Three very long days later, they were back in London. That first night, they took the Isar River north to Freising, Bavaria. From there, it'd been off to Frankfurt, then Belgium; then London. Sam opted to stay in Brussels with an old friend from his military days. He trusted the guy, so Steve and Natasha had to trust his judgement on that. By that time, they didn't have a whole lot of gas in the tank to argue even if they wanted to. It had been a tiresome and grueling process to make their way from point to point undetected, and all they wanted to do was get to a place they could recoup safely. Garrett and his people had given them far more of a run for their money than anyone really anticipated.

That left Steve and Natasha to make the last leg of their trip. They returned to the safehouse under the cover of night. It had been left undetected and undisturbed in their absence. It was safe, and yet it felt oddly cold and hollow without the presence of Wanda and Sam. While he knew it was in Wanda's best interest to stay with Vision, Steve still wished that she would've been able to stay with the team. Not that they were really much of a team at the moment, especially with Sam gone for a few days. Steve would be lying if he said it didn't sting a little bit that Sam chose to stay in Brussels, but he understood. They'd been through a lot, and Sam needed to decompress. They all did.

How much decompressing would actually be done was a bit of a mystery, though. Natasha was still worried, wound tight over the fear for Wanda's safety and the fact that Garrett was still out there. He'd suffered a major loss, but he couldn't be ruled down and out until he was successfully apprehended. There was no telling what his next step would be after this. Would he try to make another attempt at Wanda? Would he set his sights on Steve or Natasha? Or would he scrap all of that and focus on the scientists who had worked on Project Deathlok? It was impossible to say, but none of the outcomes would be good ones.

After doing a thorough scope of the place to make sure it was, indeed, unbothered Steve went into the bedroom, where he took great comfort in finally being able to peel out of the heavy tactical gear he'd been wearing for days. It felt like a huge weight lifted off his shoulders as he took the gear off and let it rest on the foot of his bed. He peeled out of the t-shirt he wore beneath it and just let it fall to the floor. There was a small mirror in the room that he stood in front of for a moment, observing himself. His hair had gotten a bit longer, and his beard was continuing to fill out. He looked rugged; weathered. He looked… old. And for the first time, he was starting to feel it.

There was a gentle knock at the door. Steve turned his head to see Natasha slowly peeking inside. "Yeah?" He said.

She opened the door fully and stepped inside. Her eyes took in the sight of him. The lean, toned muscle of his torso was marred by some bruising on his ribs, and the bullet graze on his shoulder was still evident. The latter was the reason Natasha had knocked in the first place. They'd had a long several days, and she wanted to make sure that he was okay. Natasha often forgot that Steve was a super soldier who could handle more than she ever possibly could. To her, he was just a man. A man she cared about and was concerned over the well-being of.

"I… wanted to check on your shoulder," she said, sounding more unsure of herself than she perhaps ever did.

Steve glanced down at the graze. His stitches had torn when he was thrown around the docks in Munich, but Natasha had gotten the wound closed back up again in Frankfurt. Since then, it stayed that way. After a moment of inspection, Steve allowed his gaze to slide back up to meet Natasha's. She had approached him to take a look at his shoulder, but now she was looking up. Her green eyes appeared darker than usual in the dim lighting. Steve offered her a small smile.

"I should survive," he told her. "Looks like you'll have to put up with me a little while longer."

"Great," Natasha grinned, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I was beginning to think I'm scaring everybody off."

Steve frowned, his brows pinching together a bit. "Sam will be back," he said. "And Wanda… well, I think staying with Vision will be good. It's not permanent, Nat."

She held his gaze, so much thought hidden behind her eyes that she did not let out. Her face remained relatively neutral, but when she spoke a simple "I know", it didn't sound too convincing. After a moment, she turned to take her leave.

"Hey…" Steve reached out to gently capture her hand. "What is it?"

Natasha slowly turned to face him once more, but she didn't say anything.

"Nat…" he said, some sadness in his voice. "Talk to me."

