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ssromanogers · 6 years ago

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Survival of the Fittest

To: Chrissy @xo-stardust720

From: Terri @mylifeisloki

Note: MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! <33

It was nothing like they said it would be in the movies. The zombies didn’t just appear, people didn’t get sick in droves, there was time for preparation. Natasha could remember the first time she’d seen a report on the news about the strange illness that was presenting with death-like symptoms and grotesque skin lesions; it had seemed so far away from where she was healthy and protected in a skyscraper in New York City. Surely some illness that was probably mutated or poorly treated in some developing country couldn’t touch her at home.

But as the days went on, there were more cases reported in that first country, then another, then another. The Virus was getting worse; those who were sick would decay to the point where they visually resembled a corpse– and then continue ‘living’ in some sense of the word anyway. No one wanted to use it, but ‘zombie’ seemed like the most accurate word. Soon enough, the first case in London was reported on the 11 o’clock news and the UN made a drastic decision to halt all air traffic. With all planes grounded and people beginning to panic, local governments started to lightly suggest that those who were still healthy made provisions for themselves should the disease spread to the United States.

Some listened. Natasha had gone to the store and bought up as much canned food as she could, stockpiling a few first aid kits and a couple of cases of water so she was ready in the event that she had to remain indoors for an indeterminate length of time. But there were others who thought it was a stupid hoax, or that their distance from the initial outbreak would mean they were safe in the long run. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the way things happened.

The very first case in the United States was in Detroit. Once the sickness was identified, the whole city went on lockdown until they could be sure that it wasn’t spreading, but the damage had already been done. One by one, cities and eventually states fell to The Virus and people finally started to pay attention. There were stories of angry mobs pushing their way into hospitals thinking they would be safe there, and stories of people being killed at the first sign of illness whether it was confirmed to be The Virus or not.

The horror that came along with this now very nearby threat were the stories that those who were afflicted were likely to attack if you startled them. People were taking up arms, the news said. Guns were more prevalent than ever and violence as a whole was off the charts.

Natasha saw the writing on the wall and quit her job in favor of staying right where she was, in her apartment, safe.

The world pretty much went to shit after that. She watched the number of casualties get higher and higher as time went on; some people were confirmed dead, others were just missing. Either way, The Virus was spreading so fast that if they were out there, it would get them soon enough.

For six weeks, Natasha managed to stay safe and sound in her apartment. She lived off the canned food she’d bought, which she rationed as much as she could, and spent her downtime either watching the news or reading or just doing exercise so she was ready when the time came to actually go back out there. New York didn’t look like it used to; she could see from her window that the once lively streets were desolate and grey. Even on sunny mornings, there was an overwhelming darkness over everything and at least one or two walkers just wandering about looking for food or a cure or… something. They were dangerous, that much she knew.

It had started with what they thought was an airborne virus, but apparently changed into something like rabies; it was transmitted through a bite, not in the air. It was with that knowledge that Natasha was able to breathe just a little easier.

Two months in, Natasha realized that she had to get out there and move. There were rumors, mostly things she heard whispered in the halls between the handful of survivors around her, that the army was sweeping the city to evacuate anyone who might have survived thus far. But they wouldn’t continue forever. There were limited resources. If the survivors dwindled, they’d stop risking more lives to come in and look for more. Natasha figured her best bet was to make her way into one of the outer boroughs, maybe to the Brooklyn Navy Yard. If there was no way to get out with the army’s help, then at least she could probably find a less populated area to settle in for a while. Manhattan just wasn’t the way to go given just how many people lived there– or had lived there.

It wasn’t an easy decision to make, but Natasha had never been the type to delay when something simply had to be done. She packed her necessities, dressed in jeans and layers, tied her hair back, armed herself with the pistol she kept in her closet and the knife she kept in her bedside table, and headed out. The city outside her door was almost unrecognizable. She knew the stores, but so many windows had been broken and she saw not one familiar face. All she hoped for right now was a calm trip into Brooklyn.

She opted for the Brooklyn Bridge to avoid spending any time in Queens, where the streets were too unfamiliar and too narrow for her to feel safe. Brooklyn had more options, she figured, and she had at least spent some time there in the recent past. She might be able to negotiate her way around. Besides, there were places in Brooklyn that felt like suburbs– she could definitely find somewhere safe to stay if she played her cards right. The problem was that she didn’t know exactly how long she had to just hunker down and wait. What if this was life from now on?

Not that she had the time to actually think about things like that.

She traveled unhindered and unbothered through Bryant Park. It was still strange for there to be no sounds around her– no children playing even though it was a sunny day, no one playing music, no shouting from the street. The city had never been so quiet and it was unnerving .

It took her a very tense fifteen minutes to walk from her apartment to the intersection where she could stare up at the Empire State Building. It looked different now; monolithic, almost. With no tourists taking pictures and no tour buses stopping by and no business people rushing about, the place was practically deserted.

Practically.

Standing on the other side of the intersection was a walker who looked very intent upon coming after Natasha for its next meal. Natasha put her back against a wall and tried to stay quiet in the hopes that he would change direction and leave her be, but it was already heading her way. The creaking, groaning, choking sound it made as it came closer only heightened her fear, but what else could she do? She couldn’t outrun the thing and still make it a safe distance away without bumping into another one or even attracting a few with heavy footsteps like that.

She’d have to kill it.

Stepping out, she took her knife in hand and braced herself for a moment before carefully moving around the thing and towards its back. It wasn’t moving very fast anyway, so she was able to touch the thing’s shoulder and drive the knife into the back of its skull. It fell and hit the ground with a sick sound that made bile rise in Natasha’s throat. So that was how it felt to kill something, even if that thing wasn’t really a person. Natasha used a strip of fabric she’d tied around her waist to wipe her blade and moved on, seeking shelter in the narrow alleyways on the other side of the main street.

At least that walker had been alone. Natasha couldn’t imagine what it would be like to find a group of them, but that was exactly what she found when she made the mistake of cutting through Madison Square Park. The 23rd Street station was right at the far side and to her horror, there were walkers pouring out of it at a rate that screamed ‘danger’. She had to get out of there before–

They saw her. Natasha pulled her knife immediately and made quick work of the two out in front, but she knew she was at a disadvantage here. They were coming quick and it just wasn’t realistic to think that she could kill them all fast enough that the ones still coming couldn’t overtake her. She stabbed and slashed and did what she could, but she wasn’t a warrior. She wasn’t strong enough for any of this.

With more than twenty walkers coming at her, she made the somewhat ill-fated decision to run. It was more than enough noise to entice them, which meant that by the time she found herself at the lobby to some fancy-schmancy hotel, they were on her heels and ready to grab her. Natasha slipped inside and managed to lock the doors, but the walkers behind her piled up against the glass until she could see clear cracks forming– she had to get out of there. And since there was no way to know whether or not there were other walkers in the hotel itself, she had to explore with caution.

She elected to take the stairs. Getting stuck in an elevator at this point was nothing more than a death sentence. Three flights up, she wandered into the hallway and glanced both ways before venturing to the left in search of safety. She was struck again by the fact that she was entirely alone; it felt like there was not another living soul in this place. Three more flights and she was wandering down an identical hallway when she heard a distinct banging sound coming from the far end. Frowning to herself, she readied her knife and quietly made her way towards it.

It might not have been wise, but if something was in the hotel with her, she had to know.

Eventually, she located a small utility closet that was shaking as something pressed up against the inside. The movements were too insistent and too wooden to be anything else but a walker, so Natasha braced herself and opened the door as she jumped to the side. Out came what presumably used to be a guest of the hotel. It was still wearing the remains of a silk robe with wisps of blonde hair sticking to its skull. Natasha killed it before she could keep thinking about what it used to be and carefully plucked the white key card from the pocket of the thing’s robe just in case she couldn’t pick the lock of a room for herself.

Continuing up, she found nothing else until she arrived on the thirtieth floor and heard what sounded like groaning coming from the door right beside the stairs.

Staff room. Natasha pressed her ear against it and frowned. There had to be at least three or four of them in there, all trying their best to get out. A quick examination of the handle revealed that it was locked; someone must have sealed it when all this started. It was a cruel way to die.

Tired as she was, Natasha forced herself up another five floors and finally deemed herself safe enough to choose a room. She’d boarded up the doors that led to the stairs with wood from desks and end tables she’d deemed strong enough to be of use and found a room with the door left ajar. With the door locked behind her, she was safe and slipped right into the big, fluffy bed to sleep.

The next day, after something like 15 hours of rest, Natasha decided to explore her current floor and find everything she needed. This was a five star hotel; they had to have plenty of toiletries and the like laying around for the guests. Sure enough, she found a supply closet and stocked up on soap, shampoo, toothpaste, razors, and anything else she could carry. Coming back to her room meant that she could strip down and step into a (admittedly lukewarm) shower and just stand there while the water washed away weeks of dirt and grime and sweat and tears.

Freshly bathed and wrapped in a fluffy robe, Natasha finally ventured out to the balcony and looked down. Thirty five floors up, the city almostlooked normal. One could almost mistake the moving pieces on the ground for actual people instead of the monsters they were.

She gave herself three days to re-energize before making her way up the next fifteen floors to the penthouse and, once she’d left her things in her room, the roof. But there were no helicopters to be seen, no sign of any efforts by the army to get people out. She waited the majority of two days on that roof and there was no one other than what looked like a single private plane flying way too far to the left to see her. She waved her arms anyway, but there was no point.

Two weeks in, Natasha knew she was one of the lucky ones. She’d managed to find herself a spot where there was food in the form of the vending machines and some canned goods in the kitchen, and there was plenty of soap and water to bathe. She even had a soft bed to sleep in, as she’d nabbed the presidential suite on the top floor. But it wouldn’t last. Walkers were pushing at the doors on the bottom every day; she’d ventured down more than once to see them with their scarred, broken faces swarming at the glass doors keeping her safe. They wouldn’t hold forever and she had to be ready to leave whenever they finally broke.

It took exactly two weeks and four days for them to break in. The minute the glass broke downstairs, Natasha was out of bed and grabbing her bag to get the hell out of there. Thanks to the security cameras she’d rewired, she had plenty of advance notice. She’d managed to arm herself with a couple of sharp knives and a nightstick, but she was loathe to use the pistol stuffed into the side of her bag. It would attract them, surely. Loud noises tended to get their attention more than anything else.

Having already formed a plan, she sought out the (thoroughly tested) employee elevator and took it all the way down to the basement so she could use the employee entrance to get out. That hotel was taken now; it would take more than just one person to fight through the horde of walkers making their way through it. Unfortunately, finding another shelter was not as simple as Natasha had hoped. She still had food in her bag and as many toiletries as she dared to carry, but it felt like the rest of the city was overrun.

Every store she passed was either empty or crawling with walkers, every restaurant was useless this long after the Virus had begun, and there were no humans anywhere! Where had they all gone? Was this Natasha’s punishment for being so isolated before this all happened?

Walking down Broadway wasn’t anything like it used to be. The lights were all out; the whole city felt dead and dark even as the sun began to rise. She kept walking and stayed close to the buildings, keeping her eye out for anything moving on the street. The walkers weren’t exactly subtle, so she was confident that she’d be able to spot one before it got too close to her and hopefully take it by surprise. She hadn’t pulled her gun yet, but she was close. It took a lot less effort than it did to penetrate their skulls with a knife or bash it in with her nightstick.

By the time she hit Union Square, she’d killed seven walkers and her arm was throbbing from the effort of it all. She wanted to find somewhere to stop for the night, but it seemed like there weren’t any options that didn’t churn her stomach in a bad way. She had to go with her gut here and so, she glanced around to make sure there weren’t any walkers to be seen– at least for now –and bashed in one of the windows of the Barnes and Noble nearby. The sound was deafening in the silence around her and Natasha wondered if it had been a bad decision, but the warmth provided by the inside of the store and the fact that she was able to push a few things in front of the window in order to make sure she was secure for the moment relaxed her a little bit. She immediately wandered upstairs to where it was warm and quiet, but she didn’t find the same comfort there that she once had.

Maybe that was because it was almost too quiet. Maybe it was because she felt like she hadn’t spoken to anyone in… Had it really been almost three months? Standing by the window, she could see the walkers already swarming the area and she knew she wasn’t really safe. That noise had attracted more than she was entirely ready to face and there was nothing she could do about that other than hope they got impatient and left. Of course, Natasha had never been the type to hope without reason– and she had no reason to think they would leave.

She hadn’t even settled in by the time they broke through her makeshift barrier and wandered into the store. This time, Natasha didn’t have a plan. All she could do was grab her things and head towards the front door– but she couldn’t get through. They were everywhere, clawing at her and nearly biting and it was enough to make her pull her gun and start shooting as she ran out the front doors and into the park across the street.

From where she hid in the greenery of Union Square Park, she could see more coming. They went towards the sound, not towards her current location, and they swarmed there. Natasha wished she had a grenade or something– she could take a bunch of them out at one time.

Sans grenade, all she could do was watch them gather in the bookstore and search for the food that was no longer there. The whole thing was disgusting; everything from the smell of dead flesh to the sick, wet sounds they made. Natasha only stayed a few more minutes before heading through Union Square Park. She’d escaped, but it was getting dark.

Most of the lights in the park were dim or completely out, so Natasha grabbed her flashlight and peered through the darkness as much as she could. At this point, the light might attract some, but she’d rather see them coming than not see them at all. As she made her way towards the now defunct holiday market at the end of the park, she came across one or two who dared venture up to her and both were taken out with her knife as usual. In the market itself, she glanced around for any signs of ‘life’, whatever that meant, and chose one of the booths that had been selling plushies to settle down for the night.

Instead of opening the little door at the back and risking its integrity, she hopped over the counter and began considering what she had to work with in order to make herself comfortable.

She was considering the big plush bears hanging over the booth when a hand reached out and grabbed her ankle from underneath the counter. She went down immediately and began struggling as the walker clawed at her leg in an effort to pull her closer. All of a sudden, desperation set in and Natasha began hacking at the walker’s arm to get it off her, taking chunks of skin and muscle and eventually bone off until she was able to get away. The thing was still trying to drag itself after her and Natasha panicked, pulling her knife so she could plunge it into the thing’s eye socket and kill it once and for all.

In the aftermath, while she dragged the remains of her latest kill out of the booth, she thought about how her life had come to this point. She supposed it all had to do with The Virus, but maybe it was more than that. Natasha had isolated herself to the point where she didn’t have a single other person to talk to during this whole thing.

Well. She did have one person, but he’d never answered. In the back of her mind, she just hoped Clint and his family were okay because if they weren’t… she honestly wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. It would be too much of a distraction right now.

Hunkering down in the stall was easy after that. Natasha gathered as many plush toys as she could and piled them up so she had something soft to sleep on, pulled one of the ratty bits of fabric underneath the counter over her for warmth, and tried to rest. There were sounds outside the booth, so she kept her knife at the ready just in case a walker managed to make its way over the counter, but none did. She got a couple of fitful hours of rest before the sun rose and a new day began.

Unfortunately, most of the walkers were still outside the booth. For a while, Natasha stood there, out of arm’s reach, and glared at them. She knew it wasn’t their fault, but that didn’t matter. She had so much anger just building up inside her and she had no outlet — Or did she?

Natasha picked up her nightstick and weighed it in her hand for a moment. There were six walkers milling about on the other side of the counter. She could take them. She could.

And she did. Natasha didn’t know where the inner strength came from, but she bashed in the head of every walker threatening her safety and hit them a few more times just to be sure. At the end of it, she was covered in blood and panting heavily at the ground in front of her- and the pieces of the now macerated corpses she’d struck down. So this was who she was now.

Later that day, she found herself standing outside the School of the Arts at NYU and patiently tried exactly three doors until she got inside. She dispatched three walkers who looked strangely like college students and found her way to the dance studio, which was abandoned save for a muffled groaning on the other side of a closet door. And against her better judgement, Natasha set her things down and plucked a record off the shelf without even knowing if the player would actually work. In the complete silence that had been suffocating her for days, soft music began to play and Natasha’s whole body relaxed.

She closed her eyes and twirled around, completely losing herself to the music and the familiarity of her movements. It was rote, it was something she knew better than herself. And it was something that transcended all the terrible things that had happened to the world recently.

She stayed there quite some time, until the food she had was nearly running out. Just as the sun was setting one evening, she headed down Broadway a little further and made a quick decision to seek out refuge at St. Patrick’s. Surely if there were some survivors, they were probably also inside the church as it was something of a fortress. The doors were definitely sturdy enough to keep the walkers out. But approaching the church itself was more of a hazard that Natasha had anticipated. She was alone one minute and surrounded by other people the next. If she hadn’t been so aware that she had several large guns pointed at her, she might have just been happy to see other human beings.

“State your business.”

Natasha frowned. “What’s it look like? I’m looking for shelter for the night.”

“Are you armed?”

Was this guy kidding? Natasha rolled her eyes and indicated the knife and nightstick hanging from her belt. “Of course I’m armed. Do I look stupid?”

Slowly, the guns were lowered just a little bit and the man who’d spoken before came forward. “You don’t look stupid, honey. I bet we could come to an arrangement about tonight.”

Natasha’s stomach immediately knotted. So this was what disaster did to people; she had hoped they’d rise above, but apparently not. “And who might you be?”

“Lester,” he said with a skeevy smile. “But everyone ‘round here calls me ‘Bullseye’.”

“Well, Lester ,” Natasha said smoothly. “I’d rather sleep next to a walker than sleep next to you. So either let me stay in the church until morning on my own , or I’ll just be on my way.”

He soured immediately. Lester’s big hand clamped down on Natasha’s upper arm and she hissed as he pulled her closer. “I should tie you to a pole and let them have you,” he growled. “You’d be lucky to stay with us. You’d be lucky to stay with me .”

Natasha glanced around at the others– there were a couple of women and a few more men, but none looked particularly offended by what Lester was doing at the moment. He was clearly in some kind of leader position, but why? What did he have on them?

“I said I’d be on my way,” she repeated, tugging at his ironclad hold on her arm.

“I think I’ll keep you here.”

It didn’t take nearly as much effort as she would have liked for Lester to pull her past the barricades and into the church. Inside, the pews had been moved to make way for what looked like a tent city for the homeless– there were cots and blankets and food . Natasha’s mouth watered just from the smell of whatever canned something or other someone was making off in the corner. But she wasn’t offered food; that would mean her hosts actually gave a shit about her. Instead, she was plopped down on a heavy metal cot and handcuffed (they must have had an officer around somewhere) to the frame.

“You can’t actually think this is going to get you anywhere,” she deadpanned.

Lester leaned in real close, to the point where Natasha could practically feel his stubble against her cheek. “It’s going to get me everywhere. See you tonight, honey.”

Natasha rolled her eyes again and laid down on the bed with her hand still cuffed to the frame over her head. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but then neither was sleeping on a pile of old, cold stuffed animals with walkers just a couple of feet away. At least she was warm and safe, and there was a good chance she’d be able to get some food on the way out.

For now, however, she was going to rest.

Natasha woke up to Lester sitting on the bed beside her with his hand on her stomach and a creepy smile on his face. She grimaced and wiggled a little bit to get him off her.

“Aw, come on. And here I was coming to give you something to eat.”

All of a sudden, her attention was brought to the tray he’d set down on the bed. There was an unopened bottle of water, a piece of bread, and a bowl of what looked like vegetable soup. It smelled absolutely heavenly, but if he honestly thought it was going to get her to open her legs for him, he was dead wrong.

Natasha gave him a look. “Thanks,” she said graciously. “Think I can have my hand back so I can eat?”

Lester chuckled and pulled back so he could unlock the handcuff and give her a little freedom. Natasha rubbed her wrist as she sat up and accepted the food all while trying not to look too eager for it– even though she definitely was. She was starving and it had been so long since she’d last had a decent meal; this didn’t exactly make her feel warm inside like going over to Clint’s for Sunday dinner, but it was good enough.

And then the nonsense started.

Suffice it to say that Natasha could at least defend herself, so when Lester did something a little uncouth, she reacted by shoving her knee into his groin as hard as she could, punching him hard in the face, and bolting away from him. She got away with a twisted ankle and a nasty wound from a bullet grazing her upper arm; honestly, it could have been a lot worse given the whole tone in that place.

And despite her injuries, she struggled down Centre Street until she reached the foot of the Brooklyn Bridge, where she found a place to collapse for just a moment. She’d managed to avoid most of the walkers on the way, only taking out one or two in her frustration and anger.

The best word she could think of to describe the bridge the next morning amidst foggy weather and grey skies was ‘haunting’. She walked as far to the right as possible while walkers wondered this way and that, but most of them couldn’t get over the gate to present much of a problem to her. She threw three into the icy water below them and walked as fast as she could in the hopes that Brooklyn would bring less crowded streets and a more secure option for shelter– hopefully one that didn’t include some creepy guy trying to sleep with her.

