DISCLAIMER: ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE.
The rating of this story has CHANGED from T to M now, due to sexual content. Please bare this warning in mind if you decide to continue reading.
~0~0~0~0~0~
Years ago, Natasha had learnt that telling Steve that she didn't want anything for her birthday was practically like talking to a deaf man. Steve didn't listen. Not one single birthday of hers since they had been together had gone amiss. She would wake up to the most wonderful breakfast in bed, always with Steve giving a comment that he needed her to have all her strength for the actual way he intended on spending the day; a way that always had her toes curling, even hours after.
His presents were always thoughtful enough, considering that Natasha was more than aware that she was the most difficult person to buy for. She wasn't a material person. Yes, she enjoyed nice clothes and certain bits of jewellery, but she'd never fanned over it like some women. It wouldn't have mattered to her if the neatly wrapped present waiting for her had been a coffee mug. In all honesty, her love for coffee overrun her appreciation of nice clothes.
But, Steve always tried, and always ensured that the presents were wrapped in such an intricate way that Natasha always felt slightly bad whenever she opened them.
This year, however, as she had sat in their bed with her husband - looking rather on edge as he waited to see her response to her present - she had cried.
Not tears of horror, or sadness, or overwhelming grief. Tears of happiness.
Steve had been slightly started, his eyes widening as Natasha started to sob beside him, but she'd leaned over and kissed him so passionately that his body had instantly settled. She'd thanked him, over and over again, clutching the pale pink ballerina shoes to her chest.
Later that afternoon, whilst Steve was sat on the leather couch flicking through one of his books, Natasha had walked in gym leggings and a matching sports bra, wearing the shoes, a nervous smile on her lips. Years ago, Steve had expressed an interest in seeing her dance, but he hadn't suggested it tonight, and it hadn't really crossed his mind upon buying the shoes. He'd bought them because he'd hoped to bring her that little bit of courage, to face her past and to find her love for dancing again.
That, partially, was why she had decided after staring at the shoes long enough, to put them on tonight. Because Steve gave her the courage to do so, and because her heart felt as if the shoes were speaking to it. Beckoning.
"I'm not going to be any good." She excused herself instantly, as her husband closed the book and watched her with his full attention, eyes darting from her blushing face to those pointy shoes. The warm smile on his face did wonders against her nerves, smoothening them out and keeping her steady.
Confidence, her instructor had once told her, was the key to dancing. Anyone could learn to dance. Confidence is what shines through the most. What makes the dance worth watching. Worth remembering.
Putting them on had felt like putting on a second skin. The delicate ribbons were familiar to her, even after all these years, as she wrapped them up her lower legs in a pretty pattern. The shoes themselves were as comfortable as if she had worn them all her life. Again, tears had filled her eyes as she'd looked down and seen those shoes covering her feet. Her shoes. It had been decades since she had last worn them, had last loved dancing.
Steve smiled an encouraging smile that lit his blue eyes. "Well, we both know that I am in no position to judge someone on their dancing skills." That earned him a chuckle from her, as several memories came to mind. This man made her feel better without even trying, without even realising just how much she needed him. The calm to her storm.
Still feeling slightly nervous, Natasha had stated that she needed a little time to get used to the shoes, to stretch her muscles so they were ready to work in ways that they hadn't for so long. Yes, she had kept up with her training, rigorously, over the past few years. But dancing required different muscles, ones that weren't as strengthened, as well practised as the rest of her body.
For a little while, she practised moving with the shoes, of getting her feet to work with the shoes. It was a little foreign to her, like a language she had once known by heart but now struggled with certain aspects. But, as she moved and stretched, her heart raced with excitement, and her muscles remembered the movements, remembered the technique. More than anything, it was her love for the dance that drove her body, that allowed her to remember and to cherish the feeling.
So, when she had put on a little show for her husband with the most beautiful music playing in the background, Natasha had smiled widely through it. Steve watched her with a matching smile, his blue eyes glowing with admiration and love as he sat there and watched her. Although Natasha did nothing that she herself deemed particularly special - her dance lessons hadn't been for a long enough duration of time to move into anything advanced - Steve watched with such attentive, like he didn't want to miss a single second. So, she kept going, until her feet ached slightly and her muscles craved a break.
When she was done, Steve stood up and approached her, his arms wrapping around her waist as he nuzzled her neck. "You are the most perfect woman in the whole world, Natasha." He whispered. "That was beautiful, sweetheart."
