Work Text:
Natasha wakes up on a Saturday to a foreign object on her dresser. She examines it from all angles, frowns, and puts it in a sealed container.
She knows just where to go to handle this crisis.
*
"What is this?"
Steve releases his punching back and drops his gaze down to her hand. "A cupcake?"
Natasha taps her foot, her perfectly tied running shoe curved to her foot. "And why was there a cupcake on my dresser this morning?"
Steve chews on his lip, giving a cautious look around the gym. He lowers his voice when he says, "because it's your birthday?"
Natasha stares. Steve blinks.
"Right?"
Natasha blinks back, momentarily shocked enough that she is rendered speechless. "A cupcake," she says, pushing her thoughts away, and Steve frowns at her choice of reply. "Red velvet?"
"Red velvet."
She takes a slow, careful bite, pretending to be deep in thought as she chews.
Steve doesn't ask out loud, but his hopeful face says enough.
"It's good," she says, deadpan - teasing. Steve grins.
(Natasha refuses to tell him that she hates cupcakes.)
*
Natasha works out with Steve for the next hour. While she's blocking his attacks, she argues with herself about how he managed to figure out her birthday; she has about twelve fake dates floating around out there. Steve has slowly been working his way in; she has a brief moment of terror that she may have let something slip without her knowledge.
She doubts even Fury knows it. Tightening her ponytail, Natasha grits her teeth and unleashes all of her frustration and confusion against Steve. For the first time in a long time, neither of them speak - Steve seems to understand that she isn't up to talking, which makes her even more frustrated. She's becoming easier to read, at least to him, and she clenches her fists and curses to herself.
After they shower, they head off to the local diner where they usually meet for their post workout breakfast. She nibbles on a western omelet, her knife held tightly in her grasp.
"You're giving me a weird look."
"Am not," Natasha says, chewing on a string of cheese. Steve shrugs, reaching out to steal a piece of her bacon: she threatens to stab him with her fork.
Steve is asking for a refill on his coffee when she finally manages to say, "Today is not a big deal."
"Of course not," Steve says easily, taking his coffee black. "It's just hanging out."
She watches him carefully, but he simply raises his cup toward her and takes a sip. "Want to see a movie?"
Natasha slurps her chocolate milk, eying him. "Just hanging out?"
Steve shrugs. "Whatever."
Natasha considers asking him how he knows then, but decides she'd rather not. It's easier for her to remain oblivious to whatever else he may know about her. If Steve thinks she's oblivious, it may never be brought up and she can go about her way none the wiser. Perhaps the first time in her life she's ever thought that. That brief moment of terror is back. "My choice, though," she says, attempting to return to their normal routine. "Because, you know."
"I know."
"Good."
Steve's answering grin is cheeky, and Natasha has a good feeling she was played.
*
"You want something?" Steve says as he hands her her movie ticket, looking at the menu over the counter. He follows her gaze to sour candy. "You have to share."
Natasha brushes her hair over her shoulder. "Birthday."
"You suck."
"Get your own damn candy. You aren't poor." She allows a slight curl to her lips.
Steve tosses her a box of sour patch kids. "Nah."
Natasha rolls her eyes at him when he heads off to the bathroom to wash his hands.
"Your boyfriend's sweet."
Natasha turns to see an older woman smiling at her.
"He's not my boyfriend," Natasha says, inwardly grinning at the confused look on the woman's face. It's a common look when she and Steve are together and others are trying to determine their relationship. Not that it's any of their business. "I'm actually trying to help him hook a good boyfriend. It's a work in progress."
"Oh?" the woman says, clearly a lack of anything else for her to say.
"You know how stubborn men can be," Natasha says with a wink, popping a piece of candy in her mouth. The woman just nods slowly, her brow furrowed.
When Steve comes back, Natasha sincerely holds out her open bag of candy. "Ready?" Natasha asks, leaning up to press a quick kiss on his lips.
"Yep," Steve says, slipping an arm around her and taking a small handful of candy.
"Have a nice night," Natasha says lightly to the woman, who simply raises a hand in farewell, not even bothering to hide her bewildered expression. Natasha laces her fingers through Steve's and chuckles to herself.
*
After the movie, Natasha drags Steve to Cuba Libre on 9th Street for Cuban sandwiches. They walk slowly toward the National Mall, sprawling on the grass in sight of the Washington Monument. It's a nice, comfortable silence, and when they finish their sandwiches, they roll on their backs, shoulders almost touching.
