Mabuhay

By: InitialA

Disclaimer: I don't own anything in MCU.

Sunglasses were only going to do so much good on this island paradise; he was going to need to invest in a hat if he was going to be out for much longer. It was lucky that the news about him being a wanted fugitive of the United States government was seen as a mistake, if not an outright joke, by most other countries, or he wouldn't have risked going out with as flimsy a cover as it was.

Sam was grounded; he was currently hiding out back at the Tower in New York while Stark fixed—and probably upgraded—his wings. (it turned out that sleeper HYDRA pockets in the former Eastern Bloc were really unhappy about being questioned, and displayed this unhappiness with EMP rockets) Steve had kicked up his heels for about four hours before he started to go stir crazy, and set off on a different mission that had been nagging at the back of his head for weeks.

No matter where they'd wound up, he'd get a small parcel. In the dimmest of hostels, the front desk would begrudgingly hand over a simple box. Never to "Steve Rogers", or even "Captain Rogers". Always to "Ross Green", which Sam had later figured out was an anagram of sorts. "Se Rogers. It's just missing the t, v, and another e."

The contents were always something small. A pressed lotus. A packet of ssaenggang cha that was so strong it caused his eyes to water when he drank it. A carved figurine of what Sam identified as the yeti. Kangaroo testicles on a keychain (Sam had laughed until he cried at that one). The matryoshka doll tipped him off: Natasha, out in the world, trying to find out who she really was, letting him know in small ways that she was still alive.

The last package had arrived before they'd ran in on the sleeper camp. This one, a small bag filled with white sand, actually had a note with it: "Heaven on earth."

When he'd gotten restless back in New York, he did some searching. JARVIS was only too happy to help, and Steve found that, despite himself, he rather enjoyed the interactive hologram mechanisms the AI employed (he wouldn't dare say as much to Stark's face, but it made an otherwise tedious action more interesting). Eventually, they'd narrowed it down: El Nido, a small resort in the Philippines. And now here he was, without a clue as to if Natasha was even still here. He didn't know how often she moved around (to be honest, he didn't know how she always knew where he and Sam would be next and have a package waiting for him at the exact hostel they would be at either), or if he'd just spent five hours on a fifteen-year old motorcycle going up winding and pothole-riddled jungle roads to this town in the middle of nowhere for nothing.

Nor did he, for that matter, even know where to begin looking. No doubt she'd changed her appearance somewhat since they'd last seen each other six months ago at the cemetery. For now, he decided that wandering the streets and keeping his eyes open would be a good way to start. Once he had an idea of the layout of the land, he'd be able to narrow down possible locations where Natasha would camp out.

The locals were friendly enough, used to tourists just taking it all in. He was goaded into trying all kinds of foods from vendors on the streets; he wasn't fond of the kwek-kwek, but was surprised at how much he enjoyed chicken feet. As the sun got lower in the sky, he was directed to an open-air bar on the edge of the beach where he would get an excellent view of the sky as the sun went down. He even ordered a drink, something colorful and full of ice—it was just nice to be able to cool off after a hot day of walking.

He lifted his sunglasses up to the top of his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, resting on his forearms on the bar. For all the walking he'd done, he hadn't accomplished much, except maybe where Natasha might be avoiding for fear of getting food poisoning. Which… wasn't entirely a bad place to start. He reached for his drink, only to find it missing. He looked around. A blonde sat next to him, taking a large sip out of his drink, paying him no mind. "Excuse me," he started, and then she looked up at him with Natasha's unmistakable green eyes.

"Hey," she said.

"Hi," he managed.

"For future reference, 'hindi' means 'no' in Tagalog, so you can stop accepting weird food," she told him, and then took another sip.

"You saw all that?"

"Word gets around when Captain America shows up in a remote Filipino town. It was easy to track you."

"Why didn't you say something? I was looking for you."

She smiled. "I wanted to see what you would do."

He scoffed, and took his drink off of her, taking a sip. "Thanks. Here I thought you weren't even in town anymore."

