DISCLAIMER: ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE.

This chapter takes place at the beginning of the Winter Soldier movie.

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2 years and several missions later, neither of them brought up that night on the Stark balcony.

Steve always searched for her in combat, his eyes would scan her entire body at the end of the fight, wanting to make sure she was okay. He never fussed over her vocally, knowing full well that Natasha would probably just hit him for it. But, only once he had assessed for himself that she was fine, could he focus on anything else. That did sometimes make him question his ability to lead a team, however he made sure to never let anyone see just how worried he got whenever Natasha got herself in a particular dangerous situation.

Which did seem to happen quite a lot. The spy seemed to attract danger, and excelled in it regardless of just how risky it was. Never once had he seen her back down from a challenge, nor did she ever tremble or say that she was scared.

Natasha, on the other hand, was no better when it came to Steve. She found it almost impossible to breathe whenever their comms went dead and she momentarily lost contact with him in a dangerous situation. When his broad figure appeared in the aftermath, relief hit her harder than she could even think possible. It was more than relief, but she never gave herself the chance to really think about that.

Neither of them addressed the crackling tension that always found its way between them whenever they were together. When they were at work, they forced themselves to concentrate, to practically ignore one another. It had proved far more difficult than they could have ever thought possible, but they pushed through.

But, neither of them questioned whenever Steve's hand would find its way to the small of her back whenever he stood close to her, especially when Agent Rumlow had a comment, or when both of them needed steading before the mission started. Natasha would sometimes catch Steve watching her, but he'd always look away quickly, blushing. He got protective of her when she went uncover, and she got funny whenever he caught the attention of women, which was a regular occurrence.

They were a good team though. No one could deny that, and that was exactly why Fury had started to assign them to a lot of the same missions. Over time, Steve hoped that his feelings for Natasha may be pushed into the background, enough so they could continue with their lives without such unspoken awkwardness between them.

Running helped.

He'd done countless laps around Washington, preferring to start right before the sun started to rise. He enjoyed the pretty blue and pink colours that stained the sky above him, and often, it had left him itching to draw again. But, his paint brushes remained untouched back in his practically empty apartment, locked in his small utility cupboard, and he hadn't purchased a canvas in decades.

It was during a morning run when he had first come across Sam Wilson, a charismatic and easy-going war veteran. For the first time in a long while, Steve felt as if he had made a real friend by himself. Natasha, Tony, Bruce, Thor and Clint - some of whom, he doubted actually considered him as any less than a respected teammate - had been introduced into his life because of SHIELD and impending chaos. Meeting Sam and having light-hearted conversations with someone that for once didn't involve plans to protect the world had felt nice. Normal.

Even now, as he stood talking to Sam under the much-appreciated shade of a tree after the routinely morning run seemed to ease the weight off Steve's shoulders.

But, then Natasha had pulled up in a rather flashy car that morning. Even the sleek black vehicle hadn't been able to pull any attention away from the beautiful red-head behind the wheel, as far as Steve was concerned. He wasn't stupid though, he knew that every man who laid their eyes on Natasha became entranced by her. Some would simply stare, others would drool, some would make comments to their friends. The brave few that actually tried to hit on her were soon sent away with their tails between their legs.

Steve had never asked Natasha why she didn't give any of them a chance, but all the pig-headed ones that approached her and tried to chat her up definitely didn't deserve even a chance to get to know her. But, every time one of them tried, Steve experienced a mixture of unfamiliar emotions; a tightness in his chest, anger for Natasha as the men made a disrespectful comment, worry that Natasha might actually play along, and then confusion of why he should care so much.

But, as she'd looked up at Steve with those irresistible emerald eyes that just sparked mischief, he felt his heart beat heavier in his chest. She had smirked at him before teasing, "Hey fellas, any of you know where the Smithsonion is? I'm here to pick up a fossil."

That's how their dynamic had developed over the missions they'd shared together. Steve had no idea where the shift in their friendship had come from, but after months of working almost silently together, he quite enjoyed this playful banter between them. It was definitely flirty from both parts. Natasha would tease him with a batter of her eyelids and her voice ending in a soft purr that drove him insane, and he would shake his head and scoff at her, often having a witty comeback up his sleeve that would make her blush slightly.

He was the only person who could make her blush. It was something that always made him feel warm inside each time he saw those cheeks of hers pinken slightly.

But, as he'd settled into the car beside her, the real reason behind her showing up was made apparent.

