He couldn't help but smile every time he thought about it. The way the snowflakes clung to her long eyelashes, the slight rose tint in her cheeks, the way her eyes creased when she laughed… it stayed fresh in his mind. Although it had been a few weeks, when he saw Natasha he thought of them collapsing into the snow. He could swear he caught a smile back from her.

But now it was Christmastime. Natasha knocked on his door on December 20. As he opened it, she looked him straight in the eye and said, "Come with me."

He didn't question her; he grabbed his jacket and left, following her into her car. After he settled into the passenger seat, he looked over and finally asked, "What are we doing?"

"Going window shopping." She sent him a devious look. "I knew you wouldn't come if I asked you."

"I would've come," Steve said rather unenthusiastically.

"No you wouldn't have," Natasha replied simply as they drove down the street. "Very few guys actually like shopping, and I assume you are not one of them."

Steve gave a sheepish smile back.

"Lucky for you," Natasha continued, "I'm not one of those girls obsessed with shopping."

"Then why are we window shopping?" Steve asked.

"Consider it another one of our unofficial dates."

"Unofficial?" Steve asked, a bit surprised at her slightly blunt response.

Natasha looked at Steve for a moment. "Or official, if you want it to be."

Steve paused for a moment. "I don't know. Does it really matter?"

"I guess not. Either way, it's a date, right?"

"Right… I guess."

Natasha gave a small grin. "Let's just call it an outing."

"That sounds good. Keeps Tony off our trail, too."

Rolling her eyes, Natasha said, "Tony. He's been driving me nuts. Apparently he found out about the CD stuff and has been questioning me endlessly."

"Why not me?"

"It's weird to explain," Natasha told him. "It's something like he knows I would be the one who definitely knows if something… more than just being friends is up. Do you get what I'm saying?"

Steve thought about it for a second. "I sort of do."

"I'm not the one to fall in love."

"And I am?" Natasha and Steve stayed quiet for a moment. "How about you don't answer that."

Natasha smiled again. "Oh, Steve."

They pulled up to a strip mall, people bustling around. Snow that had been lucky enough to not be cleared hung under shop roofs; benches were frozen over and the fountain in the middle barely trickled. As Steve left the car, he watched his breath turned into what looked like a little puff of smoke before evaporating into the air. He smiled. "I remember watching my breath when it was really cold out when I was little. It would always be right before Christmas and I would stand outside for as long as my mom would let me, playing in the snow and hoping maybe that year I would get something for Christmas."

"I did the same thing with my breath too when I was really little," Natasha responded. "But I never really thought about Christmas."

Steve shrugged. "I just wished maybe that year I would get something a little bit bigger than the last. The biggest thing I got was a sketchbook and pencils one year." He smiled. "I was so happy that day."

Natasha gave a smile back before woman carrying large bags bumped into her. "I'm terribly sorry!" she told Natasha. A few things slipped from her grip, hitting the ground. The contents spilled out. "Oh, dear," the woman sighed, bending over.

Steve was next to her in a split second, helping her collect her things. "Is that all?" he asked, handing her the things.

"Yes, I think so." She scooped them into the bags before looking up at Steve. "Thank you, young man," she said. Steve helped her up. "I'm sorry again," she told Natasha, "but I have a terrible habit of spoiling my grandkids—to a point where I can't see over the things I bought them." She gave a laugh.

Natasha smiled back. "It's alright."

"I hope you and your grandkids have a wonderful holiday," Steve told her.

The woman smiled. "Aren't you sweet? They don't make men like you anymore." Nodding her head, she turned and left.

"You're too nice, Steve," Natasha said with a smile.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Not at all. It's cute." Natasha turned, missing the pink creeping into Steve's cheeks. "Oh, look at that!" she exclaimed, pointing at a mannequin in a window. Steve followed her over. "I love that jacket," Natasha sighed.

"So, we see the girl in Natasha Romanoff," Steve teased.

She stuck her tongue out playfully at him. "It's one thing."

After leaving that, they headed past the different stores, occasionally going in a few. Natasha turned to Steve at one point and asked him, "What do you want for Christmas?"

He shrugged. "Nothing, I guess."

"Oh, come on Steve," Natasha said, a smile creeping on her lips. "Isn't there something you miss from the time before you were frozen?"

