Romanogers - Oneshots

Don't give me all that roses crap

Natasha despised Valentines Day. Like really, really despised it. Her least favourite day of the year. And she didn't even know why. She supposed it was just the knowledge that she could never have all that it was devoted to, true love, families. All that soppiness, the promises of forever, the hearts, the flowers, the pink. God, everything was so pink on Valentines day. Of course, those promises would be broken in due course, the hearts would shatter, the flowers would wilt. They always did. Nothing lasts forever.

It's not like she would be doing anything for it. The only reason she knew is because she randomly asked the AI on board the ship this morning. She never usually asked for the date. It's not like she needed to know it. Everyday was the same as the next. Run. Fight. Don't be seen. Hide. Live. And they didn't celebrate any special events, birthdays, Christmas, Easter. They didn't have the time, nor the money, nor the energy.

But today she felt like knowing, even if it would make no difference. And now she was in a bad mood. This revelation had completely ruined her day.

Steve emerged from the bathroom of their trailer, smelling of soap. The trailer was stolen, of course; they hadn't had the money to buy their own, and staying at hotels for nights at a time was dangerous and, of course, expensive. This was near to a perfect solution. A portable cabin that cost nearly nothing to live in. The only cost was the gas that worked the stove and water tank, but they were as frugal with that as possible. And it wouldn't be missed, as far as they could tell. They found it just sitting in the drive of a house that belonged to an elderly couple who had moved to Spain two years ago, according to the neighbours.

It was usually just her and Steve, and she liked it that way. They moved around, pretending to be an infatuated couple on a honeymoon when necessary. It was a good strategy. Sometimes got them free food. Natasha wouldn't admit to herself the real reason she liked posing as Steve's girlfriend so much. She liked it because she wished it was real. She wished more than anything that she could have that, but it was impossible. There's no place for love when the whole world is trying to kill you.

Sam used to be there with them, but he had left a few months ago, said he needed to 'sort some stuff out'. He still dropped by at least once a week, when he could find them, but they were no longer the travelling trio. So now it was just her and Steve. Steve and her. Running, with no end in sight.

Steve walks over to sit down next to her.
"You okay?" He asks.
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just..." She replied. "It's just that I don't want to be running forever. I don't want to live out the rest of my life in hiding, but I don't see an end in sight."
He's quiet for a few moments, before chuckling, "Well you're not the best company either," He pauses as she wacks him in the arm. She's really trying not to laugh, he can see it, but an adorable beam lights up her face all the same, and Steve feels an unfamiliar stir in the pit of his stomach. "but I know what you mean. I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement though. This won't be forever."
"Well I guess it wouldn't be all bad." She ponders her next words. They could be dangerous, but she says them anyway. "I have you." Her pulse speeds up a little as she waits for his response. Steve's stomach does a small flip. She has him? He doesn't want to take this the wrong way, do something she wouldn't reciprocate.
"Not so eager to get rid of me after all Romanoff?"

She laughs, something light that bubbles from her lips. He wants to kiss her then and there, but of course he refrains. He shifts slightly so he's facing her more. Their outer thighs now touch. She starts to speak, but he interrupts her. "Wait, you've got an eyelash." He gestures on his face and she pauses. He reaches over to brush it away with his thumb, cupping her face in his hand as he does so. Her breath hitches slightly. They both try to ignore the electricity, the sparks that fly, the way their hearts beat faster, how they're slowly drawing closer and closer together. But of course it's impossible.

She expects him to pull his hand away; the eyelash is long gone, but he doesn't. He strokes her face again, his thumb tracing over the perfect, pale skin over her cheek bone. A shiver goes down her spine. Their heads move, bumping half way, noses rubbing. His hand trails to her hip.
"Steve..." She whispers.
"Nat..." He breathes.
Neither can stand it anymore. Their lips touch and it's like nothing they've ever done. At first it's slow, but the passion builds quickly until it's fiery, fast, hot, and everything they've ever wanted.

Sam walks up to the trailer for his weekly visit, a bunch of roses behind his back. They're for no-one in particular, and he doubts either of them even know it's Valentine's Day. He knows Natasha especially will hate it, and smirks. Oh well, the roses will lighten the mood. Perhaps he'll spend the day trying to get his two favourite 'criminal' companions together. Perhaps today will be the day where there's progress, and they'll actually take action on the 'secret' feelings that are written all over their faces whenever they do much as look at each other. He is not prepared for what awaits him through the window.

Sam is just about to open the door (of course it's unlocked. They may be a super soldier and world-class spy, but security doesn't seem to be their primary concern) when he gets an eyeful through a window. His eyes widen and he stops in his tracks, bouquet falling to the floor at his sides as his jaw drops. Because there on the bed are Steve and Natasha, at this moment engrossed in an intense make-out session.

This does not compute. Sam has seen them kiss before; they do that sometimes when acting. It seems to come so easy when they're not themselves. But as Steve and Nat, it's a different story. They would barely touch each other last week for embarrassment. But lord, they're doing a whole lot more than that now.

Both have been stripped to their underwear, Natasha in lingerie and Steve in his boxers. She lies on top of him, hands on his face and pulling him closer as his hands rest lightly on her waist, sometimes sliding up and down her sides and stroking her hips, eliciting a soft shudder and a sigh of pleasure. Her hair is tousled and a rosy blush colours both their cheeks.

A gasp escapes and Sam slaps a hand over his mouth. Slowly, a grin works its way on to his face, elation pushing away astonishment. He lays the roses carefully down next to the door and creeps away. Now is not the time for disturbances.

"Happy freaking Valentine's Day." He mutters to himself, grinning.