But by the time she arrived at the Brooklyn Navy Yard at last, the sun was going down and it looked deserted. …Actually, it looked a little toodeserted. There weren’t any walkers.

Peering around carefully, she slipped into a narrow opening in the gate and made her way into one of the abandoned buildings on the outskirts of the property. She’d spend the night there, then make her way towards the water and attempt to find a boat she might be able to commandeer, not that she had much experience with sailing. She’d figure it out like she figured everything else out.

Locked away in some dark corner of the building she’d chosen, Natasha began to think about what her next steps would be if the boat option didn’t work out. Death was all around her. Apparently the survivors were apt to a state of lawlessness thanks to the current state of the world and it wasn’t exactly a place she wanted to be. She didn’t like not knowing what to expect from the world, even though the world had surprised her more than once in the recent past.

The next day, she decided to stay right where she was because she was safe. She hadn’t heard a single walker nearby and no one had attempted to get into her little shack, so she’d be crazy to complain. Besides, it was getting cold out there. She wouldn’t survive sleeping on the streets at this point; she couldn’t risk that. A quick look out the window told her that it was snowing as well. No, she had to stay. She had to hunker down here and hope that the food and water she had on her would last.

It turned out to be a good call, because the light dusting turned into a real blizzard and the snow began to form large piles all around her. Natasha searched until she found an old blanket to wrap around her shoulders and made the best fire she could given the circumstances, but she was still cold. It had to be below freezing and there was no insulation in the building she’d chosen, which had probably been a garage or something like that.

The snow lasted for twelve hours and even when it stopped, the temperature remained frigid and unforgiving. This might be it for her; trapped inside because outside was dangerous because of the elements, not the walkers. She was going to die of hypothermia or frostbite or…well, something a lot worse.

Late one night, Natasha was awoken by the distinct creak of the large door opening. Her fire was still smoldering beside her, so her position was given away, and she immediately had a knife in her hand. Even if it wasn’t a walker, it was someone . As she’d learned, other survivors could be as much of a danger as the zombies themselves.

“Hello?”

Natasha frowned. If this guy was looking to harm her, he wasn’t very good at the subtle thing.

“Hey, I know someone’s in here. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Knitting her brows together, she crept out from her hiding space with her knife still in hand and hidden just behind her. The man in question was bundled up in a thick jacket and a scarf. He looked big and warm and Natasha shivered just thinking about burying herself in a jacket like that one.

“What do you want?” She asked as she came into view. “Don’t come any closer.”

The guy put his hands up to show that he wasn’t armed. “I’m just– I was just coming to see who was staying here. It’s getting cold out. I figured I might be able to help.”

Natasha wasn’t sure if he could trust him, but the way he spoke told her that he wasn’t lying to get her closer to him. Maybe he did want to help.

“I’m cold,” she said slowly. “Do you have another jacket like that one?”

The man smiled a little bit and unzipped his jacket so he could hold it out for her without question. “I run warm,” he assured her. “And my name’s Steve. What’s yours?”

“Natasha,” she answered as she moved closer and quickly grabbed the garment. She wasn’t nearly sure enough of her own fate right now to refuse a gift like that one.

Steve shook his head in disbelief. “You’re the first survivor I’ve met,” he said. “Sorry, I feel like I’m staring. I’m just so glad to see someone else with a heart beat.”

The coat was so warm. Natasha wrapped it around herself and huddled in, briefly glancing back towards the pathetic fire she had going. She had been so cold for so long that it felt like she’d never be warm enough again. Considering the man in front of her a second time, Natasha pressed her lips together for a moment and tried to ignore that they were chapped and dry.

“I’ve got a better way we can both stay warm.”

Steve blinked. “Oh, we don’t have to– I mean, I’m fine, I’ll just–”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Just come over here and lay with me,” she said. Her voice was still trembling just a little bit thanks to the cold. It would just be easier if he lent her his body heat for a while. “What? You don’t find nearly blue skin and dry lips appealing?”

Steve huffed out a laugh and for the first time in ages and ages, Natasha really smiled. Together, they headed over to where she’d been sleeping and Steve laid down, awkwardly opening his arms to her. Body heat was the way to go, but it hadn’t actually skipped Natasha’s notice that Steve was one handsome stranger.

She got down on the floor and gave him a look before turning around and putting her back to his big, broad, warm chest. Steve went ahead and apologized before putting his arm around her waist for additional warmth. It was heaven as far as Natasha was concerned, even if he was a complete stranger. He seemed genuine and sweet– and to be honest, she was really happy to just have some company. The solo life hadn’t been great so far when she didn’t even have people to talk to at work.

“So, how long have you been on your own?”

Steve shifted uncomfortably. “About six weeks. I, uh… I lost my best friend and it’s been just me ever since.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” It wasn’t hard to empathize with him over that. For all she knew, Clint was laying in a ditch somewhere, or wandering aimlessly with a horde of walkers. “But you’re staying here?”

“Yeah, over in the main building. I figured it was the safest place to be.”

“Until this whole thing blows over?”

“Until…” He sighed. “I don’t know, really. I keep thinking about what will happen if it doesn’t blow over. I mean, I’ve heard there are other survivors, but—”

“You’ve heard?” Natasha frowned. “How?”

“I’ve got a radio set up. Can’t seem to make contact on my end, but I can hear other people. So there are others. They’re even talking about how some people might be immune.”

So there were other survivors out there, somewhere. Natasha found herself feeling hopeful for just a second. Maybe Steve came with more than just good news- maybe he was a sign of good things to come.

When the sun came out, they made a break for the main building so they had access to the food and water and other supplies that Steve had there. He said he had training in this sort of thing, just surviving on very little and finding his own food. Natasha didn’t question him, especially when he presented her with an actual box of snack cakes. She hadn’t had anything sweet in a long time, so she devoured two on the spot and groaned just because chocolate .

Weeks passed.

Steve and Natasha found an easy rhythm with one another. The cold didn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon, so they did what they could to insulate themselves and block out the frigid air. Steve would go out every morning and see if there was anything to scavenge in the vicinity of the Navy Yard while Natasha prepared a sad breakfast, and then most afternoons were spent either playing chess or reading (and re-reading) the few books lying around.

One of Natasha’s favorite pastimes, however, was watching Steve work out. The guy had boundless energy, or so it seemed, and he’d drop to the floor and do push ups until he was actually sweating despite how cold it was all the time. Natasha liked to imagine cuddling up with him right after that, while his skin was still hot to the touch and his eyes were bluer than ever.

Obviously it was a stupid thing to even consider what she was thinking about for so many reasons– the risk of pregnancy had never been more of an actual risk, for one. But it had been nearly two months since they’d met and they were sharing more casual touches every day. They still spooned at night and Natasha found herself burying her face in Steve’s neck more often than not by the time they woke up. She’d listen to his heartbeat for a few seconds before moving just because she liked the reminder that he was alive .

“Listen, we need to talk about what our next steps should be.”

Steve spoke up while they were eating ‘lunch’ in the form of canned vegetables and crackers he’d taken from a store a few blocks away. Natasha knew they couldn’t stay there forever, but who was she kidding? This was the best set-up she’d had and she was hesitant about moving on. Besides, what if Steve didn’t want to stick with her?

“I figured we could move into South Brooklyn,” he continued. “It’s way less populated there and we wouldn’t have to deal with the fences and quite so many barriers, you know? We could be a little less on edge. I think it’s our best bet.” He took another bite of his food. “Besides, the snow is melting little by little. We should head out before another storm hits.”

“South Brooklyn,” she repeated. “And you’re sure about this?”

Steve nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so. It feels right.”

Natasha wasn’t entirely certain whether or not she was supposed to trust him, but she did. She trusted him entirely and felt that he would make a good decision for the both of them, which was something she didn’t even bother attempting to rectify in her own head.

And so, she agreed and they set out for the other end of Brooklyn just two days later, once they’d packed up the necessities. Traveling with Steve was definitely different than traveling alone. For one thing, he was armed. He had a couple of pistols as well as a bat and an axe that he proudly handed over to Natasha so she could protect herself as well. They watched each other’s backs as they walked to Prospect Park and headed through in the hopes that the larger spaces would mean less walkers to deal with.

But as they headed into Flatbush a couple of days later, things changed. Brooklyn was densely populated just like Manhattan; it was understood that they would eventually run into a neighborhood that was more difficult to get through. It just wasn’t understood that they wouldn’t be entirely ready for it. They weren’t. Oh, they definitely weren’t ready for it.

All of a sudden, they were taking out walkers left and right, slashing and beating and even shooting a few because they couldn’t avoid it. They made their way down the main avenue as quickly as possible, moving from Flatbush to a less populated area further south. Steve said there was a mall near the highway that they could probably find shelter in before they headed even further into the practically suburban area nearby, so they headed that way and used the parking lot entrances to get into the mall itself.

There were walkers everywhere .

Natasha could see them gathered behind the gates of some of the stores where people tried to keep themselves safe. She could see them milling about the mall itself, clearly unable to find their way out. As they neared the staircase and glanced down, she could see masses of them gathered on the first floor and a chill went down her spine.

“We have to leave.”

Steve nodded and they turned to run, but there were already walkers gathering in front of the entrance they’d used thanks to a nearby department store that had been housing them just moments earlier. They didn’t have much of a choice other than to fight their way through and hopefully come out unharmed on the other side. Natasha began swinging the bat at the walkers near her while Steve went at them with one of the thick knives he kept hanging on his belt. It was a losing battle, they were being swarmed and clawed at and pushed and pulled and–

All of a sudden, Steve was down . Natasha felt panic rise in her chest and she immediately went towards him, knocking off a few walkers before she pulled a knife and stabbed the walker on top of him right in the head. There was blood everywhere, but she pulled him up and they bolted for the door, shoving walkers aside as they went.

There was silence between them all the way out of the parking garage, but their battle didn’t stop there. Outside the mall itself, there were lines and lines of cars stopped on a smaller sidestreet and inside them, walkers clawing desperately at the windows. So. These were the people trying to leave before it got worse. They’d been stuck there since it started.

Natasha approached the car and moved to bash in the window, but Steve’s hand caught the tip of the bat.

“Don’t.”

Natasha frowned. “Why not?”

“They were people once too. Doesn’t seem right to kill them unless you have to.”

Lowering her bat, Natasha stared at Steve in disbelief. They weren’t people anymore. They were just— monsters. If they left them alive, they’d kill anyone they could if they got out. They had a right to kill them and keep the world as safe as possible, didn’t they?

But Steve reached out to touch her arm and Natasha just stayed quiet. What a gentle soul. She wondered what he would do or how he would react if he knew that she’d killed any she happened to come across whether they were an immediate danger or not.

“Come on, we’re pretty close,” he said warmly.

Natasha smiled, but all of a sudden a walker came up behind Steve and grabbed him, pulling him back and opening its rotten jaw to take a bite. Steve cried out and struggled, but he was only able to dislodge the walker at first. The same walker rebounded and grabbed Steve from the front, holding onto his shirt and snapping his teeth–

Until Natasha came up behind it and decapitated the damn thing with a single swing of her axe.

As the body fell, Steve stared at it and Natasha stared at Steve.

“Let’s find a place,” she said decidedly.

They walked in a somewhat comfortable silence for a few blocks until they landed in an area that felt as ‘small-town’ as Brooklyn possibly could. With tree-lined blocks and no life to speak of, it felt like… home. But Natasha had a mission here, so she chose a street off to the side and crouched down to pick the lock on the door. Steve didn’t comment.

Once they got inside, she locked the door and they did a quick sweep. Like most homes in the area, it was abandoned and entirely empty. The kitchen was stocked, though, so they would have plenty for a while. Back in the living room, Steve dropped his bag and let out a long sigh.

“This is good,” he said. “Looks like we’ll be safe here for awhi-”

Natasha cut him off with both arms tight around his neck and her lips against his. Enough of this. Enough. She had to stand on her toes to reach him, but it was worth it to have his warmth around her, especially as he wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up. She refused to actually let him speak at this point. Natasha deepened their kiss to the point where it felt like she was trying to soak up a little bit of his soul and Steve (thankfully) moved back until he could land with a huff on the sofa behind them.

Straddling his lap with ease, Natasha began removing articles of clothing with their lips still together. Her jacket went, then the sweater she had on underneath. Leaning backwards, she let Steve kiss her neck while she pulled her boots off and tossed them aside, then kissed along his neck in turn while she unbuttoned her next shirt. Steve only took control after that, flipping them over and removing his own layers while he sucked on her bottom lip.

It was eager, she wasn’t going to lie. The whole thing felt so fast and desperate that Natasha seriously thought she wasn’t going to have enough time to admire his body. She’d seen enough to know that she wanted to spend time touching him, maybe even biting his abs or resting her hands on his stomach while she rode him. Sue her, right? She was only human.

But this wasn’t about lust and it wasn’t about desire and it wasn’t about anything other than the fact that they were alive, Steve was alive and they were together. That was all that mattered right now. By the time he got his clothes off, Natasha had wriggled out of all her layers and pulled off the bra she’d been wearing for way too long now. She wasn’t going to lie about that either; they were both washed, but there was still some unpleasantness that came with wearing the same clothes, washed or not, for days on end.

It didn’t seem that either of them cared. When her bare chest was finally pressed against his, Natasha let out an audible groan and found his lips again, biting down on his lower lip to drag him closer while her hands worked on his jeans. The idea that they might have to stop for lack of a condom wasn’t even something she could fathom right now, meaning that she shoved his jeans down and got hers off enough that they hung uselessly from one leg. Her intention was too clear to be mistaken and Steve followed her cues without question.

Natasha arched her back as he pressed into her at last, rocking his hips hard in tight movements that were neither measured nor hindered by anything as pedestrian as polite manners or the like. It was messy and kind of rough, but so, so good. Natasha wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world at the moment, not after so many weeks of wanting him– which followed weeks and weeks of extremely minimal human contact.

“Come on,” she urged him. “Come on, harder.”

Steve grunted as he tried to obey her, eventually slamming in and rolling his hips while he was buried deep inside her. Natasha cried out immediately and as her nails dug into the meat of his shoulders, she tried her best to rock her hips against him in turn. It was pure bliss, just the best thing she’d felt in a long time, probably even longer than she’d been traveling the city on her own.

His hand came down to hold her hip and Natasha hiked that leg around his waist as he continued to move, his thrusts going from long and deep and pointed to the kind of frenzied movements that told her he was going to come. She didn’t care. She couldn’t even begin to care that he was going to come inside her because she wanted to feel him. She wanted to feel every drop, every little twitch of his cock, every inch of him as he crested that peak and came down from it.

Steve came with a strangled sound he hid in the curve of her neck. Natasha petted his hair as his hips twitched and he empted himself inside her, his arms moving to encircle her waist entirely. He was still panting as he dragged his lips over her breasts and back up to her lips, where he bestowed upon her a series of soft, sweet kisses she didn’t ever want to stop.

“Wow,” he breathed. “Wow.”

Natasha’s eyes were closed and she smiled widely even as Steve let his head fall to her shoulders again. She hadn’t actually finished, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about that either. It felt so unbelievably satisfying just to have a warm body on top of her.

Steve pulled out, but remained close and let Natasha trace over the muscles on his chest for a while. The house was quiet other than their shared breathing and she quite liked it if only because it felt semi-normal. But if she was being honest, she knew that she liked Steve more than she should have. They’d spent too much time together for her to deny it.

“So, where did that come from?” He asked eventually.

Natasha shrugged and laid her hand flat on his chest, just over his heart. “It was a long time coming,” she admitted. “At least on my end.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, mine too,” he said quickly.

Comfortable silence fell between them.

“You didn’t–”

“That’s okay.”

Steve gave her a dubious look. “It’s never really okay,” he said firmly. “Or so I’ve been told.”

Natasha rolled her eyes at him and smiled. “You wanna do something about it?”

“You gonna judge me if I do?”

“Really depends on what you’ve got in mind.”

The look on his face was something she’d never seen before; he looked dangerous and boyish at the same time, like he was about to cause some mischief. It was more amusing than anything else, to be honest. It wasn’t like she was scared of what he might do– and when he slid off the couch in favor of kneeling between her legs, she didn’t dare question him.

It was all too easy to arch her back and tangle her fingers in his overgrown hair– Natasha missed this. She missed the wave of good feelings, but even more than that she missed the company of another person. She might push people away on an emotional level, but the physical stuff was totally different. Sex was something she thoroughly enjoyed and it was only made better by the fact that Steve was pretty much her rock right now.

The fact that he was really putting himself into this only urged her on and Natasha pointed her toes as she hooked her legs over his shoulders and tried to draw him in even more than that. Steve was fucking— he was fucking good at this. She supposed she shouldn’t have been shocked, but he was so goddamn pure half the time. Why was someone as seemingly innocent as Steve so good at this?

“Ohh my God,” she groaned eventually. “Steve, what are you doing to me?”

Steve pulled his mouth off her for a moment and glanced up. “Good things,” he told her confidently. “Real good things, just relax.”

Natasha let her head fall back as he resumed his ministrations and tried to give herself over to what he was doing. Breathing hard, she was hit with a sudden shiver as she came with a muffled moan and tightened her thighs around his head. Steve didn’t pull away, though. No, he lapped at her until she was trembling and finally pushing him away with both feet on his shoulders.

Not even sure what to do with herself, she laid back on the couch and laughed deliriously as Steve crawled over her again.

“Don’t judge me, but I think– just laying with you like this is the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”

“I can’t judge you without judging myself,” she laughed softly. “Just stay like this for a while.”

“Hey.” Steve left a kiss on the side of her neck while Natasha traced up and down his back with the tips of her fingers. “I’ve got nowhere else to be.“

After that, things changed subtly between them. They still talked about anything and everything while they lived their day to day lives in the new world, but Natasha got to share a bed with someone who really cared about her. She got to lose herself in Steve’s lips and Steve’s hands and Steve’s big, warm arms just for a little normalcy every day. She got to know for sure that even if the world had gone to shit, he was there with her. They hadn’t said the big ‘L’ word yet, but that was okay. Maybe it felt too risky in a world wherein their lives could be snuffed out in an sudden moment or one of them could contract The Virus and turn. It was understood; they didn’t have to say anything to one another.

All that really mattered was that Natasha would always have Steve’s back…

-hunting for food,

–scavenging for medical supplies,

—taking out whatever walkers were putting them in danger,

—-trying their best to make a nice dinner out of whatever food scraps they found even though neither of them could cook

…and he would have hers.

#romanogers #captasha #capwidow #fanfic #submission

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ssromanogers · 6 years ago

Text

who else could it be?

To: @aquajules

From: @cpt-stvngrntrgrs // Fatima

Note: Hey there! I hope you like it!!!

—

Steve was sketching his view of the Manhattan skyline when he got an alert that Natasha was requesting access to his floor. “Let her in,” he answered Jarvis, a bit distractedly. He was getting used to her dropping by that he wonders why the alerts are still there. He kept forgetting to ask Stark to take the “privacy warning” from his floor off since he wants to be more accessible to others and they keep hanging out together in his floor anyway.

The elevator pings and he can actually already feel her presence - as weird as that might sound - before she even enters his living room. He guesses that they really are just attuned to each other after working together for a while already. He felt her standing behind him, watching him sketch. He put down his pencil and turned around to face her.

“What’s up?” he asked with an easy smile. The sight of long red hair standing out from her all black outfit, with the natural light filtering in frames her perfectly, and Steve had to resist the urge to sketch her right there. He figured he zoned out a bit when it sounded like she asked him a question and was currently looking puzzled as to why she hasn’t gotten an answer yet. “Uh, sorry, what?”

Natasha squinted at him, looking at him up and down. “Did you not hear a word of what i just said?” she asked, a bit confused but also with a hint of worry. “You okay, Rogers? You seem out of it and that’s not very likely of you.”

“Y-yeah, of course,” Steve stammered, “Just uh, thinking about telling Stark to make my room accessible for you guys, or something like that.”

Natasha just nodded and shrugged. “Okay… well I came in here to ask you a question. I’ve been planning to take this guy out for a date and, well, I need opinions to see how a guy thinks, you know, romantically–” she explained, moving towards the couch to sit.

Steve followed her to the couch, feeling a lot more lost. There was a guy? That Natasha likes? He felt his brain split at that second as millions of questions come rushing in - questions that he doesn’t have the answers to. Steve has suspected that he might like Nat more than a partner should, kinda thought that she felt the same way to him, if he’s being honest, but apparently he misread everything. He felt a pang of pain to his chest and his mood plummeted, and he realized that he zoned her out again.

