"Agent Romanoff. Captain Rogers." – Phil Coulson, the Avengers (2012)
Her scent.
Her sweet, intoxicating, feminine scent; wafting from her delectable figure, looming in the doorway, and hovering in the meagre space separating their bodies; waiting to be savored, waiting to be tasted.
The same scent, which had long since awakened within him this… physical… ache, and this… craving for the redhead; for her attention, for her touch, her voice, her smile, her time, her body, her life, her devotion, her love, her everything.
It was like some sort of addiction.
Yes.
Steve Rogers was an addict, a total Natasha-Romanoff junkie; an addict, fighting an endless battle against his unquenchable, and dangerous need for her.
It was a losing battle. He knew damn well that it was. He knew it from the very first moment he was attracted to her.
Because no matter how many times he breathed in her scent, no matter how much time he'd spent with her, or how many moments and jokes they'd shared, one thing remained a fact:
He still couldn't fucking get enough of her.
Every breath he took only made him want more of her; more, more, more, more, more and MORE.
So much more than he knew she could give him.
Her heart.
That, was what he truly wanted.
Steve wanted Natasha Romanoff's heart.
But it was impossible.
Her heart was something he could never have.
It was something he knew she couldn't possibly give him.
Because she'd already given it to another man.
At least he still had her scent. And that was good enough for him, at least for now, in this moment, when she was standing at his door right in front of him, looking ravishingly bodacious in her kickass, all-black leather attire.
Yes. Her scent.
Her scent was enough.
It was enough for now.
Enough for him to know that she was okay.
She was here.
She was safe.
The supersoldier's thoracic cavity expanded to its utmost extremity as he shamelessly gulped down a big lungful of Natasha-Romanoff-flavored air, like as if it was the first breath he'd taken in days.
And he was thus rewarded with a sensation akin to having the taste of paradise right at the tip of his tongue.
It was perfection.
It was tantalizing. It was heady. Electrifying. And arousing.
Downright titillating.
And, apparently, it was also all it took to transform the usually charismatic Captain America into a blabbering imbecile.
"Nat? Natasha? Is that… is that… really you?" Steve blurted out.
Did he just-
Oh God. He did not just stutter.
He. Did. Not.
Ugh! Curse him and that stupid, stupid, stupid, moronic, idiotic, imbecilic mouth of his!
And what the heck was it that he'd said again?
'Is that really you?'
Seriously?
Natasha fucking Romanoff was standing in front of him, and THAT shit was all he could come up with?
Good Lord. He really wanted to kill himself. Of course it's her, you fucking moron!
Why couldn't he say something suave like, 'Hey, Natasha. Did you miss me, gorgeous? Cause I sure missed you. Oh no, your lips seem a little dry and chapped, why don't I wet them for you?' and then end the greeting with a searing kiss right on the lips.
Hell, fuck the suaveness, he could've just said something normal like, 'Hi, Nat. It's so good to see you. Are you okay?' Yeah, seriously, how hard could that be, right?
But no.
No.
Apparently, Steve Rogers didn't do normal or suave when it came to the dames' department. He just had to go with his long time MO during moments like this: acting like an absolute imbecile.
'Is that really you?' Pfft. God. Someone please just shoot him dead already. Take him to the gallows. Feed his flesh to the crows, or to the goddamn vultures. Whichever that works. He didn't deserve to live after that display of utter stupidity.
Steve had noticed the playful quirk on the redhead's mouth even before the silliness of his own words fully registered in his mind. That endearing smirk on her mouth just moments ago was now curved slightly to one side, thus revealing that super adorable dimple on her right cheek; the same dimple whose hollow he'd always dreamt of placing his fingers or the tip of his tongue in.
Right at the moment when their eyes met and when she made a quick lift of her chin, Steve just somehow knew that she was gonna start teasing him about that retarded salutation which came out of his mouth seconds ago.
"T'Challa did mention about the broken ribs…" she paused a little, glancing down at Steve's torso before returning her gaze to his face, Steve could see the emerald brand of mischief which her eyes abundantly held right then as she teased, "…but he didn't say anything about a head injury…"
Just like that, something in Steve clicked.
And he chuckled heartily.
That piece of mismatched jigsaw of his life he'd mentioned before? The one that just wouldn't fit no matter what he did? Yeah, it'd now fallen into place. CLICK. Just like that.
It was the first time in days that he'd felt this alive. And it was all because of her.
The spy's visage took another form.
This time she feigned a gasp of panic and a look of concern as she placed her hand on his arm, "Oh no, Steve, it's not your dementia acting up again, is it? Because… you know, I kinda left all your Razadyne pills back at the compound…"
Oh yeah, that did it.
That really did it for him.
A cackle (which sounded suspiciously close to those made by big fat mother hens) erupted from his mouth before he could stop himself. And the expression of shock and disbelief on his face from the moment he opened the door transformed into a megawatt smile, pronto.
"That's hilarious, Nat." he said in between laughter.
