steve rogers might be in the (wrongbusiness) wrote in remediumlogs, @ 2015-11-11 10:05:00 |
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Entry tags: | !day 23, natasha romanoff, steve rogers |
WHO: Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff
WHERE: Steve’s apartment
WHEN: Day 23, 3AM
WHAT: Insomnia and stupidity
WARNINGS: Not much
STATUS: Closed/Complete
It had been only a few days since the night that Steve showed up at her door, haunted with literal ghosts from his past, and Natasha couldn’t stop thinking about it. Seeing him tired and worn upset her, it worried her in away that Natasha didn’t really worry about people, but that wasn’t the only thing on her mind, no matter how much she wished it was. She hadn’t managed to get a decent night of sleep ever since she arrived in this horrible place, with the exception of the night she allowed Steve to share her bed. There was nothing strange or risky about it, not really. She had fallen asleep against him and woke up with his arm wrapped around her, and that was it. She slept well, he slept well, and they both went about their business; they hadn’t even spoken about it. Now she was wondering if they should, because despite the fact that it meant absolutely nothing, Natasha couldn’t stop thinking about it. It had been a long time since she had shared a bed with anybody for any reason, but it was an even longer time since she had managed to trust someone as much as she was able to trust Steve. That was what it was about. Having him so near made her feel truly safe, and admitting that aloud would be admitting that she was scared. That wasn’t something Natasha was ready to do. Bruce had come close. She had let her guard down with Bruce, and related to him in a way that she never should have. She just ended up disappointing herself, and it was her own fault. She had put her faith in someone too weak to handle it, and she had told herself that she wouldn’t waste her time anymore. It was a moment of weakness, nothing more. But now she was having another moment of weakness, and she couldn’t tell if it was something that had been long lasting or something that had been spurred on by the current situation. It didn’t matter. In the end, she couldn’t sleep. And she could when she was with him. It was almost three in the morning when she knocked on his door, wearing a simple nightgown, and when it opened she looked up with hesitant and almost shameful glance. “This is your own fault. You told me I could.” Sleep was always one of those constant battles for Steve. He always figured it was his mind revolting against his younger years when all he could for for days on end sometimes was sleep. Add to it the bad memories he’d acquired over the year and the ghosts that didn’t have to be actual ghosts to haunt. The days with the actual ghosts had been a low point though, save for the night he’d curled up next to Natasha. He actually couldn’t remember the last time he had slept that well, and he’d spent a good chunk of his time since reminding himself that they were just friends, she had just been helping, it didn’t mean anything. When the knock came at his door, he was mostly awake. Teetering on the edge between fully alert and half asleep. He had offered Natasha company if she couldn’t sleep, but he hadn’t really expected her to take him up on it. So he looked a little surprised when he opened the door for her, but offered her a lazy smile none the less as he stepped aside for her to come in. “I did,” he confirmed. “I didn’t think you’d actually take me up on it,” he added on. Which was maybe a bit more than he meant to say but he didn’t think too much on it. “Can I get you anything?” he asked - he’d left the invitation earlier vague at best. He wasn’t entirely sure if she showed up for the company of a fellow near insomniac, or a repeat of the other night and he wasn’t about to assume either way. Natasha looked a little concerned when Steve had said that he didn’t think she would actually show, because now she was wondering if the offer was even a legitimate one. But he invited her in so she walked into his apartment, glancing around as she shut his door behind her. “Well, surprise surprise then,” she offered with a forced little smile, walking over to sit on his couch. She didn’t even know why she was there; she didn’t know what she expected out of showing up. She just knew that she couldn’t sleep, and now she wasn’t sure why coming to Steve was the solution to something like that. It seemed strange now that she was here, but it was too late to just turn around and go back now. “If you have tea that would be nice.” She finally offered, looking up at him hopefully as she leaned her head back against his couch. “I’m exhausted but I can’t keep my eyes closed. I don’t know what’s going on.” She pushed herself to give another weak smile. “Maybe it’s all that coffee. I guess