Romanogers - Oneshots

𝔦'𝔪 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔠𝔥𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔪𝔞𝔰

"Steady, now,"

The ice is smooth and unmarred as Steve inches out, clutching Natasha's fingers. He studies her for any signs of discomfort, but her face remains as neutral as ever, steadfastly watching his skate-clad feet. He tries to loosen his grip to no avail; his anxiety and the cold have stiffened up his joints like frozen gears. His knees are the same, cast iron splints. Any brief relax of his muscles feels treacherous, and he really doesn't want to fall on his face in front of Natasha.

"If you keep standing so stiff like that, you're definitely gonna fall. You've gotta be loose, see?"
"No, Natasha-" And she's off, pushing off and breaking away from him to glide across the frozen lake. Steve tries to stay as still as possible, and not to think about how just inches underneath him is freezing, churning water. How it could crack at any second, send him scrabbling back into those frigid depths... At first, her drawling suggestion to 'borrow' some skates and the natural rink for an hour at the darkest hour of the night had seemed like fun. Daring. They stepped easily over the tape, she picked the lock on the skate shack with her eyes closed, and found boots that fit within minutes. But now, out here, it just seems reckless. And all because you wanted to impress a dame. He hears Bucky's voice in his head, and shakes it. Concentrating, he controls his breathing, and turns his mind back to Natasha.

In contrast to his knock-kneed form, she's beautiful, he won't deny it. Her skills are nothing fancy, she just completes a lap, hands folded behind her back behind her back. The blades trace cursive, spell out illegible swirls. He cheeks are red when she comes to a stop in front of him.
"Like that."
"I don't think I'll be able to do that, Nat."
"I don't know, you're a fast learner, Rogers."
Her gloved hands take his back. The cold tips of her fingers are startling next to the wool, and he tries (and probably fails) not to blush. She pulls him out backwards, and she's right. He is a fast learner. It takes him a while to unlock his joints, and he's still wobbly, but he at least understands how to push from one foot to the other. It's all going so well, until he tries to stop. She does first, with a grin and a flash of her heels. But he quickly realises stopping is an area he hasn't mastered. What is is they say? Don't climb a tree until you know how to get down? Same thing. Steve climbed to high, too fast. Too cocky. Horror comes over his face with the grim realisation. Natasha doesn't have time to make a sound before he careens into her, but he hears a tiny 'oof' as they fall in slow motion.

He sticks out his own ungloved palms to take the brunt of the impact as they land and winces at the burn of the ice, but is soon distracted by their position. Pressed nose to nose, flush hips to hips on top of each other. Staring wide-eyed down at her, Steve can't help but stare at her eyes, how they seem to blink in slow motion, the pink in her cheeks, the curve of her nose, her lips. Especially as she draws in a chunk to bite on it. God, her lips.
"Sorry..." He stammers.
"It's fine."
Neither make an attempt to move. She doesn't even twitch as he lowers his head, in a trance to capture her mouth with his. Her eyes are glazed when they pull back, and Steve is trembling. Only half from the cold.
"That was...nice. Do it again."
"Off the ice?"
She looks over at the shack, as if contemplating the worth of the distance. "Off the ice."