So. Hi. It's been a while. So, I am so, so, so, so, so, so sorry that I took forever to get this up. And by forever I mean it's been a YEAR since I updated this story and I seriously don't know how that happened. But honestly, it was good for me. I needed to take a break from this story I think. I was stuck on this chapter for a while. I mean I seriously think I rewrote this chapter like five times guys. But between working on getting unstuck and going through periods of not writing and school and work, well, it took me a while to finish this. And then I was also working on the next chapter (which is so close to being done and far longer than I'd intended but hey!).
And I don't know I'm rambling now, but the point is I was super busy and I owe you guys so much thanks for sticking around and being patient with me. Your support on this story means the world, and I don't want you guys to think that I've given up on it, because seriously, there are parts of this story that I absolutely NEED to get to because they've been sitting around in my head forever and I want to share them with all of you.
So thank you thank you THANK YOU for all the love and lovely reviews and comments and everything, you guys are the best readers EVER and I love and appreciate all of you!
This chapter takes place directly after the last one. I will get the next chapter up hopefully in the next few days. Until then, enjoy! And thank you all once again!
-:-
After driving nearly non-stop for two and a half days back into allied territory, Steve knew the second he stepped out of the truck to see Peggy waiting for them that he was in a shitload of trouble.
"I'm glad to see you're all in one piece," Peggy had said with a relieved smile on her face, despite their still haggard state of appearance. "Though, you might not be after you see the Colonel."
Steve tilted his head in understanding. "He wants to see us now, I take it?"
Peggy nodded, and he followed her inside, the rest of them trailing behind. People stared and whispers followed them as they walked through base, though whether out of curiosity about the mission or the fact that he was going to get his ass handed to him, Steve wasn't sure.
When they arrived outside the Colonel's office, Peggy didn't even have to knock. Phillips opened the door and gestured to Steve, Natasha, and Bucky. "You three, inside, now. Carter, I want a plan written up for the next scouting mission. The rest of you, I want mission reports on my desk by the end of the day. Dismissed."
Colonel Phillips ducked back into his office, clearly meaning for them to follow. Steve turned to his Commandos briefly. "Thank you again."
They nodded. "Sure thing, Cap," Dugan spoke up.
"It's been nice knowing ya," Morita chimed in, grinning a second later as low chuckles spread among the group of men. Steve cracked a quick smile and dismissed them with a nod of his head. Peggy lingered for just a moment longer with a sympathetic smile on her face, before following everyone else away. Steve took a breath, then headed into the Colonel's office.
The second the door clicked shut Colonel Phillips went off, barely waiting for Steve to stand at attention. His lecture made Bucky's look downright civilized. The first few minutes involved more swearing than actual words, and Steve wasn't sure the Colonel would actually be able to stop. Finally, though, Phillips took a breath and calmed down. Steve still didn't dare speak, though, because he was pretty sure it would just set the Colonel off again.
"You are damn lucky we need you, Rogers, otherwise I'd have you packing so fast…" Phillips trailed off, his jaw set angrily.
"I understand, sir," he replied. Bucky and Natasha wisely remained silent.
"Do you? Do you understand?" Phillips stared him down. "Not only did you directly lie to me about the nature of the mission, but then you—and her—" he glanced quickly at Natasha, "went behind my back and left base without informing anyone. Not only did you two do something incredibly stupid that risked both your lives, but then you had to risk the lives of your fellow soldiers here because they had to pull your asses out of the fire! Also behind my back, I might add. And don't even get me started on Red Skull, Rogers. Just be damn appreciative that I'm not putting you all on suspension."
Phillips took another breath. "Despite your apparent lack of common sense these past days, you did good work getting that intel. You damn well better pray that it's worth it. Barnes, don't you dare ever step foot off this base again without my permission. I want your report on my desk before dinner and not a second later or else you'll be on bathroom duty for a week."
"Yes, sir," Bucky said, casting Steve a quick glance that said 'if I get put on bathroom cleaning duty, I'm dragging you with me'.
Colonel Phillips nodded. "Barnes, dismissed."
Once Bucky had left and the door had shut again, Phillips heaved his biggest sigh yet and leaned back against his desk, bracing his hands against the edge. Steve was sure he and Natasha were about to get scolded some more, but instead Phillips turned his attention to Natasha.