you were right.” She didn’t know how to go about asking for what she knew would help. She didn’t think she could. ’Want to sleep next to me’ didn’t seem like a casual request anymore, because she felt too deeply about it, even though she knew she shouldn’t. “You can’t sleep either?” “Tea, yeah, I can do that,” he said and set about getting a small pot of water on the stove to boil. He glanced over at her on the couch once it was going and pressed his lips together slightly. She looked about as exhausted as she sounded and he wasn’t exactly a fan of it. He knew they were used to running on next to empty a lot of the times, but it seemed different back home somehow. Maybe it was just the constant rush of adrenaline that did it, here the danger was more of a slow burn. Less a huge fight and more just time - so much time that they hadn’t the first idea how to fill. Steve shook his head a little at her question. “No, not really,” he replied. “At least nothing like the other night,” he admitted shortly after and wondered where the hell that came from. He hadn’t exactly been planning on telling her that anytime soon, if ever. Steve turned with the guise of checking on the water to hide the faint blush that crept over his face. Natasha blinked once at Steve’s sudden admission, and although she was admittedly a little grateful for it, there was a sense of suspicious curiosity in her gaze when she looked up at him. Steve didn’t say things like that. Perhaps he felt them, but he never said them, because Steve never knew how to actually say what he was thinking without layering it between dry sarcasm and polite dancing around his point. It just seemed forward of him, and although it seemed to be somewhat out of character, it was admittedly refreshing. At least one of them had the balls to say it, Natasha was just surprised that it was him. She stayed silent for a while, nervously chewing at her bottom lip before finally sitting up and leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “You too, huh?” It was practically an admission from her as well, and she looked down as she swiftly brushed her hair behind her ear, a rare nervous tick that she had when her guard was down. “I haven’t slept that well in a long time,” she confessed after a while, wetting her lips before looking up at him once more. She tried to keep her voice casual although her words were probably anything but, and she shifted uncomfortably on the couch before giving a little shrug. “If you slept better and I slept better…” she trailed off suggestively, unable to just come out and say it despite the fact that she knew they were both aware of where she was going with it. It was more raw than last time. Last time they did it out of necessity, because Steve was literally being haunted by his past, but now she just couldn’t sleep, and that didn’t seem to be as detrimental or important. Her eyes moved past him to the kitchen, still struggling to look at his face. “It’s just a suggestion, I guess.” It was a terrible idea. For so many reasons it was a terrible idea. Once was something they could shrug off, call it out of necessity. And if he was completely honest, which he was feeling more and more of as the moments ticked by, once was maybe about as much as he could even handle. He couldn’t let it become a habit. He would - if that was what she wanted. Which was more levels of screwed up than he wanted to even think about then, the idea that he would shove aside whatever concern he had if it made her happier, more rested, better equipped to handle whatever this place wanted to throw at them next. It was still a terrible idea though, and he knew. He knew it through and through. He couldn’t spend his nights with her that close, his arms wrapped around her tight and wake up in the morning and pretend like it didn’t mean anything, pretend like he didn’t want her in ways he knew he shouldn’t. They were friends. Some days it felt like she was the only real one he had. Bucky was - well - gone. Sam was great and Steve was so grateful for whatever fate was at work that brought Sam into his life. Sam didn’t know him though, not like Natasha did. Sometimes it felt like Natasha was the only place he ever got to be Steve anymore, and not Captain America. The thought of losing that friendship terrified him. It was a big reason why he stepped back when she started gravitating toward Bruce. He didn’t want to be that guy. He wasn’t making a move for so many reasons, he wasn’t going to begrudge her a chance with someone who would. Even if that someone else turned out to be the world’s biggest idiot in the end, even bigger than he was himself and that was saying a lot. Steve shifted his weight on his feet, a sudden dryness in his throat. He wanted to lie. He wanted to make some excuse - or fall back on the terrible idea of saying yes because she wanted him to. He wanted to do a million