I'm back! With my longest chapter yet! Honestly, I didn't expect it to get this long, but this chapter really just wrote itself. This chapter has a really great Bucky and Natasha scene that's been one of my favorites so far in this story, so yeah!
Warnings for this chapter: Red Room stuff, including very slight hints of non-con, abuse, etc. War-time violence and imagery. Adult situations at the end of the chapter, which you can skip over if that is not your thing.
Thank you all so much for the positive feedback, it was really great to hear from so many of you! You guys are seriously the best, so thank you so so much for everything!
I'm working on the next chapter now, and will hopefully be getting it up within a week. I can say for sure now that the 40s flashbacks are nearing the end! Only 2 or 3 left? Either way it's a very short amount and then we'll be getting into the modern stuff which is the stuff I've been wanting to write since I thought of this story.
Anyway, enough of me talking! Enjoy!
-:-
July, 1944
A week later and they had no leads on Red Skull. It was frustrating for everyone, given that they'd been so close to him, and were now back at square one. Gabe and Peggy had been spending quite a bit of time going through the files Natasha had retrieved from the train station. They had revealed old movements of the trains Hydra was using, which Gabe was trying to discern a pattern from. The few dates they'd gotten with new train shipments had gone to Steve, who'd set up missions to scout out the trains and their movements. They'd decided not to disrupt the train movements in order to keep Red Skull and Hydra in the dark about the fact that they'd actually managed to retrieve information from the station. Still, they could tell Red Skull was suspicious. Bucky and Dum Dum had gone out a few days ago, tracking a smaller train. They'd set up at a central location, but the train hadn't shown up until two days after it was scheduled to. They just hoped that Red Skull delaying the trains meant he was just being cautious.
Natasha headed into the women's showers and started to peel off her dirty clothes, covered in mud and sweat as they were. She and Steve had just gotten back from a scouting mission themselves, having spent the last two days in muggy, muddy conditions. The train had passed through on schedule, carrying parts for something big. She knew Steve hated letting the trains and any Hydra goons it carried go, but if doing this helped them track the movement and patterns of the trains, maybe they catch up to a train that would lead them straight to Red Skull. Plus, Gabe was still tapped into their radio signals, and working out how to adjust if Hydra decided to change them up. Natasha knew they had a good chance at getting the upper hand, and Steve knew it too, which was probably the only reason he was okay not stopping the trains for good.
As she pulled off her pants, something crinkled in the pocket. She found herself smiling as she remembered what it was. She sat down on the bench against the wall, pulling out the folded piece of paper, discarding her pants on the floor with the rest of her clothes. She unfolded the paper, smiling at the sketch of herself. It was ripped along the edges, and there were a few stains on the paper where mud had seeped into her pants. But the drawing itself was almost completely untouched. In it, she was sleeping. Steve had come to her room the night before their scouting mission. She'd just been on the verge of falling asleep when he asked if he could draw her. She'd mumbled a yes before her eyes shut. Then, the morning of their mission, he'd pulled her aside with a mischievous grin. He'd tucked the folded piece of paper into her pocket, touch like fire that made her heart beat faster out of anticipation. He'd told her to wait to open it until they got back, and now here she was, grinning like an idiot in the women's showers.
Natasha quickly peeled off her undergarments, then folded the sketch back up and placed it under her clothes where it wouldn't get wet. She turned on one of the showers and stepped under the stream. She tried to take a quick shower, she really did. She had a report to write and she was starving. But thoughts of Steve distracted her. It had been a week since that first kiss. A week since he'd told her that he was falling in love with her. It had scared her when he'd first said that—terrified her, actually. But he hadn't expected anything out of her in return for saying that. He'd kissed her goodnight shortly after, giving her some much needed thinking space. Even though there really wasn't much to think about. She'd kissed him. And it had felt good. She'd done something for herself, and realized in the process that she wanted Steve, wanted to be with Steve a lot more than she'd originally thought. So, the morning after their kiss, she'd gone to him and told him that she hadn't changed his mind about him, relieving worries he would never have voiced to her.
And now here they were, a week later, and Natasha was more firm in her decision than ever. Looking back on her life, all that she'd been through in the Red Room, it was so hard to imagine the position she was in now. It sometimes felt like a dream. She could only imagine what her trainers would have said, what Brushov would have said. That she was weak, going soft. That she was not worthy of the title Black Widow. But whatever weakness they'd all seen in love, it felt like a strength to her. She and Steve didn't work any less efficiently than before. In fact, a part of her thought they actually worked better now than they did before. It was amazing what the loosening of some sexual tension could do.
They hadn't slept together yet. There'd been a lot of kissing, which Steve was getting increasingly better at since he was more confident. There had been some roaming hands, but nothing more than that. Natasha knew how much it meant to Steve, but she herself was also a little nervous to even go that far. She'd had sex before. They had trained her in the Red Room, not just to use her body as a weapon, but also as a tool. She was not just a killer, but a seductress, able to bend the wills of men with a touch of her fingers, a flutter of her lashes, a sultry smile. She had used sex as a weapon, and never once for her own pleasure. Her trainers had pointed their fingers and she would have a target. Sometimes those targets required a softer touch before she killed them.
She'd lost her virginity to one of her younger trainers when she was seventeen. She'd kissed him out of the blue one day, still making it very clear what she wanted. It had been rough and unpleasant, leaving bruises on her hips for a week, but she hadn't wanted it to happen out on a mission, much less her first real mission, and the trainer had always had a soft spot for her. Or maybe he'd just thought she was pretty. He disappeared shortly after that and she had no doubts that he'd been killed. She knew that her trainers, Brushov especially, had been…saving her. Preserving her for some sick, twisted reason. Probably for himself. That had been one of her few acts of defiance in his clutches, and as unenjoyable as it had been, it had been her choice.