He leaned back, and she reached onto her tiptoes to meet his kiss half way. "Thank you," She whispered against his mouth. "Thank you, for this." Not just the gift of the shoes, but the gift of remembering just how much she had loved to dance. It had been so long, and yet now, she had felt as if it had only been yesterday since she had last moved across a dance floor. The shoes did not hold any horrible memories, not like she feared for so long that they would do. Instead, they called to her heart, and felt like an extension on her body, as familiar as her batons or any weapons had become.
"Dance with me?" She asked him, smiling at the lightness in his eyes, in the happiness that he found through her own. God, she loved him so much that it ached.
He chuckled. "I'd be honoured, my ballerina."
And so, for the rest of her birthday, Natasha was twirled and spun in her husbands arms, and both their laughter echoed through the facility. For the first time, the facility no longer felt empty, or cold, instead it felt quite the opposite. As night fell and a starry sky stretched above them, Natasha giggled as she dragged Steve outside and they danced on the grass, with the music from inside around them and the crisp night air stirring Natasha's hair. Even when her feet started to hurt and she gently placed the shoes down in the grass, Natasha continued to dance with bare-feet. Her body, her mind and heart heart kept demanding more. More. More.
When Steve leaned down and captured her lips with his, warmth spread throughout her entire body, and Natasha allowed herself to forget about incoming meetings, on endless blank reports and day after day of waiting for something that never seemed to be coming.
As her fingers threaded through his hair and crushed his lips firmer against hers, Natasha's full attention was on the wonderful man that she was blessed to call her husband.
~0~0~0~0~0~
Stretching her arms over her head and feeling her coiled muscles finally loosen, Natasha prepared herself for the meeting waiting for her. She felt groggy, so perhaps this meeting would be cut short before her temper and impatience got the better of her. Of course, she was the only one to blame for her super early morning.
Although she had woken up two hours before her alarm would sound and could have quite easily just rolled over and gone back to sleep, Natasha had taken one look at the man lying beside her before her mind was made up. She'd already sworn to herself that she would never take him for granted. Steve Rogers was the definition of perfect; from his beautiful soul, to the handsome features of his face, to his body that had been sculptured by angels. This perfect man was her husband, and Natasha smirked as an idea popped into her head, one that once it had settled, wouldn't budge.
So, she had woken Steve up with her mouth, in a way that had him reduced to a writhing, moaning mass of muscle, her name coming out as gasps of desire from his mouth as she worked him slowly, enjoying every single moment.
Even now, even though it had been an entire hour since her husband had had to leave to make it to the city in time - having been asked to give a speech at an event run by local support groups -, Natasha could still feel the grip of his hand in her hair, and when she closed her eyes, she could hear his moans surrounding her. It really had been an effort to let go of him this morning, to not selfishly demand that he stayed with her all day. They would both be more protective separated right now, as their sexual drive seemed record-breaking.
Still, that heated look in his blue eyes had been enough to almost have her grabbing hold of his arm and throwing him back inside the facility. He'd be back with her soon enough, and that was what she had told herself as she had reluctantly gotten dressed to make herself somewhat presentable for this meeting. Someone, no doubtably Rocket, wouldn't hold back a comment if she looked like a slob.
Meetings were usually between herself, Rocket, Nebula, Rhodey and Okoye, all giving almost repeated reports every single week. Carol's participation in such meetings had grown few and far between, as her work called her away to so many other planets that Natasha had long since given up trying to remember their names. Bruce Banner never joined the calls. He seemed to prefer to contacted Natasha and Steve over the phone, and even then, the conversations were always brief. Just check ins. Nothing else.
They were approaching the five year mark from the Snap, and although they kept having these meetings, it was clear that everyone was growing tired. Tired of the constant same-old notes, same-old reports, with not a single sign of change. But, they didn't give in. Natasha couldn't give in, because in doing so, she would have to admit that everyone was truly gone, that she would never see any of them again - never see the Barton's again. Every time she thought about them, her heart broke just that little bit more, as if someone was chipping away at it piece by piece.
Today's meeting didn't do anything to ease that sadness from her. First to come into contact was Rocket and Nebula, who hadn't once returned to Earth since the Benetar had taken off all those years ago. Earth was not their home, so Natasha could understand that, and she would probably never admit to missing Rocket's strange sense of humour, that sharp sarcasm that was never appreciated, but was always needed to give everyone a kick up the ass.
