She'd always thought the view of the silent night through a rain-pattered window was beautiful.

First it was the symbol of success. The completion of a mission, thus the time for such trivial things.

Then it was a strange sort of peace. silence within the gunshots and explosions.

Now, it stood for love.

It was a week ago, seven days two hours and twenty minutes, when Steve Rogers snuck up behind her, how he managed to do that she wasn't sure, after all she was an extremely experienced spy and he was not as educated in the art of subtlety, as she was gazing out the large glass wall in the tower, droplets of rain making the busy lights of the city seem more passive yet vibrant.

And then he'd wrapped his arms around her, right where he could choke her, spun her around, she vaguely recalled a similar action as the beginning of a move in some Chinese martial art-kung fu?, and kissed her.

She was more shocked that her instincts didn't take over, that she actually kissed him back.

Then they both stared out the rain-pattered window.

It became their favorite spot, the place where one would wait for the other after missions and the place where they would meet before going out.

Endless sunrises and evening spent curled up there, watching movies or sketching each other (She never knew art was a hidden talent of hers).

Each moment was small and trivial. And it made them all the more precious.

Most people wanted good weather, a sunny day with a gentle breeze, for their special day. But for Natasha and Steve, they specially requested Tony to fire rain-causing missiles the day before.

The rain splattered onto the clear glass, soft hues of orange and yellow encasing the tower in warmth as the couple approach the priest and promise their lives to each other.

And promise they did.

It was a normal day, one unlike any other, when Steve and Natasha were curled up together, leaning on the glass wall, reading a book together.

It was a collection of poems by Robert Frost. Steve and Natasha both liked the serenity and truth of his words.

And as they moved in, noses touching, twin shots rang out.

The team would come rushing in, repulsors charged, arrow drawn and hammer swinging, to find their dearly beloved couple prone on the floor, bodies still entwined.

And of course, two days later, they would catch the sniper and hand him in, though not before "roughing" him up.

A week later they would go on to blow up numerous Hydra bases in memory of their friends.

And when Tony finally had the heart to move the bodies in preparation of the funeral, he would find the open poem book, with Natasha's finger still pointing at one very famous line- "Nothing gold ever stays."

And gold they were.