Then, of course, there had been Alexei. Alexei Shostakov, the son of one of her clients. She'd been eighteen, on her first mission undercover at the ballet school Alexei's father ran. The first night she had danced in a show Alexei had caught her eye, and the dance turned into one for him, not for the crowd ooh-ing and ahh-ing at her performance. And that night, Alexei showed her what it felt like to have her body worshipped, cherished. Maybe she loved him. At least, she thought it was love at the time. She was so wrapped up in that feeling, in him, that she got clumsy, careless. They were caught and Alexei, too, was killed. She never saw him again after that dreadful night where she, half dressed, had laid weeping on the dance floor of the ballet school. She could still see them dragging Alexei away as Brushov came and showed her exactly what loving someone got her.
She didn't want to expose Steve to any of that. She didn't know if she loved Steve, or maybe was just afraid to admit it because the last person she'd felt this deeply for was now dead and buried in a shallow grave somewhere. If she and Steve took that step, he would see all of her bared to him. Every scar, every imperfection, inside and out. Her darkest corners would come to the light and she wasn't sure if she was ready for that. There was no pressure, not from Steve. More often than not he was the one to slow things down when they were getting too heated. And for right now, his kiss, his touch, the times when he pulled her into a corner when no one was watching, it was enough.
That was what Natasha held onto as she stepped out of the shower. Once she was toweled off and dressed in clean clothes, she grabbed something to eat and then she started working on her report for Phillips. She'd barely started when there was a knock on her door.
"Come in," she called, wiping her mouth as she finished the last of her meal.
Her door opened and she smiled as Steve stepped inside. He, too, had showered and changed, hair combed neatly across his head. "Hey," he greeted.
Natasha shifted some things around on her bed to make room for him.
"What's up?" she asked.
"I just had a debriefing with Phillips and Peggy. She and Gabe found a new Hydra base along the train tracks. Not too big, but it's a few days travel from here. We leave in the morning."
"Okay." She paused, regarding his features. "Anything else?"
Steve blushed just the tiniest bit. Even after all the time they'd spent together in the last week, he still got nervous sometimes about doing any kind of flirting with her. "Did you like the sketch?"
Natasha leaned over with a smile, mouth barely a breath from his. "I loved it."
Steve kissed her then, ran his hands up and down her sides like he was painting a picture. They kissed until she was breathless, and still more after that. Barely a thought in the back of her mind as Steve pressed his lips to her neck, Natasha decided she could finish her report later.
-:-
August, 1944
Telling the others that she and Steve were together hadn't even really crossed Natasha's mind. They'd just been so busy that nearly a month had passed and it just hadn't come up. She knew that Peggy and Bucky suspected something for sure, but no one had said anything. And she and Steve were too wrapped up in each other to even really think about telling anyone. She should've felt a little ridiculous. She was like a school girl, completely lost in Steve Rogers. He made her smile and laugh; she was practically giddy around him. And kissing him felt better than she could have imagined. Still, they were both smart enough to keep any displays of affection to themselves. Even if Bucky and the others suspected something, they had no idea how Phillips would react, so whether they were trying or not, they were keeping it under wraps for the time being.
Or rather, they had been keeping it under wraps.
They were currently camped with a couple hundred other troops, some SSR, the rest a mix of soldiers from all over, though most were American or British troops. They were heading to France, in order to aid the allied armies. Red Skull had disappeared for the time being, and there hadn't been too many Hydra soldiers on the move, so Phillips had gotten orders to send Captain America and his Howling Commandos to the front lines. Steve was making rounds around the camp, trying to keep the soldiers' spirits up.
Natasha had been sitting by the fire that the Commandos had built. They were laughing a little, but mostly the mood among them and everyone else in camp was pretty somber. They would reach the front lines tomorrow and they knew that not a lot of them would make it. There were at least two dozen men on watch, but that didn't make any of them feel much better, Natasha included. She'd been trained her whole life in espionage, in getting information and killing in the cover of shadows. Not that she wasn't capable of handling herself on the front lines—she'd spent enough time with Steve and the Commandos battling Hydra that she knew she was perfectly capable, but this was big. Bigger than anything she'd been in before.
Her eyes kept finding Steve in the crowd. She could see him now, a few campfires over, giving that dazzling smile of his, making soldiers from all different countries feel better, a little bit of the tension loosening from their shoulders.
"He certainly does have a way with people," Bucky said as he took a seat next to her. They were close enough that their shoulders and legs bumped together. His presence immediately made her feel better.
"He inspires them," she agreed.
"A lot of them are going to die tomorrow," Bucky said softly, eyes on the fire in front of them. It was just a fact. They all knew it. It was making the air around the entire camp weigh down on everyone's shoulders.
"You think Steve's ready for that? I mean, he's leading all of them tomorrow."
Bucky exhaled slowly. "He's been in battles before. Some pretty big. He's lost men before too, but that doesn't make it any easier on him. On any of us really. But not all of us have the memory he does. I guarantee that he's going to learn the names of every man here, and he's going to remember the name of everyone who dies tomorrow."
"You know," Natasha said quietly, "h's over there smiling and learning their names and doing whatever it is that Steve does to make people love him…and he's winning them over. And because of that a lot of them are going to lay down their lives for him tomorrow. To protect him and what he represents. It's not lying or manipulation on his part. I've done enough of that to know the difference. It's just who is. And it's not his fault, but he's guaranteeing a lot of their deaths right now."
There was a pregnant pause. Natasha's eyes were locked on Steve, off in the crowd of laughing soldiers who were falling under his spell just as she had.
"He knows that, too," Bucky finally said, looking at her. She met his eyes. "Which is why he'll do whatever it takes to protect as many of them as he can. And when he can't, he carries that guilt around with him. And he uses that to fight back."
Natasha cast her eyes down. "I don't know how he does it."
"I still haven't figured it out and I've known him since we were kids."
"How'd you two become friends anyway?"
Natasha looked up to see Bucky grin widely, teeth bright in the firelight.
"To be honest," he started, "I barely remember how old we were. I feel like I've known him since we were born. But, uh, it was after school one day and a fight had broken out. And Steve, being Steve, was in the middle of it of course. Half the school had gathered to watch. I remember I was standing there at the edge of the crowd, watching Steve who, at the time, was maybe fifty pounds soaking wet, going up against this kid who was twice, if not three times his size." Bucky laughed a little at the memory, and Natasha found herself doing the same. "He had a split lip, was probably on the verge of an asthma attack. He had his little fists raised but this kid just clocked him. Steve went down and I could practically see the black eye forming right then and there."
