The Prince And The Rose

The Ways I Love You

Philia, Deep Friendship: concerns the deep comradely friendship that develops between brothers in arms who have fought side by side on the battlefield; is about showing loyalty to your friends, sacrificing for them, and sharing your emotions with them.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“No.”

Steve smiled sleepily and pulled the covers over to the side so that Natasha could lay down next to him. She hesitated, then lay down and curled up next to him. After a moment, he wrapped one arm around her waist and tugged her closer.

“Bad dreams?” he asked.

“No.” She shrugged. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

He nodded. He knew how that felt, the fear that if he closed his eyes he’d be back in the war. So he held Natasha close and promised, silently, to be there for her whenever she needed him.

“Thanks, Steve,” she said, almost as if she’d heard his thoughts.

“Any time.”

Ludus, Playful Love: referred to the affection between children or young lovers; dancing may be the ultimate ludic activity.

“Hasn’t anyone taught you how to dance?” Natasha asked.

Steve was clearly reluctant to answer, but his red cheeks and shuffling feet made it obvious that no one had. “I was waiting,” he explained, shrugging sheepishly, “for the right partner. Maybe that sounds silly, but I wanted it to be special. I was going to dance with… with Peggy. We made a date, but that was while I was falling, and once I woke up… I didn’t want to learn then. It would have hurt too much.”

Natasha frowned, sympathetic. “We can just skip it, if you want,” she suggested.

“No.” Steve smiled at her, and she could see hope and sorrow in his blue eyes. “I need to learn, and I’d like it if you were the one to teach me.”

Natasha was disconcerted to feel a flutter in her stomach, like nervous excitement. She shook herself mentally. Now is not the time to develop a silly crush, she admonished herself. “Alright then, Steven Grant Rogers. I’ll teach you how to waltz.”

He grinned at her excitedly, and she couldn’t help but smile back.

Agape, Unconditional Love: perhaps the most radical kind of love is agape, or “selfless love”; C.S. Lewis referred to it as "gift love" because it is often not deserved.

When he woke up, she was gone. He couldn’t believe it at first; why would she desert him in the middle of a mission? But then, they’d talked about things last night that had probably made her nervous. He knew how she felt about herself, about his love for her. So really, he shouldn’t be surprised. All she’d left was her sleeping bag and her StarkPad. He’d been avoiding looking at the tablet, knowing that she’d probably left it for a reason. A message, probably. However, after two hours of waiting in vain for her to come back, he finally picked up the device.

“Swipe to open.”

He did.

There was no message, but there was a dark blue background. SHIELD logo. The words “Romanova, Natalia Alianovna” in black font. Her file, Steve realized. She wanted him to read her file.

He swiped left to open it.

The file was full of case after case after case of murder and seduction. Missions completed by the Black Widow. Steve couldn’t help the sick feeling in his stomach as he looked at the pictures and read the descriptions, and he struggled to reconcile this woman who was Russia’s deadliest assassin with the Natasha he knew.

When he finished reading through the missions she’d been responsible for, the file addressed her training. How she’d been recruited when she was only nine years old for the Black Widow program and been taught how to dance. How the program was highly competitive and forced the girls to hurt and sometimes kill each other. How the Winter Soldier had been loaned to the Red Room to train the girls (why had she never mentioned that?) and how he and Natalia had turned out to be a good team. How the Red Room had injected Natasha with the serum that made her strong but also unable to have children. By the time he finished, he realized he was crying. Crying for little Natalia Alianovna and the life that she never got to live.

No wonder she thought he shouldn’t love her. She had an incredibly painful, bloody past. And yeah, he could even understand why she would think that he would hate her after reading all that. But he wasn’t even angry. Just sad. And worried. He had to find her and tell her that it was alright, that he understood.

Really, when he thought about it, it was easy to tell where she was. He stood up, tucked her StarkPad back into her sleeping bag, bundled it up so he could carry it with him, and slung his shield onto his back. She wouldn’t have gone far, and her file had listed her safe houses. She had one just a mile away.

The house was little more than a shack in the middle of nowhere, rundown and probably in danger of collapse. Steve approached it cautiously, since there could very well be traps in place. Thankfully, he made it to the door without incident.

He lifted one hand.

And knocked.

At first, there was no response, but then Natasha opened the door. Her eyes were guarded, wary, like a stray cat’s. She’d apparently been crying.

“Hi,” he said, smiling slightly.

She nodded and stepped aside so he could come in. He handed her the rolled up sleeping bag and stood just inside, somewhat unsure of himself.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

He nodded. He wanted to kiss her, which might have been a strange thing to want under the circumstances, but he didn’t know how to do this.

“You read it?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed, feeling nervous, and scuffed his foot against the floor. “I don’t know how to do this, Nat. Sorry. I’m useless at words. So I guess I just mean… I’m sorry about everything that happened to you.” Be careful now, Rogers. A lot depends on this. “And I wish it could have happened to me instead. It isn’t fair, what they did to you. But what I mean to say is, it doesn’t matter. What you did, it doesn’t matter. I’m not… I don’t have a right to judge you, and I know the real you anyway. Who you are now, that’s the real you. And I love you, Natasha Romanoff. And I don’t care what you’ve done, not really.”

She stared at him, her eyes filling with tears. She looked so torn. “I’d like to believe that, Steve. Really.” She shook her head. “But even you can’t be that perfect.”

He laughed. “I’m not perfect, Natasha. If I was, I don’t think I would be able to say any of that. Look at me.” He cupped her chin in his hand, gently tilting her face up towards his so he could meet her eyes. “I mean it. I don’t care what you’ve done. I love you, Nat, and that’s not going to change. I promise.”

She closed her eyes, and a single tears traced its way down her cheek. He sighed and pulled her in close, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair. He could feel her crying against his chest, and he held onto her as if he could put all her broken pieces back together. “I love you, Nat,” he murmured. “I love you so much, okay?”

They stood there in the rundown safe house, rocking back and forth and crying, holding each other because they needed to be close.