Steve looked down at his watch for what felt like the hundredth time. It was getting late. He was getting worried. "What's taking them so long?" He asked, more to himself than anything. Sam was in the room with him, though; so he graced Cap with an answer.
"Survival 101," Sam said, "don't ever try to hurry a lady when she's getting ready."
Sam was, again, sitting in the chair in Dr. Shadid's living room, leafing through a magazine. Steve narrowed his gaze at him; more specifically at the magazine. From where he was standing, it didn't look like it had any English on it.
"Can you even read that thing?" Steve asked.
Sam looked up and grinned. "I can read the pictures just fine."
Wanda and Natasha had disappeared into the bathroom quite some time ago with zero explanation. Steve had no idea what they were up to, but he was starting to worry that something was wrong. Nat took quite a beating from that explosion. What if she was hurt worse than she let on? What if she was sick? Surely the doctor would have said something if she didn't think Natasha was fit to leave, right? Steve wasn't sure. His blue eyes slid over to the couch, where Dr. Shadid was sitting. She was drinking tea. She looked calm. Maybe Steve should take a page from her book.
Finally, he heard a door open. A few seconds later, Wanda emerged from the hallway. What was behind her made Steve do a double take.
Natasha's shoulder-length hair had been cut to just below her chin, and her brilliant red locks were now… blonde. The change was so drastic (and unexpected) that it left Steve speechless. Natasha had been uncomfortable before she even stepped foot out of the bathroom, but now she was even more so. She knew that there would be some kind of reaction from the others to seeing her like this, but it didn't make it any less awkward. It wasn't like she'd wanted to do this, but they were fugitives now, and Natasha's red hair was a very clear identifier to anyone looking for her. A change was necessary to blend in. This was her change.
"What's the matter, Rogers?" She said in a coy voice. "I thought you liked blondes?"
Sam laughed out loud. He'd tried to cover his mouth with the magazine, but it only succeeded in making his laugh echo even louder. Steve felt heat crawl into his cheeks as he sent a dangerous glare down at Sam. When Sam held his hands up in surrender, Steve returned his gaze to Natasha. He cleared his throat in an attempt to chase away his embarrassment.
"This is a… quite the change of pace." He finally said.
Natasha shrugged. "I've been on enough most-wanted lists to know how not to stick out like a sore thumb." She grabbed a black jacket that she'd hung over the back of the sofa and slowly slid it on. "You might want to consider how to blend in yourself, Captain America."
She wasn't wrong. Steve wasn't exactly an obscure figure. While his history was, obviously, more widely-known in America, he had to assume that there would be other people around the world that could recognize him, too. If they were going to continue to work and not get thrown behind bars, he might need to start thinking about how to obscure his own image.
"Fine," he said, "but I am not dying my hair." He raised a brow at Natasha, making sure his point got across. She only grinned at him and turned her attention to the doctor.
"Thank you," she told the woman. "For everything. We owe you."
The doctor set her cup down on the table in front of her and slowly stood up. She walked around the couch, placing herself near the others. "You're good people," she told them. "And you do good things in this world. Documents and politics don't change that. Don't let a few written words change who you are."
They were wise words that Steve knew he wouldn't forget. They hit close to home and rang true in his heart. A lot of things had happened and would continue to happen, but he couldn't let that change who he was or what he stood for. He couldn't bend to the will of a few men in suits who thought they knew how the world worked. They hadn't been in the world, not like Steve had. Not like the others had. They couldn't possibly know what it was like to do what they did, and yet they tried to monitor and regulate it like they were some kind of hall monitors. Steve knew he couldn't let that happen. He knew that he wouldn't let it happen. He was pretty sure that Natasha, Wanda and Sam held similar viewpoints, too.
More thank yous were exchanged, along with handshakes and goodbyes. Coulson was, presumably, asleep in one of the rooms, and they decided it would be best to leave him that way. In the event that his higher-ups (that weren't Fury) learned that he'd been in contact with them, they didn't want him to have any more information than he already did. Coulson was a good man, but he might be compelled to tell someone where the four of them were going if he knew. Keeping him in the dark seemed to be the best-case scenario for everyone. So, with that in mind, they gathered up what things they had and headed out into the night.