Their report was the same as usual; nothing. Literal empty space. Half of their team had been taken in the Snap, and it was clear the two remaining Guardians carried that grief silently.
They left right before Rhodey called in, but Natasha knew better than to hope for anything different than his usual briefings. Right before he was about to leave, Natasha asked him for a favour. Rhodey dipped his head in acceptance.
"I need your help in tracking Clint Barton." Natasha said, the name piercing at her as it left her mouth. She hadn't heard his name out loud in so long, and speaking it herself was like swallowing glass. She pushed through that pain. "I need to know that I'm not being...paranoid, about what he's up to." Endless news reports of wide-scale assassinations. To most people who watched the news, it was the work of a mindless killer. To someone like Natasha, it was a pattern, one that she knew far too well. But, while Clint had told her to not come looking for her, he had never said anything about her having help.
Rhodey carefully regarded her, as if he understood that Natasha was perhaps one blow away from collasping again from distress and pain. Seeing his hesitation, Natasha raised her chin. Never again, she'd promised herself - and Steve - would she let what happened strip away at her as it had done at first. She had known she had pushed herself too far, worked too hard and not listened to what her body needed - vital things like rest and food and time to process what had really happened. Never again would she let herself get in such a weak state; both physically and mentally.
So, she met Rhodey's gaze with a look of hardened steel. Cold. Determined. Unbreakable.
"I will." He said, after too many moments of silence had passed in the empty room. "But, will you be ready for the answer, Natasha?"
Her hands, hidden out of sight under the desk, clenched tightly as she replied, "Yes." A half-lie. She was ready for confirmation of what she had already pieced together. What she wasn't ready for, perhaps, was how much that conformation was going to destroy her to hear. When she found out, she just hoped that Steve would be at her side, when the time came to face that destruction.
Rhodey's image disappeared, and Natasha was left in that empty office with only one thought in her mind.
What's happened to you, Clint?
~0~0~0~0~0~
The seminar had been long, but Steve had remained right until the end. Just under six months ago, Natasha had convinced him to finally go as himself, as both Steve Rogers and Captain America, and at first, he'd been terrified. Terrified of the judgement, of the blame, of the accusations. Perhaps, that had made him a coward. But, as his wife reassured him that what people needed most right now was a leader, someone who could show them that no matter what happened, they had to keep taking steps forward.
"You pulled me out of that dark place, Steve." She had told him gently, as he had voiced such fears to her. Fears of facing all those people and not having the answer that they needed most; that he could fix what had happened. He had tried, and failed. Twice. But, Natasha had looked up at him with those emerald eyes of his, and they had burned with such confidence in him that it had given him that bit of much needed courage. "You saved my soul more times than I can count. Everyone needs that."
So, now when he addressed people in either seminars or smaller support groups, he didn't hide who he was. Paparazzi didn't chase him down the streets as they once could have done if he hadn't hidden his identity. The world was past that, as if in an eternal mourning.
He was thankful to return to the facility, to come back to Natasha, after such a long, draining day.
The shower water was running, and he bit back the temptation to join her. It was a very hard task, but he managed it, heading for the office desk instead. Countless papers of scribbled notes and timelines met his eyes, but he sank down onto the leather chair and let out a long sigh.
Seconds later, the shower stopped, and Steve could hear Natasha's feet against the tiled floor. He waited, eyes on the doorway just as his wife appeared, a towel wrapped around her. Well, perhaps a towel was a generous term; the material covered her mid-section, ending at the top of her thighs, and covered her breasts modestly enough whilst keeping the swells of them evident to his hungry eyes.
He forgot instantly about his tired mood the second his eyes took in the sight of her, with her hair loose and rolling over her shoulders, and that devilish smile on her face. God, she was so beautiful that it hurt.
"Should I be offended that you didn't come and join me?" She asked, in a tone of voice that showed that she was just teasing, that she hadn't really taken offence at his decision. Thankfully.
Steve grinned, knowing that in doing so, his dimple came out to play. Instantly, Natasha's eyes tracked the movement. "We have a whole night." He reminded her, and couldn't help but add, "As tempting as you always are when you shower, I only want to do dirty things with you."
