{3}
The smell of fresh morning air cloaked through the bedroom, his protective crystal blue eyes watched her stir underneath the thick covers that covered her. The color of her sharp bones was vibrant as she was slowly regaining back her strength every hour. He sat near the bed side, his fingers gently brushing warmth over her discolored knuckles, and his lips pressed into a neutral line. Blearily he glanced back at the alarm clock. 6:40 AM.
Inhaling silently, Steve leaned back against the chair, the muscular planes of his back dug into the wood, uncomfortably, but he didn't complain.
He was dressed in his royal blue stealth suit, the silver embossed star in the center of his thick chest gleamed in the faint shaft of light streaming from the blinds; he was prepared for the battlefield and to carry out his mission.
His helmet with the chin strap was placed on the dresser next to his tarnished compass, and brown leather gloves, the shield was resting against the bed frame. He didn't want to leave her unprotected. Inside he was lost in a fog of turmoil and questioned his choices engulfing his mind.
It had been too many close calls since they became partners with the STRIKE operatives and when he moved to Washington where his life in a new perspective of a world had changed-completely. Entering a new routine, and trying out different things was a part of his adaptation -he never thought he could care so deeply someone again, not after he fell into the ice and lost his love Peggy Carter because he made the sacrifice to ensure the world's freedom of HYDRA's control and destruction.
He had plunged into the icy waters, sleeping for seventy years-everything had stopped around him, but he still felt the stirrings of pain and grief inside his frozen heart. He was still trapped into the painful embrace of regret and denied truths.
He sighed, and lips parting as he took a small sip of coffee. He gingerly moved his hand against her forearm; leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. His blue eyes settled on the slight discomfort he found on her bruised and paled features, small cuts from scattered fragments of glass embedded in the skin of her jaw and forehead. It was a reminder of the choice she made to save the child, and he knew those tiny blemishes would eventuality fade over time.
Quietly, Steve lifted his hand from her laden arm, and rose back up to his towering height, and then he strode to the window seat. He flattened his back against the cold plaster of the wall. He stared intently at the clusters of buildings -shadows of trees colored with the hues of burnt oranges and golden browns as the drops of rain bent the branches.
Everything was chaos. It was unnerving. There were invasive noise of sirens, bustling traffic and annoying screeches of rubber tires skidding over asphalt. There was no peace. Just the softness of rain hitting the glass panes of the windows, and a steady breath piercing from her light pink lips. Lulled by the sound of relief , Steve turned his stern gaze back to the bed, and watched her slowly open her eyes. Natasha focused on nothing, she just stared at her unfamiliar surrounding of his flat for a long moment, and then she drifted back into a partial, deep slumber.
A part of him still felt the coldness of the ice rattle through his bones; he still felt condemn by his failure to save his best man from falling into the snow valley of the Alps. It was a mixture of guilt and remorse, he was close, barely centimeters away from grasping Bucky's marred hand, but he doubted himself, and allowed defeat enter his harrowed mind, and that made him lose focus and hesitate. In because of his actions of what he didn't do, he lost his best friend and blood brother forever, never knowing the location of his final resting place. It was a brutal and noxious feeling that expelled from his soul. It was pure torture.
Despite the measure of victory he attained by defeating Loki and the alien army, Steve was know facing a new form a raging tempest entering a new battlefield that wounded him, penetrated deep within his defiant and guarded soul. This battlefield happened to be the greatest and most heart clenching thing to fight above all: love.
Unlike his battles with the Howling Commandos, Steve was lost on a narrow path, unsure to move forward or to fall astray from his emotions since ultimately, he was in falling in love with the woman captured in his soulful gaze. He didn't want to risk everything, their partnership and trust. He had to move slow and steady and let things if they were meant to happen, unfold at the right time.
Even though, Natasha had infiltrated his heart, mending his olden wounds of Peggy, and giving him something he had never felt before, he had to respect her, and treat their relationship like a mission.
He turned her focused back on to Natasha, her lithe body was shivering from the feverish symptoms she was fighting against, Steve quickly bolted from the window, and swiftly moved to the bedside, the sheets were becoming drenched as salty liquid seeped out of his pores. She was thrashing violently, lips curing into a deadly scowl but he could not understand a single word that escaped from the depths of her raw throat. He knew there would be days like this, that her body would depend on his warmth to break up out of her distress. There was just a dependency forming around him that he was beginning to doubt his own heart. Carefully, he settled himself on the mattress and stroked his rough, and warm fingers through her damp, scarlet locks, as he stared down at her slender frame trembling.