Steve, chivalrous as he was, carried the small backpack that Natasha had along with his own duffel bag. He walked alongside her while Sam and Wanda followed behind. He glanced over at her a lot, still trying to get used to the drastic change of her hair. It would probably take him a while. He already missed her crimson locks, though he was pretty sure if he said anything even remotely close to that, Natasha would break his arm.
"So, where to next?" He asked instead.
Nat glanced at Steve. She was tired, sore, and would need some more time before she was back to fighting status again. They also needed to put some distance between themselves and the mess they'd caused as BASRAC, but they couldn't forget about Garrett. They'd have to keep tabs on him, one way or another.
"There's a safehouse in London," she finally said. "We can lay low there while we try to figure out our next steps with Garrett."
"As long as it has A/C, I'm good." Sam said from behind them as he wiped some sweat from his brow.
Natasha cast a look over her shoulder at him. "No promises," she said with a grin.
…
The safehouse, as it turned out, was located in Northwest London, in Wembley. It was a small bungalow that was seriously outdated but checked all the boxes when it came to necessities. The faded brick structure was nestled in a part of town that was oddly reminiscent of some of the suburbs Steve had seen back home. Small, shabby houses and flats were sprinkled in among shops and pubs. The streets were narrow, with cars mostly parked alongside sidewalks due to the lack of driveways. A lot of people walked to and from their destinations, showing a substantial mix of demographics. It seemed peaceful enough, though Steve would have preferred something a little more secluded. Natasha pointed out that, that would be just the place that people would look for them, though. No one would expect them to be hiding out in such public places. It was a good point that quieted some of his worry.
"You know about all these places through S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Sam asked as they approached the safehouse.
"Not all of them," Nat answered and left it at that. Sam didn't question her further. He knew better than to try and get more information than she was willing to give.
Natasha opened the front door and let them in to a living room with wood floors and two, large windows. The walls were white and sparsely decorated. The place was furnished with the essentials like couches, chairs, a kitchen table and beds in the three bedrooms. There was a bookshelf with some books in the front room, and a TV that looked about fifteen years old. It was just enough to keep up appearances that it was occupied. What was most surprising about the bungalow was the little patch of fenced-in grass in the back. It added a degree of privacy that was surprising, given the fact that the front of the place jutted up pretty much right to the street.
"Not the worst digs I've ever seen." Sam commented as he let his bag slide to the floor.
"You three can each take a room," Steve said. "I'll take the couch."
"Wanda and I can bunk." Natasha offered. She looked over to Wanda, making sure that was alright with her. Wanda nodded a bit absentmindedly. She was standing in front of the bookshelf, running her fingers along the dusty spines of books and reading their titles. Her mind was brilliant and inquisitive. It was no surprise to Natasha that Wanda would take an interest in the books.
"Read whatever you'd like," she told Wanda. "We can stay here for a few days." She allowed her own bag to rest next to the chair in the living room. "I'll make a supply run."
"Sure you're up for that?" Steve asked.
Natasha perked a brow at him. "Yes, I'm pretty sure I can manage getting groceries. Besides, I'm the only one who knows the area."
"I'll go with you, then." He said, surprising no one.
"Afraid I can't take care of myself?" Natasha asked. It was getting dark, after all.
"Hardly." Steve said with a shake of his head. "I just want to make sure you get the kind of cereal I like."
Natasha could pretty clearly see through Steve's thinly-veiled attempt at masking his intentions, but she let it go. She was still trying to be a little more delicate with the fact that he had been really worried about her, and he probably still was. There was no denying that she had been a bit reckless in her pursuit of Garrett. If having him accompany her to the store would help ease some of Steve's worries, then the least Natasha could do was go along with it. Sam was already taking a seat on the couch and turning on the TV, and Wanda had plucked a few books from the shelves, so it seemed like they were getting settled.
"Alright," she finally said. "I'll put my things in a room. Then we can go." She scooped her bag up and headed back to one of the bedrooms.