Bucky paused, eyes far away, still with that smile on his face.
"Then what happened?" Natasha prodded.
"He got up." There was something so fond, so loving in Bucky's voice that Natasha felt her eyes burn. "I watched as this tiny, frail little kid just…stood up. Like it was nothing. Like he wasn't about to get his ass handed to him. The other kid was so pissed that Steve was still fighting back. Probably woulda knocked Steve's teeth down his throat but that's when I stepped in. When I asked him later why he'd been fighting with that kid, and he just told me that he'd been bullying another boy, and someone needed to stand up to him. Which is exactly what he did."
Watching Bucky's face, hearing the absolute devotion in his voice, Natasha knew that even if blood separated him and Steve, nothing else did. Bucky looked at her, something so intense in his gaze that she probably couldn't look away if she wanted to. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she said, "You'd die for him."
"In a heartbeat." There was no hesitation, and Natasha had absolutely no doubt that it was true. Because she felt the same way.
"I would too, you know."
"I know." Bucky gave a little nod before something flashed in his eyes that even she couldn't decipher. "Look, I'm not an idiot. I know something has been going on between you two—"
Natasha opened her mouth to protest, but Bucky beat her to it.
"I know Steve better than anyone, so I know when he's acting differently. When he's keeping something from me." He looked at her pointedly. "So, when did it happen?"
Natasha looked at him a beat longer before taking a breath. She averted her eyes, though she didn't know why. "We kissed a month ago. And things have just sort of grown from there."
When she did look back at Bucky, she knew exactly why she couldn't look him in the eye when she said that. There was the tiniest flash of disappointment, of hurt and maybe a little heartbreak on his face. Deep down she'd known that Bucky felt something for her. She wasn't exactly sure what, but they'd grown close in the past months. She confided in him almost as much as she confided in Steve and Peggy. Told him things she found she couldn't tell anyone else because she knew he would understand. They were alike in a lot of ways, and whether or not Bucky had actual feelings for her, they were close enough that they didn't really want to share whatever they had with anyone else. She probably would've felt the same way had their positions been reversed.
Any guilt over telling him and any other conflicting feelings disappeared when Bucky grinned. "I knew something was up," he said, looking at her. "Peg and I kept guessing. Steve's just been so damn giddy lately. He's been trying to hide it, but he's never been very good at that sort of thing. Wears his heart on his sleeve no matter how hard he tries not to."
"I know we probably should have told you guys—"
Bucky shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I think we all kinda knew you two were heading that way. It was really only a matter of time."
"So you're not surprised?"
"Not even a little bit." Bucky laughed a little, giving her a soft smile, eyes crinkling in the corners.
"I'm scared I'm gonna mess it up," she admitted.
"You won't," Bucky assured her, sounding absolutely confident in his response.
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I've seen the way you look at him," he said simply. "Even if you haven't said as much yet, even if you haven't realized it, you love him. If you didn't you would've left a long time ago."
Natasha didn't know what to say. She kept her eyes on the fire in front of them, even as Bucky continued.
"I also know you well enough to know that something's holding you back," Bucky told her. Natasha's heart clenched a little in her chest because she knew it was true. "And if it's your past that you're worried about…what happened to you, none of that is your fault. You didn't ask for any of that to happen to you. Steve knows that and he won't judge you for it. So you shouldn't be so hard on yourself either. Just…don't hold back."
Natasha felt tears burn in her eyes and she quickly blinked them away. The last thing she needed to do was cry when she was surrounded by hundreds of strangers.
She met his eyes. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"
Bucky grinned. "Just really, really lucky, I guess."
She laughed softly, nodding. "Guess so."
As she tucked further into his side, he pressed a kiss to her temple, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. As her eyes found Steve again, she knew she was stuck with both of them. Her boys…how incredibly lucky she was to have both of them.
-:-
September, 1944
Natasha's ears were ringing. Her head felt heavy as she tried to lift it, vision refusing to focus. She was pretty sure someone was shouting her name, but it was hard to tell when her skull felt like it had taken a sledgehammer to it. As she coughed up dust and tried to move, she could only think about France. They'd been there a month ago now, and she could still hear the bombs echoing in her ears, the constant sound of gunfire. She could still see the countless number of bodies on the ground, some with eyes wide and vacant, others who could have been sleeping if they didn't have bullets in their skulls or gaping holes in their chests. Then there had been the dozens, hundreds more injured. Men screaming as they clutched the bloody, mutilated stumps of arms or legs that had been blown off. So many of them had been covered in blood, scarlet coating their chins, covering their hands as they tried to keep the blood in their bodies. And it was on both sides. The line between good guys and bad guys had blurred, because Natasha had come across allied and German men alike, all crying or screaming for their mothers as they tried to keep their organs from spilling out onto the ground.
She and all the other Howling Commandos had luckily made it out of that battle alive, but a lot of good men had died. She saw a lot of their faces in her dreams, even if she didn't know all their names. More blood and more death to haunt her as she slept. Maybe she was dreaming now. Everything felt so hazy, out of focus. What had she been doing? Steve…Steve had been there… and Hydra, they'd been clearing out a Hydra base…they'd thought it was clear but then the explosion happened—
"Natasha! Get up! Get up, Nat!"
She gasped, pushing herself up slowly, the fog slowly lifting from her mind. She blinked a few times, found herself staring down at the dirt.
"Natasha." Steve fell to one knee in front of her, reaching out to her. She braced her hands against his forearms, let him help her rise.
"You good?" he asked, eyes flooded with relief. .
As she processed his words, she looked around them. The building they'd been in was half demolished, chunks of stone wall still falling from its now crumbling structure. The ground around the building was smoking, debris burning in some spots. They'd had fifty men with them, and many of them were lying on the ground around the building, not moving. Before her mind could think too much more about France, she spotted Hydra soldiers making their way towards them.