And oh, by the way, there was absolutely no doubt now that he had made a complete fool of himself. It was all out in the open now, considering the way she was so mercilessly teasing him. Pfft, if only he gave a damn. Heck, he could be standing buck naked in front of her right now and he wouldn't give so much as a rat's ass. As long as she was okay, as long as she was safe, nothing else mattered to him. As long as he knew that she was safe.
The spy smiled a little.
"Can I ask you something?"
"What is it, Nat?"
"Is this how you treat a girl back in 1945? Make her stand waiting out in front of your door? I mean, I know you're old, but surely not that old to forget all your manners…"
Another chortle burst out of his mouth.
"Oh, I've missed you too, Nat."
Yeah…How could he ever forget the sass? It was one of the 'qualities' which he found so goddamn endearing in her. Jesus, barely a minute had passed, and she had already gotten his ass thoroughly sassed. And she hadn't even stepped through the door yet, for goodness' sake. Guess that's the thing about them ASSASSINS. They always know how to get A SASS IN, whenever and wherever. Sexy as hell, in Steve's opinion. Well, okay, maybe not all assassins, perhaps just one assassin (who also happened to be a redhead) in particular because Steve really, really had no plans in making any sort of comment about Clint's sexiness anytime soon. Yikes.
Clearing his throat twice, Steve finally tore his gaze away from her face and held the door wider for her. And then with a little come-in gesture, he stepped aside from the doorway to make room for her entrance.
By the time Steve turned back to face the suite after closing the door and slipping the security chain back in place, Natasha was standing quite some distance away from him. She was standing beside the kitchen counter – where he sat writing his two letters just moments ago before her pleasant intrusion. A black duffle bag sat on top of one of the tall stools, he noticed.
Unable to move, Steve leaned his back tentatively against the front door.
He felt edgy all of a sudden. There were just so many things he'd wanted to say that he just didn't know how to begin.
The spy shifted a little before she dared to look up into the soldier's eyes. It was a wonder how quickly the mood had changed from fun teasing to pure tension.
For a moment, neither spoke.
They stared deeply into each other's eyes, hesitating, trying to find the right things to say to each other. That was the irony in human communications, he supposed. When two people are apart, they could always plan, think, and conjure up truckloads of things to say to each other with flawless precision. But when finally standing in front of each other, face to face, no words would come out. Well, as it seemed, the exact same thing was happening to Captain America and the Black Widow right then.
Guess it happens even to the best of humankind.
"Nat I-" "Steve I-" Their voices rang out in unison.
Both of their eyes widened, his in surprise; hers in glee, and perhaps a tad bit amusement.
Their gazes remained glued to each other's for what felt like an eternity. The tension in the room was now palpable. So taut was the tension that they both found it suffocating and difficult to breath. In the end, they both chose to stop breathing altogether and just hold their breaths in their lungs. The air was supercharged. And the space was quiet, deafening. Both of them seemed to be waiting for that proverbial 'needle' to drop, or just something, anything to break the silence. Neither of them released the breaths they were holding.
And then the next second was when the magic truly happened.
They both began chuckling. Simultaneously. Synchronously.
And thereupon, the supercharged air sprung to life.
Sparks flew, dancing about the air, instantly kindling the Soldier's barely-concealed passions for the Spy.
Breaths were released, first in small huffs, and then in substantial effluxes.
Chuckles evolved into full-blown laughter.
Their joint laughter soon took away their capacity to hold eye contact. Both the soldier and the spy tore their gazes away from each other, their arms clutching hard at their stomachs as their diaphragms flexed in sporadic and uncontrollable pulses.
The sounds of their laughter soon pervaded the entire suite, in unison, in harmony. Deep masculine vocals stirred the air, entwining beautifully with Natasha's sultry feminine tones, forming a taut cord. A cord which bound them, the Soldier and the Spy, together. A cord that betokened a bond. A strong bond. A chemical bond that was the fruit of their formidable chemistry.
And immediately, the Soldier could already begin to feel the weight on his shoulders seeping away, like as if a weight pack was suddenly unclipped from his back.
He felt instant relief. Instant gratification.
A euphoria.
Paradise.
It was a beautiful moment.
Because this was them.
This was the essence of their relationship.
This was their bond.
This was Steve and Natasha.
Captain America and the Black Widow.
The Soldier and The Spy.
And their joint laughter? That was music, a song; a symphony of the chemistry that they shared with one another.
It was relieving, and cathartic.
Truly a wonderful sight to behold.
He missed this.
Boy, did Steve ever miss this like fuck.
Missed them.
Missed how they complemented each other so well.
Missed how they clicked with each other like the most unique lock and key combination in the entire universe.
Missed their inexplicable but welcomed chemistry, their spark.
Missed how they worked so perfectly with each other like a well-oiled machine capable of perpetual motion; so in sync, and so flawless.
He missed her. Period.
The brief euphoria ended when the laughter slowly subsided.
He swiped his eyes with the back of his hand and filled his lungs with a big gulp of air.
He saw her lips move.
"Steve, I…uhh, I'm-"
But Steve held up his hand and interrupted her before she could finish. The look he gave her then was one of pure relief, bliss, and dare he say, love?
"Nat…just shut up and come here?" Steve half-pleaded with his arms held wide open at his sides.