“– not that I wouldn’t know what a guy likes, since I live with all you dudes, and I’ve had tons of men before, but not in an actual, serious date.” Natasha continued to ramble on, not noticing that Steve wasn’t following her train of thought. “So will you help me?” she finally asked, turning to look at Steve who was staring at her with a blank face.

“Uh, yes, of course,” Steve answered, not even knowing what he agreed to.

“Great! I just have a couple of questions-” she pulled out her phone and turned to him, “-please just answer these honestly.” Steve nodded along, not really sure about what she’s going to ask.

“Which do you prefer for a first date: lunch or dinner?” she read off the first question.

“Lunch, I guess. It’s less formal and more relaxed, so you can get to know your date more.”

“Cool. Do you think a lunch date should come with a movie afterwards or would it be better to watch a concert afterwards? I think his favorite band has a show that day but I don’t want to make me look too anxious and stalker-ish to already know what he’s into, you know?”

“Well, I think he’d appreciate seeing his favorite band…” Steve paused. “Wait, what exactly is this for again? And do I know who it is? If I know him it’d be easier to answer your questions,” Steve prodded. He has no idea who Natasha could be interested in. Is it a SHIELD agent? He doesn’t exactly see her interact with people outside their circle so he has to at least have heard of the guy at some point.

Natasha rolled her eyes in response. “Just trying to gather first date ideas. Stark’s answers sucked, Thor’s suggestions are literally out of this world, and everyone else is MIA. So I’m down to you. And no, you don’t know him. I met him online and we’ve been talking for some time. And just answer the questions, gee,” she tried to sound exasperated but her smile tells him that she’s enjoying confusing him.

“You. Online dating? The Black Widow looking for a man online? Is that even allowed by SHIELD protocol?” he joked, to which she shrugged and laughed with. SHIELD would probably be too scared to call her out anyway. “Well, I’d definitely go with seeing the band if you know he likes them, I think that would be sweet. But if not, then movies or even a walk in the park might work for early afternoon…” he trailed off.

“Okay, that works, I think that’s all I need,” she put her phone away and lied down on the couch, sliding her legs on top of Steve’s lap. “Jarvis, can we watch The Lion King, please,” she ordered the AI.

Steve stared at her. “That’s it? You couldn’t have sent a text?” he joked, adjusting to be more comfortable now that they’re apparently watching a movie.

“Nah, I was bored and was going to come up here anyway.” she responded, already turned to focus on the movie. Steve just grinned and rolled his eyes. He loved moments like these between them - Natasha usually picks a Disney movie to make him watch and they’d rate how that movie moved or made them cry. Natasha bets that the Lion King would be no. 1 but Steve insisted that it will always be Bambi. He won’t know what will hit him.

–

“Come on, Rogers, let’s go!!” Tony has been trying to get Steve to go with him and stalk Natasha on her date, but Steve won’t budge on the reason that he ‘respects her privacy’ but in reality, he just doesn’t want to see her with someone else.

“No, Tony. We can’t spy on a spy! She’ll see us in a second and kill us both, you do understand that, right?” Steve reasoned.

“Yeah, but it’s not like she can do it in broad daylight,” Tony fired back.

“She can and she will,” Clint chimed in, not looking up from his game.

“Let’s just see what he looks like! From like, a window or something, then we’ll leave! Please?” Tony insisted.

“Can’t you just search him up or something?” Steve asked. He can feel like he’s losing this battle because as much as it’ll hurt him, he really is curious about who the guy is or what he looks like.

“I can, but that’ll be an even bigger breach of ‘privacy’, a thing you so highly find important. Who knows what I’ll find,” Tony winked and Steve gave him a disgusted face.

“Fine! But a brief look, okay!” Steve exclaimed, throwing his hands up and giving up to the pressure.

Steve begrudgingly stood up to follow Stark to the garage to leave. They asked Clint to tag along but he just shook his head and said that he, in fact, wishes to live. Steve asked himself if this really is a good idea.

When they got to the restaurant where Natasha’s date was taking place, they noticed that she was still sitting alone. Tony checked his watch, Natasha’s date was supposed to meet her 30 minutes ago.

“Hey, wait here,” Tony abruptly said to Steve, leaving their hiding spot and walking in the restaurant before Steve could say a word. When he finally processed what Tony did, Steve cursed under his breath because they were going to die.

Steve watched Tony approach a passive-looking Natasha and the two spoke briefly, until Tony said something that made Natasha laugh - which, in turn, instinctively made Steve smile. When Tony pointed a finger to their hiding spot, Steve’s smile disappeared as his eyes met Natasha’s. Crap. How could Tony out him like that! Natasha’s smile grew larger as he signaled for Steve to come to them, which he had no choice but to do, so he bowed his head down and went inside.

“Hey Steve,” Natasha greeted him warmly. “Take a seat,” she offered to the empty seat across from her.

“Uh, but don’t you have a date?” Steve asked, confused, looking between her and Tony.

Tony clasped a hand on his shoulder, looking at him with an enormous grin. “So, I’ll leave you guys to it. Romanoff, you’re welcome. You owe me one!” he winked at Natasha, who waved her off, laughing.

“Wait, Tony, wha-” Steve started to ask Tony, who just made him sit at the chair and left. Steve looked back to Tony’s retreating figure before turning around to face Natasha.

“Nat what’s happening? Did your date stand you up?” he asked her, his face scrunched up, still not fully grasping what’s happening.

Natasha simply smiled, not saying anything.

“Did he? He did, huh! Who is he, anyway? Because I-” Steve started to rant, placing his hands on the table as he started to get upset at the thought that someone would do that to Natasha, of all people.

“Steve, you’re my date,” Natasha cut him off, placing her hands over his.

That made stop talking. “I’m your what now?” He dumbfoundedly asked, eliciting a chuckle from Natasha.

“You’re the guy I want to ask out. And, I don’t know, but for some reason I want to surprise you because I don’t want you to overthink it.” Natasha explained.

Steve stared at her for a while, not saying anything, trying to process what she just said. “So does this mean that… you like me… or want to date me?” Steve slowly let out.

“Yes and yes. Again, like I said, Steve don’t overthink it. You’re here because I like you, and I think that maybe you like me too?” Natasha asked, her voice getting smaller as she got the question out.

Steve nodded rapidly. “I-i I do! I do like you!” Steve assured, finally letting out a laugh and moving his hands so he could clasp Natasha’s in between his. “So when you asked me about this the other day…” he trailed off.

Natasha laughed. “Yes, it was because I want to know what you personally think. Believe it or not it’s actually Stark’s idea,” Natasha shrugged, “and as you witnessed, he did help me pull this off, too. Who would’ve thought he had the knack for romance.”

“Well, he is very dramatic so I guess that played out well. Wait. You told me the other day that your date’s, which is apparently me, favorite band is performing and that you’d watch it after this. Is that still true?” Steve asked, sounding hopeful.

Natasha nodded. “Yup. Mayday Parade is playing this afternoon and we have VIP tickets,” Natasha flashed him a proud grin. That band is special to them because Natasha got Steve into that band and they spent many afternoons listening to their music in silence and enjoying the music.

“Wow, I can’t believe it! I’m so happy I could kiss you right now-” Steve exclaimed, before stopping as he realized what he said.

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” Natasha suggested with a smirk, watching Steve turn red and looking for words.

“Really? I mean- I would like to, uh you know, kiss you. Like for real, this time,” Steve muttered, avoiding Natasha’s eyes as he turns even more red.

“You could’ve just asked,” Natasha playfully quipped. She stood up and leaned close to Steve, planting a soft kiss on his lips before sitting down again. “I’ll give you that for now, Rogers. After all, it is only our first date,” Natasha teased.

Steve blinked, eventually smiling as he recovered from that. “First of many,” he said with a promise, clutching Natasha’s hand a bit tighter.

#romanogers #captasha #capwidow #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #fanfic #submission

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ssromanogers · 6 years ago

Text

Call it Caffeine

To: @teyriantimelord10

From: @marshunter06

Note: Hey, I’m Morgan and I’m your Secret Santa! Anyways, you said you like AU’s, so what better one than a coffee shop? Happy 2019 to you! (:

It was fall when he first noticed her— fitting, as the season consisted of oranges, yellows, and fiery reds. Steve is a photographer and he was booked to take engagement pictures in Central Park for a happy couple. He spent the whole day taking pictures of them along with props and outfit changes. He must have taken over 500 photos. Now he was sitting at his desk looking through all of his pictures to see which ones would make the cut. He clicks through them, dismissing ones he deems unfit. This continues for about a hundred photos before he spots one that catches him off guard. There were a lot of people passing by that day so of course some made it into the background— but this one was different. The person in the background somehow manages to outshine the happy couple. Steve wasn’t sure what it was about her; maybe it was her fiery red hair, or her brilliant smile, or the way her green eyes seemed as if they were looking right at the camera— right at him. He clicks to the next picture to see if she was in the background again, but she was gone. Not a single trace in the picture. He quickly clicks through the rest of the photos to see if she would appear in any of them; but no such luck. He only managed to capture her in that one shot.

His phone buzzes, snapping him out of his thoughts. It’s a text message from his client asking how the photos turned out. He replies and immediately goes back to sorting through the pictures, forgetting about the red haired stranger.

A few weeks later, Steve is back in Central Park after meeting with a new client. It was about three in the afternoon and he could really use a pick-me-up. Across the street was a coffee shop that he has never been to before, so he decides to give it a try. He enters the small shop intending on ordering an americano, but as soon as he sees the person at the counter, his words fail. Standing right in front of him was the girl from his picture.

“Hello? Um… can I take your order?”

“I… um…”

“Why don’t you take a look at the menu?”

He manages to nod his head, but he doesn’t look up at the board with all the drinks. He’s still awestruck looking at her. Normally she would be creeped out, but this guy looked harmless, plus, he was cute.

“Hey.”

He makes eye contact with the red haired beauty. He looks down at her name tag and learns that her name is Natasha.

“I can see that you’re having a tough time deciding, why don’t you try our special for today?”

He just nods his head once more while he hands her the money for the drink, plus a tip. He picks the table farthest away from the counter to try and calm himself. What was wrong with him? He was acting like an idiot. He buries his face into his hands and sighs. That was a terrible first impression, he wished he could start over; though he’s not sure he could do any better.

A few minutes later, Natasha brings his coffee and sets it down on the table. She smiles at him.

“Alright, Mr. Camera Guy, here’s a caramel cold brew. Let me know if you don’t like it, we can always change it for something else.”

She leaves after placing the drink in front of him. He stares at it for a moment before taking a sip. He doesn’t normally drink iced coffee, but he finds that it wasn’t that bad. In fact, he kind of enjoyed it. He slowly finishes the cold brew as the shop continues to fill with people. He watches as Natasha interacts with all the customers with a smile. They all seemed to love her; she was really good at her job.

Ever since accidentally stumbling across the coffee shop and meeting Natasha, Steve ends up visiting a few times a week. Some would say he had a caffeine addiction, but he knew it wasn’t coffee he was yearning for. With every visit, Natasha would greet him with a smile and offer him the special. He’s never once gotten his americano, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Apparently Natasha was the one who got to decide the special everyday, so Steve was more than happy to accept whatever she was offering.

They never really talked whenever the handsome stranger came in. She’s never even learned his name. He was just ‘the camera guy’. She assumes he’s a photographer since the camera has never left his side in all the times she’s seen him here. She likes to think she knows why he’s really here, but he never makes a move. He can barely ask for his order at the counter. Still, she finds that she’s intrigued— though her coworkers would agree it was something more. They might be right, but she may never find out. All he seems to focus on are his damn pictures. Whether it’s looking through them in the camera or editing them on his laptop. Maybe he really is just here to work?

It’s just after thanksgiving when her camera guy does the unexpected, he walks in without his camera. He only has a sketchbook in his hands. He even manages to place his order without stumbling through his words. It’s about time.

When Natasha brings him his hazelnut latte at his usual table, she couldn’t help but finally ask for his name.

“So, I can’t call you Mr. Camera Guy anymore since you don’t seem to have your camera…”

He smiles at that and Natasha swears her heart started beating faster. What was wrong with her?

“It’s Steve, Steve Rogers. It’s nice to officially meet you, Natasha.”

“Steve, huh? Well, it’s a relief that I finally know your name. It was pretty unfair that you knew mine all this time.”

He chuckles at that, “sorry, if I had known, I would’ve worn a name tag too.”

“That would’ve been helpful.”

She smiles at him and he swears his heart started beating faster. He could spend forever watching her smile. She goes back to the counter while he works on his drawing and his drink.

Another week passes before Steve comes back to the coffee shop. Natasha was starting to worry about him, but on the third of December, her camera guy appears. Though, she should stop calling him that since he didn’t bring the camera. No, he had his sketchbook again. He walks over to the counter with a smile and orders the special from Natasha. A few moments later, she walks over with his peppermint mocha.

“Alright, Steve, I gotta ask, what happened to your camera?”

“Nothing happened to it. I’ve just been in more of a sketching mood lately.”

“I thought it broke or something. That’s why you didn’t come in.”

“No, nothing like that. Just a different kind of inspiration you know?”

“I do, actually; I’m a dancer. Well, studying to be one.”

“Wow, what do you do?”

“Ballet, at Juilliard.”

“You must be amazing. I would love to see you dance sometime. I mean, if that’s okay with you?”

“I think I would like that, Steve.”

As it turns out, Natasha had a recital on Christmas Eve. She invites Steve to go and see her as the lead, which he happily accepts.

Keeping in theme, they were performing the Nutcracker. He watches as she dances across the stage; he becomes enchanted with her movements. She’s a phenomenal dancer. She captures the audience’s attention from the moment she appears. It was clear that she was never meant to be in the background.

After the performance is over, Steve waits for Natasha outside. After she says her goodbyes and wishes the cast and crew a happy holiday, she finds the man she had been searching for through the crowds. He was standing there with a bouquet of roses and a smile.

“Hey, stranger, how was the show?”

“You were amazing, Nat! You have a lot of talent!”

“You’re gonna make me blush. Thank you for the roses, Steve.”

“I have something else for you.”

“I thought we agreed, no presents.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to give this to you a long time ago. I think it’s finally finished.”

He hands her an envelope and inside was a drawing of her smiling. She remembers that day from the outfit. It was when she first learned his name.

“Steve, this— this is amazing! And you said I was talented. Look at you!”

“It took me a long time to get it just right. I’m just glad you like it.”

“I love it! Really, I do.”

“I would like to draw you dancing one day.”

“Maybe after the new year. For now, we have Christmas to celebrate.”

Flash forward one year and they’re taking on the world together. It’s now Christmas time again. Their apartment is decorated with a tree and stockings above the fireplace. Throughout the space, there’s pictures in frames scattered all around of the happy couple. There is a painting of Natasha in her ballerina attire with her head down, eyes closed, and a smile on her face, as she holds first position. Venture further into the apartment to find Steve and Natasha laughing as they finish preparing Christmas dinner. They’re both wearing ugly sweaters; ‘tis the season after all. Just before they make it out of the kitchen area, Steve stops and points up— right above the two hung a mistletoe. She smiles as she leans up to kiss him; someone really should’ve been there to take a picture…

A Merry Christmas indeed.

#captasha #romanogers #fanfic #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #capwidow #submission

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ssromanogers · 6 years ago

Text

Taking in Strays

To: http://sleepygrimm.tumblr.com/

@sleepygrimm

From: http://mysteriousangstninja.tumblr.com/ (Sideblog, sorry!)

“What do you mean someone already picked him up?” Despite all of her training, years of learning to push back emotion and continue on anyway, Natasha felt her heart sink to her stomach at the words. “You were meant to be keeping him here until I returned.”

It was only by virtue of the toddlers babbling to each other in a playpen nearby that Natasha didn’t raise her voice.

The babysitter – retired SHIELD Agent, Natasha thought with grave annoyance – almost winced. “You never said that it was restricted just to you! You said he was staying a few overnights, I wasn’t told he couldn’t be picked up by someone else on his emergency list.”

She clenched her hands at her side, inhaling slowly and trying to get the image of her strangling the woman out of her head, “Who took him, Alice?”

“Wanda Maximoff. You’ve always had her on the list of emergency pick ups, and you didn’t say otherwise.”

“When?”

“Two days ago.” Alice answered sheepishly taking a step back. “Before Germany made the news.”

~-~-~

It started in the ruins of Sokovia. In the parts of the city that were broken beyond repair, but hadn’t made their way into the air.

Where the remaining Avengers worked with first responders, and eventually neighboring military forces, to dig out the dead and dying, the miraculous survivors, and account for every person they could possibly find.

Where Steve’s hearing picked up heartbeats behind rubble no one would ever think to look behind, and his strength had him moving entire slaps of concrete where they wouldn’t dare try to bring machines in.

He heard it first, the faint unhappy whimpering noises coming from a building that was little more than rubble.

A whimpering, whining noise he rarely heard outside of television.

“That’s a baby.” Steve said aloud, staring up at a half collapsed building, brick and rubble surrounding it from a hole in the side that cascaded it’s destruction outwards.

“No way a kid survived that.” Natasha answered immediately. There was no way anyone could have survived what looked like a building collapsing onto a second, smaller building.

“I can hear it,” Steve shook his head, “There’s a baby in there.”

Natasha eyed the crumbled walls, shattered brick and glass. “How sure are you?”

“Certain.” Steve took careful, measured steps forward to the building, testing his way inside. The front door had given way to a giant hole, letting them at least get inside easily. Even if moving brought down more dust. The stairwell door he had to shove open, creating an ominous rumbling noise through the building, brick and boards shifting and creaking. “I think I can get up there.” Steve grabbed the handrail for the stairs above where their path was blocked, and started to pull himself up. The moment he moved the noises started again.

“No, you’re heavy, and big.” Natasha nudged him aside, staring up into the stairs that ended abruptly in night sky only a few stories up, “You’d fall through the floor, or bring down the roof behind you. Gimme a boost.”

Steve eyed her cautiously, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’ll be easy.” She rolled her shoulders and gestured for him to move closer, “Like playing the floor is Lava with the Bartons.”

“Only slightly more chances of being impaled.” Steve moved forward anyway, bending down on one knee and cupping his hands to work as a boost.

“Slightly less chance of stepping on a Lego though. I’d ask for a kiss for good luck, but you’re coated in dust and this country probably isn’t up to code with carcinogens and asbestos in buildings.” Natasha brushed the bottom of her boot against the back of her gloved hand to try and clear anything sharp from it before stepping onto Steve’s hands, one hand on his shoulders to balance herself as he slowly stood, carefully pushing her upwards until she could easily grab the railing and pull herself over. “However you owe me at least one kiss - about six showers and a bubble bath from now.”

“Fair trade,” Steve nodded, “Be careful.”

“I’m always careful. Left or right?”

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, listening closer to the sound, “Left, sounds like it’s west side of the building.”

“Got it.”

The stairwell had mostly held together it seemed, at least so far as the stairs, the walls were a little more pockmarked than they were meant to be, she was sure.

The hallways though…

They were marked by debris from the building breaking, from people trying to leave in a hurry.

By bodies that she checked for a pulse, even though Steve hadn’t mentioned any other heartbeats or breathing in the building. She noted their location as precisely as she could over the com system, waiting for a reply from Clint that he’d marked them down before moving on.

Steve’s hearing was beyond what any normal humans could dream of having. She knew that, they all did, yet still he managed to surprise her on a regular basis with it.

It took two floors, and a door before she heard the whining noise Steve could hear so clearly from outside the building.

There were bodies in the living room, obviously long dead, taken out by what had broken the building so thoroughly.

The fussing had almost a despondent tone, more pathetic and hopeless a noise than she’d ever heard Lila make as a baby. Probably beyond certain that no one was coming for it. Had it been crying for two days? Hoping that anyone might come and take care of it?

Natasha had to put a bit of force into getting the door open, listening to something on the other side scraping on the floor as she forced it open.

A collapsed dresser, she noted without much interest, now covering the floor in clothes and wood shards.

What was interesting was the crib. The whole room was a display of broken bits of ceiling, broken furniture, bits of glass, but the crib? It was as if all the debris had perfectly encircled it, leaving it untouched.

“It’s okay, kid,” Natasha took measured steps across crumbling floorboards to the crib, “You’ll be okay.”

The crib was untouched inside, the sheets still a pretty mint color.

It had to do, Natasha was certain, with the fact that the fussing baby it held was currently engulfed in a little bubble of blue light.

“Huh.” Natasha reached out slowly, finding her hand passed through the energy, whatever it was, easily, and touched the baby’s cheek. Poor kid was freezing cold, but it’s eyes snapped open at the touch, it’s arms flinging out to the side, the bubble moving outwards and making her hand tingle as if it had gone to sleep. “It’s okay, sweetheart, you’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

As if it were desperate for human contact – which Natasha was certain it was after being alone so long – the bubble seemed to pop at her words, dispersing into the air around it.