Her teeth snagged against her bottom lip as she hovered in the doorway. Steve was seconds away from tearing across the office and claiming her mouth, when she finally stalked towards him. Soon enough, she was sat in his lap, straddling him whilst that damn towel remained firmly around her. The smell of her soap and shampoo hit him, and he took in her wet hair as it clung to her skin, the contrast of her skin against that charcoal grey towel, the gleam in those emerald eyes. A thousand memories sprang to his head at the sight of her.
Coyly, she leaned forward and grazed her teeth down his throat as her hands wrapped around him for support. "Are you tired?"
His hand stroked over her bare thigh, feeling the hardened muscle of a trained warrior, muscles that she had trained every day to maintain. "Not anymore." Not with her scent surrounding him, not with her against him, with him.
"Do you want me to cook you something?" 'Something' usually meant a cheese toastie, or a quick and easy meal. Even after all these years, Natasha hadn't expressed much interest in cooking, but had asked Steve to show her a few basic things and often offered to cook for them both whenever he'd had a long weekend travelling to and from Brooklyn.
At the offer, he smiled, squeezing her closer to him. "How about, we make something together?" He suggested, not only to save himself from Natasha's experimentation, but just so they could do something together. Something normal.
Her eyes sparkled at the idea, and he could tell that she needed that normalacy just as much as he did. As if it was oxygen to them. It kept them both grounded over the years. "I'll go get changed."
As she moved to get off him lap, he tightened his hold around her waist and nibbled her earlobe, "I quite like you in a towel."
Laughing, she swatted his chest. "Sex-pest," She accused, but when she wiggled out of his hold this time, he let her go. She moved across the room with that natural grace of hers, and he was completely bewitched with her. When she looked over her shoulder and winked, he let her hear his growl. Even when she headed out of sight, he was smiling as he leaned back against the chair, with the sound of her joyous laugh ringing through his mind.
~0~0~0~0~0~
Another day, another meeting.
Natasha tried to relax as she settled in her chair, pressing the appropriate buttons that would start the council meeting. Her nails tapped against the desk as she tried to calm herself, to prepare for the incoming disappoint of more blank reports, of no sightings or word from Banner or Thor, of no space activity that had spiked up any interest or concern. Nothing, it was always nothing.
Steve had been away since Thursday, meaning it had been four days of her wondering around the facility by herself. Steve, to his credit, had offered to stay behind, as this seminar was longer than usual, and she knew he always felt guilty about leaving her alone. She'd brushed him off, even though her heart had felt heavy from the second she had said goodbye to him. But, other people needed him, needed his guidance and soothing tone, so she'd let him go with the promise that once he came back, she wasn't going to let him go any time soon.
As she waited, she opened her phone and re-read the texts she had exchanged with her husband only half an hour ago. He'd called at lunch, when he'd had an hour break, and she knew that he was checking that she hadn't driven herself crazy.
I miss you, he'd written in his final message.
Four days. Four days without him, and she'd been missing him since the second his motor bike had disappeared out of sight. The young spy she had been all those years ago probably would have rolled her eyes at that, at that dependance on someone else. Now, it just made her realise how much she loved him, how much she needed him. It wasn't a weakness. Their love for one another was their biggest strength. She knew that, and she would never take that for granted.
So, after resisting the urge to send him a photo of her wearing one of his shirts - and only a shirt -, she had responded with, Get that fine ass home soon solider, and I'll show you how much I've missed you.
Rays of light flashed before her, and soon enough, flickering blue figures joined her in the room. She tried not to flinch when she saw the look of concern that Okoye sent her way. Instead, she met the gaze of the Wakandan general with a raised chin and willed her shoulders to soften.
Gently, Natasha placed her phone down and took a deep breath, ignoring the sandwich that she'd prepared earlier and still had yet to eat. She didn't feel like eating right now.
Even as the meeting started, Natasha ignored her growling, demanding stomach. It wasn't like she wasn't hungry. She hadn't eaten since this morning. But, she couldn't bring herself to eat it until the meeting was over.
"We boarded that highly-suspect warship Danvers pinged." Rocket reported when it was his time to give a report. Natasha tried not to straighten in her seat. That ship had been on her mind ever since Carol had first given word on it.
But, then Nebula's next words killed off any possible hope that had started to form in Natasha's chest. "It was an infectious garbage scow."
"So, thanks for the hot tip." Rocket directed at Carol, with his typical dry humour.
Carol shrugged. "Well, you were closer."