When Natasha's feet remained un-movingly planted on the ground, Steve rolled his eyes and closed the distance between them in quick strides. His hands clasped the top of her shoulders the moment she was within reach, causing her to quickly peer up at him. There were hints of uncertainty, and of surprise in her eyes at first, like as if she was unsure (or perhaps afraid) of what he was gonna do. But, when her expression slowly softened, Steve did the thing which he had been dying to do for days.
He pulled her shoulders towards him, crashed her petite form onto his chest, and buried his face into her beautiful red locks, into her welcoming, bliss-inducing scent.
God, I miss you. I love you. I miss you. I love you. I miss you. I love you. I miss you. I love you. I miss you.
He chanted those words repeatedly in his head like an unending mantra.
None of those words actually formed on his mouth.
Because right at that moment, no words were needed.
This time, he could tell that she really was taken by surprise, because an audible gasp (which he thought was rather cute and unWidow-ish )escaped her lips the moment their bodies came into contact. He didn't call her out on it though. He just wanted to savor the moment and be as close to her as possible. He just wanted her by his side. He just wanted to hold her in his arms, warm, safe, and protected. Everything else be damned.
"God, Nat. I'm so glad to see you… I was so worried about you…"
Steve sneakily inhaled another lungful of her all-too-familiar scent. Floral, with hints of jasmine and rose, and perhaps a whiff of gardenia too. Just her scent alone could enkindle a sense of overwhelming bliss, straight from within his core; bliss, which he would gladly savor for all of eternity. Though, he did manage to notice that her hair smelled differently than usual. Well, different, but still so damn good. Because it was hers.
He could almost feel her smirk forming on his chest. Although he couldn't see it, Steve knew that the smirk was coming, and then some wisecrack or quip would be next in the line.
And he was damn right.
"You senior citizens might wanna cut-back on all the worrying 'cause I hear that it's super bad for the heart. Plus, I really don't think your geriatric card works here if you end up needing an ECG or something."
A chuckle erupted from his chest. Boy, he would never get tired of her old-man jokes. Never. In fact, he even wished that he could hear them for the rest of his life.
"Then next time, don't go missing on me again." Steve quipped back.
"Easy now, soldier. A girl can take care of herself you know…" she added quickly with that teasing voice of hers which he loved so much.
He felt her arms slowly snake their way up his back and settled right on top of his shoulder blades. It took every ounce of his self-control to suppress the shivers roused by the contact.
On impulse, Steve ran his hand through her red hair and stroked, tenderly. Lovingly.
"Doesn't mean that I'd stop worrying, okay? You know that I'll always worry about you, Nat." Steve pulled his head back and looked straight into her light-green orbs. Because I love you. He very nearly blurted out.
"Ditto, Steve. Ditto."
For a moment, Steve could have sworn that he saw something flickered in her eyes. Was it longing? Happiness? Relief? But before he could work out what it was, Natasha broke their eye contact and turned her head aside. She then removed her hands from his back and let her hand drop to her sides. Steve did the exact opposite. He wrapped his arms tighter around her body, trying to prolong their embrace.
Her hands slipped up his chest.
The flutters took over his heart instantly. His face grew warm at her touch, and for a split second, he almost considered giving her a kiss on her cheek or on her forehead, just because the moment felt so darned right to him.
That blissful sensation, as it turned out, was short-lived.
Because he soon felt a light shove on his chest.
Oh. Oh.
She wanted the hug to end. That was why her hands were on his chest…
Right.
A stab of hurt pierced through his heart.
Steve quickly pushed the hurt away, and schooled his features.
Way to go, you jerk. Now you've made her uncomfortable. Real suave, Rogers. Real suave.
Steve cleared his throat once and released her (reluctantly) from his bear hug.
When they were once again outside each other's personal space, Steve asked, "Are you okay? What were you doing all these time? And where have you been?" The worried look was back on Steve's face again.
Her right eyebrow quirked at the same time she canted her head.
"Well, I was tracking down this piece of rare and old fossil… But I think most people would call it archaeology." Natasha teased.
Steve chuckled, "Yeah, very funny, Nat. Now tell me what I wanna hear."
"What? Isn't that what you wanna hear? That I was at this excavation site…digging… and shoveling…" Natasha resumed her teasing.
Steve was torn between amusement and frustration.
The latter won out.
Steve sighed, "Nat... please."
From the look of resignation and exhaustion on Steve's face, Natasha knew that he was done playing games.
"Relax Steve. I'm fine, really. I was doing what I do best, running and hiding. After you and Barnes left the airport, I went back to the compound to pack a bag. And then I went to hide in Clint's farm until help arrived."
"Help?"
"Coulson. I needed his help to track you down."
Steve's brows shot up, as if he suddenly remembered something.
"Yeah… come to think of, Nat, how did you know that you can find me here?"
Natasha smirked.
"Ah, okay, I see, you must've contacted T'Challa…that's how you knew…" Steve stared pointedly at the spy.
"I did contact T'Challa… but only when I was about to enter Wakandan airspace…"
"Wait, what? So you mean you already knew that I'm here before you even contacted T'Challa?" Steve said, his lips slightly apart from shock.
