Steve heard the monitor on his wrist beep to indicate that someone else had conceded their training exercise, which was odd because at last check, he and Natasha had been the only two still competing. He glanced around the clearing from the safety of cover before stepping out. A moment later, he spun back, raising the shield T'Challa had presented him in thanks for Steve's role in apprehending his father's killer.

Natasha held up her hands innocently from her perch on a tree branch ten feet off the ground, though the gesture caused the sleeves on her hoodie to drop just enough to reveal a few tricks strapped to her wrists. "Why do you get to carry your shield but my Widow's Bites are off-limits?"

"We agreed on defensive weapons only."

He watched as she jumped to the ground with the slightest stumble on impact. She acted like nothing had happened and started brushing pine needles from her jeans. "Just because you can't handle a little shock…"

"Nat…"

"I didn't zap you when it mattered, why would I do it now?"

"Because you have an unusual sense of humor? Besides, I get more nervous when you're not in your catsuit because I have no idea where you're hiding your weapons."

"Like you know where I keep everything in my catsuit."

"Truce?" Steve held out his hand and, to his surprise, she took it. Rather than let go, he held on and led her down the path to the rocky ledge overhanging the small waterfall on her Swedish property. She had given him the GPS coordinates just before the fall of SHIELD, in case he needed a place to hide out. He hadn't thought about it until after leaving Bucky safe in Wakanda, but Sharon had agreed it seemed like a good choice when he'd contacted her before freeing the other Avengers from the Raft. There was a clearing and a barn for hiding their quinjet in addition to a house with more bedrooms than he cared to count. He hadn't asked her how she had acquired it and she hadn't volunteered any information. He was just thankful they had a safe place to stay.

She sat on the ledge, legs hanging over the water flowing beneath. He joined her after placing his shield in the grass beside the creek. He turned off his monitor after a moment. "Guess we won't have a winner tonight."

"What are you talking about? I gave up ten minutes ago."

"Because you were bored, right?"

"Well…I followed your for nearly an hour and you never even looked up."

He filed the tactic away for future reference and stopped himself from saying he hadn't realized she was healed enough to climb trees with impunity. "Sorry I'm not a more challenging target."

"Oh, you're plenty challenging." She picked up a flat stone and skipped it across the lake. He lost count of how many bounces it took. It was hard to believe she'd been a battered wreck just a few weeks ago, having endured interrogation and torture for his sake. On the few occasions he'd tried to talk to her, to thank her, she had waved him off, turning it around and thanking him. He wanted to ask her how she was really doing, but wasn't sure he could handle her sad smile and shrug at the moment, so he remained silent as she continued to skip stones. He was about to say something when she asked, "So, what's up with you and Sharon?"

"What?" The abruptness of the question caught him off guard and he had to think for a moment to remember that he was in a relationship with Sharon. "Oh…um…"

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I just thought you'd be…happier. Or something." The next stone simply plopped into the water. "Most guys are pretty happy when they're getting laid."

"We…we're not…it's not…" he stammered. This was definitely not the conversation he wanted to be having at the moment. He was unable to stop himself from sputtering further under Natasha's calm gaze, "That's…it's just…she wants…she wants to…you know."

"Fuck your brains out?"

He could almost hear himself blushing at Natasha's question. "W-w-well, I wouldn't say that, but, yes. She wants to…have sex."

"You say potato, I say hump like rabbits on cocaine. It amounts to the same." There was another series of splashes as she skipped another stone across the surface of the water. "So what's stopping you?"

"Me?"

"You said she wants to and you haven't done it and you're telling me about it, so spill. Is it performance anxiety? Lack of experience? Charmingly antiquated notions about the act of love?"

"Love," he repeated with a heavy sigh. "That's the problem."

"You're gonna have to be a lot clearer."

"How?"

"Love and sex…I won't pretend I understand the connection personally, but I know it exists. You clearly believe in it. You're the kind of guy who won't abide one without the other so…again, what's the problem?"

"It's not a problem."

"Steve, stop making this overcomplicated and figure out if you love her."

"I care about her and I don't want to hurt her and…"

"You're not in love."

He tried to slow the conversation down. "Well, I am."

"Problem solved!"

"Just not with Sharon," he prompted.

"Is this some kind of transference where you took your unresolved feelings for Peggy and assigned them to Sharon because, in a stunning plot twist, you're just as psychologically warped as the rest of us?"

"Maybe? I mean, I think I understood that in words but…I know I'm never going to be with Peggy so, I'm not sure why she's involved. I know she's gone and we won't ever have what we might have had. We were never going to."

"Then you're still grieving and Sharon's helping you get through it?"

He flashed back to the church after the funeral, Natasha holding him so he wouldn't have to be alone. "I wouldn't say that."

She suddenly smacked her forehead with her hand. "Wait, are you in love with Bucky? Because that would explain so much."

"I'm in love with Buck like you're in love with Clint." His chuckle turned to alarm after a moment. "Wait a minute, what would that explain?"

"You're sure you aren't in love with Bucky? Because we would all support…"

"Damn it, Natasha, can you drop the Bucky thing? He's my best friend and if I hadn't gotten him killed…or not killed back in '45 he would never have become the Winter Soldier and…" He shook his head sadly. That guilt wasn't going to be disappearing any time soon. "I was trying to tell you about why Sharon isn't…why…"

"You're actually doing your best not to tell me anything, but I'll overlook that since you used a bad word."

"This isn't funny. When I found out you'd been arrested and then…later…"

There it was – the sad smile and the shrug. "It wasn't your fault. I made my choices and I can't change anything I did."

"I should have taken you with us."

"Leaving no one to hold back T'Challa. Plus, Bucky probably would have shot me during the flight, just out of habit."

"Nat…" He felt like he was falling as he leaned into the kiss. It was so different than the last time, not pressured or performed, but real. He could have stayed where he was forever, but she pulled back.

"Stop. You need to handle things with Sharon before we do this."

He felt encouraged by the fact that she had ordered him to end the façade with Sharon rather than immediately killing him, though he was also this probably wasn't a marker of a healthy relationship. "I will. I don't want to hurt her, Nat, but I…I love you. I have for so long and I shouldn't have wasted so much time…"

"Just go. Talk to her and I'll see you back at the house."

He couldn't leave her on that statement. He leaned in for another kiss and found he was welcomed and happy and…he stammered, "I…I wouldn't have let Bucky shoot you. I would have taken that bullet for you."

"Go."

"Going." He looked over his shoulder once as he ran towards the house and smiled when he saw her looking back at him.