Work Text:
What was he supposed to do? Natasha was in the shower with Bucky, and he'd seen the laptops and notebooks spread over the coffee table. She wasn't going anywhere. She wouldn't miss her keys. So he palmed them. Slipped the one he needed off the ring and hid it in the pocket of his running shorts when he stuffed them into his bag. Ducked into the bathroom to kiss them both goodbye. He had his own date.
In the morning, he got back before they woke up, replaced the key, and coaxed her out of the bed for his own turn in the shower.
***
“Why'd you steal her key?”
Steve scooped the last of the pancakes off the griddle and stacked them on a plate. “Whose key?” His hair was still damp, but he'd put on boxers before he'd started cooking. He didn't want bacon grease spatter on his dick. Not again.
Bucky got the butter out of the refrigerator and the maple syrup out of the cupboard, then went to sit down at the island. “You're still a terrible liar.”
“Yeah.” Steve set the plate of pancakes in front of Bucky with a flourish, then turned back to the stove for the bacon.
Bucky laughed. “You're not going to tell me.”
“I would if I had something to tell,” Steve promised, and that was a lie, too.
Bucky shook his head. But he was still smiling.
Steve took a seat beside Bucky, setting the plate of hot bacon between them and reaching for the butter. He said, “I have an errand to run before I go in this morning.”
Bucky sighed.
***
Steve stood in front of the glitter shelves, a half-pound tub of glitter in each hand, trying to decide. Pink? Or red? He thought the pink was festive and appropriate, but the red would better match its surroundings. And target.
Natasha had just changed her hair again, and Steve liked the shade a lot.
He stared down at the glitter for a few moments more, then put the red back. Next time, he thought. He turned to find help. He needed a funnel, too.
***
After lunch, while Natasha and Sam practiced drops and throws, Steve went down to the parking garage. He didn't bother hiding himself from the cameras. Nat would know exactly who'd done what he'd done. There was no sense pretending otherwise.
He got the glitter and the funnel out of one of the saddlebags on his bike, then unlocked her car—low, sleek, black, just like the one she'd had in DC, only newer—and folded himself into the driver's seat. He fiddled with the sunroof until he could hide glitter there; he sprinkled some above the visors; he changed the air conditioner settings and angled the vents, and then he poured.
When he was done, he locked the car behind himself and disposed of the evidence.
***
Steve shoved out of the stairwell and jogged to catch up with her. He'd almost missed her, damn it. “Hey, Nat, let me walk with you.”
She paused and half-turned back to him. She smiled her knowing Girl Smile at him. “I thought you were meeting Kate?”
“Squeezed her in at lunch.” He slowed when he caught up to her. “Are you coming over again tonight?”
Her smile widened and joy flared in her eyes. “Nope. Sharon got back from London this afternoon.”
His breath caught and he asked, “She did?” before he could stop himself.
Nat poked a finger at his chest. “And she's mine, buddy, so don't even think of sniping her.”
“I wouldn't dream of it,” he lied. He wondered if Sam and Bucky knew—then he realized he hadn't seen Bucky since before lunch.
He thought about mentioning that to Natasha, then he remembered the last picture Sharon had sent him before she'd left and decided not to. Maybe Sam wanted to do something.
“You're a terrible liar,” Nat said. She moved beside him and tucked her hand into his elbow. “I need to go. I want to get dinner before I go over. You know she didn't eat anything decent at the Carter compound.”
“They're not that bad,” Steve defended, but, no, they really were. He thought people had stopped boiling everything. He was wrong.
“Your tastebuds were grieving,” Natasha said pityingly.
Steve covered her hand in his elbow as they started toward the doors that led to the parking garage. “Sometimes they still are,” he said, and heard Peggy's voice in his head, always so dramatic.
Nat groaned. “Gross, Captain America.” But she bumped her hip against him and he could hear the smile she was fighting.
“I learned from the best, Black Widow.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “You are such a terrible liar.”
Steve dipped to kiss the top of her head. “I know.”
They crossed the garage. Steve held her oversized bag as she unlocked and opened the car, and then he held her hand as she slipped into the driver's seat.
“It's pretty nice out there,” he said, jerking his head toward the exit to the street as she settled her bag on the passenger seat.
“That's why Detroit gave us sunroofs,” she agreed.
“Kenosha,” Steve corrected.
Natasha made a question of her expression.
He elaborated, “Sunroofs. They came out of Kenosha, Wisconsin.”
She rolled her eyes. Then something caught her eye, and she peered around him at his bike parked in the space next to hers. “When did you park there?”
Steve glanced at his bike and shrugged. “This morning. I picked up a part Amy was waiting on.”
“And I'm sure that's all you picked up.” Natasha smirked at him, knowing and teasing and approving.
Steve knew about the bets they all had on who was next. “She did have something else for me,” he admitted, but didn't elaborate.
Word would get around quick enough. It always did.
Natasha chuckled at him. “I'll see you tomorrow.”
Steve gave her a smart salute. “Have fun tonight.”
“Oh, we will.” She pulled her door shut.
Steve slung a leg over his bike and pulled his phone out of the inside pocket of his jacket. He texted Sam—what was the point of dating four people if you had to be alone?—and waited.
Natasha's engine growled to life. Steve waited, counting silently, one, two...
Natasha rolled her window down. Inside the car, glitter swirled around her. It was in her hair, clinging to her skin, flecking her eyelashes. She stared at him.
Steve smiled serenely at her. “What happened? Did you spill your stash?”
“Pink, Steve? Really?”
“It reminded me of something,” he said, shrugging.
Natasha looked away to watch the other window as she rolled it down. “You know you'll pay for this.” Her voice was flat. It wasn't threat, it was a promise, and a rote one at that.
“It's worth it.”
She laid rubber out of the garage.
Steve kicked his bike to life and followed her out into the sunshine.
He saw the fresh spray of glitter out the window when she pulled the visor down to block the evening sun. Some of it whipped around and spattered him; still worth it. Then he saw the sunroof sliding back, and another fresh spray of glitter surged out of the open windows.
Steve smiled.
He could hear Natasha swearing a blue streak even over the wind.