"Mmm-hmm…"
"But how?"
Natasha's smirk widened.
"You're getting slow in your old age, Rogers." said the spy slyly.
Steve smiled good-naturedly, "Well, it's been a long couple of days."
The spy threw him a noncommittal shrug, but the smirk still very much plastered on her face.
"Well?" Steve prodded.
Without saying another word, Natasha pushed herself off the kitchen counter, turned on her heels and headed towards the luxurious loveseat couch at the suite's parlor.
Steve watched her form for a good five seconds before he went after her.
"Wait, you're really not gonna tell me?"
Natasha plopped down on one of the fluffy cushions, crossed her legs, and shot him an innocent look.
"Tell you what?"
Steve stopped in front of the couch and (as stupid as it sounded) used his Captain America glare on her. Pfft, like as if it'd work on her. After about 30 seconds of his ineffectual glaring and glowering, he gave up.
"Oh, come on, Nat. Are you really gonna be like this?" Steve whined.
"Why, yes. It's actually kinda fun, watching the great Captain America grasp at straws. Hey, isn't there a theme song out there about you? How did it go again? The Star-Spangled Man with a Plan? How about you become the Straw-Spangled Man for a change, huh?" Natasha teased.
Steve rolled his eyes, but merely for effect, because deep down, he was enjoying getting his ass thoroughly sassed by her. And, not to mention getting his balls completely busted.
"Fine. If you won't tell me, then I guess I'll just have to work it out myself."
The smug spy smirked.
"Sure you can do it, Rogers? I mean you couldn't even extend a proper greeting not ten minutes ago." she taunted.
God. That's not going away any time soon…
Never one to back out of a challenge, Steve stood his ground. No way in hell he was gonna back away from a challenge, even if it came from her. Pfft. Especially if it came from her.
Steve cleared his throat, "Oh you're damn right I'm sure, Nat. I'm gonna figure this out." Steve at least tried to sound confident.
Damn. Where the hell was all his can-do attitude when he needed them?
The smirk on her face just went from smug to positively vainglorious.
And God, that wasn't supposed to turn him on.
It wasn't supposed to.
But it did.
So sexy.
And saucy and-
Ohh…kay, he might really have to go balls-out on this one.
"Just you wait, Nat. Just you wait."
"Well I'm not gonna wait around for another 70 years if that's what you're suggesting." she jibed saucily.
Pop. Pop.
Did you folks hear that? Yeah?
That, was the sound of Steve Rogers' balls being busted, in case you're wondering.
The supersoldier shot another glare at the redhead.
All he got in return was a conceited shit-eating grin.
Yep. He lost. Totally.
Downright got his sorry ass wholly handed to him by Miss Saucy over there. That much he knew when he'd failed to contrive a comeback to her last jibe.
Definitely the death of him, this woman. Lord have mercy on him for the rest of the night.
Sometimes, I HATE that I love you, Nat.
Steve spoke two seconds later.
"You didn't track the quinjet I used, did you? I had it on stealth, it'd be impossible to track. Besides, even if you did manage to bypass the stealth and track the quinjet, you'd be in Siberia, not here. Because that was where I left the jet, outside the HYDRA facility." Steve's eyes narrowed in thought.
That minx of a spy downright ignored him and continued playing with those perfectly manicured white nails of hers. Steve couldn't decide whether to be absolutely infuriated or amused with her demeanor. Part of him wanted to be mad at her for keeping him in the dark, but another part of him (okay, most part of him) just found her playful demeanor so goddamn alluring.
Ugh. Maddening, challenging and infuriating enigma of a woman.
Seriously, the more he thought about it, the more it felt like that Natasha reveled in busting his balls. Was it a general trait of spies? Not that he knew a lot about real-life spies anyway, he always considered himself as more of a soldier than a spy even though he used to work for the world's leading intelligence agency 2 years ago. But then again, even in SHIELD, he had never once felt like he fit in as a spy. In fact, he mostly felt like he was just a super-janitor or something, taking out the 'trash' with his shield for SHIELD. Anyway, part of his meagre knowledge in espionage came from the movies which Natasha had picked out for him. He remembered the most recent one he had seen, around a year ago. It was 007, Spectre. He wouldn't say that he particular enjoyed the movies or the actions in them (being a supersoldier, he could personally attest to the fact that those actions in the movies couldn't hold a fucking candle to the actions that he himself had seen throughout his Avenging career). But then again, the movies turned out to be surprisingly informative for a non-spy such as himself, like for instance, he had learnt that spy-missions usually involve planting bugs or tracking–
Steve's head snapped towards the spy, his eyes as narrow as those kinds of slits where one inserts coins into.
"Wait a minute… Nat. You planted something on me didn't you?" Steve pointed at the table emphatically.
Natasha finally looked up from her nails and stared at him. Her face betrayed absolutely nothing.
Oh, she has a nice poker face, he'd give her that one.
But Steve knew better. He knew. Because she wouldn't even have reacted if he hadn't somehow hit the right spot.
Steve clapped his hands together loudly, and pointed his index finger at the spy.
"Hah! Oh you SOOO did, Nat. You soo did."