"So you know my favorite candy, and yet I don't know yours."
Steve doesn't even blink at the non sequitur. "Well, let's see," Steve says, tapping his fingers on his chest. "There was this taffy, BB Bats, I think? The vanilla was pretty good."
Natasha rolls her eyes. "If you aren't even sure what they were called, I guarantee you can't call them your favorite."
Steve laughs. "Okay yeah, you're right. So, there were these candy cigarettes. Do they still sell those?"
"I'm pretty sure they do, yes."
"Because the adults smoked - well, it was mainly the men until I was around eight or nine; women started smoking when the tobacco companies made smoking look glamorous and -"
"Your point?" Natasha drawls, nudging him with her shoulder to show that she's being playful.
"I was getting to it," Steve says, scrunching his nose. "Anyway, smoking looked cool and we wanted to look cool, too. I maybe had one or two until my mom caught me. She was a nurse and hated cigarettes. Didn't even want me within a twenty foot radius of anyone else smoking."
"Yeah?"
"My lungs," Steve says, gesturing at his chest as if Natasha would believe they existed elsewhere, "didn't do too well with that sort of thing. With anything, really. She was upset that I would do something that would encourage unhealthy behavior for me even if they weren't real. I was mad, though, because they were good and it was just one more reason why kids would make fun of me. But mainly because they were good."
Natasha stares upward, her eyes darting from star to star, mentally drawing images across the sky. "You were lucky," Natasha says finally. "Both of you were."
Steve's eyes grow sad, as if he's realizing that even though he didn't have the ideal situation with his mother, it was still better than hers. She has yet to tell him anything, but it's not exactly difficult to pick up on it.
"Yeah," is all he says. He inches closer to her, his shoulder nudging hers, and she finds herself flopping over his chest. She breathes against his neck while he combs his fingers through her hair.
Eventually, she has to break the silence. "Must be hard when you share your birthday with America."
Steve sighs, lifting her head with his chest. "Sometimes it's just nice to share the day with someone, someone who acknowledges you and believes your birth is worthwhile."
The words don't sound like Steve, but she refrains from asking who must have told him that. It really doesn't matter; she knows the words are intended for her.
Now it's her turn. "Yeah." She brushes her lips across his collarbone. "Yeah."
They lay for a while longer before Steve pulls them to their feet. "I'll walk you home," he says, and Natasha has long since given up protesting he not.
She cringes when they reach their front door, preparing herself for a potential barrage of people waiting for a surprise party, but thankfully there's nothing.
It's only Steve, holding out a box, wrapped with a bow. Natasha eyes him.
"Take it," he says with as much force as he's ever heard from him, so she does.
It's a thin, silver necklace, simple, light. "My mom's," Steve says as he clasps it around Natasha's neck, and at those words, it suddenly seems heavy.
She shakes her head. "I can't -"
"I hadn't seen it since I was a kid," Steve interrupts. "I guess she sold it for a few extra bucks. Someone came forward to give it back to me about, what, six months ago? I wasn't going to wear it and I noticed that you like necklaces, so..."
Natasha's mouth is dry. "I -"
"Please take it."
Natasha turns and purses her lips.
"Just wear the damn thing," Steve says, but his voice is light, teasing.
After he leaves, she spends the whole night awake in her bed, running her fingers over the chains.
*
As June comes to a close, Natasha finds herself in a spot that she hates most: uncertainty.
She needs a present for Steve, that she knows. Then a party? Dinner? ...Something?
The present is what confuses her most. Once, she was deep in cover in Kiev and she had to give the man who thought he was her boyfriend a present - a gold watch. She can't imagine Steve wearing a watch, or any other type of jewelry.
Natasha sighs.
She's never gotten a gift for someone she - her mind stutters briefly - cared about before. Besides Clint, that is, but he had been dropping hints for Wii Sports Resort for weeks because it is very important that I practice at home, Tasha, have to stay in shape in case a battle arises, right?
She sits in child's pose for a good hour. She doesn't want to buy food because Steve already took that category with the cupcake. Also, she doesn't bake. Or cook of any nature. Natasha could take him out for a meal, right? It didn't matter that he did that for her? Is it cheating?
Groaning, she flops on her back. This can't be difficult for normal people.
*
"What are you getting Steve for his birthday?" Natasha asks Sam the next day at Tryst, waiting for her Darjeeling tea to cool.
"Art stuff," Sam says while chewing on his muffin.
Natasha rolls her eyes. "Easy present," she says, and Sam scowls at her.