Unable to sit still any longer, Natasha got up and started to pace. It was an awful habit, and one she had never had until these past few years. She was more than aware of Okoye watching her every step.
"Yeah, and now we smell like garbage."
Sensing the argument that Rocket was clearly eager to start, Natasha cut in to ask, "You get a reading on those tremors?" She asked the Wakandan general, out of interest but also because she knew Okoye was moments before telling her to sit down.
"T'was a mild subduction under the African plate." The general replied blandly.
"Do we have a visual? How are we handling it?" She was grasping at straws now, she realised. She must sound ridiculous.
Okoye gave her a look that confirmed that, but there was also sympathy on the warrior's face. "Nat, it's an earthquake under the ocean. We handle it, by now handling it."
Swallowing down that disappointment, Natasha turned to the woman at Okay's side. "Carol, are we seeing you here next month?" Carol covered the most ground, saw the most out of all of them combined, therefore had the most chance of finding anything.
"Not likely," Danvers replied gently.
Rocket snorted. "What? You gonna get another haircut?"
Carol faced him with no hint of amusement on her face. "Listen, fur face. I'm covering a lot of territory. The things that are happening on Earth are happening everywhere, on thousands of planets."
As if realising like they all did in that moment just how much responsibility and pressure was on Carol's shoulders, Rocket mumbled that she had a good point.
Carol ignored him. "So, you might not see me for a long time." To her credit, she did sound apologetic about that.
Gathering herself, Natasha let put a breath and nodded, addressing them all with a voice that was barely kept steady, "Alright well, this channel's always active. So, if anything goes sideways, anyone's making trouble where they shouldn't, comes through me."
They all murmured their agreement. One by one, their flickering images vanished completely, and Natasha placed her hands on the desk in front of her and leaned all her weight on her arms.
Then, blue light caught her attention. Rhodey had remained, and was patiently waiting for her to be ready for whatever he had to say.
Bracing herself, she straightened. "Where are you?" He wasn't anywhere near, and hadn't been for a long while. She couldn't remember the last time she had been in the same room as Rhodey, apart from that day when Tony Stark had cut off his ties with her and Steve completely. Even now, thinking about that day made her feel hollow.
"Mexico," Rhodey replied, but his tone of voice was enough warning for her to prepare herself for the news he brought with him, news that he didn't speak of in front of the others. "The Federales found a room full of bodies. Looks like a bunch of cartel guys, never even had the chance to get their guns off."
Something pierced her heart, and she tried her hardest to ignore it, to meet Rhodey's gaze without shaking. "It's probably a rival gang."
"Except it isn't," Rhodey said, and the softness of his voice was another stab into her. He was taking pity on her, and pity was something she had never been able to stomach. "It's definitely Barton."
Her eyes closed at hearing that name out loud. Every day, she would think about her best friend and wonder where in the world he would strike next. How many bodies he'd leave behind. He covered his tracks well, as she had suspected. But, mindless killing had never been Clint's style. He was a good man, and the fact that he was suffering so badly whilst she had no idea where he would appear next left her feeling broken. A part of her was missing, and it was wherever he was.
Would he even look at her, if she went to him?
"What here's done here..." Rhodey trailed off, and that was enough to indicate what sort of scene was left behind. Messy. Stomach-turning. Clint wouldn't care about cleaning up after himself. That rational part of him was gone. "What he's been doing the last few years, I mean the scene that he left...I gotta tell you, there's a part of me that doesn't even want to find him."
Every single word hurt to hear, hurt to try to process. She swallowed, as hot tears burned behind her eyelids. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't cry...
She was such a terrible friend for letting him push her away like he did, for not going after him the second he had hung up. Clint had lost his entire family, and Natasha hadn't been there for him.
Sucking on a tooth, she took a deep breath, and another, as she tried to block out those final words that he had said down the phone, in a voice so broken and lost that she had barely recognised it was him, I need you to let me go, Tasha.
Even swallowing hurt as she replied, "Will you find out where he is going next?"
Again, that pity look glimmered in Rhodey's eyes, cutting into her. "Nat," He said her name so softly, as if he was comforting a child. Natasha hardened her emotions, pulling up those walls had long ago been broken down by a man who held her heart. But, Steve wasn't the one talking to her, and only Steve made her feel brave enough to lower those walls.
"Please?" She asked, holding his gaze.