Natasha finally gave him a genuine smile and a tiny shrug.
"Busted." she said, a little sheepishly.
Steve's heart nearly melted at the sight of her right then, her beautiful smile mixed with cockiness and a little sheepishness. Did he ever mention how much he loved seeing her smile? God, how Steve absolutely adored her smile, and even more so when he was the one who had put it there on her face.
"It's gotta be somewhere on my uniform… Where?" Steve asked pointedly.
This time, however, the spy answered with a smug look, "On your left boot."
"On my-" Steve turned around and stalked into the bedroom before he could finish his sentence.
Moments later, Steve walked out from the bedroom, carrying a tracking device the size of a grain of rice.
"I've never seen this before. This isn't part of the standard Avengers issue…" said Steve as he sat down beside Natasha on the couch. He tried to ignore the tingles he'd felt when their thighs rubbed against each other.
"No. These are older models. They used to be standard SHIELD issue a long time ago. In fact, I sort of… designed them, 2 years after I joined SHIELD."
Steve's eyes shone in understanding, and his expression softened immediately as he slowly angled his body on the couch to face the spy.
"Right. The Avengers issued ones…Tony had access to the locations. That was why…"
"Not only Tony. The task force, and the bureaucrats, they all have access to the GPS data emitted by those new ones. If I had planted those on you, you'd have been arrested and locked up already." Natasha explained.
Steve slowly lifted his gaze towards Natasha's face and held her gaze. Steve knew, that if Natasha had wanted him arrested or captured, she could have done it easily, she had all the means and tools to do it.
But she didn't.
She had his back instead.
Suddenly, he felt the need to reach out and touch her. So he took a deep breath, reached out, took her hand, and slowly lifted it towards his lips.
His eyes never once left hers as he pressed his lips to the back of her beautiful hand.
It was a bold but necessary gesture. She had his back. Of all things she could've done, she chose to have his back instead.
"Thank you, Nat. For everything. For having my back."
He didn't release the hand immediately. Instead, he held on to her delicate hand as he continued to stare into her alluring emerald eyes, like as if those eyes held the secret to some sort of cosmic mystery. And at that moment, he knew, that the depths of his feelings for her were all clearly and obviously reflected in his own eyes. But he didn't care. Right then, he just wanted her to know how much her having his back meant to him. He needed her to know just how much she meant to him.
Natasha threw him a wan smile.
When she spoke next though, it was with a tone so soft and earnest that it made Steve's heart skipped a good three beats.
"Always, Steve."
Unconsciously, the pad of his thumb began tracing light circles at the back of her hand.
He thought he'd heard a little sigh escape her mouth, but he couldn't be sure.
'I love you, Nat.' Say it, Rogers. Say it. Now's your chance, tell her now. Spit it out.
Tell her, Rogers. Say it now! Goddamnit, Rogers, say it!
He could feel the tension between them, strangling and wrangling at his neck. Invisible sparks danced around the space between their faces. The air between them laid thick, and dense. He felt a tug of anticipation at the pit of his stomach, the same one he'd felt during Project Rebirth when he lay on that surgical table.
All of a sudden, the room felt too cold.
A fleeting image of the ice flashed before his eyes. But it went away almost immediately.
Come on, Rogers! Inflate your balls. Tell her!
Natasha averted her gaze almost at the same time as she pulled her hand away from Steve's palm.
Steve could only watch helplessly as her smooth hands slip away from his grasp, inch by inch.
When she spoke next, her tone was back to teasing again, and Steve knew that their little moment was gone.
"You still haven't completed the puzzle yet, old man. What, you're not giving up already, are you?"
The soldier sighed inwardly.
Wuss. Coward. Candy-ass. Steve chided himself.
Steve cleared his throat once and tried to hide the disappointment from his voice, "When? When did you plant the device on me?"
"I could tell you… but then again… where's the fun in that?"
Steve let out a groan. Okay, fine, he wasn't really that upset. Deep down, he was rather amused and maybe a little bit happy with their verbal sparring. Because this verbal sparring… it was them. It was their 'thing'.
"Was it back at the compound?"
The spy shook her head tauntingly, and perhaps a tad bit condescendingly, like a mother disappointed in her child.
"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Like I said, Rogers. Slow."
Steve ignored the jibe and picked up the small device again. This time, he carefully perused the device.
Amid his scrutiny, Steve noted a singular feature of the tracking device. It was its geometry. The geometry of the device resembled some of the parts on Natasha's Widow's Bites.
"Huh." Steve drawled as a sudden thought registered in his mind. He stood up from the couch and began pacing back and forth in front of said furniture. Several moments later, he stopped his pacing and turned around to face the spy once more.
"The shape of this is device…I've seen it somewhere before… Your gauntlets. It's from your gauntlets isn't it… it was shot out from your gauntlets… it has to be…"
Another smirk from the spy.
"Try harder, Rogers."
Only then did the light bulbs flashed in Steve's head, and everything clicked into place.
"At the hangar… when you tazed T'Challa… it was during that time wasn't it…"
"Bingo."
Steve went slack-jawed in a concoction of shock and amazement.