She looked back at Steve and nodded, voice thick as she said, "I'm good."
"We need to move."
They moved fifty yards away, regrouping with the other Commandos and soldiers just inside the line of trees that the Hydra base sat at the edge of. The only one not there was Bucky, who was up on higher ground as the sniper for their mission.
"Is everyone all right?" Steve asked the group. A series of nods and mumbled affirmations was the answer he got.
"What's the plan, Cap?" Morita asked. He had a pretty decent gash across his forehead but his eyes were bright and clear. The rest of them were in similar states, cut up and dirty, but their faces were set with grim determination. Natasha saw one soldier in particular, who couldn't have been more than eighteen or nineteen. His eyes were shining with tears, tracks down his dusty face. He was gripping his gun, ready to run at Hydra with all he had. Natasha was pretty sure his name was Thomas. He had a brother, Will, who'd also been on the mission with them. Judging by the look on Thomas' face, Will was one of the men lying dead out there.
Steve looked at each of the men in turn, his empathy palpable in the air. His jaw clenched, mirroring the determination in the faces of the soldiers in front of him. Natasha could practically see the gears turning in his head as his brilliant tactical mind laid out a plan that would best stop Hydra and get as many of them home as possible.
And after he was done relaying that plan to everyone, he gripped his shield in his hand. "Watch each other's backs. Let's go."
Hours later, they were back on base, having wiped out Hydra's forces. They figured the reason for the ambush was because they were getting close to Red Skull. But they'd still come out on top. They'd lost a few more men in the melee, but Natasha was glad to see that Thomas made it. As she'd made her way down to medical, she'd seen him twisting his brother's dog tags in his hands, fresh tears slipping quietly down his cheeks as his friends surrounded him, putting him out of sight.
It was chaos around base. With them coming back from their mission, there were dozens of questions about the ambush, what had caused the explosion (a fire Hydra set to some old ammunition as far as they could tell), how many dead and wounded there were. The injured in question were being pushed down to medical. It seemed like every nurse on base was there, attending major and minor wounds. As Natasha was told to sit on a hospital bed, she caught sight of Bucky. Their eyes met briefly before he was tugged away. Natasha had looked for Steve, but he was surely being asked to report to Phillips and some of the higher ups, especially considering the only injuries were some scrapes and bruises he'd gotten when the explosion went off.
Only after an hour or two did things settle down. The nurses had finished bandaging and wrapping the worst of the injuries. Natasha had luckily been given a chance to get cleaned up with a quick shower before the nurses checked her out. She had a concussion, unsurprisingly, a bandage around her right bicep where she had a pretty nasty gash that she'd gotten during the explosion. Other than that, it was just a lot of scrapes and bruises, same as everyone else. Morita, who was in the bed next to her, had a bandage around his head. He had some pretty severely bruised ribs as well, so he wasn't moving much. He was flirting instead with a nurse that was sweet on him. Natasha watched as she smiled big, teeth white against her dark skin. Carolyn, Natasha thought, remembering the girl's name.
When Carolyn went to go check on another patient, Natasha leaned over towards Morita. "So, when's the wedding?"
He blushed, turning his head to look at her. "You're just as bad as the others."
Natasha laughed.
"Besides," he continued, "I don't really think you should be talking, since you're sneaking off into corners with Captain America when you think no one's looking."
Now it was Natasha's turn to blush. Steve hadn't been surprised when she told him that Bucky knew about the two of them, and after France, she and Steve had let Peggy and the rest of the Commandos know that they were involved. It didn't come as a shock to anyone, but they'd all promised to keep it on the down-low. But that didn't mean the others didn't tease them incessantly.
"Speak of the devil." Morita grinned.
Natasha shifted in bed. Steve had changed out of his Captain America uniform into dark trousers and a lighter standard issue button down, the top button undone to reveal the base of his throat. The corner of his mouth quirked up in relief when he saw her, his long legs carrying him over to her bed in just a few strides. Natasha was pretty sure she saw Morita roll his eyes with a laugh, but her attention was on Steve.
He sat on the edge of her hospital bed, eyes scanning over her. "How're you doing?"
"I'm fine," she assured him, giving him a soft smile. "I've got a pretty bad concussion, so they want to keep me here tonight, to keep an eye on me."
Steve nodded in understanding. He seemed to be holding back from saying something else, something serious from the look in his eyes. But she could tell whatever he wanted to say to her he wanted to do so in private. Her stomach fluttered, both with nerves and anticipation.
"I wish I didn't have to stay here tonight," she whispered. She and Steve had to take whatever time they could get to be alone, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they were sent off on their next mission, once all the Commandos were fit to go out. And, if nothing else, she wanted to be with him while she slept. Her nightmares lessened whenever she was with him, his warm presence like a balm for the demons in her head.
Steve's gaze fell heavy on her, both in desire and understanding. "Me too."
"You should probably go." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "It's too tempting having you here. Plus I think Morita is feeling left out."
"I heard that," Morita chimed in. "Seriously though, please leave. You two are quite nauseating."
Steve chuckled. And though he couldn't kiss her in a room full of people, lest they start a flood of gossip, he gave her hand a quick squeeze. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Night," she said as he got up to leave, casting one more look at her over his shoulder before he disappeared out the door.
-:-
"How's Natasha?" Peggy asked as Steve walked into his room. He was only mildly surprised that she was there waiting for him. She had always been able to tell when he needed to talk, even if he didn't realize it himself. He moved to sit next to her on his bed. She was wearing something similar to him, trousers and a button-down, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. Her toenails were painted red to match her nails.
"Good," Steve responded as he exhaled. "She doesn't really want to be there, but there's not much she can do about that. Meredith is on duty tonight. I'm not even sure Natasha could convince her to let her leave."
"Ah." Peggy nodded in understanding. Meredith was the oldest nurse on base, in her fifties, about a foot shorter than Steve, and severely committed to her patients. Which meant she would do everything in her power to help save someone's life, but it also meant that she could scare the living daylights out of someone if they were being a bad patient. Dum Dum had tried sneaking out of the infirmary two months ago and she'd put the fear of God in him. As well as threatened to shoot him with the pistol she kept strapped to her ankle.
