Love Is For Children

Chapter 6

Steve awakes because of the earthquake. Or what feels like an earthquake. The sofa bed is trembling violently, and it's second before he realises that it's coming from Natasha's sleeping form, who appears to be lying at his side.

They didn't mean to fall asleep in the same bed, leaning against each other, just due to the connotations, and due to the inevitable 'Steve and Natasha slept together *wink wink, nudge nudge* jokes they'll be the butt of for a good year. One of the others will probably 'accidentally' shout it in the corridor as a not-so-funny joke, and before they know it the whole school will be on their back.

In fact, it was agreed in Pepper's sleeping plan that Natasha would snooze beside Wanda on the other side of the room, but that space is currently occupied by Bucky, so they'll use that as their excuse in the morning. Perhaps try and deflect the jibes toward this arrangement which is obviously not accidental, in comparison to theirs, which means nothing, of course.

Anyway, Steve wakes to the thought: But we don't get earthquakes in Britain, before he turns over and sees Natasha lying there, shaking like a blender. It's obvious she's having a nightmare. She doesn't thrash about like they do in the movies, like it's described in books. The sheets aren't tangled, she doesn't scream like they say people do. But it's still obvious. The way her face is screwed up, eyes shut tight, mouth twisted in a grimace. Her limbs are pulled in tight, fists balled, toes curled. Sweat beads on her pale forehead. The only sound she elicits is shallow breathing, and a tiny whimper amongst it all. Almost like she'd trained herself not to scream, not to thrash.

Steve doesn't know what to do. He's never had to do this before. Should he wake her? There's a rule with people having nightmares...and he can't remember what it is. Or is that sleepwalkers? But he can't exactly leave her like this. It's like seeing someone break their leg and simply turning your back and strolling off. He won't be able to sleep at any rate. But how?

He's about to grip her shoulder, whisper her name awkwardly. He's never been that good at improv. But suddenly her eyes fly open and the shaking stops. Steve freezes, scared for some reason that she'll see he's awake. But she doesn't, just sits up and swings her legs over the side, breathing deeply for a second as her hands pull the mussed vibrant tresses back, rub over her face, before padding silently in the direction of the kitchen.

He lies there for a few minutes, thinking. Eventually he too stumbles over various heads and limbs and pillows and through to the kitchen. With considerably less grace, and several creaks of floorboards.

She stands with her back to him. On one leg. The other is up by her ear, held there by her left arm, right arm clutching a glass of water. The foot is arched in the style, pointed completely over. He watches in awe as her arm slowly lets go, leg barely wavering as the arm relaxes into what Steve, from his very limited knowledge of ballet, thinks is second position. A soft exhale is let out of her mouth, perhaps a sigh of relief.
"Still got it."
Leg lowering slightly for ease, she pivots on her leg a quarter turn, hip rotating so the leg is behind her in an 'arabesque', maybe. The water slops a little over the side and she huffs with annoyance, but still doesn't spot him.

He feels uncomfortable. Perhaps this view is one many men he knows would salivate over, but Steve just feels like he shouldn't be here. Maybe he should look away, or retreat before she notices.

She sets the glass on the counter in front of her, leg still high, but her hand slips and it tips over the side. He can't help himself, and dives forward, catching the glass before it smashes, though splattering all the clear liquid over the tiles. She jumps back in surprise, stumbling back on two feet, eyes wide with surprise.

"Woah, lurking in the shadows now are we? I feel like I have a right to know if you're secretly a vampire." Her eyebrow quirks up.
"Nope." He slips a small smile. "I, uh, saw you leave. I wanted to check you were okay." He stammers.
"I'm fine." She says. "Throat felt a bit dry. That's all."
"Oh." He swallows. "Muscles tight too I suppose." She chuckles. "How on earth do you get your leg that high?"
"A lot of bone cricking."
"Ouch."
"Pain is pleasure. No pain no gain. The ballet teacher's mantra."
He chuckles as she rolls her eyes and lifts a leg on to the counter, still watching him as she bends over.
It's fascinating, the flexibility, the strength. The lithe body, how supple it is. It's fascinating. And rather distracting.
"Don't you feel uncomfortable doing that in front of me?" He blurts, colour rising to his cheeks.
"What, stretching?" She looks at him in surprise.
"Aren't you scared I'm...ogling, or something?" Shoulders shrug as he stutters.
"Are you?" A smirk plays on her lips. She's laughing at his embarrassment.
"Um. No." It's hard not to.
"Then no." She looks him up and down. "You're not the type. Or my type." She stifles an uncontrollable giggle as his ears turn red.
"Oh."
"Why, want me to stop?" She smirks.
"Um...no, I guess it's fine. You do you."
"I can if it's making you uncomfortable."
"Just distracting, that's all." Her grin widens.
"Uh huh. You're cute when you're embarrassed." He looks for something to say when this conversation is getting increasingly...confusing. "Relax Steve. I'm messing with you."
"Oh." Is all he says. There's more silence