things other than what came out. “I uh - I don’t think that’s a really good idea, Natasha,” was what he said after a moment. To his credit, he looked a little surprised himself by the words - but the pause as his brain tried to catch up with his overly honest reply probably didn’t do him any favors. Her eyes finally moved to him when he started to speak and by the time he finished his sentence she wished that they didn’t. Seconds ago Natasha didn’t know what she had expected but now she did. She expected him to say alright. She had expected him to admit that it was a good idea, and that it would be easier on both of them to just push aside the fact that they were being overly complicated about everything and they could just simply use their mutual need of another warm body to their advantage. She expected him to say okay. But he didn’t, and it hit her a lot harder than she thought that it would. Why would he say no? Was it because he knew? Could he have possibly known that her intentions were less than completely innocent, and that she enjoyed being so close to him on a level that she wasn’t supposed to enjoy? Of course he did. Natasha had underestimated him, and she found that she always underestimated him. Steve was there, he saw what happened with Bruce. He saw the kind of person that she was with her teammates, how she ruined her own reputation by falling too hard too fast for someone that wasn’t good for her, and now he saw that she was doing the same with him. But there was a difference, and the difference was that Steve wasn’t Bruce. Steve was good, he was her rock and she trusted him with every ounce of her, something that she couldn’t say about anyone else. Steve wasn’t Bruce. Steve was good, and perhaps it seemed like she was taking advantage of that. Perhaps she was. “Oh.” She kept her voice even and casual with years of training, her body language falling into something more trained and rehearsed, and she gave a nod as she felt herself closing up. It hurt more than it should have. She felt exposed when she had suggested it in the first place, and although being turned down by him was a completely legitimate response, Natasha wasn’t used to being turned away by Steve. In fact, this was the first time it had ever happened, and perhaps that was why it had shocked her so much. Steve didn’t say no to Natasha, not when he knew that she was already putting herself on the line. He knew. He must have known. Suddenly she felt so much more exposed than she did before. “Okay.” She settled with a little shrug, her eyes moving back down to her feet as she sucked in a slow breath to steady herself. ’Suck it up, Romanoff, you’re a grown woman, stop. Stop. Stop.’ “I just thought I would ask, but if you’re not comfortable I’d understand.” She did all she could do; she turned to humor, forcing another smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Too much for an old man. I get it. I don’t need you having a stroke in the middle of the night.” Something was wrong. He could practically feel it radiating off of her. He’d said the wrong thing. She’d put herself out there - even just as a friend - and he had rejected it. Worse, he’d hurt her. It wasn’t obvious, of course, it was Natasha. But it was there, the way she slipped into an act as opposed to her, the smile that wasn’t quite a smile, the joke that wasn’t quite a joke. He was an idiot. “Sorry, I’m an idiot,” he said as if on cue and seriously why was he so bound and determined to be some level of honesty that was up there even for him. "It's too much," he used her words. "Just not the way you're joking about." He really needs to stop talking. He didn't want to be this candid, but he found himself unable to stop. “No, it’s fine.” Natasha responded faster than she probably should have, getting up to her feet suddenly and putting her hands up in a way that showed she had meant no offense. “I know it is, I shouldn’t have asked. I was just teasing, I didn’t mean to - no, I get it.” She finished with a nod of finality, her arms briefly moving as if to wrap around herself but stopping just short and falling to her sides. She didn’t want to look like she was being put on the defense. She didn’t want to look like this was a big deal. It wasn’t. She kept telling herself that it wasn’t. She was overreacting, it was just a damn bed. