Chapter Text
The Compound wasn’t the same anymore. It was strange to live in such a massive space with so few people. Natasha had always been adaptable, but after being on the run for two years and coming back only to see half of everyone disappear, things felt rough—lonely in a way she hadn’t expected.
Steve was around, of course. Always around. They were the only two who really stayed there after the blip. Everyone else had their own ways of grieving, or their own responsibilities. But Steve and Natasha stayed, holding on to the remnants of what was once a team, what was once family.
“I brought dinner” Steve's voice interrupted her thoughts as he stood in the doorway of the common room, holding up a bag from their favorite burger place.
Natasha glanced over her shoulder from the couch, where she'd been half-heartedly watching TV. “Steve, we just had pizza last night.”
“Right,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
She sighed, pushing herself off the couch and walking into the kitchen. She opened the fridge, which was, unsurprisingly, full of containers from various fast food places. Burgers, fries, noodles. It was a disaster.
“You're kidding me,” she muttered under her breath.
Steve joined her in the kitchen, peeking over her shoulder. “I know, I should’ve gone grocery shopping—”
“You think?” Natasha shot him a look, but it wasn’t angry. Just tired. Everything felt heavier now, more weighted. She missed their old rhythm, their old sense of purpose.
Steve leaned against the counter, folding his arms across his chest. “Damn. Were we always this messy?”
Natasha was about to respond when her gaze drifted to Steve’s body. He was still solid, still built like the soldier he was. But there were changes. His shoulders were broader, his belly softer. A little rounder. He was still strong, but there was a layer of extra weight that hadn’t been there before.
It shouldn’t have mattered. It really didn’t. But she couldn’t help it—the sight of Steve, changed, different, sent a ripple of unease through her.
Her mind quickly made the connection—he wasn’t exercising anymore because there were no more missions, no one left to save. Even his running buddy, Sam, was gone.
Everything was different now. The way they lived, the people who were gone. They weren’t the Avengers anymore. Not really. They were just… surviving.
And that was terrifying, how could they just let that happened?
Natasha snorted softly, leaning against the fridge. “Things have changed a lot.”
“Yeah, they have,” Steve said quietly, his eyes distant.
Deep down, she knew the accords were kind of the beginning of the end for their team, but shed be lying if she said she could've predicted everything that came with Thanos. Losing half the world, including some of their closest friends, wasn’t something she could’ve imagined even possible.
Her mind races with unsettling thoughts: Clint's whereabouts are unknown, Nick—once so resilient—is gone, and there's nothing left to do. No missions to accomplish, no intelligence to gather, no targets to eliminate, no lives to save. Nothing.
Steve noticed her staring and raised an eyebrow. “What?”
She shook her head, trying to shake the feelings bubbling up inside her. Hoping he can't see her eyes gathering tears at the corners, “Nothing, just… you look different.”
His brow furrowed. “Different how?”
*You're fat*. She thought bluntly, cause it's crazy, and it shouldn't be possible, he's Captain America for god’s sake his metabolism is like perfect, he's a super soldier destined to great things, but instead he's in her kitchen eating fries.
And she’s here too, not out there being Black Widow, or in a safe house with a fake ID and new identity. She’s just here where they left her.
And it doesn't matter, it shouldn't matter, but it's just not what she's used to and something inside her just clicks. This is the new normal here.
“Just… heavier,” she said, but then immediately regretted it. The words felt too sharp, too careless.
Steve’s face fell slightly, his hand instinctively going to his stomach. “Yeah, well… I guess that's what happens when you stop fighting the world’s battles every day and start eating burgers for dinner.”
Natasha's stomach tightened. She hadn’t meant to make him feel self-conscious. Steve was the last person she’d ever want to hurt. He had always been one of her constant, one person she could rely on no matter what. But now, standing in the kitchen, with the empty fridge and boxes of fast food, she couldn’t shake the feeling that things were spiraling out of control.
“Steve, I didn’t mean—”
“No, it's fine.” He forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re right. We’ve both changed. Everything’s changed.”
Natasha stared at him for a moment, the weight of his words pressing down on her. The blip had taken so much from them. Their friends, their sense of purpose. The world had moved on, but they were still here, stuck in a place they didn’t recognize.
“I miss the way things were,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Steve's expression softened. He stepped closer, his large hand gently touching her arm. “Me too, Nat. Every day.”
She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his touch, the steadiness that had always grounded her. But it wasn’t enough. Not anymore.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted, her voice cracking slightly. “I don’t know how to just… live like this. It's been a year, I thought we would've figured this out by now”
And they did figure out a couple of things, they kept in contact with what is left of the guardians and with Wakanda, the earth is protected and safe and so is the rest of the galaxy apparently, but they still haven’t figured out how to protect themselves from the quiet that follows. The long stretches of silence in the compound, the weight of an unspoken grief that never fully goes away. The missions gave them purpose, a reason to keep moving forward. Without that, without everyone, it was like they were stuck in limbo. Existing, but not really living.
Steve’s hand tightened on her arm, grounding her. “You’re right. It’s been a year... and I still feel lost. Like I’m waiting for something, but I don’t even know what anymore.”
Natasha hummed, weighing her next words carefully. “I have this twisted wish sometimes... don't think I'm crazy, but I keep thinking that everything would be better if we had another threat to fight. It's not that I want more destruction or suffering, but at least then we'd have a purpose, you know? Right now, it feels like we're just... existing, not really living.”
She paused, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. “Is it wrong to miss the adrenaline, the sense of urgency? To miss feeling like we were making a difference, even if it came at a cost?”
Steve sighed, pulling her into a gentle hug. She hesitated for a moment, then leaned into him, her cheek resting against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, strong, a reminder that he was still here. They both were.
‘’ It's not wrong, I think I miss that too sometimes, It's what makes us a good team I guess”
He sighed again, gently running his hands through her hair
“We’ll figure it out,” Steve murmured, his chin resting on top of her head. “One day at a time.”
Natasha wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that things would get better, that they’d find a way to move forward. But as she stood there in Steve’s arms, the weight of everything they’d lost pressed down on her.
“Maybe we should start by learning to cook,” she said softly, trying to lighten the mood, but her heart wasn’t in it.
Steve chuckled quietly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Yeah, maybe. Couldn’t hurt.”
They stood there for a while longer, wrapped in each other’s arms, neither of them willing to let go just yet.