Winter Soldier Steve

Make-ups and Re-dos

A few days later, Steve was released from the hospital, and went straight to his room. He was visited by Tony and Bruce, but Thor went back to Asgard, and Clint and Natasha still seemed angered.

Steve stayed respectfully distant from Nat, and Clint as well, but secretly he missed her. He remembered the feel of her in his arms, her hair smelling like vanilla, and her piercing emerald eyes meeting his blue ones, her lips on his, her playful smirk and cocked eyebrow. He let a tear slide down his cheek, before wiping it away hastily. Tony put an arm around him.

"Dude," he said, looking at Steve. "She'll come around. I've known her for a while, and she doesn't hold grudges very long. And she knows it wasn't you. It's Clint you have to worry about."

Steve chuckled. "That doesn't help much, if you can imagine," he said, and Tony frowned.

"Anyway, Brucie and I are going into the city today, to hang, if you want to come. We're going shopping for parts for projects."

Steve shook his head.
"Thanks, but I'm good."

Tony frowned, and nodded his head.

"Alright," he stood up, and left.

Steve shook his head and smiled. He was thankful for Tony for trying to cheer him up, but it wasn't doing much good. He'd forget for a while, but then he'd see Natasha, and it would all come rushing back.

It wasn't helping that Clint glared every time he saw Steve. Tony and Bruce left, and when Steve heard the door close, he headed back to his room.

When he opened the door, Natasha was sitting on his bed.

"Um, hey?" He said, unsure why she was there.

"Shh," she whispered. "I gave Clint the slip, but I'm technically not supposed to be here."

"Okay?"

She patted the bed.

"I know this is your room, but come sit."
Steve obliged, and sat respectively apart.

"Listen," she said. "I know you didn't mean to, well, hurt me," she gave Steve a sad look. "It's not me that's mad, but Clint. I don't think we can go back to what we had, but I'm willing to try for something new, if that's alright."

Steve nodded, not wanting to interrupt.

"We can do it, right?"
He nodded again.

"Yeah," he said, and she grinned.

"Race ya to the kitchen," she said, and stood up.

"Should you really be-"

She fixed him with a withering glare, and he backed down, scratching his neck.
She may be almost a foot shorter, but she intimidated him. And she knew it.

Faster than he could say 'wait up', she was out the door. He jogged to the kitchen, letting her win, and sat at the counter. Just then, Clint walked in. He fixed Steve with a glare, and then raised his eyebrows at Natasha.

"Nat?" He asked uncertainly.

"Clint, it's fine," she said.

He looked unconvinced, but when she looked him in the eye, he nodded, and grabbed a blueberry yogurt out of the fridge. Natasha threw a spoon at his head and he caught it, just before it hit him. He sat down across from Steve, who looked nervous.

"Just because you're in good terms with her doesn't mean all is forgiven," he said menacingly, and Steve flinched.

"Clint," Natasha scolded, and Clint straightened. He turned to Steve.

"I'm watching you," he said, before exiting.
Natasha just shook her head.

"Don't mind him."

The pair spent the day catching up on the tour that they missed. They followed a general named Okoye, and T'challa's sassy little sister, Shuri, who had an opinion about everything.

After the tour, Steve lead Natasha to his room, shutting the door. She sat lightly on his bed, wincing slightly at the contact, but then smiled.
He sat next to her, and put his hand on hers. Her eyes met his and he leaned in, close enough that their foreheads touched.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and before he could finish, her lips were on his. He momentarily hesitated, but then kissed her back with the same passion. Her hands came and rested in his chest, and his hands came to her waist.
His right hand came to the back of her head, and she moved her hands up to rest at the back of his neck. They pulled away, gasping for air, and Steve looked at her, carefully. Her piercing emerald eyes met his, and she smiled.

"I missed you, Rogers," she said, and he brushed a lock of red hair behind her ear.

She blinked, and a smirk played on her lips. Steve's gaze flickered to them, and she quirked an eyebrow.

"Afraid to kiss me?" she said, and this time he didn't hesitate.

He moved his hand down her waist, but she hissed and pulled away when he brushed her ribs.

"Sorry," he said nervously. She took one look at his expression and laughed, wincing from the flare of pain in her ribs.

"It's fine," she muttered, grinning. "I'm fine, but my stupid ribs interrupted something."

He grinned back, and stood up.

"Hold your horses there, Romanoff," he shrugged. "Works out, because I needed to grab something."

He left for a moment and came back, his hands seemingly empty. Natasha gave him a questioning glance and she stood.
He went to her and her hands came to meet at the nape of his neck, his hands going to her waist, as gently as he could.

He looked into her eyes, and she grinned. Steve leaned down, bringing his lips to meet hers, and they shuffled backwards. He pressed her against the wall, and she winced a little but didn't stop. He pulled away, and stood back.

"Now hold on, just a moment, Agent," he said, and she raised an eyebrow. He pulled something out of his pocket, and got down on one knee.

"Natalia Alianovna Romanova," he said and she froze, and tear trickling down her cheek. "I have made some very big mistakes in my lifetime, but I want the chance to make it right."

She nodded, hanging onto his every word, and he grinned.

"We've been dating for a year now, and I've made up my mind. I don't care what Clint thinks, or Sam or Tony," he went on, and she chuckled. "But will you make me the happiest, luckiest man alive, and marry me?"

Natasha could've jumped up and down for joy, if her ribs had allowed it, but instead, tears pouring down her face, she nodded fervently.

"Yes," she said and Steve stood, pulling her into his strong embrace.

He slipped the ring onto her finger, and kissed her, deeply. When they pulled apart, Natasha checked the clock, and looked out the window.

It was 10:30pm, and when she saw that it was dark, she quirked an eyebrow at Steve, her eyes flickering to his unmade bed.

"You're not still a virgin, Rogers?" She asked, already knowing the answer.