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just haven’t been sleeping well and I slept better that night, I thought that it might have helped. But I didn’t mean to push you, I didn’t want to make this awkward.” Natasha pushed her hair out of her face again, brushing it behind her ear, but this time she couldn’t look at Steve at all. She glanced over at the door. “I should probably go…” so she could lie in her own bed awake hating herself for even going to Steve’s in the first place. “You need sleep too and this probably isn’t helping.” It wasn't fine though, and it was killing him a little. Her entire demeanor, the way she kept nervously playing with her hair - he was making her feel bad because he was an idiot. He didn't want to make her feel like she had done something wrong. It was him. Him and his inability to keep his damn feelings in check. He felt too much and that was his problem, not hers and she didn't deserve to feel bad because he was the idiot in love with her. "You're not - making it awkward. I am," he said evenly. "This is me, Natasha, not you..." Whatever else he might have added on was interrupted by the sound of the water boiling over in the pot and he moved to take it off the burner as he turned it off. Steve shook his head a little as he glanced back over at her. The small tug of desire to be completely honest with her had intensified and he had a moment where he debated just walking away because he knew, somehow in the depth of his bones that what he would end up saying was something he would never be able to take back. He found himself frozen in place though, almost watching from outside his body as he started to speak, everything he had spent so long convincing himself not to say. "I can't do it, Natasha, I can't be that close to you and keep pretending that I'm not - " he shook his head slightly and glanced down at his feet - the traitorous things that refused to move and walk away from the conversation that he should not be having. "That I'm not in love with you." It was like some damned train wreck that he couldn't look away from, except in this case he couldn't stop taking. "And I know that's probably not what you want to hear from me, but I am, and I'm okay with it. Really, it's okay, we're friends, partners, and you have no idea how much that means to me and that's enough, Natasha, that's more than enough - but the other night it felt so real and I can't - it's too hard. I can't be that kind of friend." God, what the hell was the matter with him. He was talking now, making excuses and trying to convince her that she hadn’t crossed an unforeseen line, but Natasha knew better. That was the kind of person that Steve was, he would lie to make her feel better in little situations like this. He was honest in the grand scheme of things, if she fucked up he told her that she fucked up, but in moments like this, the fragile, heartbreaking little moments, he would lie. He would lie to preserve her, and that was one of the things that she was crazy about. She hated that she liked that about him. She hated that she liked him at all. This was all going downhill, it was all wrong, and she shouldn’t have showed her face at his door in the middle of the night. Good things didn’t happen when they saw each other in the middle of the night. She thought that they did. But this was a mistake. She started to tune in more seriously when he kept talking, her eyes still on the floor and her body completely still, waiting for him to finish so she could run out of there and lick her wounds and be done with it. And then he said it. Something so blunt and so naked that there was no other way to take it, and Natasha looked at him so suddenly with such an expression of shock that it was as if he had physically struck her. She felt as if he did. The confession came out of nowhere, Natasha hadn’t seen it coming at all, because Steve Rogers didn’t feel that way about her. He was too busy to fall in love, too busy to date the girl in accounting, too busy to do anything but be her possible wingman and convince Bruce to take a chance on her when he thought she wasn’t listening. Steve Rogers didn’t love her. That didn’t make sense. It didn’t compute. Natasha stayed silent for a long time, the only sound she could register was the blood rushing in her ears, and she didn’t blink as she stared at him with a gaze of scrutiny, waiting for him to take it back. Or to explain that he hadn’t meant for it to sound the way that it did. But he did neither of those things, and Natasha finally crossed her arms tightly around herself as if to physically hold herself in place. She couldn’t move. It felt as if a year had passed before she finally found her voice. “You don’t mean that,” she forced in a low rasp, pairing it with a single shake of her head. “You don’t mean that, you just think you do. It’s been the adrenaline, and how weak you’ve been feeling.” She spoke as if she was reminding him. As if she had to make it clear to him that he needed to clarify that, because he couldn’t just say that he loved her without clarifying that he wasn’t in love with her. Because he wasn’t. He couldn’t have been. Steve Rogers was a hero. Natasha Romanoff was a glorified murderer. Men like him didn’t settle for women like her. “You’re not in love with me.” She meant to state it but it came off like a question, a need for clarification, because her heart was beating faster and her head was buzzing