The bed was unmade, but there were sheets, pillows and blankets in the closet. She would handle that later. For now, Natasha removed her jacket and hung it up in the closet as well. She swapped it for a gray zip-up with a hood. Then, she grabbed a roll of cash from her bag and tucked it into the waistband of her pants. As she was stepping out of the bedroom, Steve was stepping out of the room across the hall. Natasha saw him and paused.
"No." She said. "Absolutely not."
"What?" Steve asked, truly confused.
He had grabbed a ball cap from his bag and put it on, pulling the bill a little lower in an attempt to cover his face. That was all fine and well, but the hat had the New York Yankees' logo emblazoned across the front. Natasha reached up and snatched the hat off his head.
"We're supposed to be blending in," she reminded him. "You can't go around advertising that you're clearly not from around here."
Steve grinned down at her, despite himself. Something about the exasperated look on her face pulled a slight chuckle from deep within his chest. "Alright then," he said, "what do you suggest?"
Wordlessly, Natasha turned around and walked back into her room, Steve's hat still in hand. He followed her, watching with interest as she set the hat down and reached into her bag. She rummaged through it for a few seconds before pulling out a navy blue, hooded sweatshirt. Steve furrowed his brow as she turned around and presented it to him.
"Is that mine?" He asked.
Now it was Natasha who grinned. "Maybe." She tossed the sweater to him. "That just means it should fit, right?"
Steve sighed and shook his head. He was starting to wonder how much Natasha was actually joking when she told him she'd used his toothbrush. He slid out of his jacket and hung it on the doorknob long enough to put the sweatshirt on instead. After he'd tugged it into place, he held his hands out to his sides for appraisal.
"There," he said. "Is that better?"
Natasha tilted her head to the side, observing him in that deeply analytical way that only she did. She liked the sweatshirt. She'd "borrowed" it with every intention of giving it back to him. It brought out the brilliant blue of his eyes.
"Better," she said, tossing the hat back to him. "That," she pointed to the baseball cap, "stays in your bag until we're home."
Steve huffed out a quiet laugh. "Yes ma'am." He returned the hat to his bag and met Natasha in the front room. Sam was watching soccer on the tiny television, while Wanda sat curled up in a chair with a book.
"We'll knock twice before we come inside," Steve informed them. "Anybody opens that door without knocking first," he looked between them. "Well, I'm sure you can think of something."
He was sure that Sam had his gun on him, and Wanda's mind was her weapon. Between the two of them, they could handle any uninvited guests. With that in mind, Steve nodded, and Natasha led the way outside. Night had fallen, and some clouds had rolled in with the promise of rain. The streetlights on the sidewalks cast an orange glow on the people that were walking or milling about. A trio of boys across the street were performing tricks on skateboards. A little further down the road two women were pushing strollers. Steve flipped his hood up, stuck his hands in the sweater pockets, and walked next to Natasha.
"So," he said after a few minutes, "how do you know about this place? S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
Natasha looked over at him. For some reason, Steve ventured to find out things that no one else did. He didn't back down out of intimidation like most others. It was like he had this level of clearance with her that nobody else possessed. Natasha supposed it made sense. They'd been partners and friends for quite some time now. They'd gotten to know each other pretty well, and Steve was closer to her than most everyone else. Still, there were some things that she just didn't care to talk about.
"No," she said. "It's from… before."
Steve nodded and looked forward again. He knew that "before" could've included a pretty broad spectrum of things. He assumed it meant her time in the KGB, though. He knew it wasn't something Nat was proud of. She'd spent all her years with S.H.I.E.L.D. trying to make up for what she did as a KGB agent, only to feel like so much of that progress was undone when they found out about Hydra's infiltration of S.H.I.E.L.D. Natasha had been pulled in many different directions in her life. More than most. She was still trying to do good, though; to do the right thing. Thinking about that succeeded only in making Steve feel like an ass all over again for their argument.
"About… yesterday." He spoke up again.
Natasha had hoped this wouldn't come up again, but she'd fully expected it to. They hadn't really been able to finish… whatever the hell it was they'd started when she woke up at Dr. Shadid's place. There was just too much going on, and there had never really been a good moment to circle back to their argument, conversation, whatever it was. Now, Natasha paused on the sidewalk, prompting Steve to do the same. She looked up at him with a thoughtful expression.