Damn it. It was obvious, and she didn't even think of it.
*
Back in child's pose that night, Natasha thinks carefully once more.
Running. He likes running and working out, but he has an endless supply of work out clothes and bought two pairs of running shoes last week.
Damn it.
*
"Seriously, I don't need anything," Natasha conveniently overhears Steve say to Sharon. Convenient because they didn't recognize her with her sunglasses and red hair hidden by a baseball cap, sitting a few booths away from them at Old Ebbitt Grill.
"There has to be something you want," Sharon says insistently.
Steve shrugs. "Eh."
Natasha sighs and gestures for the bill.
Sharon is a terrible spy.
*
Perhaps she has to put the present idea project is on the shelf for now, so she moves on to the next step in this socially accepted (and expected) practice of birthday celebrations. While she hates the idea of a party in her honor, she imagines Steve would be fine with them, depending on the size. Small and casual would probably be best.
Natasha chews on her bottom lip as she considers invitations. Clint and Sam are obvious, of course. After another few minutes, she adds Tony and Pepper, then Bruce - she knows that Bruce is staying at the Tower in New York. She doesn't know if they'll bother flying down on a national holiday, but she figures she should be polite and invite them regardless. Sharon is next, along with Maria Hill and a few other former SHIELD agents. She doesn't have a clue where Thor is, so she - also conveniently - tracks down Jane Foster's email and sends the invite that way.
Clint offers to host it at his place and sends her a thumbs up emoji, saying he'll get an ice cream cake. Natasha simply texts back that it better not be a dick.
Sam isn't so easy.
wait, why does clint get to host it?
because clint has the biggest place. steve's at your house plenty :)
She waits a few minutes, then:
fine. but I claim next year.
if things go well, he should be living with you next year.
Sam doesn't answer, but Natasha can still imagine glaring at her.
Wimp.
*
July 3rd finds Natasha sitting at her kitchen table, staring absently at her microwave. Everything is finished except for one step. One fairly important step.
Nothing he needs; something he'd enjoy. No weapons. No work out gear. No cash as a safety net.
Which leaves...her mind is blank for the next half an hour until she jumps in her chair, pulling out her phone to search Google maps. Google kindly directs her to 7th Street NW for her destination, so she tugs on her boots.
More than anything, Natasha hopes this works.
*
he's asking about you. casually of course, but still. what are you doing?
Natasha huffs at Clint's text, managing to grab Steve's present, keys, and purse before she locks her door behind her.
To her somewhat surprise, Tony, Pepper, and Bruce have made it to Clint's, along with Tony's friends Happy and Rhodey. All of them are staring at the TV; from Natasha's view, it looks like Tony and Rhodey are playing some video game. Tony is wearing a crooked Uncle Sam top hat while Rhodey and Happy don American flag bandanas. Clint watches from the kitchen, the ice cream cake melting slightly on the counter. Thor is scrapping off the sides of the cake with a fork in one hand while holding a brandy snifter in the other.
Steve sits on the couch with a beer in his hand; he plays with the label as he watches. His bandana is wrapped around his bicep. Sam is next to him, absently tapping his knee against Steve's. His arm is rests on the back of the couch: if Steve were to lean back, Sam's fingers would curl around Steve's shoulder. Sharon sits on Steve's other side, her own bandanna around her forehead.
Natasha loudly clears her throat.
Everyone jumps but Tony and Rhodey; Tony mumbles something as a greeting while Rhodey waves hello. Pepper kisses her cheek and Sam gives her a one armed hug.
Natasha holds out her present to Steve. "Open."
Steve raises his eyebrows. "Now?"
She crosses her arms, and Steve cracks a grin.
Natasha hadn't bothered to wrap it, so Steve pulls on the duct tape and opens the box. Natasha reaches in and picks up one of the hundreds of identical items.
"Yo, Adrian," Natasha says, nibbling on the candy cigarette as it dangles out of the corner of her mouth. Ignoring the stunned (confused) silence, she watches Steve's face carefully. She tries to hide her rapid heartbeat while she waits for his reaction, her face schooled to a practiced, almost bored expression.
Steve looks down at the box that's filled to do brim with the cigarettes and laughs. Natasha pretends that she doesn't sigh in relief, chewing on the cigarette to hide her smile. The others crowd around her, plucking candy for their own, and she meets Steve's gaze over Clint's head.
This time, Natasha can't help but smile as Steve winks and mouths thank you.
Maybe she isn't horrible at this after all.