Seeing Natasha on his doorstep came as a surprise. She hadn't told him in advance that she would how up, yet there she was, no expression on her face as she stared Steve in the eye. Her arm stretched out, a folder in her hand. Steve looked down at it. "What's this?"
"Just open it," she said.
Hesitantly, he took it from her. His fingers slowly grasped the cover of the folder and flipped it open.
He froze as he saw Peggy's face.
Natasha didn't flinch as Steve sent her a mixed look. His mind raced; there was pain and sadness yet happiness too that he got to see her beautiful face again. "Natasha—"
"This is a copy," she explained. "They said you could keep it."
Steve looked back down at the file. There were informational pieces, reports, pictures, and so on. It seemed like hours as he sifted through the papers, pausing to take in each one, even if he wasn't reading. A question was gnawing at the back of his mind, but he was too scared to ask it. As he went back to the first page, he couldn't bear looking down and finding his answer.
Finally he asked. "Is she…?"
"I'm sorry, Steve."
His throat tightened. "It figures." He backed away from the doorway, letting Natasha enter as he put the file down on the table. "It figures," he repeated.
"Steve, I'm sorry if I upset you, but I felt like you just needed to know."
Eyes red, he looked up at Natasha. "Don't worry Natasha. And thank you," he added.
She gave a nod.
He hesitated, unsure of what to say next. "Natasha, I want to talk about… us."
"Is there an us?" she sighed.
"That's why I want to talk." He slid her hands into his. "I haven't felt like this since Peggy, and… I want to know if you felt like that back."
Natasha had her eyes on the floor. "Steve… I like you. But I'm not sure if I should've kissed you and led you on like that because…."
"You've been hurt."
Her eyes met his briefly. "Something like that."
"I would never hurt you, Natasha. Won't you trust me?"
Natasha stayed silent. "I…." Her voice dropped. Suddenly her arms were around him, face buried in his chest. He felt tears seep through the fabric of his shirt.
"Natasha, don't cry," he said softly.
"Oh Steve," she cried.
He hugged her, letting her cry. Stroking her hair, he couldn't help but feel a little frightened. Natasha Romanoff, the women incapable of feelings, was crying.
"Natasha," he said. She looked up, a stray tear on her cheek. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "If you want me to stop, we can forget everything and just be friends."
"Is that even possible?" she asked. "I mean… after everything—"
"I'll let you decide."
Once again her gaze drifted away from him for a moment. Then, standing on her tiptoes, she kissed him softly on his lips. "I guess we've gone too far to turn back."
"I'm okay with that," he murmured, taking her in his arms and kissing her again, lingering on her lips a bit longer than she had on his. She pulled away from him, nuzzling her head again into his chest. He looked out of the door that went to his little balcony, seeing storm clouds above and raindrops hitting the glass.
"Thanks again for the folder," he said quietly.
"Mm." She didn't move.
They lost track of time.