Steve had NO idea. Absolutely no idea of what she has to go through all over again. The painful process she got through over the years to get rid of her memories from her past.

Needless to say, she doesn't sleep well at night. Barely did. Impossible now.

She doesn't actually need that much sleep, though− she might not carry the same amount of brute strength that Steve's super soldier serum gave him, but she was given something too. Something to enhance her skills and training. And that same serum gave her the advantage (is it an advantage?) to carry on up to days without sleep.

When she's not sleeping, her brain haunts her with warnings, memories, burdens of the need of redemption, guilt. All calmness and stillness she presents in front of everyone is nothing but a thick layered mask; one that barely anyone has ever manage to impale through.

Help Wanda my ass. Mind your own business, little sneaky witch. You did this to me.

She rose up from her bed, combing her crimson curls out of her face and decided to reach her phone, for a moment contemplating on whether calling Clint is a good decision or not. He's probably asleep, it's two in the morning.

Among all deep thoughts that struck her, one of them stands out and gave her some sort of anxiety. It's about how she treated Steve this afternoon, how cold she suddenly became, and how he must've meant nothing but to ask her for a favor. She shouldn't have done that to him. Poor Steve.

But I don't wanna help Wanda.

She waited, sitting down on her study desk ( in which she mainly uses to type mission reports), and before she knows it, it was almost three already. She murmured 'fuck it' to herself, grabbed a worn ivory white sweater and ventured the empty, quiet halls of the Avengers living quarters, headed for the living room, thinking she wants to be alone somewhere else rather than her room.

She was wrong.

There was a broad, tall figure under the dim lighting of the room, sitting on the couch, noisily clanking silverware with one another and evident slurping noises were heard.

She walked closer to the figure, circling the couch to get a better look on him. He quickly looked up, eyes glimmering in the dominating darkness, a bowl of Ramen noodles held on his palm, a fork on his other, spoon dipped inside the broth.

"Romanoff?" He let out, a mouthful of Ramen.

"Didn't know the captain has such a horrible eating habit."

He swiftly, embarrassedly, put down the bowl on the table in front of him and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. She took a seat next to him, but this time with slightly more distance.

"As you can see I'm not that accustomed to table manners."

"Oh no, knock yourself out. I don't care." She shrugged, looking out to the night sky.

He tangled his fingers together and pursed his lips tight, as if not knowing what to say when he clearly has something to say. Natasha knew that, because it was just plain obvious; but she made no comment of it. She rather just wait for him to make his move.

The silence was ended once he slid the ramen bowl to her parallel. "They're good."

"You've never shared your food with me." She frowned confusedly.

"I think there's always a first time for everything, don't you?" He managed to crook up a tiny, careful smile at her. She looked back at him, searching in his eyes with confusion, but finally took the bowl and reached for the spoon, slurping the broth while Steve waited anticipatedly.

"How's it?"

She nodded, tangling the noodles to the fork. "This is obviously not how you're suppose to eat Ramen."

Steve now laughed, reaching for the spoon when she has the fork and vice versa.

"How did you even find this stuff? And how did you even know that it's gonna be good?"

"Well I recently found the joy to go sightseeing around the city. And I found this Asian Market and went there. I randomly picked up different brands of noodles. This one is the best so far."

"And you've been sneaking every dawn to eat these?"

He was blushing, and he thought she wouldn't notice but she did. He didn't know though. "Yes."

"I can relate to that. Why share with me though?"

"Because I like you enough, I guess." She passed the fork to him to eat the last shreds of noodles.

"Who doesn't, captain?" She seductively commented, but her eyes weren't looking at him. They were distant, and that's how he learned to know when she's lying, or hiding something, or both. "Thanks for the noodles, appreciate it."

"Not a problem. We should− do this again sometime."

She was surprised with his last sentence, but showed nothing but a glimpse of it. She just smiled, "Yeah, sure thing."

Silence.

"Nightmare?" He asked to break their silence again.

"I thought you knew better than to bring up personal questions to me." She was smiling but her tone was serious enough for him to not take it lightly.

He looked down to his lap. "Do you want us to just not say anything to each other?"

"I don't know."

"How are we even friends, Nat?"

Her eyes moved to take the sight of him, expecting him to be looking to another direction but he's not. He's looking right at her, searching for her eyes. For truth.

"Depends on how you define friendship." She was all business.

"Well," he raised a brow. " Friends need to be open to each other."

"Okay." She nodded, then gave herself a while to think. She couldn't believe she's playing along with this. "Why are you here?"

"Fair enough." He smiled again. "I can't sleep."

"Neither can I."

His smile quickly faded when he heard her answer. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head and looked away. "Not your fault."

Silence, again. It filled the air, deafening, sickening, unbearable but yet fits so perfectly that neither of them wanted to leave.

"It's not only you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's not only you who Wanda gave nightmares to."

"Is that why you can't sleep either?" She frowned, thinking how impossible it is to picture Captain America with a dark side.

He slowly nodded, not looking at her anymore. "There's this girl. Peggy. I owe her a dance before I went under."

"Do you expect me to share mine too?" She exhaled.

"You don't have to if you don't want to." He said comfortingly. That's what she likes about Steve. He's always so calm and gentle with his words. And ever the gentleman.

"Alright. I don't."

"Okay." He waited, but she said nothing to him. Realizing it was pointless, he simply ended the silence for the last time and said, "About that Wanda thing, you're right. I shouldn't push you to it. If you don't wanna do it you don't have to do it. I'll help her out."

"Thank you." She knew that a simple thank you was not enough to show her grateful to Steve, but she is the Black Widow. She's not the expressive type.