with a sudden wakefulness that completely drowned out her exhaustion. “...Steve?” Take the out, walk away. Tell her it was just what she thought. They’ve been under stress, they’ve been thrown out of their norm and he was struggling with the lack of sleep and it was making him say things he didn’t mean. The out was right there and all he had to do was nod in agreeance. Walk away, spend the night reminding himself he was a goddamn fool and attempt to repair whatever damage his ridiculous moment of honesty had caused. Take the out, Rogers, he kept telling himself. You’re right, I didn’t mean it was what he wanted to say. What came out instead was anything but. “No, I meant it,” he said, his voice raw with the internal conflict raging in his mind. “I’m in love with you.” Stop talking - why couldn’t he just stop talking. “I have been for - “ there was a short pause, the feelings he knew had been there longer than he realized, the knowing what they were had just sort of snuck up on him somewhere. “For a while,” he admitted. He hadn’t moved. He didn’t dare move for fear he’d make this even worse by doing something even more idiotic like kiss her. This was already so bad, bad to the point he wasn’t even sure they could walk away from it. “I’m not - “ he swallowed hard, “Natasha I’m not expecting anything from you. I know you don’t - “ women like Natasha didn’t fall for guys like him. She’d flirt and joke, but he knew that was as far as it went. Which was fine, he could handle that. He wasn’t exactly sure he would be any good for her anyways. He was a mess and the last thing he would want to do was screw something up and lose her completely. She was too important to him for that. “I wasn’t going to say anything, I don’t even know why I’m saying it now,” he admitted quietly. Natasha pressed her lips together in a thin line when Steve did the exact opposite of what she wanted him to do. She had given him an out, she had placed the opportunity before him to clarify what he had meant so that nothing could change between them. It could have been an awkward night induced by exhaustion and stress, and nothing more. They could have moved past it if they tried hard enough, but there was no going back now. She couldn’t stand there and convince him that he was lying, and the part that Natasha truly hated was that she didn’t want to. A part of her, a selfish part, wanted him to be telling the truth, because having her best friend, one of her only friends, in love with her was too good to be true. But it wasn’t good. It was far from perfect, and the reality of that was starting to weigh on her the longer she stood there to stare at him. Natasha’s hands moved to run her fingers through her hair, gripping at it for a moment before letting them fall away, and her voice wavered with a lack of stability that she wasn’t proud of. “Now?” She managed to force. “You’re doing this now? In the middle of - everything, all of this, now?” People were disappearing all of the time, dropping off the face of the commune literally overnight, unless they were unlucky and outside after sunset. Then there was blood, and a lot of it. That was one of the reasons that Natasha had found herself attracted to Bruce in the first place; he was invincible. It was nearly impossible to lose him, but Steve was different. He was strong but he was mortal, and even more so in a place like this. That terrified her. Her hand moved to cover her mouth as she turned away from him to stare at the wall, her mind racing as she tried to figure out what to do. Did she love him? Of course she loved him, he was Steve, he was everything to her. But was she in love with him? She didn’t want to be. Natasha didn’t want to open herself up like that again, but it wasn’t really up to her and that was what she hated about love. She hated that she had no control over herself when it came to something as serious as her own emotions, and admitting them aloud would be accepting them. “You could die here,” she finally stated, the waver in her voice turning into an angry one as she finally looked at him. It probably sounded scattered and irrelevant, but in her head it was anything but. She couldn’t be in love with someone who could leave her so easily. She was. But she didn’t want to be. “You could die. You could just disappear, and I wouldn’t even know why. I can just disappear.” Steve grimaced as she brought up his less than stellar timing. “Yeah, I am - I know this is not the time for it, I was fine with sometime around never but I just - “ he what. Couldn’t help it? Had some insane urge right then to just lay it all out for absolutely no good reason. What the hell was wrong with him. He was usually better at this, not lying necessarily, but keeping things to himself. Of keeping himself in check, keeping the things he wanted to himself because what he wanted to do and what he needed to do were rarely