•Romanogers OneShots•

11 • I Can't Get You Out Of My Head

One in three are born with a soulmate. If you have one, you can hear every the song stuck in the other's head. Fluff and Angst. Takes place days before the Battle Of New York.

Natasha never thought she would have a soulmate. In fact, she didn't think she had one until she joined the Avengers. Throughout her childhood in the Red Room, she would hear the whispers of the other girls sharing the songs their soulmates couldn't get out their heads. Even her bestfriend Yelena had a soulmate.

Of course the matter of not having a soulmate, made everything easier. While the others were humming songs and hoping of rescue by their soulmate; Natasha was training. The trainers in the Red Room prided her on not getting caught up with the ideal of "true love." After all they told her love is for children. Truthfully, even if she wanted a soulmate, she never had an experience like the other girls did. Her mind was always clear. Sometimes painfully clear, which got lonely quickly.

Now, on a mission in Prague, sitting on a roof in the rain, her left eye down the scope of a rifle, she unbeknownst to herself, starts humming a Journey song.

"What. The. Hell," She whispers to herself. Natasha adjusts her position, and aims for the diplomats head. She pulls the trigger and watches the man fall, and the crowd around him panics. This was supposed to be an easy mission. Cross off the target, no witnesses. Now she has Don't stop Believin' on repeat. What's even worse is that it's not the whole song. Just half of a verse.

Natasha unscrews the suppressor and removes the scope from her riffle. She places all of her gear back into their cases and climbs down from the roof.

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Steve Rogers thought the idea of music in the 21st century to be loud and obnoxious. Of course this didn't go for all music just ones with heavy bass and lyrics with words that he didn't know the meaning to. To him the entirety of the 21st century was just too loud. Cars with modified exhaust pipes to be obnoxious on purpose, and these things called Bluetooth speakers which everyone has now. Don't get him started on flat screen TVs.

As part of his acclamation to this new world post-World War Two, walking everywhere was part of his routine. It helps him keep ties to whatever pieces of 1940s Brooklyn, when neither he or Bucky could afford a car. So they walked.

But you can't walk everywhere. On one practically cold and rainy day, he decides to take the subway. Steve keeps his eyes trained on the cracked tiled floorings, only looking up when he hears the gentle strumming of a guitar, and a life worn voice following the gentle pattern. An older man on a stool drew a small crowd, curiously Steve wandered over to listen as well.

His voice came out hoarse and rough at first; his voice began to adjust to the melodic strumming of the guitar. The man's wrinkled fingers, play through the riff expertly. Steve taps his foot to the song and picks up a few lines. Realizing the time, Steve walks away from the small gathering, and the man with the guitar.

Steve tap his hand on his thigh during the train ride. A deep hum in the back of his throat, reminding him of the tune. People playing music on the streets wasn't uncommon, in his time. But seeing it for the first time sense the 40s grounded him in a way he couldn't articulate.

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Of course Barton had to go and get himself tangled up in something while she was on a mission. She was so close to breaking up this cell. It would expose some people she's been hunting for decades. Now she is in India, waiting for Banner, with that same damn song stuck in her head. Natasha doesn't think it's a soulmate. Maybe she heard it on the radio in the cab she took the other day, or maybe it was the coffee shop she sat in for about an hour the day before. Anything but the possibility of a soulmate; a person who would love her forever. Sounds like bullshit, she whispers to herself.