He regarded her for a few seconds, as if weighing up what to do. Then, he gently dipped his head, and his image was gone in the blink of an eye, leaving Natasha sat there staring at where he had just been.
Only when she knew that she was alone, did she let her tears slide down her cheeks. Her hands came up to her face as she sobbed, but moments later, she found herself in strong, familiar arms. She'd been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn't heard anyone enter the facility, but as soon as that cinnamon smell hit her and she pressed herself into Steve's chest, she didn't care. He was here.
"I heard," He mumbled into her hair as his hand stroked her lower back soothingly.
She had spoken to him about Clint quite often throughout these years, and although she had told him that she'd asked Rhodey to look for him, she'd never said about going to find him herself. That was because she hadn't felt brave enough to do such a thing, to face what had happened to her friend, to see his suffering with her own eyes. That made her a coward, she was more than aware of that. Each time a report came through of his actions, she felt terrible guilt, not just for the people had had slain, but because Clint didn't feel as if he had anything worth living for anymore.
As she buried her head deeper into her chest, he said, "Come on." Gently, he picked her up, effortlessly carrying her out of that damn office and towards their bedroom. He placed her gently on the bed, resting a kiss against her forehead before walking into the ensuit. Seconds later, and the sound of running water filled the room.
When Steve rejoined her, he knelt down on the floor in front of her, one hand reaching up to cup her face. His thumb brushed over her wet skin, wiping away the tears. "I'll go and cook us something for dinner."
She shook her head, and he understood her silent plea. So, he helped her to her feet, and the two of them stripped their clothes, Natasha moving slower, as her head was elsewhere. Steve got into the warm water first. The bath was deep, with a generous amount of bubbles, and she noticed from the smell that Steve had added her favourite oils to the water. As soon as she lowered herself into the tub with her back against his chest, she felt a bit better as the oils did their join of relaxing her senses and soothing her tired muscles. She'd trained particularly hard that morning, as she always did before a meeting, because it stopped her from overthinking and getting too stressed. But, it always left her body feeling worn out.
Steve's arms were around her once again, and he kissed her temple. "Do you want to talk about him?" Not the meeting, not the reports from Rocket and Carol, just Barton.
A small part of her didn't want to. The part that was scared that Steve would judge her, as he'd never let Bucky go. But, that small irrational part was overrun by the fact it was her husband who she was speaking to, someone who knew her heart as well as he knew her own. She was safe.
"I should never have let him go." She whispered, staring at her raised knee, where Steve's hand joined hers on top of it and entwined their fingers together. "I should have gone after him."
"Barton told you not to." Steve reminded her gently. "You respected his wishes. I know how much it destroyed you to do so, but you know he wouldn't have wanted you to go after him. He's grieving, Nat."
"He's killing without reason. It's not even for sport." She reminded him, the words coming out sharper than she intended. "I'm sorry."
"Never apologise for how you feel." Steve's lips brushed against her neck, soothing her.
A thought crossed her mind, and she flinched at the guilt that threatened to consume her. "What about you?" At his questioning look, she explained, "How are you feeling? You're always making sure I'm okay, and yet...we never talk about Bucky, or Sam. Or Wanda."
Steve was silent for a moment, and Natasha instantly panicked. Panicked that perhaps, she really had been a terrible wife, for not talking about them more with him, even though Steve never brought them up. Panicked that he might just shoot down her question and refuse to answer it, shutting her out.
But, then his expression changed. "I miss them every day, but they're still with me. With us. In the hearts of those who refuse to let go." He brushed a strand of her hair out of her face, delicately tucking it back behind her ear. "It is different, Natasha. What happened with them and what has happened with Clint." Because they had known what had happened to the others, even if they couldn't understand where they had gone. They knew that the Snap had taken them, had removed them from the fabric of the universe. But Clint...Clint was still out there.
She bit her lower lip in an attempt to get it to stop trembling.
Steve, upon instinct, leaned down to brush his mouth over hers, stopping her habit. "Would you go to him, if Rhodey found out where he was going next?"
That question. She'd asked herself that countless times over the years, ever since that last phone call between herself and Clint. She'd never been able to give herself an answer. "I don't know."
Understanding her uncertainly, Steve pulled her closer to him. "I know what Clint Barton means to you. I get it, Nat. I really do. But you cannot blame yourself for what he is doing. I won't let you allow it to eat away at you." Because as much as he cared about Clint, as much as he knew how much their friendship meant to Natasha, she would always come first. His top priority. Always.
