The Prince And The Rose

Sleepsong

Steve watched Natasha in the gym working on her punches, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She knew he was watching her, of course (she always knew), but she pretended he wasn’t there.

He’d been watching her for a few weeks now, honestly, and not just in the gym. It had been just over a month since Sokovia. Just over a month since the man that Natasha loved – that shouldn’t make him so angry – had abandoned them all. And strangely, Natasha didn’t seem upset.

Steve knew Nat well enough at this point that he could tell how she was feeling on most days, and for the past few weeks he had realized that for someone whose (lover? Boyfriend? Confidante?)had just left her, she was strangely calm. That probably meant that she was much more angry or sad than she was admitting, and that worried him.

“Anytime you wanna stop staring at me is fine, Rogers.”

Steve blinked, his eyes refocusing. “Sorry.”

Natasha had stopped hitting the punching bag and was giving him a slightly amused, slightly ironic smile. “Do you need something?”

He shrugged. “No. I was just…”

“Steve. Please don’t lie to me.”

He laughed humorlessly. Of course she knew something was wrong; he was bad enough at hiding his thoughts from people who didn’t know him well, and Nat was his best friend. “Look, Romanoff, it’s not a big deal. I just zoned out and I got to thinking.”

“Yeah, that would be fine,” she retorted. “Except that you’ve been giving me strange looks for the past few weeks whenever you think I’m not paying attention. Why?”

Steve shook his head stubbornly. “It’s nothing. I just worry about you, that’s all.” He couldn’t tell her the reason; it would come across all wrong and he would sound so ignorant. It wasn’t like she had an obligation to tell him what was going on in her life.

She started unwrapping her hands and walked over to him, her eyes glittering with a mixture of concern and exasperation. “Is it something I did? Really, Steve, what’s wrong? You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“No, you didn’t do anything.” He sighed and turned to go, praying that she would just let it alone.

Her small, long-fingered hand wrapped around his bicep and tugged him to a stop. “Explain. Now.” Then, as an afterthought, “Please.”

Steve met her jungle eyes, and with a soft groan he rubbed a hand over his face. “Fine. Please don’t take this the wrong way, Natasha, it’s just… I thought that you’d be… more…” Oh, he felt so stupid now that he had to say it out loud. “I thought you’d be more upset than you seem to be. With Bruce gone. I mean, you and he were… I mean-”

“I understand.” Natasha’s expression was inscrutable. “Rogers, you should know by now that I don’t show my emotions like everybody else does.”

But I thought you might trust me, was what Steve thought. He dismissed that idea as selfish, however, and shrugged instead, saying, “I know, but normally I can tell. And I guess I thought since you were hiding your feelings so well that you must be really upset, so I was worried.”

Her eyes flashed and she crossed her arms. “So you decided to start avoiding me, is that it, Steve? You thought you could just stare at me from a distance and not have to actually interact with me?”

“I’m not-”

“Oh yes you are. You don’t call me Nat anymore, which is taking it pretty far; you aren’t even being subtle about it. You were worried about me, so you decided that deliberately not hanging out with me was a good move? We’re friends, Steven Grant Rogers, and friends don’t just avoid each other for no apparent reason.”

Steve swallowed, ashamed. She was right – as usual – but it had made sense at the time. It still did, really. He loved her (it felt as if he always had, but once again he’d waited till too late to say anything) and he wasn’t going to get in the way of her and Bruce’s relationship. He’d backed off for his sake as much as theirs. Everyone involved would just get hurt if he told Natasha how he felt, and it wasn’t as if she felt the same. He didn’t deserve her, not by a long shot, with his emotional baggage and PTSD and nightmares and self-loathing and pain. She didn’t need to deal with all that. No one did but him; it was his problem.

How was he supposed to explain all that to her without bringing that up or lying? Why did he always get himself in these kind of situations?

“It isn’t your fault,” he began, lamely.

She snorted, unimpressed.

“I’ve just been worrying about Bucky, and looking for him. It’s been keeping me busy.” A good enough excuse by most standards, but not good enough for Natasha Romanoff.

She scowled at him, shaking her head. “Steve, please. Stop lying to me.”

“Natasha, I can’t explain, alright? I can’t. It’s not… it’s not something I want to talk about.”

Please just let it go.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Her eyes were intense, blazing green fire, daring him to answer. Ordering him to answer. In contrast, her voice was gentle and soothing.

He hesitated, then threw his hands up in the air in frustration. “You wanna know, Romanoff? Okay. It’s because I was worried about getting in the way. Messing up you and Banner's relationship."

She blinked at him, and for just a minute he thought she hadn't realized, still didn't know-

"You... You were..." She seemed at a loss for words, for once. "God, Steve.”

Yeah, she knew. Steve straightened. He might as well tell her the truth now. He didn't have a choice, and maybe then she would understand. "I'm sorry, Nat. I was hoping you wouldn't figure it out and I could just bow out quietly. I mean, you and Banner liked each other and I didn't want to make it awkward by telling you, but it didn't quite work. I just couldn't do it, pretend it was all good and fine when I- well. Anyway, now you know. Please tell me you understand."

She stepped closer to him, eyes wide. "Rogers, what the hell?"

He blinked. "Um, I don't-"

"You couldn't tell me? You couldn't just..." She shut her eyes tight, letting out a tired sigh. "You're avoiding me because of a schoolboy crush? I thought you were tougher than that. Honestly, we-"

"No." He bit out the word like a curse. "I love you."

She stared at him, frozen, her expression vulnerable for just a moment. Then she seemed to shut down, pulling away. "You can't say that to me, Steve."

He started to apologize, but she wasn't done yet.

"I'm no good for you. You know better than most people what kind of woman I am, what I do. We aren't... We aren't compatible. I gave you an out, you damn idiot!" She was angry now, stabbing her finger at his chest. "Banner and I were happy enough. Two monsters, the perfect match. You could've picked anyone. You could have taken the out, but no, you daft, stupid, stubborn ass, you just had to be you and-"

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, what he thought he was hearing. Tentatively, he reached out and took her by the arms, tugging her up against his chest before he could second-guess himself. She paused in her tirade, glancing at his lips. He bit his own bottom lip nervously.

"May I?"

She didn't even answer him; with a breathless laugh she took his face in her hands and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him and oh lord. He didn't know what to do with his hands at first, but then he reached up and pulled the rubber band out of her hair, burying his fingers in her bright red curls and that was right. He deepened the kiss and that was right too. She was right. She wasperfect.

Natasha moved away first, somewhat breathless, and Steve was tempted to cheer. She tried for a smirk, although she still looked a little stunned. Steve knew how she felt; he hadn't expected any of that either.

"Second kiss since 1945?" she snarked, laughing quietly.

He snorted. "Shut up."

"No, no, it was a lot better that time."

"Practice makes perfect," he hummed, and bent to kiss her again.