"It's fine," she said. "We both made mistakes. Water under the bridge. Besides, I think saving my life kind of makes us square."
Steve knew she said it was okay, but he couldn't let it drop. He owed Natasha an explanation. So, he continued. "With everything that happened with Tony and Bucky and the Accords, people taking sides, the team getting split apart the way it did… I think I just started to doubt things, you know?
"That doesn't excuse me for doubting you, though." He said. His eyes held hers, making sure that she saw the sincerity in his gaze. "You don't have to prove yourself to me or anyone, Natasha. I know where you stand, and I know I can trust you. I just hope you know you can trust me, too."
Natasha pulled her lower lip between her teeth, chewing on it thoughtfully for a moment. She wasn't sure what to say to that. Yes, Steve's doubt had hurt and disappointed her, but did it make her feel like she couldn't trust him? Not a chance. She released her lip and took a deep breath. "I do," she assured him. "Trust you. Honestly…" Her green eyes swiveled to the side for a second before returning to Steve's.
"I trust you more than anyone, Steve."
She spoke those words with quiet sincerity, but there was some hesitation in them, too. Natasha was raised to be autonomous and without attachments. She was told that relationships were weaknesses. They compromised you. You were never supposed to give someone the kind of power that came with trusting them. The second they knew that you did, they would use it against you. They would hurt you and ultimately shatter that trust. It had taken a lot of time and effort, first from Clint, and then others, to show Natasha that those lessons weren't all true. Not all people were like that. Not all people were like her. There was goodness and truth in this world. Steve exemplified that fact like no other.
Knowing what he did about Natasha, Steve knew how important her words were. He felt that importance deep in his chest. There was a sense of relief and a sense of honor at having been trusted like that, by the Black Widow of all people. Natasha had very little reason to trust people. God knows she'd been wronged by them so many times. Yet, she trusted him.
….more than anyone.
That created a strange stirring inside of him. Steve felt he owed it to Natasha, and that trust, to be honest with her. About everything. But here? In the middle of the sidewalk on their way to the grocery store? It didn't seem right. So, Steve just nodded and smiled.
"I won't let you down." He told her.
Natasha smiled in return. "I know you won't."
She stood there for a few more seconds. She wasn't quite sure why. Maybe part of her felt like there was something else that Steve wanted to say. She could've sworn she saw it behind his eyes. So much concentrated thought and attention just begging to come out, but he didn't continue, so Natasha didn't push. She nodded and turned to head toward the store once more.
"Nat?" Steve said as he fell into step beside her.
"Hm?" She glanced over at him once more.
"Your hair looks nice."
Natasha smiled.
They walked the rest of the way to the store in silence, though it was a far lighter one than it had been before. Natasha kept her eyes peeled and her head on a swivel all while maintaining a casual air. She was an expert at taking in her surroundings without being noticeable. Steve had his own means of taking things in. His senses were sharp, and he was pretty good at detecting threats. Thankfully, he detected none. They made it to the store without issue. Given the hour, it wasn't too busy. That was good. It was a relatively small establishment that would be virtually impossible to not be seen by other patrons in. Natasha grabbed a small basket and handed it to Steve. Then, she looped her arm through his.
"What are you doing?" He asked, perking a brow down at her.
"Blending in," she answered simply.
Steve didn't know how much linking arms would make them blend in, but he wasn't complaining. He remembered their time in that mall several years ago. Natasha had adopted the same method of "blending" then, too. Talks of honeymoons. Kissing on the escalator. Steve could still remember the softness of her lips and the way her hips felt beneath his hands.
"Let's make this quick." Natasha's words interrupted his thoughts.
Steve cleared his throat and nodded down at her. "Yes, dear." He said with a grin.
They made quick work of grabbing all of the necessities they would need to get by. Food, toiletries, coffee, and some of the not-so-necessary things like candy and some of the cheapest-looking whiskey Steve had ever seen. When Natasha placed it in the basket, he perked a brow at her.
"I'm going to need something if I have to share a house with you and Sam for three days." Natasha said with a grin.
"Might as well make it two, then." Steve joked.