“Let’s get you somewhere safe, okay?” Natasha carefully scooped the baby out of the crib, cradling it against her shoulder, grabbing a blanket from the crib to cover it a little more from the cold, from anything falling from the ceiling, “It’s going to be okay.”

~-~-~

He wasn’t at the New York safe house. No one was.

The backpack that served as his bugout bag was gone, as was the money hidden beneath the floor, and Wanda’s fake passport.

So she had taken him, and she had gone with him. Clint had been with them, obviously, he had to have been since Clint and Wanda were together in Germany at the airport.

After they’d taken off with her son. Steve’s too, she had to admit, but he wasn’t the one who’s taken him. They might have done it at his request, but there wasn’t any way he’d ask them to do it, and then not tell her. There was no reason to take him.

Sure they were on different sides when it came to government interference, but taking her child because of that? That would be beyond low, beyond cruel.

Steve wasn’t cruel.

He wasn’t in their apartment, or the D.C. safe house either.

It took three states and four days to figure out where he had been moved to.

~-~-~

The blue bubble didn’t return while Natasha held him, only showing up again when she tried to lay him down for someone else to look at. Something that led to the doctor trying to examine him getting a nasty shock from it.

The grumbling from the Sokovian doctor had politely been translated by a UN nurse as ‘you didn’t warn me he was enhanced’.

Enhanced. Whatever the HYDRA infiltrated version of SHIELD had been up to here, it hadn’t been great. She was worried enough over how young Wanda had to be; finding out there was at least one enhanced infant was enough to make her want to rage. But she couldn’t.

“Doctor thinks he’s around two months old,” Natasha told Steve when the soldier dragged himself into the small jet the Avengers had taken over as their brief living quarters, courtesy of Fury. “That’s pretty young to be injecting someone with any version of the serum, isn’t it?”

“Too young to survive.” Steve set his gloves down on a now empty crate, freeing his now moderately clean hands to touch the baby’s hand. The boy didn’t stir, too content to bother with anything now that he had a clean diaper, and a full belly for the first time in at least two days. “Far too young.”

“So you think this is natural, some gift he was born with randomly or…?”

“Or his parents were enhanced, at least one of them.” He let his helmet drop by the gloves, “You going to leave him with the red cross?” The look on her face must have been evident enough of what she thought of his opinion because he laughed quietly and nodded, “Right. Enhanced means he should probably stay with us until we figure out if he has any relatives to go to. Obviously.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, letting his temple rest against the top of her head, peering down at the baby.

“Obviously.”

—-

There were no missing persons reports for a baby that young. No one looking for any infants, no hospital records – surviving anyway - for a baby that fit his description, no certificates of birth. Not completely out of the norm for a war torn country, but what cemented him fully in their minds as an orphan was Wanda.

Wanda who stayed at the compound with them in the first few days, watched them and the baby. Wanda who took one look at his chest while Clint helped Natasha change him into a romper, eying the dark mark across his ribs. “Is that a bruise or a birth mark?”

“A birthmark. Might get lighter as he grows, might not. A lot of kids are born with them.” Clint placed his hand between the baby’s torso and the zipper when he tugged it up, into place.

“Huh.” Wanda leaned against the back of the couch, “You said he was blue? Very bright, yes?”

Natasha turned towards her, resting the baby against her shoulder, “As bright as your magic… please tell me he’s not yours.” Wanda was already young and taken advantage of, Natasha could see the way Clint stiffened, looked a little murderous.

“No. He might be Selene’s.” Wanda gave half a shrug, “They took her baby away. He was noisy, and he had a mark on his chest. Also on the back of his head, like a strawberry. My… Pietro said he’d heard a mark on the front like that was bound to be a sign of greed.”

“Yeah, well the only thing he’s greedy for is another bottle,” Clint joked in that same dad voice he used on his kids, making Natasha roll her eyes.

“Who’s Selene?” Natasha asked instead of giving in to talk about marks, baby happily resting against her shoulder.

“One of the people they were testing on. They took many of us,” Wanda hesitated, “Only Pietro and I survived more than a few weeks. She had him after they injected us. When she died they took him away. She called him Ilya, if that helps.”

—-

It took two weeks to set up for the baby to be tested by anyone. After Ultron Steve was hesitant to let Tony near the baby in any way, and Natasha didn’t protest the idea.

But it meant two weeks of him staying with them. Two weeks of late nights and endless bottles, diapers.

Of seeing Steve sprawled out on their couch late at night with the baby laying across his chest, watching the TV and talking to the little guy to 'entertain’ him while Natasha was meant to be catching up on sleep.

After two days she didn’t want to give him up, by his appointment at two weeks the idea of handing him off to anyone was painful.

About as painful as Ilya found his physical to be, given the way he squealed, his hands balled up into fists, face scrunched up in fury at even being looked over by anyone else.

It wasn’t a doctor technically, Maria Hill had explained, but apparently Dr. Simmons was the best biologist SHIELD had, and wouldn’t be put out by dealing with enhanced challenges.

Something that stood out when the attempt to take a small vial of blood from Ilya ended in a rapid appearing blue bubble that sent the woman stumbling backwards, caught by a prepared Maria.

“Is it bad I really want to just throw things towards him now and see what he blocks?” Maria asked, leaning against the table watching Natasha soothe the baby enough to where Simmons could draw blood with only minor electrical interference.

“Clint said the only thing stopping him from doing it was a little voice in his head telling him I’d kill him.”

Their apartment was a slight mess. Well, a mess as far as Steve’s sensibilities.

There were books piled neatly on the coffee table, a stack of sketchbooks on the kitchen island, a few boxes along the hallway.

Things that were meant to be in his hobby room.

A room where currently faint music was playing.

“What the hell…” Natasha shifted Ilya in her arms, letting the fussy baby lay against her chest instead of her shoulder. His loud complaints and subsided to occasional grumbling behind a pacifier about the time they left the building Maria swore wasn’t a hidden SHIELD office, not in the least.

The room had been cleared out and cleaned. Against the wall leaned a large white cardboard box with what looked like a crib printed on the side of it, along with a few grocery bags tied at the top like a knot.

“Uh, Steve?”

Steve looked up from where he knelt, carefully painting what looked like Donald Duck in a border, three smaller half painted creatures walking behind him. “What?” his voice was muffled by another paintbrush held between his teeth. He removed it carefully, swiping yellow paint across his cheek in the process, “It’s not like we were gonna return him.”

~-~-~

The farm was silent as she drove up to it. None of the alarm systems she’d helped set up cued off, at least not that she could see. Laura didn’t call her burner phone on the way to the house. No one was out front either.

Cooper’s bike was leaned up against the porch, Laura’s car was in the drive. The front door wasn’t broken open.

But it was unlocked when she tried it.

The house alarms didn’t go off either. The coats weren’t hung up by the door, and the kitchen floorboard had been pulled up, the go-bags stashed inside taken out.

“Shit.” In a crisis she was supposed to help them, keep track if possible, but they’d gotten out first. Probably when Clint left.

The only thing left behind was a piece of paper on the kitchen table. It held very little information, but it did settle some of her anxiety.

'R, He’s with mine, B’

Laura had him.

Laura, wherever she was, had Ilya with her children. That was both a relief and more worry inducing. She knew one or two places Laura might go, but with Clint as her husband, they probably had more she didn’t even know about.

With Clint in prison she had no ways to contact him to try and find her son.

She tried one more time on the numbers she knew they might us, burners that might be active, but got no reply, no answer. Some didn’t even ring.

The one that did ring and cut short, being sent to voice-mail had her clenching her hand, listening to the beep meaning it had begun recording.

“If I don’t get him back, and soon, you’re going to be very, very sorry.” She spoke clearly into the phone, not raising her voice in the least, keeping it as level as she could before ending the call with a click, shoving the phone back into her pocket.

There were more places to check, to catch up to the ones who thought she sided against them.

~-~-~

Continuing life with a baby around wasn’t as hard as they expected it to be.

Most training sessions Ilya was off to the side in whoever wasn’t working’s arms, and the times they worked as a team he was most happy to lay in his swing, suckling on his pacifier while they worked on practicing working as a team, perfecting what feats they needed to rely on each other for.

They found out quickly that he adored Wanda, tolerated Sam and Rhodey, and cried at Vision being near. The crying wasn’t funny, but the way his little fists would be swallowed up in tiny blue energy crackling around them was.

“You trying to threaten the mean ol’ Android. You’re older than him, you know,” Steve teased Ilya, sitting cross-legged in front of his swing, playing with his tiny fists. “You’re meant to look out for the younger guys, that’s how it works.”

“Nah, you defend yourself against anyone who’s mean to you,” Sam disagreed, crouching down next to the swing, catching Ilya’s attention with his movement. “You may be little, but I bet you got a hell of a south paw. Huh?” He tapped Ilya’s nose with his fingertip, making the baby go crossed eyed briefly, blinking and refocusing.

“He’s gotta learn to balance on his own before he can manage that mean right hook,” Steve disagreed, unfastening Ilya and climbing to his feet, plucking the cheerful boy from his spot. “Huh bud?”

“Yeah, might need to discover he has feet before he can plant them for a proper punch,” Sam conceded, following after Steve out of the gym, giving a sarcastic farewell salute to Rhodey who looked rather resigned to his role of practice dummy in Natasha’s lessons to Wanda on taking down bigger opponents.

“He knows he has feet!” Steve protested. He glanced down at the baby, “You know you have feet. Don’t you?”

If the four month old had any answers, he wasn’t sharing them.

Steve shook his head “He’s aware of his feet he knows when they’re cold.”

“He knows he’s cold, that doesn’t mean he’s aware he has feet,” Sam made a face at Ilya that had the baby making a chuffing noise.

Steve stared down at his son, “Do that again?”

“Do what?” Sam blew a raspberry at Ilya, receiving the same noise in reply.

“That.” Steve shifted Ilya so the baby was watching Sam fully. “That face.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Your Daddy thinks I’m an on cue comedian, doesn’t he?” But still he made a face, blowing a raspberry at Ilya again. This time the chuffing noise came with waved hands, a high pitched breath out at the end. “Oh. Oh shit, did I just make him laugh?”

“No. No you did not. That did not happen,” Steve decided after a minute, “You heard nothing and neither did I. Nothing has happened until Mommy sees it.”

“Like the feeding him orange juice incident. Got it.”

—-

Ilya’s first shots at two months old, after the blood, led to a shrieking baby and a dazed scientist with a nasty bump on the back of her head.

At four his screaming anger at shots had a dent in a wall, and Maria threatening Steve via text about having to catch scientists on her own.

So when his six months shots came up, they were prepared ahead of time, with Steve bracing his arm around a stuttering brunette who tried to keep her focus on the now distrustful baby.

A distrustful baby who shrieked as if he’d been betrayed, tears rolling down his face, hand clenched in pain.

Steve had counted on having to block poor Simmons from being tossed backwards again, that was easy enough.

He’d counted on Ilya’s crying, a needle hurt when you were an adult, of course it’d be a horrible pain as a baby.

What he hadn’t counted on was the way his heart broke at Ilya’s face, screwed up in pain, in the pained, betrayed sobs that came from his poor innocent son.

“Hey, no, no, it’s okay, you’re okay.” Steve scooped him up the moment Natasha had a bandage over the two tiny injection marks. “You’re okay champ, I’ve got you.” He cradled Ilya to his shoulder, bouncing him lightly, “You’re okay. I know, I know, that was so cruel. That was mean and terrible, I’m so sorry.” he didn’t notice the amused look Natasha gave him, or the way Maria pulled out her phone, pointing it at them, all he cared about was Ilya’s slowly quieting cries, “I’m sorry, buddy. I know, but I promise you that jab’s a lot better than polio.”

“I don’t think he cares about what he’s avoiding, hon,” Natasha’s amusement was evident in her tone, obviously trying not to laugh despite how much she had been nervous about his getting his shots. “He’s just mad we poked him.”

“That was a horrible betrayal, he should be mad. And he should care! Whooping cough is horrible. I had it, it wasn’t fun. We don’t like stuff that isn’t fun, do we buddy? No, no we don’t.”

—-

“Nat. Nat,” Steve nudged the bed lightly with the side of his leg, “hey.”

“What?” Natasha blinked to clear her eyes, looking up at Steve stood by their bedside, baby in his arms. “What’s wrong? He can’t sleep?”

“He’s sleeping fine. Too fine. Clint said babies are up crying all night after shots and get sick and aren’t well but he hasn’t even woken up for a bottle” Steve sat down next to her on the bed when she tugged on the hem of his boxers to make him, “No bottle, no waking, and he’s warm.”

Natasha sat up enough to touch Ilya’s face, his hands, “He’s warm but he’s not hot.”

“Warm is bad for a baby, it could mean something is very wrong,” Steve pointed out.

“Or it could mean it’s September in New York, he’s wearing footie pajamas, and you don’t sleep so instead you stay up and obsess listening to him breathe,” Natasha scooted backwards on the bed, nudging Steve to lean back on the pillows and relax. She plucked Ilya from his arms, settling herself back against Steve’s shoulder instead, baby on her chest. Ilya was a bit warm, but no more than he normally was when sleeping in full body pajamas. He wasn’t flushed, or breathing hard.

“He could be really sick,” Steve covered her hand on Ilya’s back with his own, “What if he is? He always wakes for a bottle, this could mean–”

“That we start getting full nights worth of sleep again, and he’s tired out from the day. If you really want me to I’m sure I can wake him up for you,” Natasha offered, entwining her fingers with his, and moving so both his arms were around her and Ilya. “Or you can obsess over his breathing and rest with us for a while.”

“I don’t obsess,” Steve defended himself with remarkably little conviction, “I monitor.”

“Uh huh. Sleep, he’s fine.” Natasha rested her head on his shoulder, letting her eyes close, “I promise.”

~-~-~

The Montana safe house. had obviously been used, but it hadn’t been emptied of supplies. The signs of life there were subtle. While bed was made up neatly, they were crinkled and obviously had been used, not just tucked in hospital corners.

The dishes were in the cupboard neat and clean, but the few that were up there held no dust on them at all, recently used and washed.

Two of the towels hanging up to dry in the bathroom had been used and hung back up again.

More telling than anything though, was something Natasha was certain was deliberate; tucked just behind a pillow on the couch was a tiny pair of light blue socks, decorated with little versions of Captain America’s shield.

Ilya.

Tony and Sam found it hilarious to send them everything Captain America or Black Widow they found baby wise. He had so many outfits and toys of the avengers it was unreal, enough that she’d started sending them to Clint for Nathaniel to wear too.

So they’d left New York, Natasha reasoned in her head, took Ilya with them, somehow got him to Laura on the way to wherever they were going pre-Germany. Laura who went into hiding as well, with two children, and two babies with her.

She owed Laura at least one bottle of wine after this. Wanda and Clint owed her more.

Steve could take a full weekend babysitting the Barton children if he’d organized this on his own.

Natasha checked her phone when she finally settled down, content that the security system was in place and working.

The wait for the burner to power up was agonizing, and her heart leapt when she saw she had a message in return.

“For what it’s worth,” Steve’s voice rang through clear, “I’m already very sorry.”

~-~-~

October brought two snuffling, lingering colds, dreary weather, and more Halloween costumes than Ilya could ever need.

Which meant most days poor Ilya found himself dressed in some set of Halloween pajamas or zip up rompers.

It was both cute and a sad to watch a red cheeked baby in a zip up dragon romper sneeze himself backwards on a playmat.

Steve tried to veto superhero clothing, but somehow found his kid in mimics of their outfits, along with the occasional superman onesie. He drew the line at capes, all they were useful for was an emergency spit rag. Occasionally capes that didn’t even belong to Ilya’s outfit.

October brings Halloween, a day that Natasha had planned out as early as of the 1st of October. A day of candy, Halloween movies, and even taking Ilya trick-or-treating around a few approved places.

There were matching costumes planned out from mid October onwards; even a set that made sure Sam and Wanda had to participate.

Except instead of hanging out with their son on his first Halloween, Steve and Natasha found themselves in a shitty, rundown hotel room outside Madrid, keeping watch for an illegal sale of HYDRA weapons.

Weapons that had been the source of devastation and chaos in the past, and would do even less good in the hands of the unstable extremists that sought them out for their own agenda.

“It’s just Halloween, one of many Halloweens. He’s too young to even realize it’s Halloween. And way too young for candy.”

Steve tried not to smile at Natasha’s mutterings over the comms, eyes scanning the street. “Are you trying to convince me or you?”

“You. Obviously. Why would I care about missing such a minor holiday? Even if it’s his first ever Halloween.”

“Exactly. You’ve lucked out, now you don’t have to dress up as Wonder Woman,” Sam piped up with easy amusement, “There’s a bright side.”

“I don’t think she sees it as a bright side,” Wanda interjected, “Because now we don’t get to see Superman Steve.”

“Aww, that’s disappointing. No Cap in tights? God why don’t you just ruin a guy’s year?”

Steve snorted, “Can we focus on the mission and not turning Ilya into Batman please?”

There was silence across the comms for a few minutes, the occasional update on what they saw on the street, various things that might work out badly.

Then finally Wanda had to break the silence, “If Ilya becomes Batman, would that make Sam Alfred or Robin?”

“Alfred,” Steve replied instantly, “No one wants to see that much of Sam’s legs.”

“Hey, I got great legs! But I ain’t no one’s sidekick.”

“Sure thing, birdman.”

“Leave the sidechick alone, we’ve got incoming.” Natasha scolded them lightly.

—

November brought them road trips, and a very unhappy Ilya.

Between his nine month shots (suffered much better than him than Steve, who looked like he might cry himself when Ilya burst into tears), and teeth beginning to make their way through, he was already an angry little grouch, but when they added in a flight on the Avengers’ Quinjet, he was a downright menace, his tiny fists waving, coated in that same blue energy that had been there before, but this time setting off alarms in the plane.

With Natasha as pilot it was a little hard to console the baby whose ears were now popping as well. No matter the faces Steve made, he cried – no matter how he sang or rocked, Ilya refused to be consoled.

That was until Wanda intervened, tapping a lollipop to his lips. The surprised baby jolted, watching her as he opened his mouth reflexively, tongue darting out. His eyes lit up at the new taste, his feet kicking as he watched her. “Yeah? That worth not crashing us over?” Wanda asked, holding it up and letting him touch his tongue to it. “Worth not throwing a fit? I’d like to live, please.”

Ilya apparently found the deal worth it, feet kicking, hands waving, reaching out towards Wanda and the newly discovered treat.

Steve shook his head, handing his son to her, “I didn’t give him it, I can’t get in trouble for this.”

“Give him what?” Natasha called back, barely glancing to where Wanda now sat cross-legged on the floor, Ilya on her lap happy slobbering over a lollipop.

“Nothing, darling.”

—

Neither Cooper or Lila could have cared any less about their new honorary baby cousin, not when Wanda was there and could move things with her mind, and when Sharon could name every Pokemon off the top of her head at Lila’s prompting.

Laura gleefully took a turn holding Ilya though, swapping Steve easily for baby Nate, “Oh my God he’s even cuter than the pictures. Hi, buddy! Oh look at you,” Laura beamed over Ilya who looked slightly bemused behind his pacifier, but okay so long as he could see his mommy nearby. “He’s tiny, isn’t he? Or are my kids just fat? My babies might just be oversized.”

“He’s 'dainty’,” Natasha conceded with amusement, “But we’re assured he’s perfectly proportional, and healthy as can be, just small. And also your babies are fat.”

“Well, Nate is a boob monster.” Laura grinned as Steve turned at the words, leaving the living room to go find Clint. “Is he easily embarrassed or does he just not want to think about me having boobs?”

“You’re Clint’s wife, any thoughts of any of your body that’s typically covered by clothing, willing or unwilling, are punishable by death.”

—

Steve wasn’t sure who hated the other more, Ilya or Nathaniel.

Ilya had been interested in the baby, until Natasha held him. And then the baby was the worst creature ever to exist, even worse than the mean doctor who gave him injections.

He didn’t turn blue, or do anything but stare with this look of betrayal, crying at the obvious rejection and horrific slight that was his mommy holding another baby.

A sentiment returned by Nathaniel when he spotted Laura holding Ilya and started crying, despite being held by his father.

They sat staring at each other across the playmat, Ilya sitting up on his own, worrying his teeth on a stuffed rabbit’s ear, while Nathaniel sat in his bumbo chair, gumming at his pacifier.

“You know, I never figured it’d be your kid my kid would hate,” Clint offered cheerfully, sprawled out on his side next to Nathaniel, entertaining him by jingling brightly colored fake car keys.

