Initially he was surprised to find her standing there outside of his door. She seemed oddly out of place. He was used to seeing her in action, always with her guard up. Now, after everything that had happened with S.H.I.E.L.D., she looked kind of vulnerable. Since they first met, he had always thought of her as more than human; far from ordinary. She looked to him to acknowledge his presence. Natasha's soft features revealed the more human part of herself that was finally coming to light. It kind of reminded him of his pre-serum days.

In truth, Natasha just had no where else to go. S.H.I.E.L.D. was her sanctuary, but now it was no longer there to shelter her, or either of them. He paused for a moment, and observed her standing there in an old pair of grey sweatpants, and her brown leather jacket. Her makeup was clean and precise, as usual, though he doubted that she could look any less perfect without it.

He invited her in and offered her a drink; vodka that he mixed with some cranberry juice. It was all that he could currently find in his kitchen. Luckily for him, Natasha lived up to that particular Russian stereotype. She removed her jacket to reveal that she was wearing a black tank top and placed it on one of the end tables.

"So?" Steve asked, sitting himself down on the couch across from her.

"Right." Natasha smiled ever so gracefully while avoiding his concerned gaze. She brought her glass to her lips.

"Something's bothering you, Nat, what is it?"

She mustered up enough courage to look him in the eyes, "Um, nothing, really. It's just, when S.H.I.E.L.D. went down I lost all of my covers," she realized that it sounded as if she was imposing, "I just, need to sit down for a minute and decide where I'm gonna go." She took another sip.

He whispered it ever so quietly, "I gotta find Bucky-can't leave him out there…"

"Steve-"

"Sorry, I'm not trying to kick you out. I just…" He looked at her with sincerity. Natasha couldn't handle his face. She had never felt nervous or intimidated around men; she was the Black Widow. But Steve was different. He radiated goodness wherever he went. She remembered when they first met on the hellicarrier. Even then, she had found him attractive, but after spending time with him during their mission together, she realized that she would never be good enough for him. Why did she come to his apartment?

"No, I understand," She looked up at him again and smiled softly, to assure him that she would be alright, "Let me know when you get back, okay?" They were leaning toward each other over the coffee table.

"You can come with me if you want," he spoke softly. His fingers brushed hers as he reached for his glass. He looked at her with that expression of his that made it impossible to say no. She thought that she might collapse because of the conflictions running through her brain. Every part of her wanted to go with him, but she knew that she couldn't allow herself to fall for him. He deserved so much better than her. He held his gaze, indicating that he was waiting for her to answer. She found herself getting flustered again so she tried to avert her eyes and redirect the conversation. She took another sip from her glass.

"I uh…w-where's your bathroom again?" She set the glass down on the table.

"Behind you, first door." He took another swig of his drink. She stood up with a speed that caused her to knock her satchel off the couch. Smooth.

"Oh crap," Natasha bent down but Steve moved toward her.

"It's okay, I got it."

"Thanks." She turned around and hurried into his bathroom before she could embarrass herself further.

Steve began picking up her things; phone, car keys, what he presumed to be makeup, S.H.I.E.L.D files, and to his surprise, what looked like a sketchbook. He didn't think Natasha was much of an artist, then again, she was always able to surprise people. He opened it up and was shocked to discover how talented she was. The first drawing was a sketch of what looked like a little European cafe; probably the backdrop of one of her missions. He continued flipping through pages; a small sketch of Clint wearing his trademark sunglasses. A few more pages and he spotted a section of the Iron Man armour and a Jaeger watch on the same page; most likely completed during her time undercover at Stark Industries. Most of the drawings were done only in pencil, but some had dabs of subtle colour added to them. Steve was beginning to question his own artistic abilities. She had encompassed quite a variety of subject matter. The next one looked like it had been drawn from a park bench; quiet and serene. However it contrasted heavily with the drawing that proceeded it; a sketch of what he presumed to be some kind of training facility. He remembered reading Natasha's files. This must be the Red Room. His heart sunk for a moment. Suddenly he felt that he was invading Natasha's privacy, and willed himself to stop. But as he tried to close the book the pages jumped to the very end and turned to the last drawing. His heart stopped.