"Ms. Romanoff." Natasha stiffened as Phillips addressed her, but stayed quiet as he gave her a long look. "I find it a little hard to believe that you failed to notice that Captain Rogers followed you for days into enemy territory. Unless of course you had prior knowledge that he was going to accompany, in which case—"
"With all due respect, sir," Steve interrupted, receiving a none-too-happy look from Phillips. "But you should not place any blame on Romanoff. She didn't know that I was going to follow her, nor did she request any form of back-up. I understood the risks of following her to the location, but it was my choice to put my life, and the mission, in jeopardy in order to aid her. I admit that I lied to you about doing so, but it was just me. She had nothing to do with this—she was only following orders. I take full blame, and I will accept any punishment you see fit."
Colonel Phillips blinked like the Steve he knew and recognized had vanished and a stranger had taken his place. Out of his periphery, Steve could see that Natasha's features had slackened in surprise.
Phillips cleared his throat. "Well said, Rogers. Like I said, we need you. So, fortunately for you, you're not being punished. Even you, Romanoff." The Colonel regarded Natasha for another moment. "If it was my choice, I would've sent you back to Russia a long time ago. But for some reason, Captain Rogers here trusts you a great deal. I believe that you had no part in his damn foolish plan to follow you off base, but he has enough faith to take the fall for you even when there's no blame to be placed upon you. It's starting to become a bit of a pain in the ass, if you ask me."
Steve saw Natasha crack a hint of a smile, and he felt the tips of his ears burn, but he kept his eyes forward as Phillips looked between the two of them. "You two did good. But despite the fact, know that just because I'm not punishing you does not mean that you are completely off the hook. If you two ever pull something like this again, I will haul both your asses right off this base myself." Phillips gaze softened the slightest. "You both look like shit. Go get cleaned up. I want reports by the end of the night. Dismissed."
"Yes, sir," Steve and Natasha replied in unison, before turning and walking out of the office.
"You didn't have to do that," Natasha told him once they'd walked a ways down the hall.
"Well, it was my fault," he pointed out, "and you would've done the same for me."
He saw her lips twitch into half a smile. "How do you know that?"
"Because I know you."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natasha falter a fraction of a step, something he wouldn't have even noticed if he hadn't spent so much time with her.
"Yeah," she murmured, half to herself, eyes looking straight ahead but also a million miles away.
"Natasha?" he prodded when she didn't say anything else.
"Sorry." She shook her head, slowing to a stop. "I should go get cleaned up and fill out a report, but I'll see you at dinner, okay?"
Steve wasn't sure what had distracted her all the sudden, but he found himself nodding nonetheless before she made her way down the hall and disappeared around the corner.
-:-
Natasha didn't realize how truly exhausted she was until she stepped under the stream of the shower. She's slept fitfully here and there in the truck as they'd driven back to base over the course of the last few days, but it hadn't been enough. Now, back on base, her tiredness was quickly sinking into her bones, and her griminess was all the more apparent. She couldn't sleep, not yet, so the shower would have to do for the moment. She was just grateful that no one else was in there with her. There were enough women on base, either officers, or nurses mostly, that they got their own room for showers. Not quite as large as the men's showers, of course, but she didn't care. At the moment, the only thing she cared about was the hot water running down her body, which was just about the closest thing to heaven she could imagine as it washed away the dirt and mud, dried blood and grime that had built up on her skin and in her hair over the past week.
The dirty water swirled down the drain, revealing her scraped and bruised skin underneath. As she scrubbed her body clean with a bar of soap, she couldn't help but think about Steve, not just what he'd said about knowing her—which had, admittedly, caught her off guard—but about everything that they'd been through up until that point. She wasn't much of a believer in love. Any notion of such a thing had been beaten out of her in the Red Room. But whether it was love or not, Natasha couldn't deny that was attracted to Steve Rogers. Extremely so. It sort of terrified her. The way he could catch her off guard so easily, the ease at which he'd squeezed himself into her life, gotten close enough to her that it was hard to imagine a future where they weren't standing by each other's side.