Tonight's mission consisted of infiltrating a SHIELD launchship which had been hijacked by twenty-five pirates, who now threatened the lives of the crew and the agents onboard. The mission also involved working alongside Agent Brock Rumlow; a tough, short-tempered man whose own arrogance was enough to make Steve feel uneasy around him. Although Rumlow had never stepped out of line directly towards him, the agent had made no secret that he found Natasha attractive, and his comments irritated both the super-soldier and the fiery spy.

Natasha could defend herself against Rumlow's advances perfectly fine, sometimes in very brutal statements, but that never stopped the feeling of jealousy pool inside Steve. Every time, he tried to ignore it, and every time, it ate away at him.

"Did you do anything fun Saturday night?" Natasha asked him as they prepared themselves to board the launchship. She placed her foot up on the bench, showing off her powerful thigh as she strapped two-haltered knives onto her holster, and Steve forced himself not to stare. He'd already long ago decided that her Black Widow suit should be illegal. It clung to her body and left nothing to the imagination.

Instead, he focused on putting his earpiece into place, fiddling with the tiny wires. "Well, all the guys from my barbour shop quartet are dead so, no, not really." He flashed her a grin, which she returned. His heart gripped a little tighter as he wondered what she did to pass her time on her rare weekends off.

An image of Natasha at a bar somewhere, knocking back drinks with some sleeze-ball of a man trying to hit on her shamelessly entered his mind, and he tried not to let the thought grow. It was none of his business how Natasha spent her time, or whom she decided to spend that time with. Regardless of knowing this, Steve still felt like a knife had been run through him every time the image popped into his head.

The pilot's voice echoed through the small compartment, alerting him that they were almost at the drop zone, but he barely noticed. Whenever he was in a room with Natasha, no matter the amount of space he had around them, the air seemed thinner, and remembering to breathe became his top priority.

Natasha's devilish grin widened slightly as she straightened. "You know, if you ask Kristen out from Statistics, she'd probably say yes."

Taken off guard, Steve paused, his hand inches from his shield. She wanted to suggest women for him to date now? He tried not to let his disappointment show, even though he felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"That's why I don't ask." He had no interest in dating. It would only be a waste of his time, and would probably lead to him hurting someone unintentionally. But, if Natasha was so eager for him to date someone, was that what she had been doing with her Saturday night?

That is not something that concerns you, the voice in his head reminded him sharply, bringing him back to the reality of their situation. Swallowing, he grabbed hold of the shield, feeling the familiar weight of the vibranium in his hand. The ramp in front of him lowered, revealing the dark, stormy clouds outside.

"Too shy or too scared?" Natasha jibed, watching as the muscles of his back flexed under his form-fitting suit as he walked away from her. Not a bad sight at all.

But, when he looked over his shoulder at her, their gazes instantly locked. In that second of time, there was no one else around them, no one else in the world. "Too busy," He stated, before jumping.

As the STRIKE team joined her in the compartment, Natasha made herself look busy.

"Was he wearing a parachute?" One of the men asked in amazement, as the captain disappeared below them, instantly cloaked by the black clouds.

Rumlow chuckled, a deep sound that didn't hold any humour. "No, no he wasn't."

Strapping her own parachute to her body, Natasha waited for the signal from the pilot before she jumped. Without a second thought, she launched herself out of the jet. The cold wind cut into her, but her suit did well to block out the full harshness of it. She had jumped from too many high places to ever be scared of heights, and a mission always channeled her emotions, turning them into the power behind her punches and kicks.

God, did she have a lot of jumbled emotion to use up tonight.

By the time the clouds fanned out and the ship became visible, Steve had already taken care of several pirates by himself, leaving their bodies scattered on the top deck. All the big players would be below in the cabins, with their guns pointed at the hostages.

In the back of her mind, she had Fury's voice directing her through what she was expected to do tonight. She tried not to think about how much Steve would hate her if he caught her, and the USB stick in her back pocket seemed to burn through the material of her suit.

Landing without a single noise, she easily detached herself from her shute to cross the ship at Steve's side, matching his long strides with her own powerful walk. "What about that nurse that lives across the hall from you? She seems nice."

Natasha had been to his apartment twice in the last few months. Once, bringing a Chinese with her as a sort of peace treaty, as the two of them had spent their entire mission that day bickering. The second time had been when Steve had been shot, and after he had been discarded from the medbay at SHIELD, she had popped in to check on him. Neither of them had tried to dwell on why she had been so concerned.

