Every once in a while, Steve was struck by how beautiful Natasha was. There was question that she was gorgeous, but occasionally it just hit him hard that she was something special. Sometimes when she was fighting, sometimes when she was laughing, sometimes when she was tired and frustrated, he would look at her and it would occur to him, strong and certain, that he was incredibly glad to know her.
He didn't really know when he'd begun to love her, for certain, but the realization stood out crystal-clear in his memory forever afterwards. It wasn't a very special sort of day. Silver-grey clouds like fish scales, rain dusting the earth in misty, light drops.
It was cold out, but Steve had decided that he wanted to take a walk, the dreary weather notwithstanding. He couldn't get sick, after all, and it wasn't cold enough (he thought) to trigger his PTSD. So he put on a hoodie and sweatpants and left the Tower by himself.
He had walked about a block when he heard running footsteps behind him; Natasha, probably. He turned around, grinning. She came running up in one of his sweatshirts and a pair of tennis shoes, smiling and a bit out of breath.
"Do you have to walk so fast, Mr. Super Soldier?" she complained, punching him in the arm. She'd put her hair in a ponytail, but a few strands had already escaped the hair tie and hung loose around her face.
"I didn't know you were coming," he said with a shrug. "But I probably wouldn't have slowed down anyway."
She rolled her eyes dramatically at him, a hint of a smile pulling at her lips. "You absolutely would have, you dork." Linking her arm through his, she tucked some of the loose strands of her hair behind her ears.
"Yeah, probably." He smiled and resumed walking.
The rain was so light that it didn't soak into Natasha's clothes or hair, instead collecting in silver patterns on her sweatshirt. She reminded Steve of a bird, comfortable and easy in the rain with her red hair smoothed out of her face.
It was definitely a cold day, but his sweatshirt kept him warm, and it was easy to forget how chilly his own hands were becoming when he paused to rubs Nat's frigid fingers between his.
"We should probably go back," he said, eyeing her with concern. Her cheeks were flushed bright red from the cold, but she gave him a teasing smile and started to answer and suddenly he couldn't breathe because oh God.
He loved her.
When had that started? He didn't know and he didn't much care because in just that second she slotted into place in his heart like a missing puzzle piece. He missed what she was saying, too taken aback by his thoughts to focus.
"Hey, you okay?"
He mentally shook himself, unable to stop a goofy smile form spreading over his face. "Yeah, absolutely."
Nat raised an eyebrow. "You sure? Because you look a bit… drunk, or something."
"No, no, I'm good." It took all his willpower not to reach out and push her damp hair out of her face. Realizing that he was just standing there staring at her, he cleared his throat and shifted his weight. "But we really should go back to the Tower; you're gonna catch your death."
She smacked him half-heartedly but turned with him, taking his hand instead of his arm this time. Her palm was ice-cold and that worried him, but she was smiling and talking animatedly about something she was working on. Probably the accurate word to describe her appearance at the moment was bedraggled, but all Steve could think was beautiful.
And already that realization hurt because he knew all too well that he wasn't nearly good enough for her. Still, he pushed those thoughts away for the moment and let himself imagine some kind of future with her, strangely desperate to recall every moment he'd ever spent with her and memorize them in case, somehow, he dared to forget.
In case he ever lost her.
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The Prince And The Rose
FanfictionIt started when they were a couple of friends who didn't want to date but the friendship leads to more....