It was hard to let go of her training, of every instinct that was telling her that she shouldn't let anything—not emotions or love—cloud her judgement, distract her from her mission. But there was no mission, there was no target. There was no Red Room. Not for her anymore. None of her teachers could get to her. Not Brushov, no one. A small voice in the back of her mind told her that Steve wouldn't let that happen, he wouldn't let them get to her, and at that thought something warm and unfamiliar wrapped around her heart.
She didn't know much else, but she did know she wanted Steve Rogers. Even if he didn't want her the same way she wanted him, even if the idea of having feelings for Captain America terrified her, she decided that she'd spent enough of her life in the shadow of fear, of not acting because the people who'd trained her had taught her not to act on her own, not to act without orders. Well, she wasn't taking orders anymore. Not from the people that had controlled her most of her life. No, she was ready to put that behind her, ready to be selfish for the first time in her life.
Natasha quickly finished washing her body, rinsing thoroughly before shutting the water off and grabbing her towel. Once she dressed and had dried her hair as best she could, she headed down the hall to the infirmary, pretty sure that the wound on her head was bleeding again. When Natasha stepped through the doorway her eyes immediately landed on Steve. Her lips started to form a smile, but it quickly disappeared. She halted in her tracks. "What happened?"
Steve looked up. His blonde hair was damp, flopping over his forehead before he pushed it back to meet her gaze. He was shirtless, but Natasha could hardly admire the planes of hardened muscle as Steve's mouth formed a small o. He looked down at the bandage the nurse was taping off on his right side, as if to remind himself that it was there. "Oh, I, um, got shot."
"When?" Natasha asked, surprised at how calm her voice sounded when, inside, she was feeling anything but. It was the same feeling she'd gotten when the truck had flipped after Red Skull had run them off the road, the same paralyzing worry and fear that had nearly consumed her when she'd thought he'd died being thrown from the vehicle. She barely registered the nurse that laid a hand on her arm and led her to another one of the tables to get checked out. She tried to focus, tried to listen to what the nurse was saying, asking where her injuries were, but all her attention was on Steve.
"After the truck flipped," Steve explained, talking carefully, gently, like he was trying not to anger her, "you were still inside and Red Skull's men were open firing and, well, I'm not really sure. I didn't notice until after we were heading back to base. Morita patched me up after you fell asleep."
Natasha nodded slowly, taking a deep breath as the nurse said something about her needing a few stitches in the wound on her head. "Well, are you okay?"
Steve's eyes widened just so, like he was surprised she was being so calm about all of it. Natasha was a little surprised herself. "Yeah, I'm okay. It was clean, through and through. Already started healing."
"Looks like it's a week or two old already," Steve's nurse said with a comforting smile in Natasha's direction. "The bandage is really just a precaution. He'll be able to take it off in a few days."
"That's good," Natasha managed. There wasn't much talking as her own nurse finished stitching up her head and then checked out the rest of her injuries, nothing but bruises and cuts, and a couple minor bruised ribs that she hardly noticed.
"Could you give us a minute, please?" Natasha asked the nurses quietly once they'd finished up. Steve, who was tugging a plain white tee over his head, paused for a split second to gauge the nurses' reactions. The two women exchanged a look, before nodding at Natasha.
"Sure," one of them said, clearly trying to fight a smile. The other one was less successful, letting loose a giggle as the two women exited the room and shut the door behind them. Natasha didn't have time to care about whatever rumors were circulating around base about her and Steve as she turned to look at him.
He straightened out his shirt, waiting patiently for her to speak. He looked a lot less nervous than she thought he would have. She knew she could be intimidating, knew she could be harsh and abrasive with her words just as much as with her fists, but he was standing his ground, ever-confident. Natasha had the sudden realization that he'd never been truly scared of her. Sure, he understood just how strong and dangerous she was, but he'd also always seen the human side of her beneath all of that. And that's what he saw now. Not a killer, not the Black Widow, just Natasha.
Any anger Natasha felt quickly disappeared. "Are you okay?" she asked again.
Steve's gaze softened. "Yes. Really, I'm good. I promise. It's not infected or anything. And you heard the nurse, the bandage is mostly just a precaution."
"Can I see?" she asked.
If Steve was surprised, he didn't show it. Confident. He was so confident. And yet, any confidence Natasha had felt before, about wanting him, about confronting him, it all seemed to have disappeared. She had no idea what to say to him, but she knew she had to touch him, to reassure herself that he was okay, that he was real and this wasn't all in her head.