"But you managed to plant it on me without me even noticing… That's…impressive."
Natasha shrugged in response, indicating the fact that she probably didn't think it was that big of a deal, but curiosity got the better of the soldier. He just had to know.
"How did you do it?" he asked, causing Natasha to smile sweetly at him.
"A girl has her ways…" Natasha said elusively, which spurred a chuckle from the soldier.
"Was it shot off at the same time as the electric charge?" Steve questioned, clearly not wanting to give up until he had known her trick.
"No. It was after. The first shot was aimed at T'Challa. It made you turned your head so…"
Steve nodded in recognition, "And then you fired the second shot onto my boot when I was looking behind me. Right. Very well played."
The spy raised her shoulders again in nonchalance.
Natasha shifted on the cushions and relaxed herself against the backrest while the soldier's mind worked.
Steve shook his head in amazement as he began putting the pieces together.
"You planned this even before Bucky and I ran into the hangar didn't you? You knew that T'Challa was after us, after Bucky, to be precise. But wait, back at the hangar, you could've told me from the start that you were planning to let Bucky and I go, but you didn't… why?"
"What happened to figuring it all out on your own?" the spy goaded.
Steve thought for a moment before he made the connection.
Steve dropped his gaze onto his lap and sighed, "Right. Of course…"
"Took you long enough, Rogers. 2 minutes and 49 seconds."
Steve let out a laugh of pure amazement as he slowly put together how she did it, "You wanted me to believe that you'd fire at me… THAT was why you never told us about your plan to let us go at the beginning. You wanted the first shot from your gauntlets to take me by surprise… So you stalled us until T'Challa's arrival, only then you fired the first shot at T'Challa, which would guarantee to surprise me because I'd expect you to shoot at me. Then I'd turn my head in surprise. And you would then sneakily plant the device on me when I was looking behind. Brilliant. You're really the smartest woman I know, Nat."
"Flattery gets you nowhere, Captain." said the spy playfully.
"Well, what can I say? I'd give credit when it's due." Steve grinned at the spy and shook his head, "That was one hell of a stunt you pulled there. You've bested all of us with just one simple move. You're amazing, you know that, Nat?"
It took Natasha every ounce of her training to hide the blush roused by Steve's compliment.
"Uhh, thanks."
"You're welcome."
Feeling slightly uncomfortable at Steve's intense stare, Natasha rose from the couch and walked over to the sliding doors which separated the suite's living area and its ginormous balcony.
Steve's eyes followed her every movement. When she stopped in front of the transparent door and stared into the darkness beyond it, Steve strode over and joined her at her side. He tried to ignore the electricity coursing through his body when the back of his hand brushed slightly against hers, focusing instead on the fact that she was there, with him, beside him.
For a moment, Steve actually felt a little bit light headed, but he brushed it off as due to his hunger. He should eat something, he really should. But, honestly? Standing beside her like this felt so good. Her scent was strong, and he could feel the warmth emanating from her body beside him. But nothing could beat the sight of her though. She was simply stunning, even in plain clothes.
God, he could stare at her forever.
Jesus, was he actually swooning? It certainly felt like he was swooning. Perhaps he really was swooning a little.
Okay, maybe he really should go grab that snack bar, now.
But maybe just a couple of seconds longer…or maybe a couple more minutes…
Hell, screw it, he ain't movin' nowhere.
Steve was enjoying the comfortable silence between them when all of a sudden, he felt Natasha nudging his side with her elbow.
"Sorry I had to plant them on you, though. In hindsight, I think the better idea was to just go along with you to Siberia in the first place."
He didn't know what came over him, but Steve found himself balking at the idea, vehemently.
"NO…! You… uh, definitely shouldn't have come along with me to Siberia." Steve croaked out, perhaps a tad bit too quickly.
Steve shuddered at the thought of Natasha getting caught in the middle of the brawl between him and Tony. Oh, HELL no.
With the way Tony was fighting, he wasn't sure if Natasha would get out of the fight unharmed. But then again, wasn't every mission the same? Every time they were out Avenging, there was always the risk that the mission would be their last. At the thought, Steve palpitated. It would absolutely crush him if he lost her. But then again it would probably suck too if he was killed in action without ever telling her how he felt about her.
That's it, Rogers. No more holding back. If you can't tell her, then you can act on it. Come on, Rogers!
He took a deep breath and recovered, "What I mean is, no. I wouldn't have wanted you to come with me even if it happened all over again. And I'm glad that things turn out this way. That you planted those tracking devices on me…and found me here…"
Both of them turned towards each other at the same time.
The look on Natasha's face was that of confusion.
"Why?"
Steve had no idea what happened next, but the next thing he knew, his feet were moving on their own, and the words poured out of his mouth as if his mouth has its own brain, "Because then I wouldn't be able to do this…"
He crashed his lips onto hers.
Her mouth opened in a surprised gasp, which seemed to increase his confidence substantially to the point that he brought his tongue into the game. Boldly, his tongue stretched beyond the boundaries defined by her lips; tasting, exploring, and savoring everything in its path before it finally tangled itself with her tongue.