He thought over it for a moment. "I honestly don't know. I miss everything," he answered, his voice empty.

Natasha looked away, her mind whirring as she thought over things he had before. Glancing back over at him, she said, "It's getting late. You want to go back home?"

"That's fine." He grinned, although there was sadness in his eyes. "This was more fun than I thought."

"Aren't you glad I didn't tell you in advance?"

"Yeah," he admitted.

Natasha grinned, walking back towards her car. "Steve, on Christmas, come on over to my place at noon. We can eat lunch together."

Steve nodded, the pain from his memories earlier being replaced with a happier look. "That sounds good."

The days between, Natasha had come over and set up a Christmas tree in his apartment, complete with a star and a few ornaments, including American symbolisms and things relating to his interests. He especially enjoyed the one of an open sketchbook with an unfinished portrait inside. It looked so realistic, as if eagerly waiting to be finished.

After she had finished put up the tree, Steve gave her a rather light lecture to stop buying him things that he could get well on his own, but she sent him a look that told him she was going to do what she wanted to do. He knew it was pointless before he even started; after all, she was Natasha Romanoff, and this was one of the many things she did to put him under her unyielding spell.

He had counted the days down until Christmas; then it was hours, and then it was minutes. Soon, he found himself knocking on her front door.

Natasha opened it, wearing a maroon turtleneck sweater. "Merry Christmas, Steve!" she said, allowing him to step in.

He held his arm out, a present wrapped in silver paper and a red bow in his hand. "For you."

"Me?" She took it. "You're not supposed to buy me a present."

"And you weren't supposed to set up a Christmas tree complete with ornaments," he responded.

"Touché." She smiled. "I got you a present too." Reaching out to the table behind her, she grabbed a present with metallic blue swirls on a dark blue background and handed it to him.

"Natasha, you've done enough for me already."

"I don't care. I want you to open your present first."

Steve knew it was no point in fighting. His fingers gripped the wrapping paper, tearing it apart to reveal a cardboard box. As he took the tape off of that, he let out a gasp as he saw what was inside.

There were pictures. Pictures of all the friends he had lost. Pictures of him in action. She even had managed to get current pictures inside, including newspaper snippets about him from a long time ago and about the Avengers.

Behind the photo album was a sketchbook with a pack of drawing pencils. As he lifted that out of the box, he saw a letter with his name written in cursive.

"Read that later," she told him.

Steve looked up at her, saying nothing for a few moments. "Natasha, I…." He smiled widely. "Thank you so much."

She nodded, smiling back. "All you need now is a picture of us."

He nodded his head in agreement as she picked up her camera. "Wait, what about your present?"

"Oh, yes." Steve took the camera from her hands, quickly going over the array of buttons and finding what looked to be the button to take a picture. Natasha had already taken the wrapping paper off as Steve held the camera up so it could see both of their faces. "Steve, you shouldn't have!" Natasha exclaimed, holding up the jacket she had been admiring a few nights ago. She hugged his neck, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. Quickly, he snapped a picture of them. Natasha let go, her mouth open. "Did you just take a picture?" she asked, amusement on her face.

"For the album," he answered.

Natasha grabbed the camera from his hands. "Let's take another." Standing on her tiptoes again, she leaned by him and took a picture.

The other end of the camera showed the picture of two smiling people who hadn't a worry in the world.

That night, as Steve got ready for bed, he hesitantly opened the drawer where the drawings of Natasha were kept. His hands went through the multiple sketches, each one different from the rest. The sketchbook he received from Natasha was in his other hand, and his thumb ran over it as he knew there were more sketches to come.

He paused as a crumpled piece of paper caught his eye. Unfolding it, he read:

"Dear Natasha,

Well… I need to talk to you. Not urgently, which is why I'm sending this by actual mail. Something happened and I was going to call you but I decided not too and I need to know if you really care or not.

Please respond. I need someone to talk to.

Love,

Steve"

He had never sent it. He read through it time after time, remembering the fear the nightmare that made him write that had caused him, and for a moment he considered talking to Natasha about it.

He couldn't.

Brushing it off, he sat on his bed, picking up the photo album and looking through it. How she got everything in here, he would never know. But what mattered was the fact that it was there with him, and that he would have pictures of her and him in it soon.

His heart didn't feel heavy anymore as he saw Peggy's and Bucky's faces.