There was something surprisingly comforting about a task so simple and mundane as getting groceries. Steve and Natasha operated like two cogs in the same wheel. It was smooth, unspoken but effortless. They didn't need words or questions. It was like that on missions, too. Steve often felt like Natasha was an extension of himself in some ways. The way they fought, the way they moved, it was always so… easy. This was easy, too. Almost easy enough to let his guard down and forget why they were really here. Almost.
While they were checking out at the register, the little bell over the door sounded, announcing the arrival of two youths. They were both male, with beanies pulled low over their brows and thick, puffy coats covering their bodies. Natasha could tell by their body language that they were nervous. They were trying too hard to look cool, and as they stood in front of shelves pretending to peruse the wares, their eyes moved all over the rest of the store. They were counting patrons, looking for cameras, all things that Natasha knew because she'd done similar things countless times in her life. She narrowed her gaze and made a thoughtful sound before looking up at Steve.
"Honey," she said smoothly. He looked down at her curiously. "Can you finish unloading? I forgot to get crackers."
Natasha nodded her head in the direction of one of the aisles, and Steve followed with his eyes. He saw one of the boys shifting around nervously. He was making no attempt to stuff groceries in his over-sized coat. He wasn't here for food. He was here for money. Steve sighed and looked back down to Natasha.
"I'll get them." He told her with a smile.
He gave Natasha's arm a little squeeze before moving away from the register. He took an indirect route, around a display of potato chips and up the far end of the aisle. He came to a stop behind the youth.
"You don't wanna do this." Steve said.
The kid jumped, his hand flying beneath his coat. Steve reacted quickly, reaching forward and wrapping his fingers around his wrist. He squeezed just hard enough to force the beanie-wearing youth to unwrap his fingers from the gun that was hidden beneath the waistband of his jeans.
"That guy's probably got a few hundred in his register." Steve said as he used his other hand to grab the kid's gun. "Nowadays, that'll get you, what? One good night? Maybe two?" He pulled the gun from the kid's jeans and held it down at his side. Metal could be heard bending and crunching beneath his grasp as Steve squeezed the gun in his hand, crumpling it like an empty soda can.
"Hardly seems worth the amount of time you'll serve if someone finds out you and your buddy are knocking off grocery stores."
The youth said nothing. He was too busy staring down at the gun that now looked like little more than scrap metal in Steve's hand. Steve tucked the crumpled weapon into the pocket of his sweatshirt.
"Is your friend packing, too?" He asked, his voice calm but stern.
"N-n-no, mate." The kid said, shaking his head quickly.
"Good, because that blonde up there at the register?" He nodded up toward where Natasha was standing. "I'm willing to bet she's a better shot than your buddy."
Steve released his grip on the kid, sending him stumbling a few steps to the side. "Maybe next time you step into this store it should be to apply for a job. Now get lost."
He didn't have to tell the kid twice. He stumbled, wide-eyed down the aisle and quickly found his friend. He grabbed him by the coat sleeve and pulled him out of the store, glancing over his shoulder at Steve every few seconds. Steve took a deep breath and released it in a heavy sigh, shaking his head a bit. After a few moments, he returned to Natasha at the counter.
"No crackers?" Natasha asked sweetly.
"They didn't have the kind you like." He replied.
With that settled, Natasha paid the cashier. She and Steve gathered their bags and headed out of the store. Outside, there was no sign of the kids.
"You always take us to the nicest places." Steve teased her.
"Hey," Natasha contested. "It's not like I knew there were a couple of hoodlums casing the place."
"Y'know… something about the way you say that doesn't have me entirely convinced." Steve said, smiling down at her.
Natasha grinned and shrugged. "I'm just trying to keep the spark alive."
"Oh, there's never a dull moment with you, Romanoff."
Nat chuckled and linked her arm with Steve's once more. He looked down to their entwined limbs and then up at Natasha. She wasn't looking at him, but rather keeping her eyes forward as they walked. Her face looked relaxed; content. Steve wondered if this was part of keeping up appearances and found himself sincerely hoping that it wasn't. If it was, well… he supposed he should make the most of it. He pulled her a little closer.
