A/N: Written as a collab. with the awesome MarvelLuver!

Disclaimer: Neither of us own Marvel, Captain America, Tony Stark, etc. Any of it. Trust me, if we did, it'd be different. Way different.

They were flying.

Literally.

No matter how many times he rode in the helicarrier, Steve just couldn't get used to it. He'd gone to sleep –metaphorically, of course. He didn't think that crashing face-first into solid ice counted as "sleeping."– and woken up seventy years later, in an age where flying was more than normal.

He heard the familiar buzz of one of Tony's many tools and flicked his eyes away from the giant windows to see him begin to weld two pieces of metal together. "Why did you blow up your suits in the first place, if you're just rebuilding them again?"

"I did it, Capsicle, as an act of love," Tony informed him, turning back to his new suit's arm.

"Ready, Cap?" Natasha asked, entering the room, a parachute strapped to her back.

"For what?" Steve inquired, giving her his full attention.

Natasha grinned. "We're jumping," she told him, handing him a parachute of his own, "Whether you want to or not."

"What if I don't want to?" Steve challenged her.

"Scared?" Natasha taunted him.

Steve was suddenly aware of how little space there was between them. He took a step backward.

Tony rolled his eyes.

Natasha sighed. The man was oblivious.

Tony turned back to his tinkering, hiding a smirk. Eventually, things would go soap-opera. He wanted to be around when they did.

"I'm not scared," Steve retorted, albeit a beat too late. There was only one thing he was afraid of, and she was standing right in front of him.

"Then let's go," Natasha replied.

Tony glanced between the pair. He wasn't sure if they were still talking about jumping.

Steve blinked. "I have a–"

Natasha sighed. "If you say 'assignment' one more time, I swear–"

"Maybe I wasn't going to." Steve turned his gaze downward, fiddling with the chords on the parachute casing.

"And maybe you were," Natasha muttered.

"I wa–" Steve began, but Natasha had already turned and stalked out of the room.

"Just have sex already," Tony said, under his breath.

"What?" Steve paused, half-way between the following Natasha and letting her go.

"I– Nothing," Tony assured him, a grin more devious than even the Devil himself would wear plastered on his face.

Steve didn't buy a syllable of it, but dismissed it, as he had more pressing matters at the moment.

It took him barely more than a minute to strap himself into the parachute and two more to find Natasha by the exit hatch. The wind pulsed through the room, teasing her red hair away from her face.

Steve gulped. "I didn't mean–"

"I know," Natasha said softly. With that, she grabbed the great Captain America by the shoulders and pulled him down to eye level. "Hold on tight."

Then they were falling. The air whistled by at unimaginable speeds and any sense of direction they may have possessed, just moments before, was stolen from them.

Their parachutes folded open, slowing their plummet to a more graceful fall.

They still hit the water. Hard.

Natasha surfaced first and waited for her partner to do the same. When he did, he was coughing and spluttering.

"A little warning would've been nice!" he yelled over the wind.

Natasha paddled over to him and pointed at the barge floating just yards away. "I'm warning you now, aren't I?" she asked.

"Not the same," Steve said, shaking his head. "Definitely not the same."

"Here's another warning," Natasha murmured, once more grabbing him by the shoulders. She pulled him in swiftly, pressing her lips to his.

They didn't join their team on the barge for a very long time.