He didn't want to talk about the nurse with her, though. He barely remembered the woman's name, in all honesty, and he felt bad about that, because she was quite nice. Always smiling and wishing him a good day as he darted out of the building for his morning run. But, if he was being completely honest, he could barely remember what she looked like. "Secure the engine room, and then find me a date." He ordered gruffly.

Despite rolling her eyes at his attitude, a small part of her felt relieved that he seemed reserved about seeing someone. He's not yours, she reminded herself, climbing over the nearby railings. "I'm multitasking." She shot back, before dropping down onto the next floor and making her way to the engine room.

The pirates that stood in her way were no problem. She used their own weapons against them, leaving one writhing on the floor from his own tasers. The other one, she didn't even flinch as she shattered the bones in his arm. They were all heavier and broader than her, but she'd been trained as a living weapon for most of her life, and quickly, several broken bodies lay around her, groaning and coughing in agony.

Fighting always brought a calmness to her, for whatever messed up reason that she gave the Red Room all the credit for. The muscles in her body were perfectly formed, making each blow and strike second-natured, as easy as breathing. She was able to block almost every move from her opponent without breaking a sweat, to face any threat without batting an eyelid.

Quick thinking. Targeting weak spots. Not feeling that stab of remorse for her enemies. All these traits came from years of training under the Red Room, of spending every hour of the day on those mats until her body couldn't move a single inch. She'd often laid there, covered in her own blood and sweat, only to be kicked in the side and barked at to get up and start again.

Sloppy. Weak. Madame B's voice always had a way of finding her, no matter how hard she tried to block the cruel woman out. Pathetic, Natalia. Up. Again.

Learning to channel that hatred she felt for those who had ruined her past, who had broken her into the monster that had done such terrible things, had been the best thing that Natasha had ever accomplished. It was what made her so focused, what drove her in every battle even when her body felt battered and drained, because she had to wipe that red off her ledger. Until then, she could never escape her demons.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see one attempting to get up. "Engine room secure," She spoke into her wrist, into the communication line she shared with Steve. In the blink of an eye, she had picked up an iron rod and whacked the pirate over the head. He crumpled pathetically at her feet and she stepped over him.

"Natasha," his voice echoed into her ear as she burst into the engine room. He sounded worried, and she knew it was because she wasn't following the plan he had set up, that she had agreed to. He was worried because he thought she was in danger. She tried not to wince as she ignored him. "Batroc's on the move, circle back to Rumlow and the hostages." Again silence. "Natasha?"

She'd already placed the SHIELD USB stick into the computer and started downloading files when the door burst upon and Steve tackled Batroc to the ground. With one final punch, the captain had knocked their target out, and automatically, his eyes found hers in the suddenly very cold room.

Shit. Her heart sank. "Well, this is awkward." The words came out light-hearted, paired with the grin she flashed his way, but it was all to disguise just how guilty she felt. It was as if someone had yanked her insides out, twisted them cruelly, and shoved them back inside her and expected her to have a smile on her face. She hated that he would now discover what she was doing, what she had been sent to do behind his back. A silly part of her had hoped she would be able to keep this from him, that they'd return to base and he'd be none the wiser. How foolish.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, leaving Batroc lying there on the now shattered door. As he approached the red-haired agent, his eyes scanned her for any sign of injury, any indication of why she had been ignoring his order to return to safety. Blood roared in his ears as his body cooled down from combat, but his aching muscles weren't his concern, as he searched for any indication as to why she'd ignored him on the comms. She seemed fine, and that only made him more tense. What was she up to?

"Backing up the hard-drive," She told him, watching as he came closer. His face was red, and he was panting. Clearly, Batroc had tried his hardest to put up a good fight. If it hadn't been for the dark fire now in his eyes, she would have been relieved to see him, and turned on, as she always was whenever she saw him in action. "It's a good habit to get into."

"Rumlow needed your help," I thought you were in trouble, the words echoed between them, unspoken but lingering. "What the hell are you doing in here?"

He stopped when he reached her side, his eyes finally leaving her face to turn to the computer screens. Even though Captain America wasn't as tech-savvy as the rest of them, it didn't take him long to work out exactly what she was doing. Names and dates flashed before his eyes, all previously protected by the most intensive security codes on the planets. All now, exposed, and loading onto that USB stick beside her.

"Your saving SHIELD intel."

He was disappointed. The hurt in his voice was clear, and she did her best not to flinch. "Whatever I can get my hands on."

"Our mission is to rescue hostages." He snapped.