He halfway expected to suddenly feel his manhood being yanked off his crotch, or to end up on the floor with her thighs wrapped around his neck (in a non-sexual, combat-related sort of way, obviously) but well, surprisingly, it didn't happen.
He thought of pulling away, then maybe fumble out an apology or two. Heck, he could even blame it on his low blood sugar and pretend that it all didn't happen.
Well, he almost did.
Almost.
He didn't.
Because the spy kissed him back.
All hell broke loose.
His arms travelled upwards automatically and framed her face as his tongue continue to wrestle with hers. As impressed as he was with their tongue wrestling, Steve realized that just having their lips and tongues touching wasn't nearly enough anymore. So he dropped his hands from her face onto her waist and spun her around against the sliding door.
Her back collided with the glass door so hard that the vibrations could be felt even 2 seconds after the contact was made. Heck, he thought he might have even cracked the goddamn glass a little but he didn't give a single damn, and he had a feeling that the spy didn't either.
A long and silky saliva bridge connected their lips as he pulled away to look into her eyes and seek her confirmation; the final confirmation that she, too, wanted this to go any further.
The darkening of her green eyes was the only indication he needed to start pushing her leather jacket off her shoulders. The saliva bridge collapsed when their lips joined together once more.
Both of his hands, which had been resting on her waist during this whole time, begged to be taken off the sidelines and to join the action. His right hand traveled along the circumference of her waist towards the front of her pants, pausing and hovering over the button.
With a skillful flick of his index finger and thumb, the garment was unbuttoned and the zipper undone.
At the same time, the soldier's mouth traveled down the column of her elegant neck, assaulting every inch of skin in its path.
Before he even realized it, his right hand slipped past the waistband of her pants and underwear, ready to infiltrate the most intimate part of her body. A few milliseconds later, it did, and an unstifled moan burst through the confines of her beautiful lips.
Then his fingers started moving against her, eliciting the most beautiful sounds he swear he had ever heard coming out from a woman's mouth. And this time, it was his name at the tip of her tongue, not another man's.
"Steve…"
"Steve…."
"STEVE!"
He felt a violent shake on his arm.
"Wha…what?"
For a moment, he actually felt the room spinning a little.
He shook his head twice, and hard.
He was still standing beside her, in front of the glass door. But something was wrong. Very wrong. Something was different.
Because Steve realized all of a sudden that they were still standing half a meter apart from each other, and that her leather jacket was still draped over her shoulders.
And the room was quiet. Too quiet.
Nobody was moaning anybody's name.
He stared at Natasha's face. And was dismayed to find that her face wasn't contorted in ecstasy like he'd previously thought it was. Instead, her face was scrunched up with concern and worry.
Oh shit. You've gotta be kidding me. Steve cursed under his breath as he finally realized just what had happened.
"Steve, are you okay?" she asked.
It was a fucking hallucination.
It was all his wishful thinking, every goddamn second of it.
With much vehemence, Steve shook off the last vestiges of his sexual fantasy. But damn, it all just seemed so fucking real. So real that he'd swear that he could still 'feel' her slick arousal on his fingers as they slipped in and out between her wet folds, and as they rubbed against her cli–
But whatever, it had all been in his mind, a petty fantasy, like the ones that undoubtedly occupied the dreams of most teenagers. Petty, and pathetic.
Pathetic, Rogers. You're fucking pathetic.
Damn. He really should've taken the energy bar when he had the chance.
"Steve?" she asked again when he didn't answer.
Steve shook his head, "Yeah. I'm okay. Why? What's wrong?"
The concern on her face morphed into a look of pure incredulity which could be readily dubbed as: really? You're seriously asking me that?
But much to Steve's surprise, there was no quip from of her this time.
Instead, her voice was filled with concern when she spoke next.
"Nothing. It's just… you kinda zoned out for a while there. Like you were somewhere else entirely. You sure you're alright? This isn't like you, Steve."
Oh, I assure you, Nat, I wasn't elsewhere. We were both right here. We were standing right where we are, just doing things with our mouths that don't involve much talking.
Steve brushed it off with a wave of his hand, "I'm fine, Nat. I was just…..thinking about….stuff."
Steve nearly snorted at how lame that sounded.
Yeah… 'stuff' is right.
The teasing smirk was back on her face once again.
This time, she did joke, "Why? What happened there? Another trip to the Smithsonian?"
Steve chuckled, "Hilarious."
"Or wait, is it past your bed time already? An old man needs his beauty sleep, I suppose. I don't really mind if you need to grab a quick shut-eye, I mean, you were pretty much napping in a standing position just a few minutes ago."
Steve burst out laughing. God, her old-man jokes really did come with infinitely many variations.
"You know, Nat. You really have a funny way of showing your concerns. I'm touched." he deadpanned.
"And you have an annoying way of avoiding my questions." she quipped back.
Steve couldn't help but feel the edges of his lips curl up.
"It's no big deal, Nat. It's hypoglycemia. I tend to have uh… hallucinations, when my blood glucose drops below optimal level. It happens." Steve gave her a non-committal shrug.
Natasha narrowed her eyes suspiciously, "T'Challa told me you had dinner with him. And aren't royal dinners supposed to be big and heavy?"
