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Natasha's phone chimed on her lap for the third time in one hour.
Steve wasn't brave enough to reach over and check the screen. She'd been out cold since they'd left the burning remains of Camp Lehigh and the hidden S.H.I.E.L.D. bunker behind. Startling her awake would be a good way to get killed.
At least she was still alive.
Fifteen minutes later, Natasha's phone chimed again and she breathed in, lashes fluttering against the rays of sunlight bouncing off the hood of their stolen car. She snatched her phone from her thigh.
"Are you awake?" Steve prompted quietly.
"Yeah," she breathed. "Just need a minute."
Steve watched her check her phone. Her fingers flew over the screen typing a reply. He noticed she only typed one and wondered if it'd been the same person sending her all those texts. There'd been no calls.
He thought he saw her smile.
"Okay, go," she spoke in a stronger voice when she finished, easing her feet up on the dashboard. "Where are we? Where are we going? What's the game plan?"
"We're going to Sam's."
"Sam Wilson," she repeated. "We've got a lot of heat on our backs. Are you sure?"
"You've got a better plan?"
Natasha mulled it over for a minute. Her green eyes stared straight ahead, giving nothing away. "No," she answered finally. "We'll go with your plan."
Steve drove in silence for another few minutes before curiosity got the better of him. "Everything okay?"
"You and I almost died, everyone we know is trying to kill us and S.H.I.E.L.D. is Hydra," she deadpanned. "I'm peachy."
"No, I meant with the, uh…" He gestured vaguely to her phone, which lit up with another text message. He caught the signature '—SH', but not much else.
Natasha made quick work of another reply. "Yeah, fine," she answered guardedly, narrowing her eyes at him. "Why?"
"Nothing," he said innocently.
"And you're still a terrible liar."
Steve's smile was sheepish. He shrugged one of his shoulders and cast a sideways glance at her. "Just curious," he admitted. "You were smiling."
"Is it strange to see me smile?"
"Not really," he conceded. "Just… not at your phone. Not like that."
"Aren't you observant all of a sudden," she teased.
Steve shot her a look. "I am observant."
"And what is it you think you saw?"
He heaved a sigh. He'd been trying for two years to get to know her, but Natasha never made it easy. She was always so guarded and so good at passing off one emotion for another. He never really knew when she was telling the truth. Seeing her smile at her phone in that split second, he thought that might've been real.
He'd never know.
"I don't know," he admitted. "Never mind."
Natasha was quiet a long moment. "You want me to be a friend now?"
"I always want you to be a friend." Steve turned his head to meet her eyes.
She deliberated for almost a minute. "His name is Sherlock Holmes."
He'd heard the name in passing. "The detective?"
"Consulting detective," she corrected. "And yes."
Steve kept his face neutral. He was afraid he'd scare her off if he smiled or even blinked. "So is he your… boyfriend?"
Natasha rolled her eyes deliberately and dramatically, but her answer still rung with honesty. "He's just mine," she said, just barely smiling again. "And… he wanted to know if I was okay. I was supposed to check in. Satisfied?"
He nodded once. "Satisfied." When he eyed her again her cheeks were pink beneath the dirt and ash coating her skin. He didn't know whether she was feeling embarrassed or vulnerable or both.
'Still don't know a bloody thing about women', he heard Peggy's voice in his head.
But he knew a little bit about Natasha.
He cleared his throat. "Hey," he called, and she faced him with a cocked brow. He nudged her legs. "Feet off the dash."