"How are the others?" she asked.
"They're good. Morita has some pretty badly bruised ribs. Depending on when the Colonel sends us out next, he might be stuck here on bedrest, which won't make him happy." Steve smiled a little and Peggy gave a short chuckle. "Everyone else is okay. Banged up, but…"
Steve trailed off, staring down at his hands. Peggy touched his cheek, getting him to look at her.
"I know that look," she told him, dropping her hand to grip one of his own, "I know you're blaming yourself for what happened today, but it's not your fault."
Steve shook his head, clenching his jaw. "I should've seen it coming."
"No one, not even you, knew Hydra was going ambush you—"
"But we've been ambushed before, and I should have taken that into account when planning this mission. We had fifty more men with us today. Twenty-three of them didn't make it. And Hydra…they've been getting more desperate, and I…I should've known—"
"Steve, stop," Peggy cut him off, voice firm but soothing. She squeezed his hand. He took a breath, then another. "You can't blame yourself. I know you are, but that's not your guilt to carry. Bucky, Natasha, anyone else would tell you the same thing. Those men that died today, they knew what they were risking when they went on that mission with you. Everyone knows exactly what they're risking anytime they step foot off this base. But they do it to stop this war. To stop Schmidt. The men that were lost today, they can't fight anymore. So you'll just have to do it for them."
Steve closed his eyes, letting Peggy's words sink in. It was just so soon after France. That battle….so many men had died. He could still see each and every one of their faces. And now twenty-three more were floating around behind his eyes, joining the dozens, if not hundreds of men he'd already lost under his command. Sometimes he wondered if the serum wasn't a curse with all that it had given him. His near perfect memory was more helpful than not, but times like this, he wished he could just forget like everyone else.
"You're right," he finally said, opening his eyes again and looking at her.
Peggy shrugged a shoulder, fighting a grin. "I usually am. Especially when it comes to you. I know you, Steve. So don't ever be afraid to come and talk to me."
Steve leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Thank you," he murmured as he pulled back. "I'm really lucky to have you."
The look Peggy gave him was so fond, brown eyes sparkling, red lips curved into a soft smile. "And I you."
Just over a year ago, Steve had been in love with Peggy. It wasn't even really crazy to think about, not with how close they still were. He knew that, in another life, or maybe with just a different turn of events, he and Peggy would've been together. They would've seen it through to the end of the war, gotten married, had a couple of kids. They would've had a good life together, he knew that. And he knew she felt the same way. They'd talked about it, even now that he was with Natasha. That's just how close they were, and Steve would forever be grateful that she was still in his life, still knew him and his heart as well as she did. Peggy had cared about him when he'd been skinny and frail, and she was one of the few people he could go too when he still felt that small.
Peggy stayed for a few more hours. Steve sketched, she snagged one of the books off his bedside table and read. They talked in between, laughed, just spending time together until night settled in and the base quieted down.
"I should go," Peggy finally said. "I'm sure the Colonel will want us all up bright and early to start planning the next mission."
"Oh, I have no doubt about it." Steve grinned.
Peggy leaned over and kissed his cheek, patting the same cheek with her hand as she pulled back. He smiled at her as she slid out of his bed.
"Goodnight, Steve."
"Goodnight, Peggy."
-:-
When Steve opened the door to his room Natasha could tell that he was surprised, but glad to see her. Natasha was a little surprised herself, given it was the middle of the night, and he looked far more awake than he should have.
"What are you doing here?" Steve whispered, even as he pulled her into his room and shut the door. The covers were a mess on his bed, and the lamp on his bedside table cast the only illumination throughout his room.
Natasha gave a little shrug. "I couldn't sleep. My nausea went away and my head hurts a little less, so I checked myself out."
Steve shook his head, but he was smiling. "I guess the more important question is how did you get past Meredith?"
She grinned devilishly. "I can't tell you all my secrets, Captain. That would ruin the fun."
"Well, it's not going to be very fun when Meredith starts busting down every door in this place to find you."
"Guess you'll just have to hide me here for the night then."
Steve gave a soft chuckle and pulled her into his arms. She tucked her head against his chest, already feeling more relaxed than she had in the infirmary. She'd tossed and turned for hours, unable to sleep even though she was exhausted. Morita had passed out early, but even the rhythmic sounds of his snoring hadn't been enough to lull her into sleep.
"You sure you're all right?" Steve asked her softly.
"Yeah." Her response was muffled against his chest. She pulled back enough to be able to look at his face. "But you're not."
"Nat—"
"Come on, Steve," she interrupted quietly, "I know when something's bothering you. What is it?"
She already guessed the problem. His silence and the flash of guilt in his eyes was enough to tell her that her hunch was correct. She reached up to cup his face in her hands. "Those men dying today, that was not your fault, Steve. You didn't know. None of us did."
He was silent for a beat longer. His eyes found hers as he wrapped his hands around her wrists. "You almost died today, too. I lost sight of you and I just—"
"Hey, hey," she soothed as he took a steadying breath. "I'm fine. I'm still here. I'm still here, Steve."
He nodded slowly, bringing her hands down from his face so he could tangle his fingers in hers. "I know, I know. I just…I don't want to lose you."
"You won't," she promised. For some reason, the words Bucky had said to her a month ago flashed in her mind. Don't hold back. Ever since she met Steve, she'd worked hard to shed some of the layers of her past and be a better person. She wanted to be the person he had found so worth saving, even in the beginning. Now that she was with him, she wanted that more than ever. She'd spent so long being taught that love was a curse, a weakness, but how could that be so given how she felt? Bucky was right. She shouldn't hold back.
Natasha scanned Steve's face. Her lips parted slightly, stomach flooding with butterflies. She slowly released his hands, traced her fingers teasingly slow up his arms. She kept her gaze locked with his the entire time, but she could feel him, feel his body tighten and react to her touch, could hear his breath hitch as she reached his neck, curving her arms around until her fingers were sliding through his hair. Steve's hands settled on her waist, his touch burning even through the fabric of her shirt.
