"I think sometimes when we find love we pretend it away, or ignore it, or tell ourselves we're imagining it. Because it is the most painful kind of hope there is."
― Rae Carson

Steve basked in the gentle warmth that radiated from the petite, yet strong, frame of Natasha who was pressed into his side. His arms enveloped her, keeping her close, one hand rested on her bare back gently tracing circles, whilst his other hand was placed upon the arm of hers that was draped across his torso. Her face was nuzzled into his chest rising and falling in tandem with his breathes, her scarlet tresses styled into violent curls, rough and tousled by his hands. Her alabaster skin was soft and almost glowed in the light of the early morning sun, as the rays reached out to her wanting to show him the beauty of the woman before him. Many mornings he had awoken to behold this scene, and he never got tired of it, he never got tired of feeling her close to him, of observing every little feature he found endearing whilst she slept, every time he tried to absorb the image of her just in case it didn't last or he failed to remember. He loved her. As he looked upon her sleeping form, his heart hammered against his chest so hard he feared that it would awaken her, yet no signs of awakening adorned her face. So he relished this moment of domestic bliss, closing his eyes, and revelled in the revelation of his affection for Natasha.

Minutes passed and after a long while he felt the soft movement and ticklish sensation of Natasha's hair flitting across his chest as she awoke and started to move. Opening his eyes he looked down at his chest to see two verdant eyes, glazed by sleep but sparkling with amour,

"Morning sleepy." With a soft grunt Natasha tightened her hold around Steve's torso and buried her head into his chest, causing her curls to tumble over her face obscuring her from view, however it did not obscure the mumbled,

"Shut up Rogers." Natasha was not a morning person, and it had been resolutely decided between them that she must enjoy his company immensely to endure Steve, the early morning riser. They lay there for a few minutes encompassed in a comforting and satisfied silence, Steve knew that Natasha was still awake by her breathing,

"Nat?..." He uttered gently, moving his hand from the place on her back to brush back the mop of red tresses that obstructed her face from him, allowing her to tilt her face upwards towards him. He noted how an endearing frown adorned her brow line, indicating her annoyance at being disturbed, however she managed to open her eyes, despite them squinting in pain at the bright light that blared through the window,

"Hmm..." She replied gently, hiding her irritation well, she had now managed to open her eyes fully and he felt himself fall into those emerald jewels that glistened and gleamed in the light. She looked expectantly up at him and it wasn't until, she raised an eyebrow that he realised she was waiting for him to continue, but strangely he felt her body tense slightly beneath him in anticipation.

Natasha was good at reading people, it had become and inherent skill within her job, and she felt the panicking realisation brew within her chest that she knew what he was about to say. His expression exuded adoration and love, Steve was incredibly bad at hiding emotions he wore his heart on his sleeve irrevocably. She felt the painful tightening within her chest and stomach, in fear of what she was expecting,

"I lo..." As quick as a flash Natasha lifted her upper body from its comfortable position, and pressed a finger to his lips, stopping him mid-sentence. Her eyes met his in a firm, stern gaze of warning, and in her calm steely voice she warned,

"Don't say it Rogers." His eyes that had been framed by a low brow of confusion, now altered into two deep blue pools of disappointment and sadness, searching her face as if trying to procure evidence of a joke in her expression to disperse the pain he felt at her interruption. Slowly she pulled her hand away from his lips, gently stroking his cheek in comfort at the pain she knew he must feel, or in anticipation of the pain he was about to endure, her eyes followed the movement of her hand refusing to meet his gaze,

"Why not?" He asked forcefully. She had now removed herself from his embrace and was sat cross legged facing him, the white sheet she clenched close to her chest to obscure her bare breasts, it wasn't that she was self-conscious but it was hardly appropriate to be sat naked before a man who she had just interrupted mid declaration. Forcing her eyes back up to meet his, he identified that they were now stern, cold and focused, the shield of Black Widow had now fallen into place, no feeling was identified in her expression, as calmly she replied,

"Because we both know I'm not made for that. I can't give you what you deserve, what you want Steve..." Her lips stopped moving mid sentence, as if she had suddenly lost her voice, but after a moment of deep contemplation on her part she stopped, her lips now forming a severe line of defiance, before turning and getting out of bed pulling on her underwear and putting her bra back on. Steve felt his disappointment and hurt turn and curdle into a heated anger that simmered violently in his chest, causing him to aggressively exit the bed and pull on a pair of boxers located nearby. He was angry at her for cutting him off; for refusing his expression of emotions for her; for distancing herself from him; for getting out of bed and evidently deciding to leave. Turning towards her he saw that she had now pulled on her jeans, her back to him, anger burned his insides and tore at his heart, raising his voice he firmly stated,

"Nat stop. Finish what you were going to say." She didn't turn around; keeping her back to him she continued to pull her jeans on,

"Steve..." She uttered firmly, again another warning that to continue would not be beneficial for either of them, but the fire and flare of Steve's anger and hurt was too much for a mere verbal warning to extinguish. Viciously Steve replied, venom and rage evident in his voice,

"Come on Nat; be honest with me for once." At that she stopped still, after doing up the zip and button on her jeans, she turned finally to face Steve, her expression still indifferent and cold. Her eyes however seemed to glare with fire, but he swore they now possessed a glassy sheen as if she was holding back tears that threatened to fall. His heart was pounding and he felt a tightening in his gut in apprehension of her response, as if preparing for a physical blow to the body, he knows this is going to hurt. Her voice was cold, harsh, stern and unforgiving, as her gaze bores into his,

"I'm not her. I never will be, and don't you dare try and fool yourself into thinking I am. Is that honest enough for you?" At that she pulls on her tank top, and strides quickly out of the room grabbing her jacket, not looking back once. He doesn't see the way her eyes are now swelling with tears, scratching at her eyelids begging for release, so as she slams the door he doesn't see the tears that now silently pour over her cheeks. The reason why she didn't look back. She doesn't deserve him, and that's the brutal and honest truth.

His eyes follow her out the room, and he feels his eyes start to sting with the fierce threat of tears, hearing the door slam he exhales heavily before punching the wall with anger, creating a large hole. His body collapses underneath him, as his anger seeps away giving way for the pain and loss, emotionally exhausted, he sits slumped on the floor leaning against the damaged wall. Holding his head in his hands he prays that this isn't the end for them, not yet, he can't let her go that easily.