"No, that's your mission." Play it cool, Romanoff. You're following orders. She grabbed the stick out before he could make an attempt to do so himself. She leaned back, her eyes flickering over his face. No cuts. No bruises. Her breath tickled his cheeks as she whispered, "And you've done it beautifully."

He grabbed her before she could slip past him, pulling her against his hard body in a way that made her knees feel weak. A dirty part of her mind wanted nothing more than to be pinned between him and the desk behind her, to feel every part of him against every inch of her own body. "You just jeopardized this whole operation."

Despite the situation, Natasha allowed herself to feel a sting of annoyance at his bitter tone. How dare he stand there and act as if she would willingly put other peoples lives in danger? She was more than aware that the hostages on that vessel were loaded onto the safe-pods before she'd so much as entered the engine room. She was acting under her Director's orders, who overruled Steve. But, she couldn't tell him that.

So, instead of telling him the truth, she brushed him off. "I think that's overstating things." She said, in the most carefree, amused tone she could manage. Perhaps, if she teased, he would loosen up and stop glaring at her.

Her attempt at lighting the mood proved useless. His blue eyes were burning into hers in a way that had her both wanting to wrap her legs around his waist as well as slap him across the face. God, it must be a crime to be so attractive even when he was furious.

As they glared at each other, Batroc suddenly sprang to his feet, throwing a grenade towards them as he scuttled out of the room. Instantly, Steve swatted it away from them with his shield before grabbing hold of Natasha. As he sprang them both up onto the desk as effortlessly as if she weighed nothing, she shot at the window in front of them. The glass shattered into a thousand tiny pieces as flames erupted behind them.

They both landed with a heavy thud, thrown from each others arms. Natasha gasped as she hit the ground, shards of glass falling around her, scratching at the skin of her face as they passed. Her face contorted with pain as her shoulder caused her to wince, but she pushed herself against the wall.

Beside her, Steve peered over the edge, scanning the flames around them as the room burned. His eyes focused on the orange and red mass surrounding them, as he tried to think clearly. It wasn't the fact there had clearly been a second, underlying mission ordered by Fury which he hadn't been aware of. He was upset because Natasha had been the one to go behind his back.

He slumped down beside her, panting. His face was dirty, and there was now a scratch on his forehead. It wasn't deep, and he wouldn't die of blood loss, but she felt a pang in her chest at the sight of him hurt. Why, why did he have to burst into the room at that moment? Couldn't he have kept his fight outside?

"Okay," She breathed out, hating the silence between them. She felt like she couldn't breathe, and it had nothing to do with the currently burning room. "That ones on me."

Usually, he would chuckle at something like that. He would roll his eyes at her and shoot something back that was equally as sarcastic. They would glare at each other before both of them started laughing. Not tonight, though, that was definite.

"You're damn right." He growled out, rising to his feet and walking away from her, not offering to help her up as he always had done before.

With a defeated sigh, she threw her head back, not caring that it hurt when it collided with the solid wall behind her.

Damn it.

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The very next morning, Steve had stormed into Nick Fury's office, demanding answers. What he had found out had not settled well with them at all. Having the world at gunpoint just to protect it went against everything he had ever fought for, everything he had put his life on the line for. But, there was no convincing Nick Fury that what was happening was wrong, so Steve had given up. He had retreated to the museum where an exhibition of himself, back in the 40s, was on display for all to see. But, it wasn't his old uniform that he sought for. It was the familiar faces of the ones he had loved - Peggy Carter and Bucky - that he found a small amount of comfort from.

However, the sight of the woman he had fallen for all those years ago and his best friend did nothing to soothe the betrayal of what Natasha had done on that ship that night. Yes, she had been following orders. As a soldier, he understood that, to some extent. However, she had lied to him, stabbed him in the back, and then behaved like it was nothing, as if she didn't care that she had hurt him. As if by fluttering her eyelashes at him, she could make him forget what she had done.

Perhaps, what he had thought was between them was only his own imagination. His own wanting to have her in his life, for them to become something more than just a friendship. Perhaps, Natasha Romanoff really didn't care about him, wanted nothing to do with him, and would happily watch him go off with someone else who didn't care about him as a person, just that he was Captain America. Her teasing and flirty comments could just be her way of having fun, of playing with him until she got bored.

That thought hurt him more than he thought it would.

So, he went and visited the one person who he could share his feelings with. Although Peggy Carter had aged and moved on with her life, she was still a part of his, a shoulder for him to cry on, someone to guide him and reassure him that even if he felt like the worst person in the world, that he was saving the lives of so many people.