Steve closed the distance between them, his eyes never leaving her face, even as she turned her gaze down. When he was in front of her, Natasha reached out and lifted the hem of the shirt he'd just straightened out. He held it in place for her as she carefully peeled the tape holding the bandage in place away from his skin, pulling the entire thing aside just enough for her to be able to inspect the bullet wound. Well, even though she hadn't really doubted it, the nurses had been right. The wound already looked a couple weeks old. It was clean, through and through just like Steve had said.
She grazed her fingers lightly over the flesh around the wound, and Steve hissed in surprise. Natasha drew back quickly, "Sorry."
Steve shook his head. "It's okay. It's the serum. It makes everything a little more sensitive when I'm healing. This isn't so bad, since it's just the bullet wound and the bruises that I have, but…"
He trailed off as Natasha carefully straightened the bandage and ran her fingers over the tape, pushing it back into place. Steve let his shirt drop back down, and Natasha couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.
"I'm a hypocrite," she said softly, half to herself.
"How so?"
She met his eyes. "I yell at you about worrying about me and then I turn around and do the exact same thing."
She swore she saw Steve about to smirk, but he kept it contained. "You were worried about me?"
She shoved his shoulder lightly. "Shut up." Steve laughed and Natasha couldn't help but smile a little. "Yes, I was worried about you, okay? I thought you'd died when the truck crashed and apparently you got shot and I just…I don't want anything to happen to you."
Steve stared, lips parting just slightly at her admission. They were still only six inches apart at most. Natasha wasn't sure who moved first, but then her mouth was on Steve's and everything else fell away. All her worries, all her fears, it was all gone except for the feeling of his lips on hers. The kiss was slow but no less heated. She knew that Steve wasn't incredibly experienced in this department, but his familiarity with her, the confidence that he'd been carrying with him all night, it made him bold. She led, he followed, and his ability to quickly learn had them soon developing a rhythm that felt completely natural.
Steve's hands slowly reached up to grip her waist, even as her own quickly fisted in the material of his t-shirt. Despite the carefulness of the kiss, Natasha was breathless. She didn't realize how long she'd wanted to kiss him until that moment. And she didn't want to stop. But just as quickly as it had started, it was over. They pulled back at the same time. Steve's eyes were wide, surprised, maybe a little unsure, a slightly darker shade of blue than before. Suddenly Natasha was unsure as well. She'd kissed him, and he'd clearly kissed her back, and though her heart, beating madly in her chest, told her exactly how much she felt for him, her brain was screaming a million different excuses at her to walk away and not look back.
"I—I'm sorry, I should—I should go—" she stammered, not waiting for Steve to respond before she maneuvered carefully around him and dashed out the door.
-:-
Steve decided to give Natasha some space. Still, it didn't make him any less concerned, especially when she didn't show up for dinner. He tried not to let it bother him, or at least not to let it show, which was hard, given that he was sitting at a table full of people who knew him best. Bucky had let it go after asking five or six times what was wrong, though he could still feel concern rolling off his best friend in waves. Peggy kept glancing at him when she thought he wasn't paying attention. He knew the other Commandos could tell something was wrong, but they wisely kept their mouths shut and enjoyed dinner and a little bit of relaxation while they were back on base for the time being.
As they laughed and shared stories and discussed everything in between, Steve let his mind wander. He barely tasted his food as he ate, his mind constantly going back to Natasha and their kiss instead of what he was doing. Their kiss. They'd kissed. Steve was pretty sure Natasha had made the move just seconds before he caught on, but once it was happening he hadn't wanted it to stop. He'd known before the kiss that he cared about her, deeply. Enough that when she'd admitted that she worried just as much about him as he did about her that, well, his breath had caught in his throat and his stomach had twisted and flopped all fver the place. And then her lips were against his and kissing her—once he'd gotten over his initial surprise and doubts about his lack of experience—had felt like the most natural thing in the world, like they'd done it a million times before.