It was virtually impossible to turn away from that. Even though the right thing to do seemed like just walking away and keeping her problems to herself, Natasha couldn't bring herself to do it. She knew it was unwise to dump her thoughts and feelings on others. That's what she was taught, anyway, but this was Steve. He was, perhaps, closer to her than anyone else, and she trusted him. She could see that he wanted to help. She didn't know if he could, but she knew thought she should at least give him the opportunity to try. And who knew, at the very least, she might actually feel a little better talking about things. She looked down for a moment, as if weighing her options. There was a moment when it seemed like she might change her mind, but when she looked up at him again, she knew that she couldn't. She didn't want to.

"I was alone for… such a long time," she said quietly, as if she was afraid her voice would shatter the fragile fabric of the moment around them. "And then, being a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers Initiative, I found myself surrounded by all of these… incredible people."

A small smile formed on her face, but it slowly shifted to become something a bit sad. "Now… I feel like I'm losing them all, one-by-one. I'm… kind of starting to remember why I never let myself get close to anyone in the first place."

That statement struck a strange chord of fear into Steve's heart. In that instant, he worried that all of the progress Natasha had made over the years, all of the relationships she had built, all of it was coming undone. He imagined her becoming distant and mysterious again, and undoing everything that had helped her grow into such an amazing woman. Frowning, he placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him fully so he could really look at her.

"Nat… you can't think like that."

"It's not necessarily a bad thing," she was quick to continue. She was feigning aloofness; already trying to put that mask back on only seconds after dropping it down and allowing herself to be real and vulnerable. "I'm not exactly beneficial to the lives of others."

"Natasha," Steve said, a bit more sternly this time, "you're wrong. About…" he furrowed his brow for a second, "...well, all of that."

She pursed her lips and perked a questioning brow at him. It wasn't often someone told Natasha she was wrong.

"People are stronger just for knowing you," Steve continued. "And you're stronger for knowing them. You've done a lot of good. Helped a lot of people. You can't think that doesn't mean anything."

"I've hurt a lot of people, too." She countered. "Used people. And that's still coming back to hurt me and those I care about."

"Is that what you're doing now?" Steve asked.

"What?" Natasha scanned his blue eyes, trying to find clarification in his gaze. What she found was a hint of something that made her feel suddenly warm and unsure.

"Are you using us?" Steve asked. "Are you using me?"

"No." She replied immediately, offended that he would even ask. "Of course not. But I-"

"You have to stop blaming yourself for the past," he said. "You made mistakes. We all have. But some of those things weren't your fault. Some of them were out of your control."

Natasha didn't say anything, but Steve could see the way the muscle in her jaw twitched. He could see the look in her eyes, that glimpse of panic seconds before a deer ran away, or before a lioness attacked. He'd struck a chord, and rather than walk away from it, he decided to poke it a little more. It was stupid and incredibly dangerous, but he couldn't let it go. He was peeling back layers, breaking through walls and getting a glimpse inside. It felt so rare; once he had a taste of it, he found he wanted more. Even more than that, he wanted Natasha to see, too. He wanted her to know just exactly how he felt. It was long overdue.

"Nat, you are a good person. You're…" His eyebrows slanted a bit, and Natasha thought that his face looked a little sad. "You're worth so much more than you think."

The look in his eyes delivered an unexpected lance to Natasha's heart. It pierced her chest, and goddamn did it hurt. Her lashes fluttered a few times as she fought to maintain perfect composure, perfect control over her every move and mannerism. To not let Steve or anyone else see the real feelings that were hidden underneath. For so long, it'd been as easy as breathing, but lately… Lately it felt so cold. Separating herself from him did nothing but create an undeniable absence that she felt in her very core. She felt alone, and she didn't want to feel alone anymore. She'd had more than her fair share of that already. Yet, even as she thought that, her survival instinct and her stubborn pride had her shrugging one shoulder and huffing a breath of air out her nose.

"Yeah, well… that might not be saying much," she said. Never let them know how they affect you. Her instructors used to tell her.

