Author's Note/Disclaimer: Thank you for your reads, favs, follows, and feedback! ^.^ You guys are the best! I decided to write a prequel to Impulses, since it was kind of vague (it WAS based off of my dream after all, and dreams are quite abstract) and I thought it could use some background. This is part one, I hope to write part two soon :). On a side note, if you can...GO WATCH THE WINTER SOLDIER! It's amazing and I cried multiple times (also, Captain America in a tank top? Natasha and Steve kicking ass? Yes PLEASE!). All of the characters in this story belong to Marvel. Enjoy!

Impulses - Prequel Part I

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Natasha pulled her hand back from the clock on her nightstand, rolled on her back and stared bleary-eyed at the ceiling, blinking a few times to clear her head. The early morning, foggy light that made its way in through her window cast her room in a light shade of grey. Dawn should break in about half an hour, she noted, slowly easing herself into a sitting position. GOD I need coffee. Dragging her legs over the side of the bed, she looked down at herself and decided that her black tank and sweatpants ensemble was sufficient for getting coffee from the cafeteria kitchen. Who am I trying to impress anyways, she scoffed. Knowing that brushing her teeth before drinking the dark brew waiting for her downstairs would be disgusting, she put on a bra, ran a hand through her wavy hair a few times, and slowly made her way to the cafeteria.

The silence that loomed in the halls broke as she pushed open one of the swinging cafeteria doors, closing behind her with a loud bang. She winced a little, but did not waver from her important mission. Once the silence returned, she noticed that she wasn't alone. The soft rustle of newspaper to her left caught her attention. She snapped her head toward the sound and met the amused eyes of the Captain. "Sorry if I startled you," he began, bringing his newspaper back up in front of his face, "Good morning, Natasha." Slowly, she let herself breath again, "'Morning…Captain," and continued on her way to the kitchen entrance. The light was already on and someone had started the coffee maker, enough for one cup would be ready in a few minutes. Opening the cabinet door with a whiny creak, she grabbed a white mug and set it down on the counter. Sighing, she leaned on the counter with her forearms, bowed her head and listened to the quiet noise of the machine. It was strange, seeing Steve downstairs in the morning. In the past couple of months that they were stationed at this base, she was usually the first person downstairs. She assumed it was him who had started the coffee, even though he was a tea drinker himself, not really needing the extra caffeine boost. Glancing over at the coffee pitcher, she saw that the brew had passed the mark for one cup. She slowly pushed herself back up and poured the coffee in her mug, returning the pitcher to the machine to continue filling. The mug warmed her hands as she took a small sip, "Mmmmmm," she hummed contentedly, feeling better almost immediately.

Leaving the kitchen, Natasha walked back towards the doors of the cafeteria. Steve was still sitting at one of the tables, reading quietly, steaming mug of tea sitting beside his arm. For a moment, she hesitated. As if sensing her hesitation, he bent down the top of his paper and looked at her curiously. On an impulse, she changed direction and walked towards his table.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked with a small smile, "I promise I won't bother you." She stopped in front of his table as he replied with a quiet smile, "Not at all," and set his newspaper down. She returned his smile and took the seat in front of him. "…and Natasha," he continued, "you're never a bother."

She hid her smile behind the rim of her mug, "Mmmm, if you say so," and watched as he took a sip from his own drink and picked his paper back up. She found herself admiring the hands holding the paper in front of her, watching as they shifted slightly over the smooth surface. Attached to those hands were a set of strong arms that flexed slightly when he turned a page, and attached to those arms were a very nice set of broad shoulders. He should wear casual and form-fitting, long-sleeved shirts all the time, she mused, taking another sip of her hot coffee and looking off to the side. They sat in a calm, comfortable silence as she finished her drink and he continued to read. Once finished, she slowly pushed her chair back, the grate of metal on wood breaking the still of the air once again. He looked up at her questioningly. "Thanks," she said, allowing a small smile to slip out, "for the coffee," she clarified, lifting her mug slightly. He returned her smile, "Anytime Natasha, thanks for keeping me company." She nodded, quickly walking back into the kitchen to return her mug to the sink. She would be back for more coffee later, but the others would soon be down and she wanted to leave enough for them.

On her way out, Steve looked up and she nodded in his direction, "I'll see you later, thanks again." He smiled again, "Anytime, see ya."

The next morning, to her surprise, Steve was once again sitting in the cafeteria, quietly reading the paper and drinking hot tea. Again, the coffee machine had already been started. On an impulse, she decided to sit with him again, quietly drinking her coffee while he read. Slowly, this became their daily morning routine. Approximately a week had passed when, on an impulse, Natasha decided to break their comfortable silence and talk to him. He didn't seem to mind, after all he did say she was never a bother...and he always meant what he said. As time passed, when she would return from the kitchen with her mug he would immediately set down his paper with a soft smile and their conversation would begin.

One morning, about a month after she had first joined him at his table, Natasha walked into the cafeteria to find the chair normally occupied by a certain Captain, empty. Frowning slightly, she looked around the room. Hearing a soft clatter and the sound of running water, her face brightened and she made her way into the kitchen. As the door swung open, Steve looked up and smiled, "'Mornin'" he said, placing the coffee pitcher back into the machine. "'Morning Captain," she replied, "Little slow today, hm?" She smirked coyly and leaned her hip against the counter, folding her arms across her chest. He laughed, slightly embarrassed, and looked down, "Yeah, took me a bit longer than usual to get out of bed, that mission yesterday wore me out, as much as I hate to admit it." She smiled and shook her head at him, "We all have our days, Captain, no one is perfect." He met her eyes with his own, hesitating a moment as if he wanted to say something, but thought better of it and opened the creaky cabinet, pulling out two white mugs. Their fingers brushed slightly as she took the mug from him, and she couldn't help but notice how warm he was. He hesitated again before pulling his hand back quickly, turning perhaps a little too casually to the cabinet that contained the tea.

"Hey," she started abruptly, "I…I just wanted you to know, I think this…this is nice." She sucked in her breath slightly, afraid that her words had conveyed more than he needed to know, inwardly cursing her impulsiveness. He looked back over his shoulder at her with surprise, a soft smirk slowly appearing on his face, "Yeah? Me too." He turned back to the cabinet, hiding a slowly growing smile that he was afraid would give away more than she needed to know.