But then they'd stopped and he'd looked at Natasha and watched as her walls shot back up. He knew, from what she'd told him about her life in the Red Room and from what he'd deduced himself that she'd been taught not to let anyone in. Anything that might interfere with a mission was frowned upon. So even if she felt as strongly as he did, it would be hard to break old habits, especially ones that had been beaten into her so relentlessly and consistently. But she wasn't in the Red Room anymore, and he would spend as much time as he had to remind her of that. Even if she ultimately decided that she didn't feel the same way, that this was just a spur of the moment type thing, the least he could do, as her friend and partner, was remind her that she was her own person now. She didn't belong to anyone but herself.
-:-
After dinner Steve finally managed to break away from everyone else and head back to his room. He finished up his report for Phillips and turned it in. With nothing else to do, he decided that he couldn't put off talking to Natasha any longer, and he headed through the base to her quarters. He knocked right away, not giving himself a moment to rethink, and tucked his hands into his pockets while he waited. It was silent for a few seconds, but her light was on so he knew she was in there. A few more impossibly long moments, and then he heard soft footsteps on the other side of the door right before it opened.
Not for the first time since he'd met her did Steve think about how beautiful she looked. Her red hair, falling just past her shoulders, glowed in the light emanating from her room. Her green eyes were soft as they took him in, her shoulders sagging a little as she exhaled. Neither of them said anything—they didn't have to. Natasha simply sidestepped and gestured for him to come in and shut the door quietly behind him.
"I didn't do anything wrong, did I?" Steve said as he turned to face her, having to ask the question that had been on his mind most of the night. He was pretty sure he already knew the answer, but he had to be sure.
To his relief, Natasha laughed softly and shook her head. "No, you didn't do anything wrong."
"Then what happened?"
Natasha blew out a breath, not meeting his eyes. "I…started to doubt myself," she spoke slowly, like she was trying not to say too much. Steve waited patiently, let her collect her thoughts. When she finally looked at him, there was enough softness in her gaze, enough chinks in her armor, that Steve dared to take a step forward. She didn't back away.
She shifted on her feet, so abnormally uncertain with herself as she spoke, "I'm not good at this. Saying how I feel. But I'm willing to try," she gave him a look that sent his blood thrumming in his veins, "for you."
Steve took another step towards her, putting them close enough that Natasha had to tilt her head back just so in order to look at him.
"Kissing you," Natasha continued, voice soft, "was the first thing I've done for myself in a very long time. I shouldn't have run out of there like that, but in that moment…I wanted you so badly, and that scared me. You scare me."
"I scare you?" Steve gave a little laugh in disbelief. He found it hard to believe that anything could scare Natasha Romanoff, much less himself.
Natasha laughed too, the smile lighting up her face. "Yes, you scare me. You have made me feel things that I didn't even know I was capable of feeling anymore." She hesitated, hand twitching at her side like she wanted to reach out and touch him. "You…you've reminded me what it's like to be human. That I'm not just a wbat they made me into. And no matter what happens, that means the world to me. I don't think it's possible that I'll ever be able to completely let go of my past, or that I won't ever fall back into old habits, but you've helped me be better. And for the first time in a very long time, I want something for myself." This time, she did reach out and grab his hand, gave it the lightest of squeezes. "I want you."
Steve's heart was beating hard in his chest, the million different things he wanted to say bouncing around in his head. The kiss, what she'd just said, it was all making his feelings for her that much more concrete. In the eight months they'd known each other, Steve had quickly found himself getting attached to her. First as a potential ally and partner, then as a friend, and now…lately he'd found himself thinking about her all the time, making an effort to get her to smile more, get her to laugh, slowly working on prying down her walls bit by bit without pushing her too far, giving her the chance to open up to him on her own. Which she'd done. A little bit, at least. And it only made him want to figure out the puzzle that was Natasha Romanoff even more.
He'd had feelings for Peggy (some small part of him was sure that he'd always feel something for her) and in a way what he felt for Natasha was that similar desire, the wanting to be near her, to talk and laugh with her, to touch her. But this was also Natasha, and what he felt for her was different from anything else he'd ever felt. There was something inside of him that burned for her, burned brighter and hotter than it had even for Peggy. She could piss him off like no other, but he knew that was because they were alike in just as many ways as they were different. He was drawn to her—had been drawn to her since the first time he laid eyes on her. not just because of her beauty, but because of the strength he could see in her, the strength of her body, and even more so, the strength of her spirit. She was intelligent and capable and she was a survivor of so many hardships, and it had given her the ability to endure more than most. Everything about her compelled him, and that undeniably attracted him to her.