“Which kid did you figure on yours hating?” Steve watched Ilya, trying not to be reminded of a small dog at the way he grumbled around the toy.

“Stark’s, or that ass Martin from the PTA.”

“That ass Martin?” Steve laughed, “Are you feuding with the school?”

“No, just Martin. He thinks his kids are the best thing to ever grace this earth, while we know that Tommy’s a dirt eating icky head, Polly needs to stop stealing the good crayons, and that baby of theirs is bald still so they’re so not all that.”

Steve blinked, scoffed, “This is retirement?”

“Oh no, this is the battle I fight when I’m not saving the world. We’ve been feuding since Tommy pushed Cooper off the slide in Pre-K and Cooper shoved dirt down his shirt. What? My kids fight back.”

—-

“So in a few years I may be feuding with that ass Martin with the PTA.” Steve could feel Natasha trying not to laugh where she lay next to him on the air mattress, Ilya sprawled in his pack & play next to them.

“What?”

“Clint doesn’t like some guy named Martin, or his kids.”

Natasha did laugh quietly at that, “I’ve heard about Martin, and the evil icky kids. Why would you be feuding with them?”

Steve gave a half shrug, “Cause apparently dads feud with PTA dads, and go to soccer practice in cargo shorts, and stand around poking burgers on a grill while holding a beer and calling everyone 'champ’.” “You call Ilya 'champ’.” Natasha changed positions, moving around so she could lay her head on his chest, half draped across him, not that he minded.

Steve rested his hand on her back, watching the ceiling where glow in the dark stars twinkled, “I don’t typically drink 'bud light’ while doing it.”

“Clint drinks IPA, not Bud light.”

“I don’t own cargo shorts.”

“No, but you do own skinny jeans,” Natasha offered.

“Only because you bought them,” Steve countered. He sighed, tracing random designs on her back with his fingertips, “He says I have to buy a football jersey with ’#1 Dad’ on the back or I’m not a real dad.”

“We’ll get you a baseball jersey instead, much more your speed.”

“Please promise me you’ll never use the words 'boob monster’.”

“Well, not in relation to Ilya at least…”

—-

Thanksgiving day had Wanda playing an enhanced game of soccer out front with the kids, Ilya happily tucked into his sling against her chest so he could see everything.

With Ilya outside with them, the men out back playing around with turkeys and deep fryers, and Nathaniel asleep, the kitchen was actually quiet.

Sharon and Natasha had both been forbidden from touching the stove top by Laura who wielded a wicked wooden spoon. Natasha had joined them when she got bored of hanging around the deep fryers, and the two men debating how far Steve could boost someone into the air, planning to avoid any possible oil burns from attempted acrobatics.

“Vision and Stark still terrified of Ilya?”

Natasha scoffed, “Stark’s debating a civil lawsuit against Ilya for befouling a suit that costs more than a car. So he claims. He’s also been fiddling about with a car seat that he swears will keep any baby inside from feeling the 'slightest of movement’.”

“Aw, he likes him.”

“Or he likes interesting new projects. He also likes to send us as many outfits as he can with his face or Steve’s face on it. Which reminds me, I brought Nathaniel a few outfits I’m so never putting Ilya in.”

“Oh, did I tell you what Aunt Peg thought about Ilya?”

Natasha tried not to make a face, instead digging into the fridge to steal one of Clint’s beers, “Nope.”

Neither had Steve beyond 'he’s cute’. She wasn’t jealous in the least of him taking their son to meet his ex-girlfriend.

His only ex who was only his ex because he ended up frozen in the arctic for a few years.

She was relative certain she could take the 94 year old in a fight.

Relatively.

“Oh what’d Nana have to say?” Laura lit up at that, “She called Nathaniel ‘chunky’ and said he was 'marginally’ cuter than my Uncle James as a baby.”

“When did your Grandmother lose her filter?” Natasha made a face, “Don’t most people only say nice things about babies?”

“She’s always said what she thought, she just occasionally kept it inside until the person she wanted to comment on was gone.”

“She thinks he’s cute,” Sharon told her, snuggling Nathaniel to her shoulder, “And 'positively tiny’, much like Steve before Howard got hold of him. Also she expected a much ornerier child from 'That Romanova girl’. How badly did you annoy her?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “I never did a thing to her. Not once. She was retired when I joined SHIELD. It’s all Clint gossiping, he gives me a bad reputation.”

~-~-~

The apartment in Calgary looked undisturbed at first. The counters were a little dusty still, and the floorboards were in place still.

But there were pressure marks on the living room floor, the kind left by a playpen. When she did pull up the floorboard the cash that was normally stored there was gone, in it’s place a sketched postcard.

Natasha frowned over it, turning it over in her hands. On one side was a hand drawn image of a hotel, complete with neon sign out front, a few cars that even had license plates on them. Plates that marked them as not American, most likely European, without additional research.

“Wish you were here XOXO ” was all that was written on the back. It was Steve’s handwriting, Steve’s artwork, and most likely the only clue she was going to be given to where she was meant to meet them.

Smart man.

~-~-~

Christmas was big and exciting, and Ilya couldn’t seem to care about it beyond the lights.

Big tree? Uninteresting.

Ornaments? Pass.

Pretty stockings hung up? Boring.

But those twinkling lights decorating the windows and railings at the compound? Oh those were the most important thing in his little life.

So important that Tony had made a little device to project the little lights around his playpen as well, so they could actually set him down without him screeching to get back to the lights.

It didn’t help his temperament in regards to missing his dad, but it was a distraction.

Steve and Sam were only meant to be gone a few days at most, and yet somehow they were still gone, still radio silent, in the days leading up to Christmas.

If they weren’t back in the next few days Natasha was going to go after them herself. Rhodey was spending time with his family, The Vision was with Tony 'learning’ all about the festivities, which left Natasha mostly alone with a baby and a teenager.

Steve missed Ilya’s first visit to Santa, but she made sure to get multiple photos of the baffled baby on Santa’s lap, a feat she only managed by convincing Wanda to get in the photo with him. She sent a copy to Clint when they got home, receiving a heart emoji in reply. Sap.

He missed Christmas shopping last minute for things she’d missed before, and on baking cookies that Ilya couldn’t eat anyway at his age, and watching old Christmas movies while Ilya hung out in his elf pajamas.

Natasha refused to be upset by it. It was part of the job. God knew how many holidays she’d miss in the future, or what reasons she’d have for missing them. He was young enough the day didn’t matter to him, they could do Christmas in July and he wouldn’t notice.

But it did bother her a little when the house was silent on Christmas eve, with Ilya sleeping peacefully in his crib, tucked up under his Captain America blanket, and Wanda curled up on the couch fast asleep.

With a quick text to Clint about pretending to be Santa, she went to bed herself, not very hopeful for the morning.

—-

It wasn’t a loudly complaining baby wanting his breakfast that woke her, but heavy footsteps in the hallway, her bedroom door being pushed open.

“If he hasn’t woke up yet, did I still technically miss Christmas?” Steve half joked, dropping his helmet and gloves next to the laundry basket.

“Not technically,” Natasha flipped on the light, climbing out of bed to look him over. “You didn’t check in.”

Steve started to smile then stopped as it pulled at a cut on his cheek, “Yeah, things got a little messy.”

A little messy was probably an understatement, given the marks on his hands and face. She gently swatted his hands away when he went to undo his uniform jacket, doing it herself instead, “A little? Where’s Sam?”

“Dropped him off in DC, he’s gonna surprise his mom with a Christmas visit.” Steve winced when he shrugged the jacket off, “I didn’t protest.”

“Did you manage what you set out to do?” she frowned when his shirt came off, studying the bruises on his skin, some of which were already fading.

“You’ll be happy to know that there is no more threats of a nefarious takeover in Adelaide. That country’s more deadly than its’ bad guys, did you know that?” He’d left his boots somewhere before reaching their bedroom, meaning it was easy enough for him to shimmy out of his uniform pants, nudge them aside with the other parts of his uniform, “I really don’t say it often, but I need a nap, and at least three protein shakes and a sandwich.”

“You need a shower first, soldier boy.” Natasha wrinkled her nose, “And a look over with a first aid kit. Let’s go.”

“You gonna join me? Thought we had company on the couch,” Steve joked without protest, already headed for their private bathroom.

“We do, which is why you’re not quite as lucky as you think you are. I’m just pretty sure you probably can’t lift your hands over your head to wash you own hair right now, and you might pass out on the shower floor.”

—-

Tony and Ilya held an easy peace between them. Tony brought him embarrassing outfits to wear, occasional high tech toys like his Christmas light projector and car seat, and refused to pick him up at any time.

Ilya for his part would happily blow bubbles at Tony and play peek-a-boo for hours on end, so long as he didn’t attempt to take him out of sight of his parents, or Wanda.

When Ilya wasn’t feeling well however, all his tolerance was gone.

It was only a few hours they were meant to be watching him, and Wanda was the one watching him – really. Tony and Rhodey were just hanging out, casually at the compound like always. Shooting the breeze with Sam, fun night all around really.

Fun enough, even though Wanda paced around with Ilya, talking to him in a combination of languages, swaying in place while the poor boy fussed, rubbing at his ear til it was red. Teething, Sam had explained to them, meant Ilya’s nose was running, he had a fever starting, and his ears hurt.

It made for a very irritable baby, 'so don’t take it personally’.

“Tony.” Rhodey nudged his oldest friend, “Go poke him.”

“What? Why?” Tony eyed the baby. His fists were tinged with blue where the one tugged at his ear. “You think he’ll launch me too?”

“I think I wanna see if he can launch the suit, and yours is much shinier and prettier to look at than mine to a baby’s point of view,” Rhodey nudged him again, “We know he can fling humans, think he can fling an Iron man?”

Tony paused, watching Ilya chew on a frozen teething toy, “$500 says he can’t toss me.”

Rhodey grinned at that, “I got five says he can.”

“You two are both completely screwed if you do that,” Sam warned them, “That being said, I’ll put five down that not only can he throw you, but you make it through the wall.”

—-

“Hey, be nice to the birthday boy, okay? We just repaired the walls he threw you through,” Steve warned Tony, pointing at him as Tony moved to put a wrapped present down on the table with the others.

“He did not throw me. He pushed me and then my boots mysteriously started on their own which propelled me.” Tony defended himself, “Sam lies.”

“Which means he won’t poke the baby again. Where’s the birthday boy?” Pepper greeted him cheerfully.

“He’s gaining massive applause by showing off his newest skill in the rec room,” Steve gestured her down the hall and didn’t feel the least bit offended when she didn’t stick around to chat. Ilya was cuter than him, after all.

“King fu? Electro shock? He levitate yet?” Tony guessed.

Steve chuckled, “No he’s learned to pull himself up to his feet and balance without anyone holding onto him. For short, short periods of time.”

“I’m officially uninterested. Let me know when he’s controling Vision’s mind or something cooler.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Learning to stand on your own two feet is a very valuable skill.”

“I’m sure. Say, are you really, really sure the kid’s not yours?” Tony nudged past him into the kitchen.

“What?”

“Like didn’t spring forth from the font of freedom?” Tony wiggled his eyebrows, opening the fridge. “Didn’t come out of mother Russia?”

“Very. Don’t be crude.”

“I’m just curious is all,” Tony gave an innocent look Steve’s way, popping the top on one of Sam’s hidden Pepsi’s. “I mean, his birthday’s fantastic.”

Steve frowned, “Why? It’s just an estimated date.”

“Yeah, but you know what that day is?” Tony asked with a giant grin, “The reason everyone’s got plans on it so we’re doing this like a week early?”

Steve’s brow furrowed in thought, trying to connect in his brain whatever it was Tony was going on about. After a moment it clicked, “Aw… son of a bitch.”

“Who picked it?” Tony asked eagerly, “Because I’m ashamed I didn’t notice until FRIDAY pointed it out to me.”

“I think Nat did,” Steve rubbed at his temple, “Jesus.. At least it’s not the 4th of July.”

“No, we’ve gone for the non-American pride. God, Captain America’s son, our little Caplet, the mini soldier, born on Saint Patrick’s day. Can you get any more Irish when you’re adopted with a questionable ethnicity from a war torn European state?”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t. You will when the first 'Kiss me I’m Irish’ shirt gets put on him, but you’ll tolerate me til then.”

“You didn’t warn me.” Steve complained lightly at Natasha once the party was over, when it was just a few of them hanging out in the rec room, watching Ilya alternately tear up wrapping paper, and plaster his dark curls to his head with more bright yellow frosting.

“Warn you about what?” Natasha made a face at Ilya, handing him another piece of paper to tear, causing him to break into giggles once more.

“His birthday.”

Natasha gave him a look, “The party you just attended? I think I gave you notice.”

“No, not the party, his birthday. See, there it is! There’s that smirk.” Steve pointed in as much outrage as he could manage, “How could you?”

“It was a tough debate between the 17th and the 15th, and Saint Patrick’s day seemed more fun than The Ides of March.”

“You could have gone with the 16th.” Steve grabbed Ilya’s sippy cup when he reached for it demandingly, watched him try to sort out how it worked once more.

“That just wouldn’t be interesting at all, why would I do that?”

Steve shook his head, trying not to smile, “Next time point things out to me before Tony does, that’s all I ask.”

“Like what things? Oh, like how Captain America’s son literally has an Uncle Sam? That kind of thing?”

“Uh-oh,” Ilya mumbled to himself, knocking his sippy cup off the coffee table and onto the ground, wriggling his toes as the milk inside leaked out on them.

“Yeah,” Steve answered faintly as Natasha lifted Ilya into the air, cheering him on for the word, “Like that kind of thing.”

~-~-~

The hotel wasn’t actually European, but based in South Africa, Natasha had learned with a bit of research online, a little prodding at sources with license plate numbers.

It took two hours of hanging around the hotel before she was approached. Surprisingly not by Steve, but by a very cheerful looking Sharon who linked her arm in Natasha’s, “Walk with me.”

“Where’s Ilya?” Natasha asked though she did lean in against Sharon, walking casually as if they were just old friends.

“With Steve, who had absolutely no idea what dumb plans other people stirred up. Dumb plans which have already caused them to receive many, many lectures.” Sharon smiled, “Many lectures. Laura used her mom voice. It was impressive.” She gestured Natasha to a rather dirty, beat up looking car, climbing into the driver’s seat.

Natasha followed, settling in the passenger seat, tossing her back into the back, “What exactly was their goal in taking him? Were they trying to piss me off or gain leverage?”

“I believe the thought process was that Tony’s a dick, and the Government was getting real mad at most of us, and Ilya being alone in New York made him an easy target for Ross or Stark. Laura didn’t know, no one did, it was Clint and Wanda’s idea on the way out of New York, not a conspiracy. I promise.”

“Where are Steve and Ilya?”

“At the house.”

~-~-~

May brought too much heart ache and memories. It brought the anniversary of Sokovia’s destruction, of Pietro’s death, and of Ilya’s adoption.

It brought a fuck up in Lagos like they hadn’t ever anticipated, and more government digging around in their affairs.

It brought news of the death of one of the two surviving people he had left who knew him from before he was frozen, and Natasha siding with the government.

“You really want them registering us? Keeping tabs on us, controlling what we do, when we act? They’ll register anyone who’s enhanced, you know that. What does that mean for Ilya?”

“If we get ahead of this now, get a hold of what’s going on while he’s young, it’ll hopefully mean we have control over all of it by time he’s old enough for it to be an issue. Steve, this isn’t a problem we can punch our way out of, this is one we have to take the quiet route on.”

“You think they’ll let him wait that long?” Steve scoffed, “They’ll have him mark an X before he’s even aware what the pen he’s holding is used for. This is the Government we’re talking about.”

—-

“When they arrested us,” Bucky spoke up from the back seat, legs stretched out as much as they could be in the back of their borrowed beetle, “The man in the armor mentioned your son. You have a kid?”

“Yeah, I… I do.” Steve nodded, glancing into the rear view mirror at Bucky.

“That wasn’t in the museum, and I don’t remember it. How old?”

“Almost fifteen months.”

“Oh.” Bucky’s face scrunched up like he was doing mental math. “Who’s the mom?”

“Remember the redhead you shot when we chased your ass on a highway?” Sam spoke up, shifting in his seat a little.

“Vaguely. Oh, oh shit, did I shoot a pregnant woman?” Bucky sat up at that, slightly alarmed,

“No, relax.”

“Not that time, I can’t vouch for others,” Sam answered at the same time as Steve.

Steve rolled his eyes, it was worse than Nathaniel and Ilya’s glowering contests. “Ilya’s adopted, you didn’t shoot a pregnant woman or anything like that.”

“Ilya. Russian.”

“Sokovian, but yeah.”

Bucky nodded, “So… if you’ve got a little boy to take care of, why’d you leave him to help me?”

“Because I’m helping him too. He’s like us, Bucky. He’s just a little weird, with some powers that aren’t quite accepted by the general public. I let them treat you like this, let the world treat us like this, then I can’t say what they’ll do to him. And if those Super Soldiers get out, they start anything… How can I look my kid in the eye when I can’t say I did the best I possibly could to protect him?”

~-~-~

The house turned out to be a vacation home on the beach. A beach she could see two familiar little kids running around on, playing tag with another familiar figure with red hair.

“It’s amazing the access you get to things when you have our skills,” Sharon parked the car, climbing out herself, “Ilya’s been a bit of a menace lately, which is totally their fault. Won’t sleep more than a few hours at a time, he’s forsaken any food but formula, and he’s been biting again.”

“I wonder why.” Natasha grabbed her bag, heading for the house, “Tell Clint I’m going to kick his ass later.”

Sharon gave a salute, heading down towards the beach instead of inside.

Inside the house was cooler than outside, but much noisier. It made her heart hurt to hear Ilya whining and fussing, obviously distraught. She dumped her bag on the floor, tossing her jacket over it, and hurried after the noise.

She found him in the kitchen, Steve in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt rocking in place, trying to comfort Ilya as the microwave whirled, heating up water for formula.

“Hey.” Steve’s greeting was hesitant, like he expected to be yelled at, but it got Ilya’s attention.

Ilya who turned, and upon seeing Natasha let out a shriek, trying to throw himself out of Steve’s arms towards her.

“It’s okay, I’m here, sweetheart,” Natasha cradled him close, pressing a kiss to his head as Ilya buried his face in her neck, clinging.

“Mama!” he cried loudly, nails scratching against her shirt where he clung to her so fiercely. “Mama!”

“Yeah that word started in Montana,” Steve told her, “He’s been uh pretty angry he couldn’t find you.”

“Who’s fault is that?” She wanted to be angrier at him, but Steve looked beyond tired, like he just wanted to rest awhile.

“Clint’s. I had no intention on moving him, I figured if you thought he was in danger you’d make Fury grab him. If it makes you feel any better he’s been shocking Clint when he comes near him, and he’s bit Wanda twice.”

“Slightly.” Natasha hummed, kissing Ilya’s head again, rocking in place like Steve had. “I need a shower, and a nap,” She listed, “And at least one coffee before I start yelling at you for this.”

“This is a rental place,” Steve perked up,“ One of those winter rentals to show off to your family. It has a jacuzzi tub.”

“The yelling might be lesser just for that. You want a bath, baby boy?” Natasha bounced Ilya lightly in her arms. Steve looked almost like a kicked puppy, standing there watching them, so she extended a hand to him, pulling him into a hug he seemed to need as much as her, even if it did make Ilya grumble. “How long are we staying here?”

“The plan was to stay as long as it took to get you to us, and figure it out from there. Wasn’t gonna leave until you got here, no matter what. Then we’d go from there.”

“Oh sure, now you wait for my opinion. Don’t think waiting earns you any brownie points, or that you’re forgiven, we’re still going a round or three later,” Natasha warned him, “When I don’t have a baby in my arms.”

#romanogers #captasha #capwidow #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #fanfic #submission #sleepygrimm

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ssromanogers · 6 years ago

Text

Under Cover

To: Anne http://cptsteven.tumblr.com (@cptsteven)

From: Erika http://soliloquy-of-nemo.tumblr.com

Hope you enjoy this, I had fun writing it. :)

Rating: PG-16

——————

Steve stared at Natasha. He wasn’t sure what gotten into his wife’s head, but the fact that she said, “strip club” and “Tony Stark” in the same sentence was cause for concern. “Run that by me again?” he asked as he sipped his coffee. It was an expensive blend, one that Pepper bought. It wasn’t so bitter and acidic. “Because I don’t think I heard you the first time.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “You heard me the first time, you just want me to repeat myself.” She sighed and took a sip from her own cup. He couldn’t help but gloat a little at the glitter of the diamond on her finger. His wife. She was his wife. “Tony’s bachelor party is going to be at the Venus Club, which is a high-end strip club. Well,” she drawled, tapping her nails against the cup, “a little birdie told me that someone wants to off our good friend Mr. Stark.”