Natasha leaned up and kissed him then, sealing her mouth firmly over his. He kissed her back immediately, hands tightening minutely around her waist. Warmth shot through Natasha's veins, straight down her spine, then lower. Yes, some part of her brain sighed in contentment. She was ready for this. Steve's lips parted her own, and Natasha gasped softly against his mouth as his tongue traced her lower lip. She tugged harder at his hair, their bodies pressing together as Steve walked her backwards until she hit the door with a soft thud.
Any residual pain in her head from her concussion was forgotten as Steve moved his mouth down to her jaw, teeth scraping lightly. She barely had time to suck in a much-needed breath before he was moving lower, planting wet kisses to her neck, the base of her throat, then pushing aside the fabric of her shirt to kiss her collarbones.
"Steve," she gasped, bracing one hand against his bicep.
He pulled back to look at her. His blue eyes were dark with desire, face lightly flushed, hair mussed from her constantly running her fingers through it. Still, despite the heat of his gaze, there was such adoration in his eyes that it made her Natasha's knees weak.
She captured his lips with her own, moving her hands to push them up under his shirt, thumb pressing over the spot where he'd been shot a month ago, the skin smooth and unmarred now. He sucked in a breath, a low groan sounding against her mouth. Every nerve in her body responded to the sound and Natasha shivered, kissing him a little harder, fingers pushing his shirt up higher as she traced over his muscles.
"Natasha," Steve whispered suddenly. His voice was rough, strained. He gently wrapped his hands around her wrists, stilling her movements. "Natasha. If…if we don't stop now, I—"
"I want this," she assured him quickly. "I want you."
Steve stared at her for a moment. She watched his throat bob as he swallowed. "Are we ready for this?"
Natasha nodded. Any doubts she'd had before about giving herself over to him fully had completely vanished. "Yes. I mean, I am if you are. If you want this, that is."
"Yes, I—yes." Steve nearly choked on the words he tried getting them out so fast. He kissed her quickly, then pulled back again, touching his forehead to hers. "I'm ready for this. I just…you should know that I've never—I haven't—I mean I hope it's okay that…I'm a virgin."
Natasha nearly smiled. Or cried. Her emotions were all over the place at the moment. She reached up to cup his face in her hands. She licked her lips, voice barely above a whisper as she spoke, "As long as it's okay that I'm not."
The second before Steve responded seemed to last a lifetime. "Of course it's okay. I want you exactly as you are," he said, and there was no doubt in his voice. He meant every word he said, and she could tell. Natasha almost did cry then. Instead she kissed him, crushing her lips to his.
She wasted no time in undoing the buttons on his shirt before she pushed it off his shoulders. Steve let go of her long enough to pull his arms out of the sleeves before letting the garment fall to the floor, his dog tags rattling against his chest. She touched those first, heated fingers against the cool metal. She obviously knew Steve had dog tags, but she'd never seen them fully—it had always just been the hint of the chain, glittering underneath the collar of his shirt. Now she let her fingers brush over his name, stamped firmly into the metal. Steve watched her every move, eyes sparkling.
Natasha moved her hands, running them over every inch of exposed skin, dropping a kiss to his shoulder as his hands settled low on her hips. The pads of his fingers pressed into her flesh where the hem of her shirt had ridden up, but they moved no further. They were ready for this, she was sure of it. But it didn't mean Steve wasn't still nervous. Sensing his hesitation, Natasha took the lead.
She pushed her hands lightly against his chest until he got the memo and stepped backwards until his knees hit the edge of his bed. He stumbled a little, sitting down abruptly. His eyes, wide with awe and a little nervousness, hadn't left her face and she let out a little laugh, leaning down to kiss him again. As she stood between his legs, she felt him shift as he kicked his shoes and socks off. Natasha braced her hands against his bare shoulders and swung herself onto his lap. He sucked in a breath as she straddled him, hips pressed against his own.
He faltered, lips breaking from hers as she went to pull her own shirt off, "Natasha, wait, I…"
She paused, cradling his cheek with one hand so he looked at her. "I know," she soothed quietly, kissing him once, softly. "I know. It's okay. I'll show you."
Another gentle kiss, then another, and finally he relaxed under her touch again. He kissed her back more passionately, fingers tangling in her hair. Natasha made a soft noise in the back of her throat. She pulled back just long enough to slowly reach down and lift her shirt over her head. Steve's eyes tracked her movements, mouth slack as he took her in. She was wearing a plain white bra, nothing spectacular, but he seemed awed nonetheless. She knew she was covered in bruises and scrapes, the biggest being a bruise the size of her fist on her left flank. As if he could sense her thoughts, Steve reached up and gingerly brushed his fingers over the tender skin, his other hand skimming the edge of the pristine white bandage that covered the injury on her right arm. She hissed softly, feeling a pang of doubt. He wasn't even seeing all of her scars right now, and certainly not the worst of them. What would he think?
Steve was looking at her torso, running his fingers over every bruise, every cut, every scar, fingers so, so gentle despite the strength and roughness of his hands. "You're so beautiful," he whispered suddenly, catching Natasha off guard.
When she didn't say anything, he tipped his head up to look at her. She didn't want to believe him—it would've been easier. Despite all they'd been through, despite their current positions and lack of space between their half-naked bodies, it still would've been so easy to shut down, to recall her training and not believe a word that came out of his mouth. But this was Steve. There was absolutely no hesitation, no doubt in his words. He thought she was beautiful and he meant it.
Natasha kissed him. God, she would never get tired of kissing him. His mouth was so soft, the press of his lips to hers gentle and firm at the same time. As his tongue licked at the seam of her lips, Natasha reached a hand between them, taking one of his own and guiding it up her body until he was cupping her breast in his hand. His intake of breath was sharp, hips twitching up towards hers.