Steve pressed his lips together in a firm line. He seemed a bit frustrated. The point he was trying to get across just wasn't resonating. There was so much more that he could say about Natasha and all of the wonderful things he thought about her. Part of him felt a bit nervous about it, though. He didn't quite understand where all the hesitation came from. Steve and Natasha had talked about a lot of things. They communicated, they confided; they trusted each other. They'd worked so well on every other level. Partners, friends… why not more? What was he waiting for? What was he afraid of?

"Natasha," he said carefully. "I know you."

"You don't." She said, and the pain in her voice nearly broke him.

"I do." He even more carefully placed his hands on her arms, fingers gently wrapping around to grip her triceps. "You are good, and I…"

He paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. Why was he so nervous? The way she was looking up at him, with so much expectancy yet so much fear in her eyes made him feel like he was being pulled out to sea. He was caught in an overwhelming current that just had him drifting farther and farther away from solid ground. Coherent thought was leaving him, and he became all too aware of the threat of being ruled by the feeling in his chest, instead. It was like a bubble welling up inside of him. It wanted to take control and reign supreme over any logical thought processes he might have had up until this point.

"You mean the world to me, and I…" his eyes fell to her lips. "I would, uhm..."

Before he knew it, Steve was kissing her. His lips were on hers, and his hand had found its way to the back of her neck while his other arm snaked around her waist. The kiss was strong and warm and passionate, shattering the world around them and blowing it away in countless, tiny pieces. In an instant, Natasha remembered that tiny bit of fire that had ignited between them on the escalator in that mall all those years ago. This was more than that, though. This was so much more. It enveloped her completely and made her feel weak in the knees, and there was nothing else in the world she would've rather been doing than standing there and kissing him back with every ounce of the intensity that burned in her soul. How long had she wanted this? His bare flesh was warm and inviting. His lips were remarkably soft, especially against the growth on his chin. She felt like she would drown in him, and yet she felt like she was breathing, truly breathing, for the very first time.

Eventually, though, she did need to breathe. She pulled away, her heart hammering wildly in her chest, and looked up at him. There was fire in his eyes; an intensity that seemed new yet vaguely familiar all at once. Steve seemed a bit breathless, staring down at her and taking in a deep, shaky breath that she could feel reverberate in his chest. His hand pulled up to the side of her neck so his thumb could stroke her jawline. His rough skin felt warm and right against her smooth flesh. There was a moment of tense silence… and then he smiled at her.

Steve hadn't felt this way in… well, since he woke up from the ice. It was nothing like that… disaster with Sharon. That had been all pressure and feeling compelled to do something at the behest of others, and it had just felt so… wrong. Steve honestly didn't know why he'd done it. He hadn't really been expecting anything, which is exactly what he got. Well, he supposed that wasn't entirely true. He'd gotten a great deal of awkwardness and more than his fair share of disappointment in himself. Luckily, there was none of that here. This felt good. It felt right. He just hoped he wasn't the only one feeling that way. He realized that he maybe should have waited for a response or at least asked if this was okay before diving in head first and doing it. God, was he always this clueless?

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I should have-"

Natasha rolled up onto her toes and allowed their lips to meet once more. Her hands rested against Steve's firm chest, where she could feel the strong beat of his heart beneath her palm. He was like a tall, sturdy tree, where she was like the wind. Shifting, changing course, strength and temperature; unpredictable, but he could withstand it all the same. Because he was constant. Steve was one of the few, if not the only constant thing in her life. He was someone who felt like he'd been there forever, and someone who would continue to be there. She could count on him. She could trust him, and that felt better than she could've possibly imagined.

There were a lot of places this could go. Steve standing there shirtless in the middle of the bedroom; Natasha looking ethereal in the silvery moonlight that filtered in through the windows. It was a recipe for temptation. But Steve Rogers was a gentleman. So, after a few more slow, sweet minutes Steve finally willed himself to pull his lips away from Natasha's. He could feel the lingering sensation they left in their absence, and he wanted to replace that feeling immediately, but he knew he shouldn't. That, of course, brought the inevitable moment of "what now?". He looked down at her, hands gently gripping her waist, and saw the little glimmer of fire in her green eyes. It was life and passion and mischief all rolled into one.