“And how does this involve me and you?” he arched a brow, not following her. She smirked. He didn’t like that glint in her eyes. It meant she was planning something and his old timey sensibilities didn’t mix well. “Nat?”

“Well, you’re already invited because you’re Tony’s friend.” She smirked. “I’m going to pose as one of the dancers and we’re going to stop this assassin before he even knows what hit him.”

“I don’t think I can take my shield into a strip club.”

“Steve, you are a weapon,” she said and stood up. She wedged herself between his legs, forcing him to push back from the table. “You don’t need your shield for this.” She pecked his lips. “All you have to do is keep an eye on Tony, relax, enjoy a few drinks” — she kissed him, trailing her hand down his chest — “and stuff some crumbled ones down a girl’s bra.”

He pulled away from the kiss, pushing her back a bit. “I have to do what?”

“It’s how you tip them,” she said, with a little shrug. “You shove ones down their bras, some guys try to cop a feel when they do it.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Just be glad Stark isn’t gay otherwise you’ll be going to a gay strip club and you have to shove ones down some guy’s underwear.”

“Nat, I’m not doing this, I can’t do this.” He slid off the chair and stood. “I’m married.”

“Lots of married guys go to strip clubs,” she said with a little one shoulder shrug and a flip of her hair. “Lots of guys that are very faithful to their wives and just want to see a pretty girl dance for them. There is nothing wrong with it.”

“It’s… it is wrong, Natasha. These girls are selling their bodies to men!” He rubbed his face. “I can’t… I can’t in good faith go there. These women shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I did it,” she said, “it was a common cover for me.” She held his gaze. “Does that bother you, Steve? That I had men ogling me as I swayed my hips?”

He swallowed. “Of course, it does,” he said, “even before you were my wife. You shouldn’t have to subject yourself to such lechery.” He pulled her close. “And the fact you want to do it again, I—”

“Steve,” she said, cupping his face. “I love you, but someone wants to kill Tony. Either you come with me to do this or you sit this one out and I work with Clint.” She quirked a smirk. “I much rather give my husband a lap dance than the man I see as my brother.”

He pulled his face from her hands and folded his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. “Why can’t you be a bartender or a waitress?” he asked. “I don’t like you dancing for men’s… entertainment.”

“You’re sweet Steve, but as a dancer I can cover Tony better. Besides” — she grinned — “did you ever want a lap dance?”

“Um… not really. I mean, we have plenty of fun in our bedroom, so I never felt the need to ask for something and—” he sighed, pulling away from her and tucking his hands into his arm pits. “I just don’t like this idea, Nat. Why me? Why do I have to do this?”

“Because you’re the world’s greatest soldier, I’m the world’s best spy. Together we make an unbeatable team.” She kissed his cheek. “Plus, you’re the only one of Stark’s friends that can’t get drunk.” She frowned. “Not sure if Bruce can get drunk either. Never seen him drink to be honest.”

His shoulders slumped. “Alright,” he said, “I’ll go, but on one condition?” she arched a brow at that. “We do this once, and then we never do this again.”

“If you say so soldier,” she said and pecked his lips. “You may change your mind.” She walked away, swaying her hips. “Wear something nice, but not too nice.”

He watched her hips, focusing on how they swayed. “Uh-huh.”

He didn’t like the electronic music that vibrated the entire club. The pink and red lights hurt his eyes and the spotlights on the girls on stage caused him to blink. Places like these were hell for his enhanced senses. “You okay, Steve?” Tony asked, his voice loud over the music. He nodded, glancing around and trying to find Natasha among the dancers. He didn’t see her. “Don’t worry, we get a private booth.”

“A private booth?” he asked, watching Tony nod and the guide (a woman in a pant-suit) lead them up the stairs and into a sound proof room. He breathed a sigh of relief, the droning buzz of the bass vanishing and giving his head a rest. He sat in one of the plush chairs, watching Tony and Rhodey chat about something as they took their seats. Bruce sat next to him, looking just as uncomfortable as he felt. “Hey.” He gave Bruce a weak smile.

“I don’t like this either. Not sure Betty would like it if she knew I was here… but—” he slapped his thighs, running his hands up and down his lap. “Tony’s bachelor party, right? Hopefully he only needs one.”

Steve sat up a bit straighter, paling a bit at the idea of Tony and Pepper getting a divorce and then Tony getting married again and having another bachelor party because its tradition and— he shook his head, not wanting to go down that rabbit hole. He had a job to do, keep Tony safe from the assassin. All he had to do was last the night. He could do this. He done night ops with Natasha before (never like this, though).

Four pretty women came in, giving them each a stellar smile, and rubbing them down. His girl was blonde, with green eyes and full lips. She kinda reminded him of Natasha. “H-hey,” he stammered, remembering that blonde secretary of Colonel Philips and how she (technically) stole his first kiss. He tugged his hand as she began to message his fingers. “You don’t need to do that, I’m… I’m married and—”

“All rings come off here at Venus,” she cooed, slipping his wedding ring off his finger. He gave a protesting whimper. “We don’t honor Juno here.”

“Yes, but… my wife, please I’d just like my ring back,” he stammered, and the girl straddled his hips, tangling their fingers together. Her breasts pressed against his chest and he could smell the fruity scent of her perfume. He swallowed, he didn’t like this. “Please, my wife… I’m faithful to my wife—”

“Relax soldier,” the girl whispered into his ear. He froze, nobody called him soldier but—

“Natasha?” he asked, but she kissed him before he could draw any more attention to them. He groaned when she ground down on him, his hands settling on her hips. This was… different. He wasn’t sure if this was a good different or a bad different. Natasha was never this — forward, during sex. Even when he did let her take the lead (which was often). It was if everything was dialed to ten and she cranked it up to twenty. She pulled away, leaving him panting and wanting. “Honey?” His fingers slipped up her side, feeling the smooth skin, luxuriating in the feel of it.

She shushed him with some more languid kisses. “Relax. The ring you’re wearing has a sting in it. Make contact with the assassin’s skin and it’ll go off, stunning him,” she whispered between kisses. He glanced at his hand and noticed the silver ring on his finger. His wedding band was a bright shiny silver and gold band, not the normal black metallic tungsten ring he wore.

“Where’s my—”

“Safe,” she said, kissing his Adam’s apple as her hands graced the top of his slacks. He groaned, holding onto her hips and allowed himself to enjoy it. It was Tony’s bachelor party after all and his wife was giving him a lap dance. Plus, the red lights of the room hid his blush.

“O-Okay, but… how… you…” He gasped when she ground down on him again. “Jesus, Nat.” He held her hips in place, enjoying the teasing friction against his groin.

She nipped his neck and he let out a soft moan. “It’s Oktober.”

“It’s May,” he corrected, and she nipped him again, harder in warning. He winced, looking at her, trying to find the familiar face of his wife, but the mask she wore hide all traces save for her green eyes. It was uncanny, the realism of her face. He wanted to find the edge, pull the mask off, see his actual wife.

“My name is Oktober,” she said, smirking at him. “Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll be here.” She pressed her hips against his again, he growled, holding her in place. “You like.”

“Jesus, Nat,” he swore.

“Oktober.”

He glared at her. “You keep this up and… you know, once I get started its hard for me to stop.” This was a bad idea. This entire thing screamed bad idea, but here he was getting a lap dance from his wife at his friend’s bachelor party because some homicidal maniac wanted to kill Tony Stark. Most men wouldn’t complain, but then again, he wasn’t most men.

“I know,” she said, pressing a kiss to his lips. He sighed, cradling her head and just revealing in the feel of their lips together. He wasn’t sure if the girls could get this intimate with the customers here, but then again: this was a private booth, it was Tony Stark’s bachelor party, and this “dancer” was his wife.

“Then why?” he asked, his lips brushing against hers. She gave him a naughty smile and he gulped, half turned on and half terrified. He wondered if this was what her marks saw before she killed them. This beautifully dangerous woman about to give them the night of their lives before she butchered them.

She leaned in close, the fruity scent of her perfume overwhelming him, the brush of her hair tickling against his neck. Her breath was warm against his ear as she whispered, “because I enjoy watching you squirm.” His eyes widened, and it was in that moment he knew he was a million miles out of his element. He regretted being too shy to ask a girl to dance before the serum. As if she could read his mind she added, “it wouldn’t have made a difference, Steve.”

He drummed his fingers against her hips and glanced over at Bruce. Bruce had his girl on his knee, talking to her in hush whispers about quantum physics experimental science stuff. Apparently, his dancer was a college student and was just doing this to help pay tuition because she was pretty. Rhodey was enjoying himself, though there seemed to be a problem with Tony and the girl he had. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but Tony looked pouty.

“Hey, Steve, Steve!” Tony shouted, and Steve pulled Natasha close to him. “Can we swap?”

“Uh…. What?” he blinked, confused at the suggestion. Was swapping girls normal for these things. This was his first time at a strip club. He looked at Natasha, who gave him a shrug.

“I’ll trade you. My girl for yours.” He pushed the petite girl towards him. “Go over to him. He’s famous too.”

“What? No, no. No swapping!” he held Natasha firmly on his lap. He glanced at Bruce. “Bruce, trade with Tony.”

“But Tanya—” Bruce began. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him. The sudden one-eighty in his attitude about this must’ve been confusing for his friends. “What’s going on Steve?” Bruce asked.

“I just really uh… like O-Oktober,” he forced out. “Have a great vibe with her.” He would be damned if he let Natasha give anyone in this room a lap dance other than him. Friends or no friends, she was his wife. “So, yeah, Bruce, swap with Tony.”

“It’s fine,” Natasha whispered, sliding off his lap. He groaned, wondering if she had to grind a little bit as she did so. He leaned forward, hoping nobody notice how aroused he was. He watched Natasha whisper something to Tony. He wanted to hide, and he also wanted to know why Tony couldn’t have just hired a bunch of strippers to come to the Tower and pop outta cakes or something like he’d seen in the Betty Boop cartoons.

Tony swore and shot him a glare. Your wife? He mouthed and glared at him, as if he just committed some cardinal bro sin. You brought your wife?

He gaped at Tony, mouth opening and closing in a poor mimicry of a dying fish. The petite girl straddled his hips. He glanced over at Tony and Natasha. Natasha seemed to be doing something, getting another girl but he couldn’t tell because the new girl forced his gaze back to her. She was flat chested. “You seem to be already having a good time,” the girl said, grinding down on him. He groaned, squirming away from her. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

“I just… uh…”

“Don’t like being teased?” she purred, reaching for his belt. “I won’t tease you.” She pressed her tiny breasts against his chests. “Are you really famous?” she asked. “Tony said you’re famous.”

“Well, I uhm… oh!” he pulled her hand away once she undid his belt. “Look, I’m sorry, but can I get Oktober back, I liked her.”

“No, you’re with Cherry now.” She smiled, and he guessed that she was going for a sexy smirk, but it just looked force and painful. “And I’m gonna pop yours.”

Mine’s already popped. “Please, I just want Oktober,” he said and glanced over at Natasha who was standing by the door. Tony looked cranky, as he thumbed through his phone. “Please, can I have Oktober?” he asked. Cherry shook her head and reached for his pants again. He tried to push her away, mindful of his strength. He shot another pleading glance at Natasha and felt dread coil in his gut. His wife was glaring murder at the girl in his lap. “I have to use the bathroom!” he shouted, shooting to his feet and knocking Cherry onto her rump. Everyone stared at him and he was once more thankful for the red lights in the room hiding his blush. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“You okay Steve?” Rhodey asked. He nodded, trying to act calm, not give away that he was aroused and did not want to be here. “You look… flustered.”

“Well, I just… really have to go uh… number two,” he said, crossing his legs and grimacing. He heard Natasha smack her forehead. “So, uh… any idea where the bathroom is?” he asked, looking at the girls. He shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“Down the hall and make a left, the signs are uh… kinda obvious,” Tanya said, he gave her a weak smile and bolted from the private room and into the hall, following her directions. The music was louder in the hall, the buzzing drone of the bass grinding against his ears. He stared at the signs on the door. He wondered what company sold bathroom door signs in the shape of human genitals. He sighed, pushing the door open with the smiling penis on it. The music was less intense in here though it smelled strongly of urine. He found an empty stall.

“Get it together Steve, get it together,” he muttered, spinning in a circle and trying to image Colonel Philips in a tutu. He heard the door to the bathroom creak open and the door to the stall next to his slam shut, the metal wall between the two of them rattling.

“This is why I hate heels,” the occupant grumbled; he heard scrabbling, the toilet flushing and Natasha’s fake face appearing over the dividing wall. “Catch me.”

“What?” he had enough time to get his hands parallel to his shoulders to catch her. He caught her, holding her close to his chest. “Natasha, what are you doing in the men’s room?” He set her down. “You should be back in the room, protecting Tony.”

“Tony’s fine for a little bit,” she said, sounding dismissive. “Banner and Rhodes are with him.” She glared at him and then kissed him, hard. “That’s for not stopping that girl.”

“What did you want me to do? Break her wrist?”

“If that’s what it took!” she grabbed his groin and he mewled. “You’re mine,” she purred, confident and possessive, into his ear.

“Jesus, Nat—” he held onto her shoulders. “I… I’m… I didn’t want to hurt her” — he swallowed a whimper, her fingers inside his pants, stroking him up and down — “S-Sorry.”

She hummed. “I should make you suffer, but seeing as we have a mission and we can’t keep Tony waiting too long. I guess this’ll have to do.”

“What?” he asked and watched her unzip the zipper of his pants and pop the button open. “Wait! Wait, Natasha! We are not having sex in the bathroom of a strip club!”

“Whoever said anything about sex.” She smirked at him and yanked his pants boxers down, freeing his hard cock. His eyes widened.

“What? Oh God, Natasha!” he hissed. “You can’t be serious?”

“Only man I ever met that hates blowjobs,” she muttered and gave him a lick. He shuddered, knees buckling as she took him further into her mouth. He groaned, tangling his hands into her hair. She continued to suck on him, taking him a bit deeper each pass. He bit his lip to keep his whimpers of delight muffled.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph—” his head thudded against the wall, his eyes closing as his face twisted in delight. Damn it felt good, and just what he needed after her teasing him like that in the private booth.

The door creaked opened again. “Steve?” Bruce called, his voice echoing in the bathroom. They both froze, and Natasha pulled him out of her mouth. “Steve, you doing okay in there?”

“Uh” — he fumbled to get Natasha standing up on the toilet seat — “yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just uh” — he groaned, Natasha crouched right in front of his cock, her warm breath on his dick sent shivers down his spine. — “must’ve been the shrimp. Didn’t agree with me.”

“That’s a shame. Well, feel better soon. And if you have to leave early, Tony’ll understand.”

“Yeah,” he said, “don’t wanna be sick for his wedding.” He heard Bruce leave a few moments later and titled Natasha’s head up, her lips slick with saliva and her hair a bit tousled from him holding on. “Naughty minx,” he growled, he stroked the curve of her face and found the button to her mask. He pressed it. There was a computerized noise, a flash of a neon turquoise grid and the strange image of his wife’s normal face with her fake one. He pulled it off. “Much better.”

“You weren’t complaining a moment ago soldier.”

“We’re not doing this in the bathroom,” he said, she gave him an innocent pout and stroked her finger along his still hard cock. He shuddered. “Nat—”

She frowned, pulling away. “One moment.” She pressed a finger to her ear, a frown fetching her face. “Copy that,” she said, and then smiled at Steve, pulling the blonde hair off her head. He choked upon seeing that it was a wig. “You never did see me go uncover before have you?”

“Not… not like this no,” he said and hook himself. “So, what was that?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. She shrugged and used him to balance herself as she got off the toilet. He grunted, figuring out how to maneuver his huge frame and pull up his pants. He kept thinking about ice and cold and freezing. His cock wilted and he tugged his pants back up, buckling them again.

“Turns out that the hit wasn’t on Tony at all,” she said, sounding blithe. He blinked at her, feeling a mixture of relief and rage and horror and frustration coil in his chest. “Turned out it was Justin Hammer, who somehow found Maria and came screaming like a little girl to her for protection.”

“Did she give it?” Steve asked. “Her… did she protect him? I know Tony doesn’t like Hammer but he’s—”

“Arrogant and stupid but not dangerous per se,” Natasha said, “and yeah she did. We’re former Shield agents, so we help when we can. So that means,” she said as she unlocked the stall door. “You can go back to your party and I’ll go home before that malamute pup of yours scares my cats half to death.”

He chuckled, pulling her close. “I told Bruce I have food poisoning. So, I’m going to go home with you,” he said, hands trailing down her sides and thighs. “Because I told you, once you get me goin’ I don’t like stoppin’.” He kissed her neck and smirked when she shuddered.

“Is that how it is now, soldier?”

“Oooh, that’s how it is,” he purred. “That’s definitely how it is.”

#romanogers #captasha #capwidow #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #fanfic #nsfw #submission

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ssromanogers · 6 years ago

Photo

To the Romanogers Fandom

Made by: @aquajules

Note: Hope you have a fantastic new year.

reverse fairy tale/the little mermaid au

Steve Rogers, the crown prince of America, has always had a love for the ocean and a great interest in the sea creatures that live there. One dark and stormy night, he undergoes a terrible shipwreck and wakes, briefly, while being rescued by a beautiful mermaid named Natalia. Curious and intrigued, he seeks out the help of an evil land wizard with despicable motives, and trades in his voice and legs for a merman’s tail. Silent, lonely, and lost beneath the sparkling waters, he hopes to find the mysterious mermaid who saved his life and maybe even earn her heart.

#romanogers #captasha #capwidow #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #fanfic #submission

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ssromanogers · 6 years ago

Text

coney island

To: @mylifeisloki

From: amuk (kumeko.tumblr) @kumeko

Note: I hope you like it! :)

…

“Hmmm…” Steve Rogers poured over the newspaper, quietly humming to himself as he flipped from page to page. He sipped a cup of coffee, occasionally stopping to take a bite from his piece of toast or single fried egg. It was a terribly old-fashioned image, but Steve had always been an old-fashioned guy.

It was both terribly amusing and endearing to see these bygone habits in him. Natasha glanced at him over her phone. If it weren’t for Stark forcing him to wear something modern, she imagined his fashion sense would have been stuck in the 1930s as well. Maybe that was why he preferred print to digital—it was one of the few things that hadn’t changed over the past century.

With her own cup of tea, she slid into a seat at the kitchen island. Mornings were always quiet in the Avengers’ headquarters. Stark was somewhere sleeping off his latest hangover, Thor and Hulk were off grid again, and whoever else was still in the building wouldn’t stir for another hour or two. At six am, there were usually only three people awake and unfortunately, Clint was home. It was hard to find a reliable sparring partner.

“An amusement park,” Steve muttered, finally looking up the newspaper. Catching her eye, he asked, “Coney Island still has one?”

“Yes.” Natasha lips quirked, amused. She stood corrected; there was another thing that hadn’t changed. “Though it might be bigger than you remember.”

“A lot of things are,” he commented wryly, glancing out the floor length windows. “Actually, everything is.”

Natasha stifled the urge to laugh. She remembered having that same feeling when she first came to America, at seeing how plentiful it was compared to Russia back then. “Does that include you?”

He stared at her for long moment before realization slowly dawned on his features. Chuckling, he patted his arms. “I guess so.” He squinted at her. “I didn’t think there were many photos of how I use to look. How’d you find them?”

“I’m a spy,” she answered simply, her lips curved into a small smile.

“You know that doesn’t answer anything.” When she didn’t add anything, he shrugged and turned back to his paper again. His fingers traced something before he finally folded it up. His expression bright, he turned to her, “Let’s go to Coney Island.”

She held up her cup delicately, just barely touching her lips. Her brow raised. “You want to go to an amusement park?”

“To see how things have changed.” Steve smiled disarmingly, more and more into the idea with every second that passed. “The rides all have to be different, at the very least.”

“In a manner of speaking.” Natasha shrugged, taking a sip of tea. Peppermint. Clint must have bought it. “I think you’ll enjoy it.” When he was still staring at her expectantly, she frowned. “You want me to go to an amusement park.”

“There’s no one else here,” he pointed out dryly. Pointing out the window, he grinned cheerfully. “It’s also a good day.”

“Tomorrow is also a good day.” It was the least convincing argument she’d ever heard, and she had to listen to a drunk Stark. There were others in the building who were better candidates for this—a sober Stark, Clint, hell even Vision was probably more sociable than she was. Natasha’s hand rested on the table, gently drumming the wood. “Next.”

“Everything is like this with you,” Steve sighed but despite his words, he didn’t look put out. If anything, his grin grew broader as he tapped his chin. “Hmm…think of it as reconnaissance practice.”