"Natasha," Steve breathed. He brushed a thumb over her nipple through the fabric of her bra, and she sighed as it hardened underneath his touch. A second later she was discarding her bra too, dropping it on the floor somewhere beside her shirt. Steve's hands were roaming freely now, fingers dancing over her naked breasts, teasing at her nipples. Without any direction from her he leaned down and took one of the buds into his mouth, tongue swirling around it as his other hand flattened over the small of her back, keeping her in place. Natasha let her head fall back, soft sighs slipping past her lips. Steve's mouth switched sides. Natasha's desire coiled tight within her. She felt teeth graze against her sensitive skin and gasped louder than before.
Natasha could fake desire; it had been part of her training. But this, she couldn't fake this even if she tried. His touch, his mouth on her skin, it made her come alive. Her heart beat hard against her ribcage, stomach twisting and curling and dancing with her desire. Every touch had her wanting more, more, more. Every sound that spilled past her lips was her own. Steve elicited another such noise from her and she had to grip his arm in order to steady herself. There was a hint of pride in Steve's eyes when he broke away and looked up at her a moment later. His cheeks were flushed, mouth swollen. Natasha smiled at him as she slid off his lap. He looked like he was about to protest, but then she kneeled in front of him and started undoing his belt and he shut up real fast. Steve was breathing hard, watching her every movement.
"Nat," his voice sounded strangled, fists curling into the crisp sheets of his bed.
"Lay back," she ordered him softly.
He did as she asked. He didn't really fit, laying perpendicular to the bed as he was, but it allowed Natasha to kneel between his legs, and Steve didn't really seem to mind. He was too focused on her, the movement of her hands as they finished undoing his belt. She tugged on his pants and he lifted his hips off the bed so she could more easily pull on his slacks. She tugged them down with his boxers in the same movement. And once she had finished untangling the fabric from around his legs, he was left completely naked. The golden light from his lamp danced with the shadows across his skin. Natasha tried not to stare too much. She could see Steve blushing, skin flushed pink as he breathed hard, gauging her reaction. Still, she allowed herself to look for a moment. It wasn't like she hadn't thought about it—this—before, about being in this position with him, about the serum and what it had done to him, physically, and if it had applied to every part of his body. And, well, it truly was just as impressive as the rest of him.
Steve sucked in a sharp breath as she touched him, just a graze of her fingers against his length. "Oh, god." His voice was wrecked already. "Nat." Then she gripped him more fully, pumping her hand slowly up and down before leaning in and pressing a kiss to the underside of him. The sound Steve made went straight to Natasha's core. His lips were parted, eyes shut, hands threatening to rip the sheets with how hard he was gripping them. He was beautiful like this, truly, and for a moment, Natasha was overwhelmed. She would never, for as long as she lived, forget how he looked when he was completely at her mercy like this.
Just a few more quick twists of her hand and he was gone, groaning lowly as he came. As he lay there panting, Natasha stood, knees aching slightly in protest. She went over to his dresser and grabbed one of the neatly folded towels off the top of it. Steve had adjusted himself so he lay lengthwise on the bed, eyes tracking her as she sat on the edge of the bed next to him and wiped him up. He was still breathing hard, and Natasha's skin was still heated, the pressure between her legs a little hard to ignore, but this was as much about him as it was about her.
Discarding the towel, she grabbed Steve's canteen next and handed it to him. He sat up enough to swallow a few mouthfuls before handing the container to her. She gratefully took it, taking a moment to drink before twisting the cap back into place. She'd barely set the canteen down before Steve was lightly tugging on her wrist until she was curled into his side. He kissed her soundly, deeply.
"Thank you," he murmured against her lips, circling an index finger teasingly around her nipple as he spoke. She arched against him, a soft sigh spilling from her mouth. "That was…incredible."
Natasha couldn't help but smile as she leaned in to kiss him again. "You haven't seen anything yet, soldier."
"Then show me." His eyes were so blue as he looked at her, his voice so soft, so full of awe and, if Natasha was being honest with herself, love.
Natasha gave the tiniest nod of her head, letting Steve take the lead for a moment. He kissed her, shifting in bed until she was underneath him, his naked body like a furnace above her. His dog tags fell between them, settling on her chest as he crowded her space, nearly every inch of him pressed against her. He had one forearm braced beside her head, keeping him perched above her, his other hand drawing teasing lines across her abdomen, against the waistband of her pants which, she realized with some annoyance, were still on.
Steve, seemingly able to read her mind, gave her a little grin before he moved down her body, lips pressing kisses to her skin as he went. She let out a moan when he kissed right below her navel, fanning the fire that was quickly building in her. His hands, so skilled at wielding his shield, were steady, certain as he unbuttoned her pants. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched him slowly, almost reverently, strip her of the rest of her clothes. Then she was naked before him, every inch, completely bared to him. But he wasn't fazed. "Beautiful," he whispered, touching his fingers lightly to her left thigh where she'd been shot months ago. He kissed her other scars as he made his way back up to her mouth. When he found her lips again, she pulled him in close as her heart pounded madly in her chest.
No one, not even Alexei, had taken such care with her body before. With Alexei she had been young, inexperienced, and they had always rushed, for fear of getting caught. But with Steve, it felt like they had all the time in the world right now. And he used every second he had, touching her, tasting her, making her feel at ease in her own skin in a way she never had before. He didn't treat her like she was breakable—no, he knew her too well, knew how strong she was to treat her like some fragile thing. But he handled her with such care, like she mattered. No one had ever treated her that way, and it made Natasha want to cry. She kissed him desperately, hoping to convey at least some of her feelings.
As Steve settled back over her, careful so as not to crush her under his weight, she felt him brush up against the inside of her thigh. She moaned softly, Steve's own breathing labored again as he moved to kiss her neck. He was hesitating, she could tell, uncertain of how to proceed. "Here," Natasha reached between them and grabbed one of his hands, guiding it lower and lower to the apex of her thighs. Steve sucked in a breath at the same time she did when she showed him where to touch her. "Right there," she gasped breathlessly, helping him circle his fingers a moment longer before letting go. "Just like that."