"It's okay," he crooned, soothing and gentle. He looked down at her chest rising and falling. She was entering a thrall of nightmares, and he had to pull her out. "I'm right here, Nat." he said quietly, hovering over her and placing his hands on her glistening, bare shoulders, careful not to apply pressure on the bandaged area.
He flattened his palms over firmness of her breasts, and felt the thumping of her racing heart. "Just listen to my voice." he echoed, a heat of his body heat seemed to clam her down momentarily.
Natasha winced and let out a deep groan of discomfort and rolled off to one side and turned her bare back to him. Steve blow out a breath of frustration, and lowered himself as his chin rested over her toned, undamaged shoulder.
He wrapped his arm over her trim waist and pressed himself against her back, while feeling her hand squeeze against his. Steve was baffled by the desperate squeeze over his knuckles, and lifted his head up, narrowing his blue as he watched a cozy smile stretch over her full lips.
Natasha slowly opened her eyes, she was slowly becoming alert into a state consciousness, feeling the blanketing peace enter through her body. She winced slightly and shifted her sleep-hazed green eyes on his chiseled face, watching shadows form over his cut-stoned features. She limply brought her shaking hand up and gently caressed his smooth jaw. Her heavy eyelids blinked, trying to adjust to the dull brightness of the bedroom and he squinted tried to make her blurry vision clear as her grayish -green eyes stared into his icy eyes. "Rogers," her hoarse voice said, clenching her eyes shut as the heavy jolts of spasms entered her muscles. "Where am I?"
Steve curled himself against her, his soft cool hands massaged over her feverish skin. At the same time, he pulled the covers down to reveal his pale and bruised abdomen glistening with sweat. She cautiously rolled onto her back, angled her head into the pillow and looked directly up at him as he rested his hand over her heart. "You're safe. That's all that matters, Nat."
She enveloped his hand over his, interlocking fingers and then swallowed a thick gulp of air. " You're here," she managed, in a broken voice. "With me?"
"Do you prefer that I leave? I did remove the bullet and wrap gauze on your shoulder." he gave her an honest reply, trying not to sound overbearing, but his baritone was still firm. "I had to use the internet. It was so helpful."
She felt the heaviness of exhaustion creep over her eyes. Steve settled his head into the pillow and delicately brushed the curled bangs of red out of her eyes. "You talk too much, Rogers," she said, running her fingers over his sharp jawline and in circular motion over his freckles. A devious and secretive smirk played over her lips.
"You should talk," He whispered, the corners of his mouth straightening upwards into a warm smirk, he ran his clammy fingers over her right arm. "Right now I don't want you to stop. I love hearing your voice, Natasha" he confessed, drifting into a sanctuary of peace. "Sorry, I think that came out too honest." he sighed breathily and Natasha's eyes lightened, allowing Steve to see the emotion in her guarded irises. "I'm just glad that you're alright."
"Well, for your information, Cap, This isn't my first gun shot wound." she whispered in a husky tone. "I've had my share of crossfire."
Steve felt the empty shards of his heart repairing back together, he cuddled her close to his chest, her lips brushed over the star, leaving a smudge of lipstick. He smiled, and then bent his head down, pressing a soft kiss on her sweat-dotted forehead.
"We've got a lot ahead of us. For now I just want you to heal." he whispered against her ear. "You deserve rest." Natasha felt his voice faltering in those moments. Her harden emotions were stripping off as he settled her face into the center of his rising chest. "You're alive. That's all that matters." he kissed her skin before saying the truth that etched over his heart. "I'm going to be right here for you, Natasha." he promised.
She looked up into Steve's blue eyes, looking for truth. She found it and closed her eyes.
She fell asleep for a rest of the morning, only listening to calming sound of his heart beating against her ear. When she woke after a restful slumber, she lifted herself up and off of him, studying his handsome face. Her feathery touch mouth down his strong jaw and watched his lips part as hot breath touched her skin. She smiled and felt his broad arm wrap over her as he pulled her closer, and snug against him.
"Will you stay here with me, Rogers" she said faintly, unsure and doubting his answer. She threaded her fingers over his golden spiked locks, and then narrowed her eyes at his armored uniform. "Unless you need to go on another mission?"
"I'm already on a mission, Natasha," he gazed down at her, tenderly with his sea colored eyes.
She felt her fragile heart skip a beat and she finally covered her lips with his, and guided them through a deep, savory kiss as the gleams of sunlight streamed over their bodies. She closed her eyes, feeling the sweet sensation of Steve's perfect lips, feeling the warmth, and the softness, their taste. She was breathless, curling against him as he pulled the folds of covers over them, and held with all of his strength, tenderness and new found hope.
Both Steve and Natasha felt their souls entwining as pieces that broke so many years ago were slowly becoming mended together.