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Steve was suddenly jolted awake when that small noise reached his ears. In an instant, the sound was gone, just like someone slipped some kitchenware from their grip and back to their business again, quietly, with a guilt. But whatever it was, it was an alarm for Steve. He slipped through the door of his room soundlessly, reaching the kitchen which was just a feet from it.
The light was dim, but he could instantly recognized the shadow. The curve, the short hair, the slim hand on the kitchen island. One cup, a teabag, and just a bit of sugar. He watched, leaning on the wall, hand crossed his chest, that woman might be aware there was someone behind her, but it was all safe, so she let it be.
Natasha sipped her tea, her teaspoon rested on the table. The tip of her hair bounced slightly on her nape when she hummed after the first taste. Steve wondered what it was, until he reached her side, it sounded like Russian syllables. A song, soft like lullaby. From the peripheral vision of his, he saw her faint smirk.
“You missed your afternoon tea, aren’t you?” he started the conversation as she stood for something in the cabinet under the counter.
“A reward for a B-class mission.” Natasha enjoyed his tease, letting her hand brushed his side when he took something from the upper cabinet. “Couldn’t sleep, though.”
“We all often couldn’t.” He peered, she was still by the kitchen counter, preparing another cup. He was wondering whether she read his mind or just betting herself. It was, out of nowhere, becoming their habit lately, to read each other’s intention though no one said it out loud. Their work together more like a tandem, more than it already had been.
“But probably my adrenaline is the highest tonight.” She shrugged, and she offered sugar cubes towards him, he gestured two with his fingers.
He took a bite of the biscuit he just found while spinning on his heel, but he didn’t have any idea that she had moved closer to him, and in a sudden, their eyes met, just an inch more and their lips would do, too.
They held the gaze longer than they should, he was the one started to smile fondly, he had known that moments like this would be better to linger, they enjoyed it without any words. This was not the first time, this was only one of a series that had been in the air for three months they were on the run together. Her eyes was always like this when he found it in a certain proximity; it was set alight with the flicker of fire that was not so wild; that was warm and so close to the definition of home. Warm hearth. He was running from this kind of feeling, running away and away and away until he thought no one would find him, but, no, she was there all along. Standing, waiting, expecting him to ask: who was being found now?
Her lips formed a word, but she couldn’t make it, or probably only because he couldn’t listen to it, he was too focused on her eyes, her eyelashes fluttering slightly on the words that couldn’t be delivered, and her breath. Breath. Thing that made her alive, more alive before him now, and he took in the sight with more than just gratefulness.
She decided to put on a smirk, her trademark, kind of sly but in his eyes now, it was a sign of a plan. “Soldier, your eyes are so alive tonight.”
He turned to face her fully, her warm breath mingled with his oxygen and he felt that kind of rush in his veins. “Do you have any idea what the cause is?” He raised his hand, hesitated a bit on his way, but eventually he did it: he tucked a strand of her blonde locks behind her ear.
She reciprocated with circling one hand on his neck, reaching the nape and brushing her fingertips there. “That this safehouse is the best so far. More spacious bedroom, more foods to eat, water that is running without any problems.” She was teasing, he knew exactly. Then she stood on her toes, movement swift like a ballerina she once had been taught to be like. “But I know the better reason.”
He sucked a breath, and this smirk didn’t disappear.
“Kiss me, Soldier. I know you want it.”
“Is this okay?”
“What’s better?” she whispered right on his lips. “We are on our own. I trust you more than anyone. You have my back. We are steady on the run. What’s better, Steve? Name it now.”
He had fought this feeling, he had pushed it aside, realizing that he probably had no place for love, for soulmate, for romance anymore in his heart. But she came like a wave wandering on a shore, once, twice, soft and always came back. Bringing unknown stories from wide, ever-changing ocean, to the shore who was firm and planted to where it should be. The wave came with breeze, fresh like the first taste of spring. The touch was tender, like a satin to a maiden’s skin, embracing.
To realize that it all came from that Black Widow that no one in the world could calculate her next move, he felt utterly honored. She was a reminder of miracle, thing he didn’t expect to visit his new rough life.
She parted her lips a bit, and he suddenly aware of the fact that she could withdraw herself anytime, leaving him hanging more than he feared it to be, thus he wasted no time in capturing her lips with his. His hands instinctively snaking around her waist, pulling her closer against his.
The time had come. The sudden realization seeping in his soul, he broke his own wall just like she did to hers. Her lips and tongue tasted a tinge of bitterness of her strong black tea, but with a hint of sugar and maybe a little mint from her last bubblegum, but it was indeed a sensation to him. Not something so in rush like back then on the elevator, but anything it was, her lips felt so familiar and weirdly fitted his in a perfection he couldn’t shape in words. This lips which swore silent devotion, unspoken oath that she would go down with him anything the circumstance was going to be. The lips who loved to tease him, yet gave so much consolation to his nightmares. The home.
When they parted for air, he was still breathless. She put her hand on his on her waist, holding like she was never going to let him go.
“I was against this initially,” she spoke, barely above a whisper, “I didn’t trust romance anymore. The last one left me hanging even before I could figure out wholefully the rest of it.”
He felt a tinge of jealousy, but it lasted only for a second, she was in his hands now, and the feel of her lips was still on his he couldn’t think of anyone else in her mind beside himself.
“But, you are always here,” she took a breath, and he caught the meaning, he was in her lungs in her veins in her everything wherever her blood ran, “you are in my childhood. The embodiment of light and perfection I was trained to fight against. To be a part of your life was unimaginable. Too far, too perfect to be true.”
“But here you are,” he whispered back.
“And yet you stay.”
He shook his head. “You do. We could be miles away now, but you made your choice.”
“I would follow you anywhere, even welcoming the apocalypse if you asked, Steve.”
“Too much love, it is dangerous, Natasha.”
“I am a part of you.” She tightened her grip on his hand. Her eyes went wilder now, searching for whatever it was in his. “Like you said, I made my choice. Do you believe in fate?”
He leaned in so their lips were only a hairsbreadth away. “If the fate is you, then you know how much I trust you.”
It was her turn to take his lips in hers like she had supressed her boiling feeling inside her for so long. This was a huge wave, like running for home, running for the shore where she had to anchor, had to tell about the nice weather above the ocean that many fishermen welcomed with joy, running for home in excitement.
They were locking gaze after the second kiss, he found more reason and she found devotion.
It was an unusual love, yet they held it. Firmly; between the fingers that sometimes too tired for some fight, yearning too much to grasp the other ones to prove that they were not afraid to guide another life of a soulmate (again).
end.