“Do I look like I need that?” Her brow rose, almost challenging him to say otherwise. Natasha stuck a fork out and stole a bit of his egg. Bringing it to her lips, she added, “That was a rhetorical question.”

“I guessed as much.” Steve pulled his plate further away from her, a reproachful glare at her fork. “Then think of it as reconnaissance practice for me. I’d stick out like a sore thumb if I have to investigate Coney or any other amusement park and spent my time gawking.”

“You stick out regardless,” she retorted. “And that’s the same argument.”

Ignoring her, he added, “And since you don’t need the practice, you could give me some pointers.”

“Pointers.” Natasha took another sip from her cup. “Do I look like a teacher?”

“A mentor?” Steve suggested.

“Try babysitter.” She set down he cup anyways. Lacing her fingers together, she stared at him intently. He was being surprisingly stubborn about this, more insistent than she’d expected. Then again, she’d seen how he’d looked at her for the past few weeks. A master of body language, she had an inkling of where this was going. “You want to go with me.”

“Was I that obvious?” Steve teased, clearly amused. “I was only asking three times.”

Rolling her eyes, she clarified, “As a date. Which, you know, is what most people would call this.” A little blunt, perhaps, but she found that was most effective with him.

“I’d call it that too,” he replied just as honestly, catching her off-guard with an innocent smile. “But you’re not most people, so I figured you’d need an excuse.”

Natasha snorted. “The only thing right was that I’m not most people.” Resting her chin in one hand, she stared at him. “Alright.”

Despite his words, the answer caught him off-guard. Steve blinked. “Really?”

“It is a nice day,” she agreed, getting up. “And you do need practice if that’s how you ask someone out.”

“Great.” Steve broke out into a wide smile, rising from his seat. A simple man with simple wants, it was always easy to provoke a smile.

Somehow, that didn’t bore her as much as she’d expected it to. Her lips quirked. Resting a hand on her hip, she added, “If this is practice, we’ll have to do a real one later.”

His smile grew even wider. Entirely too easy.

#romanogers #captasha #capwidow #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #fanfic #submission

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ssromanogers · 6 years ago

Text

A Night at the Ballet

To: @soliloquy-of-nemo

From: @teyriantimelord10

My Romanogers Secret Santa gift for @soliloquy-of-nemo, who asked for a ballet!AU in which Natasha is a Prima Ballerina, Tony is her patron, and Steve is Tony’s lawyer. Enjoy!

A Night at the Ballet

“You have to come out with us,” Tony practically begged. “These are the best seats in the whole theater and you’ve been killing yourself for months over this case. Consider it a Christmas bonus!”

“I can’t, Tony. I have too much work to do for the next hearing,” Steve replied bluntly as he finished putting the rest of his files back in their correct folders.

“Come out with us tomorrow night or you’re fired.”

Steve slammed his briefcase shut and gave Tony a death glare that they both knew could break a hostile witness in half, but the billionaire only took a sip of his whiskey and smirked back. The Rogers Law Firm had been partnered with Stark Industries since before either of them were born, but this was not the first time the CEO had threatened to find new legal council if his favorite lawyer didn’t lighten up. After a few minutes of staring each other down from across the desk, Steve finally sighed in defeat.

“Fine,” he relented. “I will come out with you for one night, but then you have to promise you’ll let me keep my head down and get work done until Christmas.”

Tony grinned.

“Scouts honor.”

***

Steve never really felt comfortable wearing a suit, which was one of the greater ironies in his life. They felt too tight, too constricting, too immobilizing. Though the discomfort kept him on edge, it also kept him sharp and driven. The sooner he finished up in court or at the office the sooner he could get to the boxing gym where he really belonged. His idea of a fun and a relaxing night usually entailed old t-shirts and well-worn sweatpants… not an evening affair that required a tuxedo. As the car Tony had sent for him pulled up to the theater, the man himself was already waiting for him at the front steps with Pepper on his arm. They were both exquisitely dressed and, unlike Steve, appeared to be at total ease.

“Good to see you, Rogers,” Tony greeted. “You know, Pepper and I were beginning to wonder if you would actually show up or if I’d need to start headhunting some fresh meat.”

“We’re very happy you’re joining us,” Pepper corrected, subtly elbowing her fiance in the ribs in a futile attempt to remind him to behave. “Tony has been a patron of the New York City Ballet and several of its principal dancers for many years now.”

“It’s just to make sure we get the good seats,” he said with a smirk.

Though Steve didn’t actually see it happen, he was pretty sure Pepper stepped on Tony’s foot, and he couldn’t help but grin. There was an art form to keeping a Stark in line and Ms. Potts was a master craftswoman. As promised, they certainly secured the best seats in the house. Not only did the three of them have the centermost orchestra seats, but every row in front of them was completely empty, even though the rest of the theater was packed as tightly as the venue would allow. He wondered if Tony had bought all those empty seats just to keep his line of sight open, or if he simply gave the dance company so much money every year that they simply did it out of courtesy. Whatever the case, Steve couldn’t deny that if ever there was a time to be dragged to his first ballet performance, this was it.

“Have you ever seen Balanchine’s The Nutcracker?” Pepper asked from across Tony as they settled in.

Before he could answer, the lights dimmed and preemptive applause rolled down from around them. The stage came alive with dancers of all shapes and sizes, in colorful costumes and ranging movements that made Steve’s head spin but also captured his every attention. It only took a few songs for him to understand why his best client loved the company so much, with each dancer portraying a mastery of the human body that almost seemed impossible, most of all during the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy (he checked the program to make sure of the name). The redheaded woman who played the titular role was breathtaking to say the least. Poise and grace seemed to ebb from every inch of her with every twist and turn. She jumped and twirled and stepped all over the stage without a single hair falling from place or her enchanting smile dropping even for a second. Everything about her took his breath away, and Tony noticed.

“Natasha Romanoff,” he whispered in Steve’s ear. “I saw her perform in Moscow with the Bolshoi three years ago and paid for her to transfer to New York. Best of the best; legs for days and nothing but charm.”

Steve didn’t reply. At least, not until the dance was over and there was no risk of him missing a single second of her performance.

“I don’t know what you paid, but she’s worth it,” he finally answered after the applause died down, his own hands probably the last pair still clapping.

Even through the dim lighting, Steve noticed a certain spark suddenly illuminate Tony’s eyes and the man quickly took out his phone to send a few texts. That could only mean trouble

***

“Ah, Ms. Romanoff!” Tony called with a wave that had Steve whipping around in his chair.

Sure enough, walking through the restaurant coming toward them was the gorgeous ballerina they had just seen on stage two hours ago. Though wearing a reasonably casual black dress and face washed clean of the heavy stage makeup, she still looked exquisite. Steve, Tony, and Pepper all rose from their seats as the waiter brought over a fourth chair without being asked. She shook her patron’s hand cordially and hugged Pepper like a friend before turning to Steve.

“Natasha, this is Steve Rogers. His law firm is the exclusive legal partner of Stark Industries and he is the best of the best,” Tony introduced.

Without breaking eye contact with the dancer, he slyly turned up one corner of his lip in Steve’s direction and he felt the tips of his ears flush. No. No, no, there was no way Stark could set him up with a prima ballerina from the Bolshoi. Right? The woman turned her attention to Steve and he hoped she couldn’t see the nerves ready to burst and explode all over Tony.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said steadily in surprisingly flawless American accent. “Mr. Stark has told me a lot about you in the last few hours.”

“The pleasure’s mine, ma’am,” Steve replied as calmly as he could, even as he saw Pepper and Tony exchange smug glances on the other side of the table.

As they all settled back into their seats and the waiter poured Ms. Romanoff a glass of wine, Steve tried to think of any conversation topics that could even remotely ingratiate him with the woman sitting to his right. She and Pepper began chatting almost immediately, discussing Ms. Potts’ latest news from the Stark Industries and new programing coming up in the ballet. He appreciated that Tony always had his best interest in mind, but this was a little extreme, and more than a little outside his comfort zone. His history with women had not been impressive to say the least. With the exception of a British woman he met in law school who ultimately moved back home after graduation, every girl he tried to go out with either only cared about the superficial or became completely disinterested after the first date. How Tony possibly thought he could hit it off with one of the most accomplished dancers in the New York City Ballet was a total mystery.

“Tony, I could really use some air. Will you take a walk with me?” Pepper suddenly asked, bringing the conversation to a halt.

“Of course,” he answered, and winked at Steve as soon as he was out of Ms. Romanoff’s line of sight.

The following few seconds of awkward silence were suffocating.

“Mr. Stark says you’re one hell of a lawyer,” she finally said. “And that you aren’t afraid to argue with him when you think something the company has done is unethical.”

Her voice was so soft and smooth, mirroring the way she moved on stage. Steve tapped his left foot anxiously.

“I got into the field to help people. I’ve known Tony since we were kids but I’m not going to let him take advantage of anyone else’s work.”

Ms. Romanoff cocked her head with a smile before taking a sip of her wine.

“You have conviction… I like that,” she hummed. “Most lawyers I’ve been set up with will do anything for a dollar.”

Steve felt all the blood drain from his face. God damnit, Tony! He told her this was a date?! He was going to kill him. Kill him and make it look like an accident. She must have obviously noticed his distress, because she let out a laugh and draped a hand over his shoulder.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Steve. Pepper explained that this wasn’t your idea. I was interested in meeting the man who isn’t afraid to talk back to Tony Stark.”

Something about her touch and her laugh melted the tension from his shoulders. Despite the awkwardness Tony had imposed on the situation, he suddenly felt very at ease.

“Ms. Romanoff, I-”

“Please, call me Natasha.”

***

Steve let out a silent sigh of relief that he was the first one to wake up, because the sight before him when he opened his eyes was a vision he wouldn’t trade for the world. Morning light poured into his bedroom from the half-open blinds over the windows, casting golden stripes over Natasha’s sleeping form. Her hair looked like shined copper where it was splayed over the pillowcase, contrasting sharply with the deep blue of the sheets that were tucked around her abdomen. She was still on her side, allowing him to see the expanse of her skin and delicate features of her face bathed in the morning glow. Her expression could only be described as serene. He propped himself up on one elbow to get a better look at the woman next to him. A part of him said he should have felt embarrassed or ashamed. His whole life, he’d been nothing but respectful and patient, never having the wherewithal or inclination to bring a girl home after the first date. But the voice of dissent soon fell silent as Natasha began to stir. The moment was too… too right. Too perfect to spoil with past expectations.

“Good morning, handsome,” she murmured without opening her eyes, her hand still gently finding his cheek. “No regrets this morning, I hope?”

Steve leaned over and planted a kiss on her forehead as her eyelids fluttered open. God, he loved her eyes.

“Not a single one,” he whispered back.

Natasha sat up and smiled, pulling the sheets a little higher up over her chest and she settled against the headboard. Steve decided right then he’d do absolutely anything to see that smile again and again.

“Good, then you can make me breakfast,” she said with a playful smirk and gave him a light push toward the edge of the bed. “Nothing too heavy, I to be at rehearsal in two hours.”

Steve walked around the bed, messily pulling on his pants as he went, to the other side where Natasha still resided comfortably. He kissed her once more, this time on her lips with a deepness he hoped resonated with her as much as it did for him.

Just this one time, he owed Tony a thank you note.

#romanogers #captasha #capwidow #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #fanfic #submission

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ssromanogers · 6 years ago

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For iamproudlysmile - Happy Holidays!

by: @cptsteven

Being dressed up and holding champagne while celebrating New Years in one of the Stark Industry building is odd considering their past year. It’s been a few years since he’s been in that building and while Steve’s sure that Tony had forgiven him and Bucky, he still can’t really believe their past few years, let alone just last year. From running from the government, to defeating Thanos and getting everyone back, to finally facing everyone again without the government on their tail. To say that he was having an easy time to process everything that had happened in just a short five months was a lie; while he’s glad that Bucky’s there with him, mingling and being treated as a hero rather than an enemy, Steve can’t help but feel a bit out of his place. “You look like you’ve got back pains or something,” a familiar voice catches his attention, cerulean hues taking a swift glance at the now-redheaded former soviet.

She’d gone for a blue velvet dress that hugged her curves, short but respectful, her hair had been pinned, and she was sporting her own glass of champagne – Natasha was stunning, but then again, when was she not? Steve gives her a lopsided smile, “must be the age, I am pretty old.” he’d accepted this by now and constantly used this as an excuse between friends.

Over the years of being a fugitive, he, Sam, and Natasha had grown close as a team. He shared his trauma and nightmares with the two of them, but there’s just something about the redhead that resonated with him. Often times they’d find themselves awake at 2am at some rundown motel, talking or sometimes just enjoying each other’s company. It was nice and he doesn’t know when but he’d grown to care for her much more than just a friend or a colleague. Of course he hasn’t exactly voiced out his own affection for her but he figured it was fairly obvious, especially when he’s practically stealing glances whenever he could. Steve was sure that she knew, but then came Banner and he’s not the type to get jealous but he sure as hell felt nervous looking at her and him. They haven’t established anything about his unspoken feelings for her so who was he to really question what Natasha does?

They’d been too busy after that war to really talk about personal feelings and even after the war, after defeating Thanos, Steve had obligations to tend to so he hadn’t had the chance. “I can recommend a pretty good chiropractor to you if you want,” she quips before taking a spot next to him, “you look like you could use a breather, Rogers.”

“You could say that,” a small chuckle escapes his lips, “but I finished the press and paperwork, so maybe I’ll have the chance to finally do that.” Steve finds himself wanting to ask about Banner – if she and him had reconnected in some way. He’s been gone for a month doing press and answering to government officials while everyone else was left to rest. Maybe he’s just too late –

“Good because I miss seeing you around,” Steve was sure he misheard, but then when he looks at her and she’s there with a smile on her lips while sipping her champagne, any doubt melted away.

He might not have the best skill when it comes to women but he’d like to think that he knows her well enough to read between the lines. And that’s exactly why he’s finding it hard to keep that smile off his face, “are you sure you miss me or is it because you and Sam miss making fun of me? I didn’t live through WWII for that abuse, you know,” there was mirth and hope in his voice.

It’s Natasha’s turn to look at him, a genuine smile in place of her infamous smirk painted across her lips as she takes a step closer, “what would you say if I said both?” the cheers suddenly erupt from the city below, a countdown from ten echoing as the people in the room repeated after the TV.

Ten.

Steve looks at her, their distance dangerously close, “then I’d say that the feeling is mutual and that I definitely prefer the red hair on you.”

Nine.

“I thought the blonde looked good on me and the beard was definitely starting to grow on me, shame that you cut it.”

Eight.

“You know beards grow back, right? And the red is definitely better.”

Seven.

“Is it safe to assume that Captain America likes redheads?”

Six.

“Not exactly redheads, more like one redhead. Singular. She’s a swell gal.”

Five.

“Yeah? Maybe you should take her out for coffee sometime.”

Four.

“I might, I just have to find the right time. Been busy lately.”

Three.

“But now you’re not busy, so what’s stopping you?”

Two.

“Worried she might reject me. Haven’t been on a date since 1945,” he’s grinning at her, enjoying the back and forth repartee.

One.

“I’m sure she won’t reject you,” she returns his grin by tippy toeing and giving him a kiss, his hand automatically falling to the dip of her curve while the screams of a happy new year bounces through the room. He stops himself from following her lips once she withdrew, “Happy New Years, Steve.”

And he grins, hand still on her curve, “Happy New Years, Nat.”

+ Bonus

“Hey what’s your new year resolution?” Natasha asks before sipping her coffee.

“Mm…to finally ask you out for coffee,” Steve takes a sip of his own coffee, gaze still locked on hers.

#romanogers #captasha #capwidow #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #fanfic #submission

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ssromanogers · 6 years ago

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Kiss Me at Midnight

To: Fatima @cpt-stvngrntrgrs (http://cpt-stvngrntrgrs.tumblr.com/)

From: Chrissy @xo-stardust720 (http://xo-stardust720.tumblr.com/)

Note: Wishing you much happiness, health, and success for 2019! Hope you like this fic :)

—

Here’s the thing you should probably know about Natasha Romanoff.

She’s kind of a loner. And she prefers it that way.

It’s not that she’s anti-social. She just doesn’t mind being alone most of the time, okay? She isn’t like most of her fellow students. She doesn’t care about school dances, never wants to join the after school clubs, and she doesn’t participate in the school gossip concerning who was dating whom… That kind of stuff just typically flies over her head. Her mother always told her that she had an old soul, and that she shouldn’t be so serious all the time… but what was she supposed to do about it? She has a handful of acquaintances at best and most of her peers at school are just idiots anyway, so why bother interacting with them?

…okay, so maybe she is anti-social.

She’s often the one that’s on the outside looking in, and she’s absolutely fine with it.

She is.

—-

Natasha had been looking forward to graduating high school and going to college as soon as she understood what being independent meant. The freedom that had come with moving out and living her life the way she wanted was something that she had gotten used to very quickly, and she loved it. She and her family moved to the States when she was eleven, and though she tried hard to lose her Russian accent, there were moments when it just slipped out. If she was being honest with herself, it was one of the things that alienated her from her classmates as she grew up through her teenage years. One of the things that she loved most about college was the fact that individuality was accepted here. No one batted an eyelash if she sometimes let out a curse in Russian.

College is where she met Sharon Carter.

(Sometimes Natasha doesn’t understand how she and Sharon ever became friends.)

On the surface, they were complete opposites. Sure, they were both the same height… but where Natasha had red hair and was all curves, Sharon was petite and blonde. Not to say that she was dumb, mind you, because she wasn’t. Sharon was certainly gorgeous though, and was exactly the kind of person that Natasha actively avoided in high school, i.e., the typical pretty, blonde cheerleader that all guys wanted to be with and all girls wanted to be like. Girls like that were usually mean, so imagine her surprise when Sharon waltzed into her life and sat down next to her the first day of Psychology 101. Everything about Sharon screamed cheerleader and Natasha wasn’t surprised to find out that she did indeed cheer for SHIELD University’s football team. However, she had been astonished to learned that Sharon was genuinely sweet and actually cared about her well-being.

They became roommates after the first year was over and Natasha found that she actually enjoyed her company. The way Sharon went about her life though… that took some getting used to.

For one thing, the girl had a million friends.

Okay, that was a stretch. But there was no denying that Sharon was indeed popular. Being a cheerleader, it was pretty much a given that everyone on campus knew who she was and people were always coming by to say hi. And it was hard to say no to Sharon, so when the girl decides she wants to go for ice cream at 9:30 on a Wednesday night and wants Nat to join her, who is she to say no? She was persuasive. And if they happened to run into Sharon’s friends while they’re out? Well, it wasn’t like Natasha could just ditch her roommate. She wasn’t that terrible.

And… well…

It was nice to be included.

(To be honest, Sharon was probably the best friend she’s ever had.)

—

“Hey Natasha.”

She barely looked up from her laptop when she heard someone call her name, her mind too focused on the essay she was working on. It was probably one of Sharon’s friends anyway. She was starting to get used to the fact that they were always coming up to her now. “Hi,” she muttered under her breath. She continued typing, not paying any attention to this random person that had suddenly decided to sit down across from her. She finished and looked up– and froze.

Steve Rogers was smiling at her, his mouth half-quirked in the most adorable way. “Working on the English essay?”

(Here’s another thing you should know about Natasha, not that she’ll ever admit it out loud.

She’s been in love with Steve Rogers since the sixth grade.)

The day she met Steve is one that she’ll never forget for as long as she lives.

Newly immigrated and almost immediately alienated from her new classmates, Steve Rogers was probably (other than her teachers) the first person who had ever spoken to her and who didn’t treat her like she was dumb just because she was having a little difficulty understanding a new language. At eleven years old, Natasha was often kept inside during recess to practice her English while the other kids were able to go outside. Well, except skinny little Steve Rogers, who was often just as stuck inside as she was due to his asthma and small stature. That, and he was often bullied (not that he ever just took it laying down!). And on that first day, Steve sat beside her while she struggled and at the end of her session, he presented her with a drawing that he’d done of her while she was studying with her teacher. He’d drawn her as a superhero, complete with a flowing cape and determined expression to conquer the evil English language with all her might.

And that’s when the crush started.

(She still has that drawing to this day.)

They weren’t always in the same classes as the years went on, but somehow they were able to keep track of one another. Steve eventually grew up from the skinny, little boy she’d known and into a handsome football star that suddenly had all the girls tripping over themselves to get his attention. He’d changed in appearance but he still remained the same sweet-natured person she’d always known.