Her head fell back against the pillows, hips lifting off the mattress as Steve continued working his fingers against her bundle of nerves. His movements, clumsy at first, started to even out. He really was a quick learner. Natasha wondered what he could do with a little more practice. She smiled at the thought, even as Steve experimentally slipped a finger inside of her. Not expecting it she gasped, then moaned hoarsely, her hands gripping the sheets they were tangled up in.
After a month of being able to kiss her, touch her, learn all the little ways her body reacted to him, Steve was able to pick up on every signal her body sent out to him, so he slipped another finger inside of her, working them in between her folds even as his thumb pressed down on her clit. Natasha cried out. A tingle worked its way down her spine, toes curling in anticipation. She wanted—oh god, she wanted to come. But not yet—
"Steve, wait," she gasped, reaching out a hand to halt his movements.
He looked up at her, eyes widening just so. "Did I hurt you?"
"No, no," she said quickly before smiling at him, tugging on his arm. He slipped his fingers out of her and she pulled him up so she could kiss him. When she broke away, she said, "You were perfect. But I want you inside me when I come."
Steve swallowed, eyes darkening even as he blushed a little bit. The corners of her mouth curved up a little bit. So he wasn't one for dirty talk. But she'd heard some of things that had come out of his mouth, so she was fairly certain she could change that. Just not tonight.
Natasha met his eyes, kissing him softly. As she did so, she reached a hand between them, gripping his hard length. Steve sucked in a breath, breaking away from her lips to touch his forehead to hers. Slowly Natasha guided him between her legs. Her mouth fell open, forehead creasing as he pushed inside her, inch by inch. When he was fully seated inside of her, Natasha stilled for a moment, adjusting to the fullness. Steve was breathing hard, skin beaded with sweat. He pushed her own damp hair away from her face, before he nuzzled his face against her neck, pressing light kisses just below her ear.
"Steve," she breathed.
He moved inside of her then. He started out slow, his movements unsteady, inexperienced, but with her own hips moving, helping to guide him in his rhythm, his pace evened out. His thrusts became more deliberate, came a little faster and a little harder. Natasha moaned, her hands moving up over his biceps, sliding through his sweat slicked hair, clawing at his shoulders. Steve was breathing hard, face buried in the crook of her shoulder. He kissed her there. And when she felt his teeth graze against her heated skin, she arched her back, pressing their bodies more fully together.
Natasha was so close. She was burning alive at his touch, fire twisting its way down her spine, to her gut, lower. Steve's name fell from her lips like a prayer. And as he reached a hand between them, circling his fingers against her until she tipped over that edge she'd been hovering on, Natasha swore that it felt like heaven. She cried out with her release, and as she tightened up around him, she dragged Steve over that edge too, spilling inside of her with his climax. He groaned, low and deep in his chest, the sound reverberating through her as he worked them both down from their highs.
For a moment the only sounds in the room were their breathing. Then slowly Steve pulled out of her. Natasha slid her hands lazily down his arms, across his chest. Steve moved just as leisurely, taking his time to kiss her swollen mouth. When he finally pulled back enough to meet her eyes, she smiled at him. His responding smile was instantaneous, bright. He gave a little laugh as he rolled them over onto their sides, pulling the sheet over their sweaty bodies. Even as they settled, finished off Steve's canteen of water, Natasha's heart was still beating hard. She wondered if Steve could hear it, wondered if his blood was singing in his veins just as much as hers was.
"Natasha." The way he said her name was enough of an answer.
As she settled into his arms for the night, Natasha wondered briefly if this was really what love felt like. When she drifted off to sleep, Natasha pondered that question while wrapped up in his warmth. Not a dream disturbed her.
-:-
"I want to take you to New York."
"Mm," Natasha hummed against her pillow. She was on her stomach, Steve tracing idle patterns on her back as she slowly woke up. She twisted her head to look at him. God, she thought he'd been beautiful last night but now, in the morning, he was almost even more so. "I've never been to New York."
"You'll love it," he told her, eyes bright and excited. "When this is all over, we'll go. I can show you around Brooklyn, where Buck and I grew up. There's this candy shop we definitely have to go to. And Coney Island, too."
Natasha smiled, but then it faltered. "You really think we're going to make it out of this?"
Steve lifted a hand to gently stroke her cheek. "I'm pretty optimistic about our chances. And if not…."
Natasha didn't allow him to finish that thought, because that was not something she wanted to think about. Not after last night. It had been perfect, and she didn't want to ruin it. "So, New York?"
Steve, not a fool, knew she'd changed the subject, but smiled at her anyway. "New York," he said in affirmation. "I'll take you there. I promise."
"And after that?"
"Anywhere you want. Anywhere you go, I'll follow."
Natasha smiled, heart fluttering in her chest. 'That sounds perfect."
Steve beamed. "It's a date then."
Just as Steve leaned in to kiss her, there was a loud knock on the door. Natasha jerked back, startled.
"Shit," Steve muttered, nearly falling out of bed. "Shit, shit."
Natasha sat up and pulled the sheets from his bed tighter around herself as Steve searched for his pants. He hastily pulled them on, buckled his belt, and then grabbed a clean t-shirt from his dresser. When he was halfway presentable, he went to the door and opened it just enough that he could see who it was.
"Colonel Phillips," Steve said in greeting. Natasha saw his back straighten. She hardly dared to breathe.
There was a moment of silence and Natasha could practically see Phillips looking Steve over, assessing. Finally, "You were supposed to be in the council room for a debriefing ten minutes ago, Rogers."
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I…overslept."
Another moment of silence. "Just don't let it happen again. I expect you to be presentable with your ass parked in a chair in five minutes."
"Yes, sir."
Steve was just closing the door when Colonel Phillips called out, loud enough for her to hear, "You too, Romanoff!"
Natasha couldn't even move. Once the Colonel was gone, Steve quietly shut the door and turned to her, eyes wide. Then she couldn't help it, she laughed. Steve cracked a smile, padding over to the bed. He braced his hands against the mattress, leaning forward to capture her mouth with his.
"Guess we weren't as sneaky as we thought," she whispered, laughing some more.
Steve's eyes twinkled. He gave her a once over, and she knew he was going over every detail of last night. The smile he gave her was downright devilish. "Guess not."