It was a sketch of him. He realized that she must have drawn it after she had driven him to the Smithsonian. He was smiling brightly in the picture, and it looked like she had put more detail into this sketch compared to the older ones. The likeness was incredible. He couldn't tear his eyes away from it. But he immediately wondered why she would choose to draw him. Every other one of her sketches reflected something that was very personal or of great importance to her…

"No don't look at that!" Natasha had returned, and was standing four feet away from him with her palm pressed to her temple. She looked like she might explode. Steve panicked and closed the book, stuffing it into her satchel.

"Natasha, I'm sorry-" He began to stand up, and held his hands in the air to reveal his guilt.

She was beyond embarrassed now. She turned away from him for fear that she might start to tear up. That drawing was the last thing she wanted him to see. Now he would know how weak she carelessly allowed herself to become.

Steve felt bad upon realizing how flustered the ordeal had made her. He walked up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder from behind, "Hey, you're really talented y'know?" He received no response so he continued, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snooped." Finally, she gave in and turned around to face him. His hand now rested on the back of her neck.

"Thanks." She spoke ever so softly but kept looking toward the ground.

"Natasha," Steve's voice was barely a whisper. He kept his gaze down as well, unable to look her in the eyes, "I gotta ask; why did you draw me?" He finally mustered up the courage to stare into her beautiful green eyes.

She looked up to meet his blue ones and found herself almost taken aback by how they captivated her. Then she sighed in defeat, "You inspire a lot of people, Steve," she tried to keep herself intact.

"Well you've inspired me to become a better artist."

"Don't," she held up her hand and closed her eyes for a brief moment.

"I'm serious, Nat," he caught her hand so that she would be forced to look him in the eyes. Her breath hitched slightly.

"I'll never be good enough for you, Steve."

He realized what she was confessing to him. He melted upon hearing her words. Steve wanted to tell her that he didn't believe what she said to be true; and that she deserved the world, but then he noticed just how close they were, and he became slightly uncomfortable. He swallowed and had to break their gaze, "Natasha…"

She couldn't stand it anymore. She reached for the back of his neck and brought him closer, kissing him hard.

Steve was in shock, but his mind instantly went fuzzy because her kiss was intoxicating. He closed his eyes and fell prey to her touch. One of her hands was playing with the hairs on the back of his neck, and the other rested on his chest. He moved his hands down along her sides and rested them at her waist. The feeling of his hands on her skin sent shivers through her entire body. She deepened the kiss. Steve tried to mimic her movements, and it took him a while, given his inexperience. After a few tries he seemed to catch on, and he heard a slight moan escape her lips. They stopped for a moment to catch their breath and upon his intake of air he caught her scent. The smell of her vanilla shampoo still lingered in her fiery red hair. He broke the kiss and buried his face in the crook of her neck, placing light kisses to her skin.

Natasha wasn't expecting him to reciprocate like that but she wasn't about to stop him. He let his hands wander. He caressed her back and then slid his fingers down to her hips. It was too much for her.

"Steve."

The way that his name softly escaped her lips sent a fire through him. He groaned as the space between their bodies slowly disappeared. He could feel the heat radiating off of her and suddenly he felt his pants tighten.

Steve was worried that he had taken things too far and he immediately moved away. His weight was lifted off of her and she opened her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he stammered.

She placed her hand on his cheek and he turned to look at her again. He could see that there was a sadness but also a yearning in her eyes.

"I have to go, Steve."

"You don't have to be alone," he let his fingers slide through a few strands of her hair. She started to shake her head, "Come with Sam and me," he placed his hand on her shoulder again.

"Steve, I-" her tongue slightly slid across her bottom lip, "Do you trust me?"

He looked into her bright green eyes. She was beautiful.

"Yes."

She smiled and moved closer to him, bringing her lips to his ear, "I'll find you when you get back," she stepped backward so that she could admire his chiseled features once more, "Fury sends a message," Steve raised an eyebrow. "Wants you and Sam to meet him at his grave." She made quotations with her fingers as she enunciated the last word.

Steve let out a silent laugh and looked off to the side, then he turned back to admire her, smiling.

She found herself mimicking his grin. He was contagious. After a moment her face softened and she spoke quietly, "I'll bring you everything that I can find on the Winter Soldier."

"Thank you," he watched as she walked over to the couch to grab her bag and jacket. She turned around to face him again as she reached his door.

She smiled as he walked over to open it for her, "Thanks for the drink. See you around, Steve."

"Hopefully soon."

Natasha found herself replaying those words in her head as she made her way into the elevator.

Music for this story:
ARTPOP by Lady Gaga