He'd thought many times about sitting down with his sketchbook and a pencil, but he hadn't actually drawn her. Not yet. He didn't want to do so without permission, but they were either out fighting a war, or it never seemed like a good time to ask. But maybe he'd just needed to wait for the right moment to come along.
"Can I draw you?" he asked softly, thumb smoothing over the skin of the hand he held.
Natasha's face slackened in surprise, eyebrows lifting. Clearly it wasn't what she'd expected him to say, but slowly a smile started to form on her face.
She nodded. "Yes."
They stayed together for hours. They had to be up at the usual early hour to give a debriefing and discuss how to track down Red Skull, but Steve didn't care, and Natasha didn't seem to either. They were sitting opposite each other, cross-legged, close enough that their knees knocked together from time to time. Steve had his notebook that he'd grabbed from his room. Natasha talked with him as he drew. She told him a little more about her time in the Red Room and stories about what little she remembered of her parents. She taught him some simple Russian phrases, promising more detailed lessons when they had the time. Steve told her stories about him and Bucky growing up in Brooklyn, about all the fights he got into and cold winter nights where Bucky had to stay over in order to help keep him warm. He told her about his mother, how kind and caring she could be, how much she did for him, how unfair he sometimes found it that he, with all his ailments, lived while she died.
As he was working out he last kinks in his drawing, Natasha leaned forward and smoothed her thumb over the crease between his eyes, an affectionate smile on her face. Steve found himself smiling as she drew her hand back and he closed his notebook and set his stuff down. He met her gaze and, as if she read his thoughts, she closed the gap between them and kissed him. More confident than the first time, Steve lifted his hands to cup her face, momentarily forgetting that his fingers were covered in pencil and charcoal. They kissed till they were breathless, Steve's heart hammering in his chest, blood positively singing as warmth rushed through him, from his ears to the tips of his toes.
When he pulled back to look at Natasha, there were light smudges of black charcoal on her cheeks. He chuckled, attempting to wipe it away, "Sorry."
She laughed softly, a slight shake of her head. "It's okay."
She brushed his hair back from his forehead, eyes twinkling with amusement and something more like desire.
"I think I'm falling in love with you." Steve said softly, unable to think twice about the words before he said them, though he knew they were true the second they left his mouth.
Natasha pulled back a fraction of an inch, eyes widening just so as her body stilled. Tense and on high-alert, ready to run like a spooked animal. "Steve," she warned, voice barely there.
"I'm not saying that because I expect you to say it back, or to pressure you or scare you off or anything," he said quickly, almost pleading her not to go, "I'm just being honest. You were so honest with me earlier, and I only want to return the courtesy. I'm not very good at this sort of thing either, but you're willing to try and so am I."
Natasha stared at him, her chest rising and falling a little quicker than before. He was sure that if he listened hard enough he'd be able to hear her pulse pounding. But then she took a breath, then another. Slowly, he watched her relax. She nodded. "Okay."
"Yeah?"
"You were being honest, like you said. It's only fair." A pause, then a mischievous smile as she nodded at his notebook. "So? You gonna show me the end result or what?"
Steve grinned, slowly handing the notebook over to her. As she flipped through the first few drawings—some doodles, others portraits of Bucky or Peggy or the other Commandos—Steve couldn't help but notice how close they still were. If he leaned forward two inches he could kiss her again. One move and she could be in his lap. He was mesmerized by her. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and he wished he could freeze the moment so he could draw her like that. When she got to the picture he'd drawn of her, Steve simply watched her features change, shifting into that of pleasant surprise, if not a little awe. Steve felt a little blush creep into his cheeks.
"Pretty impressive," Natasha said softly, a smile on her face as she carefully closed his notebook and handed it back to him.
"Still not as good as the real thing," he teased.
She laughed. "You know, Rogers, for not being very good at all of this, you can be a terrible flirt sometimes."
He shrugged one shoulder. "Guilty."
Natasha just shook her head, nearly failing as she tried not to laugh. "Come here."
She hooked a finger through the collar of his shirt and pulled him in for another kiss. As she took one of his hands into her own, tangling their fingers together, Steve thought that maybe Natasha was falling a little bit in love with him too.