"Well," she said, her voice quiet and smooth, "I suppose I'll… leave you to it, then."

If Natasha was anything, it was perceptive. She knew the type of man that Steve was, and she could see him teetering in this moment, uncertain of what to do next. This was foreign territory for him. It was for Natasha as well, but she wasn't quite as out of practice as he was. Regardless, she was cautious. She knew better than to give too much of herself to something too soon. There was still a lot to be figured out, a lot to be discussed, but for the time being, she was happy to walk away with the taste of Steve's kiss on her lips and the lingering warmth that still bubbled inside of her chest. She took a couple steps backwards, allowing his hands to fall away from her hips and hers to slide gently from his chest.

"Right," Steve said as he watched her. She moved with the ease and grace of a cat, backpedaling slowly through the dim room and towards the door. She had a little half smirk on her face, and that was the last thing he saw before she turned and slid out of the room.

Steve released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. His chest deflated, shoulders sinking slightly, and he pushed one hand through his hair. That had been more nerve-wracking than jumping out of an airplane. But what was that saying? "Maximum effort, maximum reward"? Steve smiled to himself and resumed changing.

Natasha took refuge in the bathroom, where a long hot shower helped to unwind some of the nerves and adrenaline that had skyrocketed the second Steve kissed her. She had to admit, she was surprised. How many times had she pushed him towards a woman, just to watch him stumble like a deer in the headlights? She'd thought it due to inexperience, but maybe it was because of this. Natasha knew it was naive to think something like that. She would've never imagined that someone as good and true as Steve Rogers could harbor feelings for someone like her. She'd been so convinced that it could never happen that she fully expected it not to. Then, things had started to change. They'd grown closer, gotten to know, understand and respect each other more and more. And now…

Now, what? She wondered. It wasn't like they could ride off into the sunset together and forget everything that happened these last few weeks. There was still a job to do, and they were intent on doing it, but what about after it was done? Natasha had never imagined anything for herself besides the next job; the next mission. She didn't know what kind of life she could hope to achieve. All she knew was that she couldn't imagine it without Steve. Everyone may have left, but he was still there. They were still together. Maybe… maybe it would stay that way.

Shit… Natasha thought.

She'd fallen for Steve Rogers.

The water was starting to turn from hot to warm, so she decided it would be best to get out of the shower. She dried off, dressed, and towel-dried her short blonde locks. In the quiet house, it was easy to make out the sound of the television playing in the living room. It wasn't nearly as loud as when Sam watched it, but Natasha could clearly hear the robust voice of a news anchor as he delivered the nightly news. Curious, Natasha quietly walked out to the living room, where Steve was sitting in a clean change of clothes on the couch. She leaned against the doorway for a moment, arms folded across her chest.

"The eleven o' clock news?" She said with the perk of a brow. "Really?"

Steve glanced over his shoulder at her, shaking his head at the coy expression on her face. "It's not a bad thing to know what's going on, you know." He said as he turned his attention back to the TV. "We were pretty disconnected for a couple days."

"Yeah, well..." Natasha said, stepping away from the doorway. "We've had our fair share of current events keeping us busy." She walked over to the couch and took a seat next to him. "Anything interesting?"

He looked at her. The truth was, there was nothing more interesting than what had transpired twenty minutes ago, but he'd needed a distraction. "Not yet," he said.

Natasha lifted Steve's arm and slid into place beneath it, tucking herself in against his side. She lowered it, wrapping it over her shoulders like a warm, heavy shawl. She leaned her head against him, legs curled up beneath her, and settled in. It was all done without a word. Steve watched her, a small smile tugging at his lips. Natasha's eyes were on the TV, her face relaxed but perceptive. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head before turning his attention back to the news.

They sat in the dark living room, watching English news on a television that was five sizes too small. It was perhaps the most mundane thing Steve had done in a very long time, but it was perfect. It gave Steve a glimmer of hope that all the running, all the fighting, that wasn't all there was. That wasn't all he should expect out of life. There could be more. Even for spies and super soldiers, there could be more.