Even if her dementia broke his heart every time she'd faze out, and then look at him as if seeing him for the first time all over again.

As he sat beside her bed at the nursing home, his eyes scanned the photos that she kept on the small coffee table, under the lamp. She never allowed even the thinnest layer of dust to settle on those frames, the frames that held the photos of her family - her husband, her children - that she cherished so much.

"You should be proud of yourself, Peggy." He said softly. Seeing her smiling face in those photos was enough to make him realise that she had lived the life she was always destined to live. A life that didn't have him in it. It had been a hard pill to swallow at first, but he understood now. For her to do the things she had been destined to do, he couldn't have been beside her.

Peggy followed his gaze, turning her head. A soft smile appeared on her face as she too looked at the black and white photos beside her. "I have lived a life. My only regret is that you didn't get to live yours."

Although her face was wrinkled by the years she had lived, the eyes looking back at him were still the same. Still warm, still protective. Still Peggy.

As always, she was attuned to when he was feeling off, when he was lost in his own head. "What is it?" She asked gently.

So he told her, about the mission, about finding Natasha downloading those files, about how hurt he had been by her betraying his trust. He told her about what Nick Fury had shown him, and about how ever since, he had a sickening feeling in his stomach that something was horribly wrong. "For as long as I can remember, I've tried to do what was right. Guess I'm not quite sure what that is anymore. I thought I could throw myself back in, follow orders, serve. It's just not the same." He gave her a small smile, but it was not one that met his eyes.

But, she laughed softly at him. "You're always so dramatic." She commented affectionately, and the next time he smiled, he truly meant it. Peggy always had a way of lifting his spirits, even when he didn't want to. "You saved the world. We rather...mucked it up."

"You didn't. Knowing that you helped found SHIELD was half the reason I stayed." The other half, was a stubborn, hot-headed assassin who had stabbed him in the back without so much as flinching.

Sensing his approaching sadness, Peggy reached for his hand, taking it in her rather cold, aged grip. Still, when she squeezed it, he felt nothing but comfort from the action, keeping him tethered to the faint sense that everything would make sense soon enough. "The world has changed." She reminded him. "None of us can go back."

Would he go back? If he had the opportunity, would he give up everything to go back to how things were? When he had Peggy and Bucky at his side? A few years ago, when he had first awoken from the ice, he would have given anything to just go back. Now, he didn't know. A flash of defiant emerald entered his mind, and he swiftly pushed that thought away.

"All we can do is our best," Peggy went on. "And sometimes the best that we can do, is to start over."

Without her needing to, Peggy had stirred the conversation away from SHIELD, and to Steve's personal life. She hadn't missed the way he spoke of Natasha, his friend. Peggy wasn't silly, she could tell there was something underlying going on, something that she and Steve had not shared in their brief time together, all those decades ago.

"Peggy, I-"

"Sometimes, the thing our heart desires the most, isn't the easiest option." She told him firmly. "If it was easy, everyone would have it. You have to fight for it, Steve. If it's special to you, hold onto it. You've already lost so many people you care for. Don't let her slip away."

He froze, stunned, but then he realised he should never have expected Peggy to not bring up Natasha. Yet again, perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised. Peggy had always been smart, sharp-witted and brazen. "What if she simply doesn't care, Peggy?" Even the words hurt him to say.

She sighed sympathetically. "You still haven't learnt a damn thing about women, have you?"

But, before he could think of a way to respond, Peggy started to cough. He reached for her glass of water, offering it to her, but her coughing subsided and she blinked. When she looked at him again, it was with such surprised wonder that it broke his heart, because he knew what it meant.

"Steve?" She whispered, her eyes wide and searching, taking in each detail of his face. "Y-you're alive! You came back..."

He smiled softly at her. "Yeah, Peggy."

Tears welled up in her dark eyes. "It's been so long. So long."

"Well, I couldn't leave my best girl." He said gently. But, the Peggy Carter he had known all those years ago was not the woman lying in front of him now. This woman had experienced a whole life without him, and he could no longer wish for a life with her. Peggy had found her destiny. She'd found hers, and now, it was time for him to find his.

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Okay, someone please tell me that I wasn't the only one who kept feeling the sexual tension between Steve and Natasha throughout this whole movie?

I've had this story written out on a document for ages, therefore I'm probably going to be posting these chapters out quite quickly, once I've read through them and checked things. Once again, I'm sorry if there's any spelling mistakes or things that need correcting. I'm trying my best to be thorough, but sometimes, I loose myself a little in this Romanogers world.

- E x