She leaned back into him. "I don't know what I would have done if you'd been taken away." She admitted. "When you're away, I...I have nightmares, of that day in Wakanda. When everyone started to disappear right in front of us. I was running to you, but then...you started to..." Her breathing quickened, causing her words to stick in her throat as that rush of fear surged through her, the same rush that had her waking up in cold sweat, her heart pounding. It was always awful, especially because when she woke and found the bed empty beside her, it took her a while to realise where he was.
Steve sensed where she was going, and his hold around her waist tightened. "I'm not going anywhere, Natasha." He told her firmly.
"You don't know that." Her lip was trembling now, and she held onto the side of the tub as if she was worried it would all disappear around her.
His voice was strong, and his hand stomached her stomach as he said, "You are my entire life. My heart. I would do anything to protect you, to keep you with me."
Taking deep breaths, she tried to steady herself, and she pressed against him as she needed that physical reminder that he really was here. "I missed you so much while you were gone." She admitted, and she felt terrible for doing so, because she knew he would feel guilty about leaving her.
Steve's nose nuzzled into her neck. "I missed you too, sweetheart. But, I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere."
A few moments of silence passed, but it wasn't heavy. It didn't press down on her, making her feel on edge. In fact, it did the complete opposite. It allowed her to think, to process and to get herself back on track. To remember how to breathe.
"You know," Steve mumbled against her skin. "I saw a pod of whales when I was coming over the bridge."
Thankful for the change of subject, Natasha asked, "In the Hudson?" When had been the last time she'd left this facility? The fact she couldn't remember showed it had been far too long.
"Fewer ships, cleaner water," Steve's voice was a gentle rumble, and it allowed her to rest against him and close her eyes. She pictured the dolphins, gliding through the crystal clear water.
"Is this your way of telling me to look on the bright side?" She asked quietly.
"It's my way of seeing my wife's beautiful smile." Steve responded, and the words themselves got the reaction he wanted. "There it is." He kissed her neck once again.
She hated herself when she allowed her mind to wonder back to what had happened, but thinking of those dolphins reminded her too painfully about a little brown-haired girl that would have squealed at the sight of them, and a young boy who would have played it off as nothing but wouldn't have been able to take his eyes off them.
"I used to have nothing." She whispered, the words falling from her lips before she could even stop them. "And then I got this job. This family." The Bartons, the Avengers, they had all been her family. A family she had chosen for herself. "I found you. I fell in love with you, and because of that, I became a better person, the person I'd been trying all those years to become. I wasn't lying when I told you that you saved my soul. You healed the parts of me that were broken, and you never once let my darkness push you away. You...I never deserved someone like you."
"You did." His lips moved against her skin, and she felt him inhale her scent. "You do, Natasha. I don't think you realise how much you changed me, either. How much strength you gave me to find myself. I felt like a man out of time, after I came out of the ice, like I didn't belong. But, with you, I had a home, a safe place. My heart was yours even before our first kiss. I was scared of letting someone in, of getting close to someone, of having that risk of caring about someone so much that if they were ripped away from me, it would break me. But, loving you...I know that everything in my life that happened, every hardship and challenge, was to bring me closer to you. And when I found you, I knew I was never going to let you go."
Her eyes closed as his words washed over her. He had such a way of speaking that captivated her, that opened up her soul and allowed her to take in everything, to think clearly and to just feel.
Only when the bath water around them started to turn cold, did they get out. As Steve shrugged on a set of joggers, Natasha slipped into one of his shirts, pulling a handful of the material to her nose and breathing in deeply while her husband headed back into the bedroom. Natasha remained in front of the mirror for a moment longer before heading after him.
Steve was just pulling the covers back when Natasha's hand rested on his lower back, causing him to turn to look at her. Instantly, she wrapped her arms around his neck and reached up on her tip-toes to kiss him, a kiss that had her toes curling as he responded passionately.
How she had survived all those years without this man at her side was a mystery to her, but she would be damned if she let a day go past where she didn't make the most of every moment with him.
They were a bundle of lips, teeth and limps as they crashed onto the bed. Soon enough, the shirt and joggers they had just pulled on were thrown to the floor, and Natasha's nails raked down his back as Steve's body pressed hers against the mattress. Hands were everywhere; roaming every glorious inch of skin they could find, appreciating every curve and hardened muscle. Their mouths explored just as eagerly, nipping and sucking as they trailed up and down, along necks and jawlines. Steve's mouth practically worshipped her breasts as Natasha's hands roamed the broadness of his back and shoulders.