"It was. It's just the serum. I need to eat a lot to sustain my metabolism. And even more so when my body is rapidly healing from wounds."
"Then good thing I can help you with that." The redhead strode over towards her duffel bag, and gestured for the soldier towards the kitchen counter.
They were seated face to face, but this time, at the kitchen counter. They had just finished a generous serving of pancakes which Natasha had procured from her duffel bag.
"Brought this over from the farm. Laura made this for breakfast." Natasha had told him when he had asked her about the origin of the pancakes. Steve had then heated the food with the microwave oven and had the heated pancakes served out on two plates for the both of them.
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, not knowing what to talk about. To Steve, it felt like there were lots of things he wanted to say to her, but he just didn't know where to begin.
"What happened while I was…you know…" Steve shrugged, "… hallucinating." Steve broke the silence eventually.
"Actually, I was hoping you'd tell me that…"Natasha threw a pointed look at Steve, "Because one moment, I was talking about how I should've gone with you to Siberia, then the next moment you were going all hullabaloo on me and rambling off things like how I shouldn't have gone along with you. And when I asked you why, you totally zoned out on me. Your eyes were unfocused, and no matter how hard I tried to shake you out of it, you wouldn't budge."
"Right. Sorry, Nat. Should've taken a snack bar or something."
"I was this close to slapping you." she teased.
"Gee, what stopped you from doing just that, huh? Don't tell me it's my age, because most people don't stop shooting guns at me just because I'm a senior citizen. Else you can imagine how much easier my Avenging career would be." Steve deadpanned.
The spy huffed out a laugh.
"Well, I don't know… you just seemed… you seemed to be in a really good place. Whatever that had you whisked off into fantasy land must be doing a fantastic job, because you had this…blissful, and slacked look on your face….like as if you were in paradise." A smirk formed on Natasha's face as she leveled a pointed look at Steve, "Must be some hallucination."
Oh you have no idea, Nat. NO. IDEA.
Steve quickly cleared his throat.
"Well, it's not so bad…" Steve felt the crimson crawling up his cheeks again, the burning on his face felt so intense that he could have sworn that steam was coming off the top of his head.
"Care to share with the class?" that teasing smirk was there on her angelic face again.
"Trust me, Nat. You don't wanna know."
"Wow. Keeping things from me now, huh? Oh come on, you can tell me. I'm a big girl… so I'm pretty sure I can take it, whatever it is."
Yeah, only if it doesn't involve me ravishing you against a glass door.
"I don't think that's a good idea, Nat." Steve sighed.
"Come on… Humor me. And I'll even promise you that I'd keep this between us if it's some dirty secret of yours." the spy coaxed with that ultra-hyper-super-duper sexy voice of hers.
Or how 'bout I just show you, right here, right now? But that's probably a terrible idea.
Steve exhaled lengthily.
"Nat… Please. I'll tell you, just…not today okay? I'm not…it's not…it's not something I'm ready to talk about just yet. But I'll tell you soon, when I'm ready. And when the time comes, you'll be the first person I tell it to, I promise." Steve stated firmly.
The first, and probably the ONLY person to know. And if you didn't kill me after I tell you, I'd also like a chance to put actions into my words, thank you very much.
Natasha narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but seemed satisfied with his answer, much to Steve's relief. On second thought, perhaps it wasn't his answer, per se, that she was satisfied with, but instead, it was probably the promise of an answer that had gotten him off the hook this time.
"Okay. It's your promise. And there will be consequences if you don't keep it."
"Thank you, Nat. For understanding" Steve held her gaze, his own eyes shone with humor next, "and for bringing supper too. But I guess now I'll have to clean up all these." He gestured over the kitchen counter.
The spy scoffed, "Seriously? You wanna be a clean freak? Now? And in a nation which probably had the best housekeeping services in the entire universe despite all its anti-tourism policies?"
Steve chuckled, "Yep. Sorry. Old habits. Couldn't shake it. Why don't you go sit on the couch, and I'll bring out some drinks after I'm done. Then we'll…talk some more." Steve hesitated at the end.
Natasha stared at him for a couple of seconds before huffing out a breath in resignation.
"Only if it's vodka."
Then the redhead turned around and headed for the loveseat couch.
Vodka it is then. Anything for you, Nat. Anything.
Steve risked a glance at her direction…and regretted it almost immediately.
Because that firecracker of a woman was slowly sliding her black leather jacket off her body as she sauntered to the couch with perhaps too much sway of her hips.
His enhanced hearing had even caught her muttering something under her breath in Russian while she was performing her little strip-tease; something along the lines of stubborn old men with the audacity to hide things from her.
Hot. Damn.
All of a sudden, he regretted not changing into his elastic workout pants before he answered the door, because right then, he really felt as though he was about to put a hole through the crotch of his expensive dress pants.
Yeah… he was right all along.
Natasha Romanoff was going to be the absolute death of him.
Funny how HYDRA had been trying to kill him for more than 7 decades to no avail, and yet here came this one woman who had the capability to accomplish that very same task in perhaps just under a few seconds.
The Universe and its ever funny ways.