the same thing. So why was he so intent on going against that now. He had expected something different as she turned away. For her to yell at him that he was the idiot he knew he was. That she could never feel for him how he felt for her, that she still had feelings for Bruce and he was too late. He expected something like Steve you’re a real swell guy but I’m just not into you. What he got was something so entirely different he almost didn’t know how to react for a moment. The raw emotion in her voice, the argument that wasn’t about her not caring but maybe, just maybe, being terrified because she did. Steve rubbed a hand against the back of his neck as his eyes glanced down for a moment and he tried desperately to put her argument into context. Without even really planning it he found himself moving as his hand dropped, closing the distance between them. It was already all screwed up, it was a mess and then some and he knew that. He’d already ruined everything, what was ruining it a bit more at this point. His hands moved to cup her face, and he leaned down to rest his forehead against hers. “I know,” he said, his voice rough with the very real fact that there was a good chance one, or both of them, was not surviving this place. A thought he had often but never really voiced until this moment. “You almost did, Nat,” he reminded her, his voice cracking slightly. “I’d never been more terrified than I was then.” “Do you?” She asked challengingly before she could stop herself when he admitted that he knew that the timing was all wrong, and the place was all wrong. Everything was wrong about this, Steve and Natasha weren’t the types who got to be happy. Happily ever after didn’t happen to them, Natasha had always known that, even when she felt herself slipping with Bruce. The outcome was what she had expected and that was why it was so easy for her to accept it. This, however, wasn’t expected, and being blindsided wasn’t something that Natasha handled well. She was still on the other side of the room when Steve was suddenly moving, and her heart stopped when she felt him so close, a tingle webbing down her spine like electricity when his hand found its way to her face. Her breath caught in her chest when he leaned close enough to press his forehead against hers, and Natasha’s hands lifted to place themselves on his chest. “Don’t.” It was a weak protest to tell him to back away, but nothing about her said that she had meant it. It was conflicted, because a part of her knew how horrible of an idea this was, but instead of pushing him away she moved closer. Instead of shoving him like she wanted to, her fingers curled a little against his skin, and instead of pulling away her jaw tilted up just slightly in a welcoming gesture that she didn’t mean to give. Steve wasn’t acting in his right mind, there was something off about all of this, he was being forward and transparent. That meant that it was Natasha’s job to keep things in line and under control, but she was already failing, and she knew that if she ended up giving into him there would be no turning back. They weren’t ready for something like this. Not right now. She knew all of the cons, and there were so many more than there were positive outcomes, but her hands still slipped up to hold onto his shoulders, her previous failed efforts to keep him at a distance falling away completely. She was being weak and she knew it, but guarding herself against Steve was impossible. It was Steve. That ship had sailed a long time ago, he was one of the very few people that she couldn’t hide herself from, no matter how much she may have wanted to in that moment. Natasha shook her head weakly, her heart pounding so fiercely in her chest that she wondered if he could feel it pressed up against him, and she was giving tiny efforts to show him that she thought this was a bad idea. A horrible idea. Her lips barely grazed their way against his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as she slowly began to give in. “This is a bad idea.” He’d half braced himself for her to back off, or worse. Hell, he half figured that she might actually hit him for the move - but she didn’t. Her protest was weak at best and she didn’t seem like she was going to make any move to walk away. His breath hitched as her hands moved to his chest, his heart jackhammered and everything seemed to pinpoint down to the fact that she was not moving away. If anything she moved closer and when she titled her head up it was every ounce of control he had left in the situation not to kiss her right then. He couldn’t even think, couldn’t formulate all those reasons this was a terrible idea because she was right there and all he could see and feel was the way her body pressed against his, the elation that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the only one feeling more than they should. Steve’s eyes