She wasn’t entirely sure when they started being on talking terms, but they’ve always been friendly. She never went out of her way to talk to Steve but she secretly delighted in it when he made an effort to say hi and she thought they were friends. Could she call someone she’d spoken to maybe a handful of times a friend? Either way, the whole thing was a moot point because Natasha was. in. Love. with. Steve. Rogers.

Steve Rogers, who had asked her a question and was still patiently waiting for her answer, while she just stared at him.

She felt like an idiot.

Ugh, she was an idiot.

(Why is she so awkward?)

“–uh, yeah,” she answered. “I’m almost done.” Pause. “Um, are you?”

Steve just leaned back in his chair, looking as relaxed as can be. This was one of the things that infuriated Natasha on another level while at the same time made her swoon. He looked perfect and well-put together. He always did. And how did he look so calm and carefree, while she was sitting there with her guts twisting on the inside because she was suddenly so nervous at his swift appearance. She wasn’t prepared for this! She glanced down at what she was wearing that day… jeans and a simple cardigan. Okay, not bad, but… not exactly how she wanted him to see her either. Her hair was probably a mess, but at least she had on some mascara and lip gloss? She could probably pass for looking somewhat cute.

Being in love with a guy that you’ve had a crush on since practically forever was really stressful.

“I’ve barely started,” he said easily.

She stared. “But it’s due in two days.”

Steve shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ll get it done. Gotta finish off all my other assignments first.”

“Oh,” she nodded in understanding. And then there was an awkward silence.

Steve fidgeted. “Listen…” She watched as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. Natasha knew that was a move that Steve only did when he was unsure. Oh no, now she was starting to make him uncomfortable too. What was her life? “What are you doing on Saturday?”

Was he asking her out on a date? Did he somehow pick up on the signals that she was trying so hard not to drop? Her heart rate picked up and she tried to keep her breathing even. “Why?” Natasha winced inwardly. She didn’t mean for it to come out so… curtly.

Steve faltered at her tone of voice and she wanted to kick herself. “Well, a bunch of us were gonna go ice skating at Rockefeller… and uh, do you wanna come?”

She didn’t know how to comprehend this. Steve had never asked her to join any outing that he was a part of. Until now, apparently. “My first final is on Saturday.”

His face fell and he pulled himself to a standing position. “Oh, okay. Maybe next time. Good luck on your final.” He started to walk away.

“Steve!” She bursted out. He stopped and turned to look at her. She bit her lip. “Uh, I can come by after? If you’re still there? My final should be done by noon.” Was she babbling? Natasha did not know how to do this. “I can get to Rockefeller by 1pm? Will you guys still be there?”

His face lit up and he grinned broadly. “We will definitely still be there. See you Saturday, Nat!”

She watched him walk away, leaving her to wonder what the hell just happened.

Well then.

—

“Of course it’s a date,” Sharon said later on that night in the privacy of their dorm.

“But there will be other people there,” Natasha protested. “A group of people. It’s a casual hangout at best.”

The blonde waved away her objections. “If he does it right, one can always turn a casual hangout into a date.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

“Oh hell no,” Sharon sat up from her bed and glared. “You. Are. Going.” She emphasized it for good measure. “I’ll wait for you outside of your exam room and drag you there myself, if I have too.”

(Like she said, Sharon is probably the best friend she’s ever had.)

—

Christmas time in New York was always a big deal. Midtown Manhattan was decorated lavishly for season and everywhere one looked, there was some sort of display proclaiming their intent to celebrate the holidays in style. Privately, Natasha thought that New York looked like Christmas personally threw up on it.

Still, perhaps it was the holiday music playing everywhere or the bright shiny lights or the fact that her final exam had been a breeze… Natasha found herself smiling as she walked towards Rockefeller Center. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what put her in such a good mood but she hoped that it stayed with her.

“That’s all bullshit and you know it,” Sharon told her as they walked. “You’re just excited to see Steve. It’s okay, you can admit it.”

True to her word, Sharon had been waiting for her after her exam had let out with two pairs of skates in hand. As it turned out, the blonde had been invited along to the ice skating excursion (because of course she was, Natasha wasn’t even surprised when she found out) and the redhead was completely relieved. There was some comfort in having a familiar face there, and one that she knew would be in her corner if she needed it.

“Whatever,” she muttered. “Just help me make sure I don’t make a fool of myself.”

Sharon threw an arm around her shoulders and laughed. “Count on it,” she promised.

(Again, she’s still not sure how they became friends, but she’s grateful.)

To her surprise, Natasha actually recognized a lot of the people that were invited to this event and felt some of her nerves flutter away. At least she wasn’t surrounded by complete strangers as she watched Sharon march up to Sam Wilson and give him a warm hug, a hug that he returned just as enthusiastically. The confidence that the blonde displayed was something that the redhead envied enormously. Natasha had actually known for quite sometime now that Sharon had been angling for a date with the football captain and it looked like Sharon was well on her way to getting that date she made obvious that she wanted.

Natasha sat on a bench and was tying up the laces to her skates when she saw a pair of black skates glide up to her. She glanced up and saw Steve smiling down at her from over the railing. “You made it!” He greeted her happily. His grin was wide and bright for all to see.

“Hi.” Her voice was soft and she wasn’t sure if he could actually hear her over the loud music playing from the speakers.

Natasha was glad that the ice rink was outside because she could feel her cheeks heating up and there was just no other way she could explain her blushing other than the fact that it was cold out. She wobbled as she stood and uncertainty filled her. It had been years since she had last gone skating, and she wasn’t sure if she could actually still do it. Steve reached out to steady her and she felt herself warm up even more.

Her first step on the ice was a little unsteady and it felt different from being on solid ground. Natasha was a trained dancer and she was as graceful as can be, but the ice was slippery and she found she needed an anchor. Steve kept his hold on her and she reached out for his other arm– and she found that after the first couple of steps, she was much steadier.

She didn’t let go though and Steve stayed in front of her as they slowly moved about on the ice, she moving forwards and him moving backwards. It was almost… cozy and she was spellbound, Steve’s blue eyes looking impossibly bright as he continued to smile at her. And if she leaned in just a little bit closer… well… The feeling was slightly overwhelming because it felt like they were stuck in this… something that only the two of them could describe. And for the life of her, Natasha had no idea how she even got to this moment or how it happened.

Until it was completely ruined.

“INCOMING!”

Sam Wilson came sliding past them, grabbing onto Steve as he tried to regain his balance… which in turn disrupted Natasha’s balance and the next thing she knew, Steve was on the ground and she was on top of him as he cushioned her fall.

(“I am so, so, so sorry we cock-blocked you,” Sharon apologized afterwards. “If I could go back in time and redo that moment, I totally would. I would’ve totally shoved Sam in the other direction. Honestly, we were just fooling around and didn’t even see you guys until it was too late. Who knew Sam could be such a klutz on the ice?”

Natasha just screamed with frustration into her pillow.)

—

The thing was that Natasha still couldn’t be completely sure that the whole ice skating event was a date. Steve hadn’t really mentioned anything about it in the days that passed, so she was left to assume that it probably was a casual hangout. Plus, final exams were looming so she really couldn’t do anything other than put it out of her mind and focus on studying.

Except for the fact that Steve had suddenly started texting her.

S: Are you going to Tony’s party?

N: Hadn’t really planned on it.

S: But it’s New Year’s Eve! What were you planning on doing instead?

N: …sleeping?

S: C’mon! Come to the party!

S: Please? :)

“Of course you’re going,” Sharon said in a matter-of-fact-tone of voice when Natasha showed her the text messages. “Finals are over, so you don’t have the excuse of ‘studying’. You’ve got nothing better to do. And I’m not letting you sit at home alone in your pjs. This is a time to celebrate with your friends.”

“…I was gonna watch the Ball Drop on TV,” Natasha protested weakly, knowing it was futile.

“Stark lives in a skyscraper. You can totally watch the Ball Drop AND see the fireworks from his balcony,” Sharon rolled her eyes. “You’re going.”

—

Natasha slowly sipped her vodka tonic as she watched the throngs of people roaming around the room, all of them laughing and enjoying one another’s company. Though she had half-heartedly fought against it in the beginning, she had to admit it now – coming to Tony’s New Year’s Eve party had been a good idea. She was having a great time, and watching Sharon get completely drunk and having the time of her life – if her laughter and giggles were any indication – was like finding gold in a pile of dirt.

Natasha was never going to let her live it down.

Looking up at the clock, she saw that it was close to midnight and decided to head to the kitchen to get herself some champagne. But when she turned, she was stopped.

Because standing right there in front of her was Steve Rogers holding onto two flutes of champagne, one of which he promptly handed over to her. “Hi,” he grinned.

She accepted the drink and took a sip. “Hi Steve.”

And perhaps it was the alcohol she’d already consumed earlier that night, but this was the first time in his presence that Natasha had ever felt a hundred percent comfortable. Nice and relaxed. She liked that he was there. Next to her. With her.

He stepped even closer to her, so close she could practically feel the heat radiating from his body. “You look like you’re having a good time.”

“I am,” Natasha nodded, making no move to step away. “I’m glad I came.”

“I’m glad you came too.”

“FIVE!.. FOUR!… THREE!…”

The background noises seemed to fade away as they stared at one another, vaguely aware that the countdown to midnight had started. A meaningful gaze that seemed to speak volumes without uttering a single word. Had it always been this way between them? Natasha couldn’t be sure, but she didn’t try to stop Steve as he invaded her personal space, leaning close and placed a hand on the side of her face.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The scene registered bit by bit, smaller pieces falling into place to form the bigger picture. His mouth was sweet and chaste as it moved against hers, then inviting as he touched his tongue to her lips. She pulled him closer, gripping onto his shirt as she eagerly kissed him back and parted her lips, all too happy to give him the entrance he requested. Warmth rushed through her body, a quiet sigh of pleasure escaping her throat while her arms circled around his shoulders.

He was a good kisser… No, scratch that. He was a really, really fantastic kisser. His tongue was exploring her mouth and his hands were pressing into the small of her back. She suddenly wished she didn’t have to stop kissing him, because (oh my god, she’s really kissing Steve!) this was already everything beyond her wildest expectations.

Slowly, they pulled apart and her heart was pounding in her chest. Her lips were tingling and she could still taste him on her tongue. He stared down at her and she stared back, their words a jumble in the air between them.

She grinned and he let out a sigh of relief when he saw that she was completely receptive to his advances. He held her to him a little tighter. “Happy New Year, Nat.”

Unable to resist, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Happy New Year, Steve.”

—

Here’s the thing you should probably know about Natasha Romanoff.

These days, she’s not so much of a loner anymore. And she kind of prefers it that way.

It’s not that she’s suddenly a social butterfly… She has Sharon for that, and the girl is all kinds of outgoing in ways that Natasha is still getting used to. In fact, she’s not sure that she’ll ever get used to it. But she finds that she likes it, more often than not, and her life feels like it’s full of meaning now. The handful of acquaintances that she used to have… have now become actual friends that she hangs out with on weekends, seeing movies and discovering new restaurants, and other normal activities that college students are supposed to partake in. It’s not so bad interacting with them on a regular basis. She’s no longer on the outside looking in, and she’s absolutely fine with it.

Oh, and here’s another thing you should know about Natasha, now that she can finally admit it out loud.

She’s been in love with Steve Rogers since the sixth grade.

They shared a magical kiss on New Year’s Eve that had her tingling all the way down to her toes.

…and as it turns out, he’s also been in love with her since the sixth grade. Go figure!

(In case you didn’t figure it out, they’re dating now.)

Sharon rolls her eyes when Natasha finally tells her the news two days later.

“Of course you’re dating. Anyone with working eyes can see you’re meant for one another. Now onto more important discussions… what are we doing next weekend? Wanna double date?”

—

#romanogers #captasha #capwidow #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #fanfic #submission #cpt-stvngrntrgrs

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ssromanogers · 6 years ago

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Secret Santa for Amuk

To: @kumeko From: Alexa (wipeoutthered.tumblr.com) @wipeoutthered Note: Happy (belated) holidays! I hope you enjoy this <33 Summary: Natasha tries to do something nice for Steve for the holidays. It doesn’t go totally as planned.

A light in the dark

The crash came from down the hall, somewhere in the direction of what used to be the team common room but now was mostly an abandoned space. Steve had his shield in his hand before the last of the noise had faded away, and barely a second later, he was already racing down the hall toward it, not bothering to check first for the source of the noise on the security cameras.

It had to be bad. There was no one around — there hadn’t been anyone around in a long, long time — except for him and Natasha, and she had told him an hour ago she was going for a run and not to expect her back before dinner.

The span of the hallway had never felt longer as he hurtled toward the place where he was sure the noise had come from, his stomach in knots that at once felt so familiar but also so much like a stranger. It had been so long since they had worried about intruders, about people trying to kill them or capture them or destroy the world, about Hydra and groups just like them. It was almost as if Thanos had destroyed everyone’s will along with half the population. The world was quieter these days, more depressed. Life went on, but barely anyone had it in them to really care. Or maybe that was just him projecting his own grief that never seemed to fade on to everyone else. He didn’t know. He didn’t really care.

Either way, he had always known the peace was never going to last. Sooner or later, the world would be in another crisis and they would have to save it, whether they liked it or not. It was what they did, after all. He just hadn’t counted on that crisis coming today, on Christmas Eve.

He rounded the corner and plowed through the closed doors of the old common room, shield raised in front of him, his other fist clenched at his side. He wasn’t sure what he was about to find in there, but he was ready for whatever it was.

Except he wasn’t.

His leg hit something hard and he toppled forward. Something scratched at his arms. His shield bounced off of something sticking upward.

He pulled upright and blinked. Then blinked again.

Nope, he wasn’t hallucinating. There was a tree lying across the floor of the common room, and he had just crashed into its protruding trunk.

And then he saw it. About halfway up the tree. Red hair sticking out from under a mass of green branches.

He yanked the tree up off the ground and looked down at her. She was lying on her back, the jeans and black shirt she was wearing covered with leaves. She smiled up at him.

“Hey, Soldier.”

“Natasha? Is there a reason there is a full-grown tree lying across the floor in here?”

She pulled herself out from under the fallen tree. “Of course,” she said. “I decided to plant a forest inside.”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Nat,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “I thought it might be nice to have a tree,” she said.

The “why” was almost out of his mouth before he realized the answer. He stared at her. He had known her for years, and not once in all those times had she ever seemed interested in anything Christmas. Sure, she opened the presents the rest of them got her (though not without complaints that she didn’t need anything), and sometimes she’d help prepare Christmas dinner back when they all lived in Avengers Tower, but that was about it. He had certainly never seen her wanting to help with the Christmas tree.

As he continued to stare at her, her amused expression turned to a scowl. “I thought it would be nice,” she repeated, almost defiantly.

And then he got it. “You’re doing this for me,” he whispered, and now she frowned.

“I thought you’d like it,” she said. “Haven’t you always told us we need to celebrate no matter how bad things are?”

Okay, yes, he had said that. A lifetime ago, it seemed, back when they were fugitives from the U.N., running and hiding their way across Europe, just the two of them with occasional visits from Sam and Wanda.

“I did say that,” he said. “I just …” Didn’t think there was anything worth celebrating this year, he didn’t say, because he thought she was looking almost hurt.

She looked away from him and down at the fallen tree. “I’ll just take it back outside,” she said.

“No,” he said quickly. “We don’t want to waste a tree.” He looked down at the tree and then over at her. “Did you chop this down?” he asked.

“Of course not,” she said. “It was one of the ones the wind knocked down during that storm last week.”

“You know there are places that actually sell Christmas trees,” he said with a smile.

She shrugged. “Why does it matter? It’s just a tree.”

He reached down and pulled the tree back to a standing position. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get to work.”

•••

He handed the mug of hot chocolate to Natasha and sat down on the couch beside her. Across the room, the towering sycamore was now decorated with strips of red bed sheets cut to look like ribbons and little action figures they had found in some former SHIELD agent’s office used as ornaments.

“It’s perfect,” she said, looking over at the tree and taking a sip of her beverage. “Right?” she added.

“It’s perfect,” he said.

She scooted closer to him and put her head on his shoulder. He slipped an arm around her shoulders, their go-to position as of late.

“I just thought we could have one day that’s …” She hesitated for a second. “Not happy,” she finally said, “but not as sad.”

A wave of guilt washed over him. Truthfully, he had barely spared a moment of thought for the holidays. He had barely spared a moment of thought for anything, except Bucky and Sam and Tony and everyone else they had lost. Thor had disappeared to see if he could find a way to reverse what had happened. Banner had gone with him. Clint hadn’t responded to any messages, and they had no way of knowing if he were alive or dead. Tony had never returned from space. All that was really left were him and Natasha.

Natasha, who hadn’t left his side since she stumbled out of the bushes back in Wakanda to find him standing over Vision’s dead body. She’d held his hand as they slowly made their way back to the palace. She embraced him as they stood together in the shower later that day, trying to wash away the memories and sobbing in each other’s arms. She’d curled up next to him that night in bed, neither of them sleeping.

“I don’t want you to be alone,” she had whispered just as the sun was coming up on a new day that he hadn’t wanted to see, and he had held her tighter.

They had come back to the old Avengers compound together. It had been deserted, everyone who used to work there either dead or just gone. They had wandered all the floors, searched all the rooms, that first day, and then they had ended up in Steve’s old room, lying side by side in his old bed.

It was what they had done every day since. Along with spending hours going over what happened. Looking through every old SHIELD file, every old Tony file, anything that might possibly offer a glimpse of hope and a way to reverse what had happened.

It was too hard to spend much time in the rooms where they used to all gather — the common area living room, the training rooms — so they had taken to spending most of their time in Steve’s old room and sometimes hers. The little training they did, they did outside or in random spaces, anything to make it not feel so hopeless.

But the one thing that never changed was her. She was always there, when he went to sleep at night and when he woke up in the morning. She spent hours reading files with him, spent even more hours sitting beside him in silence. She was hurting, too, he knew that, but she was the one who comforted him, who told him not to give up, who told him there had to be a way.

And now she was the one who was trying to give him a holiday he had always loved — a holiday she had never even cared about before.

“I’m sorry,” he said now.

She craned her head so she could look up at him. “What for?”

“For not asking you if you wanted to do something for the holiday.”

She laughed at that. “Oh, Steve,” she said. “It’s not like Christmas means anything to me.”

“But you did this for me.”

“You love Christmas,” she said, like it was that simple, and maybe it was.

“But you don’t.”

She shook her head, her hair — almost now back to her beautiful red color, with only the tips still the blonde he had hated on her but never wanted to tell her — tickling his neck as she moved.

“It just doesn’t mean anything to me,” she said. “We didn’t really do holidays in the Red Room.”

Looking down at her, he saw her crack a wry smile at that, but another wave of guilt passed over him. How had he known her for so long and not realized why she was so apathetic about holidays and other things that most people got excited about? He had always thought it was just Natasha being Natasha. If he had spent a second thinking about it …

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Stop being sorry,” she said. “It is what it is.”

He bent his head down and kissed her on top of her head. “Thank you for wanting to do this for me,” he told her.

She twisted around in his arms. “We’re going to figure this out, Steve,” she said. She reached up and ran her fingers down his cheeks. “We’re going to find a way to get them back. Or we’re going to figure out how to deal with it. It’s not always going to be like this.”

“I know,” he said, then, “Have I ever told you how much it means to me that you’re here?”

Natasha laughed and smacked him lightly in the chest. “Don’t get sappy on me,” she said.

“I mean it, Nat.”

“I know.” She was quiet for a minute before saying more. “I wouldn’t have gotten through this without you.”

“Yes, you would have,” he said. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

And she was. She always had been. Once upon a time, back when they were SHIELD agents, he’d thought she was just cold, unfeeling, uncaring. He had been so wrong. Somewhere, over the years, she had become his best friend, his confidant, his strength.

And now, sitting on the couch with her nestled against him, he realized just how much he needed her, just how much worse all of this would have been without her here.

Without stopping to think about it, he bent down even more, found her lips, pressed his against hers. She returned the kiss, twisting around even more in his arms so she was almost sitting in his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He found her waist and held her close.

He let out a whiff of air when she finally pulled back, a grin across his face. She was staring at him intently.

“I love you,” he said softly, because he did — he knew he did — and she deserved to hear it, even if she might not want to. He knew love was a tricky subject for her, but if something ever happened to her ….

Well, he needed her to know how he felt.

He waited to see if she would pull away after that pronouncement, pretend he hadn’t said anything at all, but instead she smiled. A real smile that lit up her eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Steve,” she said, and she leaned forward to kiss him harder this time.

It was as close to a declaration of love as he knew she was capable of giving him right now, and as he held her in his arms, kissing her with all the intensity he could muster, he also knew it was the best Christmas present he could have ever asked for. One he wanted to keep forever.

#romanogers #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #fanfic #submission #kumeko

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