She turned on her stool and leaned back against the bar, watching the water. "Heaven gets a little addicting, even for those of us who won't make it there in the end." He raised an eyebrow at her. She paid him no mind. "Besides, I've been on the move a lot recently, I wanted a quiet place to recoup. And I figured, why not here? It's warm, it's beautiful, people are nice… and I even get friends to stop by and say hello." She smiled at him.

He rested his cheek on his fist. "Sounds like it'll be hard to ever leave."

"I'll get bored eventually."

Steve chuckled. Natasha let her head fall back; her dyed-blonde hair, wrestled up into a messy bun on the top of her head, left some strands dangling: those pieces spilled onto the bar. Not for the first time, Steve took a moment to appreciate how she looked. The setting sun lit up her skin in oranges and pinks. Yet, for the first time, he was taken aback slightly by her appearance. "New you likes bikinis again?"

She looked at him; her head still lolled back, a lopsided grin graced her face. "I had a little confidence booster from a friend."

Of course it was black, but the blue sarong wrapped around her hips was a nice touch. As much as she joked, he did notice that the knot in her sarong was tied so that it mostly hid her scar. "So, how's the hunt going?" She asked, taking his drink from him again.

"Hit a few dead ends, got a couple of leads to pick back up when I get back. Sam's grounded for now, and he'd kill me if I went on without him at this point…"

Natasha passed the drink back. "And you got antsy while Stark got about sixteen new ideas for Falcon's wings five minutes after you brought them in."

Steve took a long drink. "That bad, eh?"

"You don't like to be idle. I should take you on a temple stay; see how long you could go living like a monk before you ran out of there screaming."

Steve shuddered. "No, thank you. Sometimes Sunday Mass is more than enough sitting quietly in one place…"

She laughed. "Why are you really here, Rogers?"

He blinked, thrown for a moment. "To find you."

"I'm fine. I'm having fun, normal person fun for once. I let you know I was alive when I could."

Steve raised his eyebrow again. "And that's something you didn't have to do. I'm honestly supposed to believe that when Natasha Romanoff goes to ground for months on end, she regularly sends souvenirs to people as rendezvous points?"

"Yeah, well, you saved my life a few times; I thought you deserved to know I wasn't being reckless with it without you to watch my back."

"And you went shopping to prove it."

"Yup."

"And no notes any other time but this one. And I'm supposed to believe that's a coincidence."

She shrugged, looking back at the water. The sun was almost gone; there were lamps being lit around them to shield them from complete darkness. "Believe what you like."

Steve nodded to the bartender, pointed to his now-empty drink and held up two fingers. A minute later, two new drinks arrived, and Steve handed Natasha one. She looked up at him. "I believe you wanted me here."

She said nothing, capturing the straw between her lips and taking a long drag. She made a face as the brain freeze hit. Steve leaned back against the bar with her, watching the last bits of sun dip below the water. "If you want to know why I'm really here, it's because this gal I know has really been bothering me about getting back into the dating scene. She's set me up on dates, suggested girls; she's been really swell about the whole thing. Best wingman I've ever had, really, but she never really noticed why I kept turning down those other girls. Oh sure, I went on coffee dates. I even went on a few dates with Sharon between me looking for Bucky and her in CIA training, but we're both in different places. I'm a freelance superhero, she's an operative. Gets complicated, you know?"

"Yeah," Natasha's voice was quiet.

"She's a nice gal. But she's also Peggy's great-niece. That's super weird for me, you know?"

"That girl's photo we saw, back in the bunker."

"Yeah. She was…"

"I know. Now I do, anyway."

"Yeah… Well, I'm here now. Whether or not this gal realizes why… She's pretty smart; she'll get it sooner or later. And I believe I just bought you a drink. So, cheers to that," Steve offered his glass out.

Natasha looked at it, and then up at him. There was scant natural light left, leaving blues and purples to shade her face with the oranges and yellows of the lamplight. Her trademark half-smile was threatening to come out. She tapped her glass against his. "Mabuhay, Steve."

"Kangaroo testicles? Really?"

"It's a conversation piece."