fluttered shut as her lips brushed against his as she spoke. She’d kissed him before, but it’d been a cover, a necessity, something that had been so sudden he’d barely had the chance to catch up with it before it ended. This was so undeniably different and he could feel it in every nerve of his body. “Absolutely terrible,” he agreed, his voice low and while he knew he was about to ruin the best thing in his life he had passed the point of actually being able to care right then. He didn’t have it in him to fight anymore, not when they were this close. There was just her, her hands on his shoulders, her lips barely against his, her hair tangled in his hand that moved behind her head and months, a year and then some of wanting that clouded any room for logic as his lips pressed against hers. Slow at first, almost hesitant with that small voice reminding him that she had one hell of a right hook if she decided to stop this. When no protest came he deepened the kiss. Natasha’s nod was one last ditch effort of desperation when Steve agreed that it was a terrible idea, because maybe he would come to his senses and stop this before they went beyond a point they couldn’t return from. He had to, because she realized that she couldn’t. Natasha couldn’t bring herself to push him away, when Steve was this close she felt surrounded by him completely, and the problems of the outside world, and the place that they were in, faded away into a dull whisper in the back of her head. She knew it was a bad idea. But when his fingers were in her hair and he was so close that she could practically feel his words vibrate, Natasha for the life of her couldn’t remember why. He did the exact opposite of what she was trying to will him to do, leaning in and finally pulling her into a more direct and purposeful kiss, and that was the moment at Natasha gave in completely and just let it happen. At first she could barely move, but he spurred her into responding when he deepened the kiss, her arms moving to wrap their way around his neck so she could drag him down and closer. This wasn’t the plan. God, she just wanted to platonically cuddle in bed a little and now she was kissing Captain America in the middle of his living room, everything about it seemed surreal. She pulled back only to fall into him again, the need to be close and held overwhelming anything that was remotely logical trying to surface in her mind. When she parted once more the fingers of one hand curled into the hair on the back of his head, a passive effort to keep him from pulling away, but her mind and body language were disagreeing again. She shook her head. “This is a bad idea,” she repeated once more, and despite the feeble attempt to bring herself back her arms tightened around him, eyes opening to meet his gaze. “Can I stay?” She wasn’t asking for anything serious. Natasha had nothing in mind. But she did want to share his bed with him, even if it was just to be held, or just to be beside him. When he didn’t answer immediately she corrected, “I’m staying.” Steve hadn't kissed many girls in his life - and Natasha hadn't sadly been that far off in asking if their fake kiss in the mall had been his first since 1945. Lack of time more than anything else, it was hard to date while saving the world. And once the Avengers had ended up front page news after New York there was a level of trust in play. The modern media terrified Steve, and he knew how quickly a situation could get out of hand if he dated, became intimate with the wrong woman. He trusted Natasha implicitly though, and even if he'd kissed a hundred girls before this night he was sure nothing would have held a candle to this. Even with the doubts that lingered in his thoughts, finally giving into what he felt for her was amazing. If this was being wrong, Steve could be content never being right again in his life. He kept his hand tangled in her hair when she pulled back to speak, his grip around her waist tightened slightly - afraid she was about to walk away. She didn't though and despite himself he huffed a small laugh at her words. It was wrong, the consequences of this he didn't even want to think about, but there was a sort of giddiness none the less. Drowning and finally coming up for air all at once. "Since when do we have good ideas," he pointed out. It was more than a little true. If he was the king of reckless, well she was the queen. Steve nodded at her declaration that she wa staying. It was a terrible idea - he knew it and she knew it, but telling her to go now seemed worse. He slid his hands behind her head and pulled her in to kiss her again. Steve didn't know how this would end, but he had now. Maybe it was damn time he just enjoyed now. "Definitely staying," he mumbled against her lips as he moved his hands under her backside and lifted her up easily. He moved them toward his bedroom as he kissed her again. |