the problem. Steve himself was never the kind of guy who walked away and let someone else deal with what was his problem to solve.

But then, there he was.

Standing in the middle of his own room, right next to Natasha's, in their new home. It felt weird thinking of this place like that.

Home.

Steve hadn't had a real home in ages.

He and Natasha had been partners for three years, getting accustomed to each other's presence and habits, but still not really friends. Not like she and Barton were anyway. Steve cared about her deeply and sometimes he wondered if that's really all he felt for despite everything.

He couldn't be sure. She always had her walls so high he didn't know he could climb them and get to know who Natasha really was. For the past several months he tried to get closer, connect with her somehow. She never allowed him to.

Even though she would, every once in a while, break into his apartment saying she had no food at hers as an excuse. Or to make him watch one of the movies from his list.

Steve knew that this house was the last place on earth Natasha wanted to be right now.

He felt bad for her, for him, for them.

As night time approached, Steve stopped setting up his room to make dinner.

Natasha barely left her own room and said zero words to him during the whole day.

He decided to go for something he knew she'd like. So, he made spaghetti. One of her favorites. That much he figured out after many dinners beside her.

He made the table, poured two glasses of wine and went upstairs to get her.

Knocking on her door, Steve calmly let her know dinner was ready and he'd be waiting for her downstairs. He waited a few minutes, but once she gave him no answer again, Steve decided to leave her alone.

Because if there was something he had learned the past three years was to not push her buttons. He still waited for the moment Natasha would trust him and open up a little more. Thus, he didn't want to scare her away. Clint Barton told him that when Steve first started working alongside her.

Just give her time, man. She talks when she's ready.

So, he waited.

Half an hour later, dinner became cold and Steve's stomach wouldn't stop grumbling.

He reheated the food and drank both glasses of wine. But then when he was about to have his first bite, Natasha showed up at the threshold.

"Hey", Steve said.

"Hi".

"I just reheated it, if you want", he said indicating the food on his plate.

"Yes, please".

So, she took the chair in front of him and they ate in silence. Steve wanted to say something. The silence was killing him! He wanted to apologize and make her understand he didn't want them to be in that situation. But nothing came out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry", Natasha mumbled once she finished, startling him.

"For what?"

"For today. For not dealing with this situation in a more mature way".

"It's okay…"

"Not, it's not okay. None of this is your fault, Steve. I should not be rude to you when you were being nothing be friendly to me."

"I know you're mad".

"You bet I am. This is so unfair, Steve", Natasha exhaled. "I've always worked my ass off and it is the first time I've been compromised like this. I know that group is dangerous and they could kill us both, but still… Fury should let me deal with them, not send us away to play house while another agent cleans up the mess and get to say they saved our skin".

"I don't think that's gonna happen, Natasha. Coulson's team is quite good and he won't let them say something like this".

"I guess so… still, I hate taking a step back, let somebody else handle it".

"I know you do. But we gotta do what Fury told us. We lay low, keep our eyes open and wait".