"Tell me what you want, Nat." He whispered as his lips peppered sucking kisses down her neck, paying close attention to the area under her ear that always had her back arching. Tonight was no exception.
She was already falling apart for him, and they hadn't even started. To prove just how ready she was, how much she was straining to keep a hold of her patience, Natasha lifted her hips to his, a silent command. He felt her wetness and groaned against her skin, his teeth biting down ever so slightly against her shoulder.
"You," The word came out as a pant as she felt him against her, the whole God-blessed length of him pushing against her inner thigh, present but never demanding. "Always you."
His answering growl warmed her to the core, and with one thrust, he was inside her. The feeling of him filling her was one that left her speechless every single time, and she threw her head back as he sank further after giving her a few moments to adjust. Then, her hands clung to his shoulder blades and her hips started to roll, showing him that she was ready. Steve's mouth sucked hard against her collarbone, enough that there would certainly be a purplish bruise there in the morning, but she didn't care. She relished in him marking his territory. He had a claim on her body, but also on her heart and soul - which, she knew he would always value most.
Within minutes, she was a shaking, moaning mess because of him, and she couldn't care less. Steve wasn't doing much better himself at containing his want, and sweat was already coating his skin. She leaned up and licked a long line from his chest to his neck, savouring the taste of him, and he practically roared her name.
His hips increased their speed and depth, moving in perfect time to hers as she kept rising to meet his. Her nails clawed his back, her way of marking her own territory, just like the little bruises that now scattered across the swells of her breasts. As Steve's mouth enclosed around one of her nipples, Natasha's back arched once more and her entire body shook from the pleasure that was coursing through her, pleasure that only he had ever been able to give her.
When his other hand came to her temporarily forgotten nipple, Natasha was convinced that she could see stars when her eyes closed tightly. His name continuously fell from her lips, in a plea to keep going, to never ever stop. He understood, and the movement of his hips was enough of an answer to show that he never wanted to stop giving her pleasure.
Steve's mouth crashed down against hers hungrily, their tongues dancing as Natasha's release hit first. She moaned, the action vibrating into Steve as her entire body shook from her orgasm, and that triggered his own. He rode them both through those lush waves, even as the entire world around them slipped away.
Then, when they were both spent, he pulled out and kissed her one more time before dropping to her side, his arm instantly dropping over her waist as they both tried to catch their breath.
"Please, do not tell me you are tired." She panted out, looking over her shoulder with that dangerous glint in her ear, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
He rolled his eyes. "Minx," He commented, leaning down to kiss her with vigour. "I'm not nearly done with you, Natasha." The promise had her stomach fluttering with excitement.
She nuzzled into his chest, her hand stroking the coiled muscles of his chest. "I'm glad to hear it."
But, just as her mouth found his again, a sound came from the office, signalling that someone was at the gates of the facility. Instantly, the two of them stiffened. It was late, far too late for a visitor, and no one had come through those gates in years - apart from the occasional delivery driver.
Steve's brow furrowed, and they both exchanged a glance before rolling out of bed. Finding the shirt that Steve had chucked across the room, Natasha shrugged it on and mumbled under her breath that whoever it was better have a valid excuse for interrupting their night. A broken car wasn't going to cut getting in the way of the multiple organisms her husband had silently promised her.
But, as they entered the office and stared down at the screen displaying the gates, they both froze in shock at the man shown to them. A man who seemed completely harmless, who was speaking up into the cameras looking just as shocked to be there as they were shocked to see him. Even as Steve breathed out his name in complete disbelief, Natasha did not believe what she was seeing.
It wasn't possible...
"Scott?"
~0~0~0~0~0~
And...Endgame has started!
So, the first little bit was something I hadn't actually intended on putting in this story, because I didn't even know about it until I saw a Tiktok that showed the scene where in the movie, Steve goes to comfort Natasha, and tucked away on a chair was a pair of ballerina shoes. So, that inspired the little gift for her birthday, but I wanted to show that it was a big deal to Natasha, as it was another bridge of her past that she had to overcome. Also, I wanted to highlight once again how Steve and Natasha give each other the strength to continue, because they have each other.
- E x