A/N: So the start of this has been on my computer for over a year now, but I finally got around to finishing it off.

This can be read as a continuation of "An Unexpected Guest", or as completely separate story. It was written separately, but after I wrote "Unexpected Guest", I came back and edited a few lines to make it compliant. On the other hand, it also can stand completely alone, and it's a bit of a relationship jump to follow that story, but not impossible (timeline might be a little squished for this to all happen before AoU (which makes no appearances in this story), but with a little wave of the "It's fanfic, I can do whatever I want" wand, it's all fine and dandy).

Also, apologies in advance to everyone who wants detailed sex scenes, there aren't any. I get it, I'd want them as well, but I don't have a clue how to write them, so I'm not going to do a disservice to the smut-genre by attempting it. For those of you 18 and older (or at least click the button that says you're 18 or older), just imagine in your mind what happens ;)

The Quinjet finally landed on the top of Avenger Tower. They had successfully taken out the terrorist cell, but all hell had broke loose doing so. One of their agents had been shot (not fatally, thank heavens), and both Steve and Natasha had plenty of scrapes and bruises. Not that those really bothered Natasha, she'd certainly had much worse; and Steve's would be gone by morning, and even hers would be gone by at least the following morning. But it didn't mean she still wasn't very pissed off, and in a major need of letting off some steam.

She considered heading down to the gym or shooting range, like she usually did, but she wasn't sure she could beat a punching bag into enough of a pulp to make her feel any better, and the only person she could safely spar with right now without risk of killing them was sitting next to her in the co-pilot seat, as beat up as she was. And she'd shot enough on the mission that she never wanted to see another gun ever again for at least a couple hours.

She had one other option, one she'd thought about more times than she'd admit, but hadn't worked up the nerve to try yet. After all, there was a really good chance it would end in complete disaster, and she didn't want that to happen; but she was kind of out of options.

As they disboarded the jet, Natasha leaned over to Steve and practically growled in his ear, "My floor," before heading into the Tower without saying another word, or looking back to see if Steve was following.

Leaving the unpacking of the jet in the semi-capable hands of the SHIELD agents, Steve followed her through the common area of Stark Tower to the elevators, and onto them.

He knew she was pissed off by the mission (he didn't blame her in the least), and figured she wanted to either yell at him about the incompetence of the agents they had been assigned, or to yell at him for messing up some separate mission that Fury had given her that she and Fury didn't bother telling him about like always. Or both.

There had been a time once where she had simply wanted to update him on her separate mission that she could never tell him about before the mission, but tonight she was far too worked up for that to be a possibility. She was going to let off steam, and while he preferred when she did so in the gym or shooting range, instead of his ear, she was his partner and he would always be there for her, even if it meant getting chewed out for things both of them knew he had no control over.

The fact she wanted to go to her floor was a surprise, though. It wasn't the first time she'd yelled at him after a mission to blow off steam, but she'd always just done it in his living room, before plopping down on his couch and pretending he didn't exist until the next morning, or one of them had a nightmare, whichever came first.

They rode the elevator down to her floor in silence. When they entered her living room, Natasha closed the door behind her, as Steve walked into the middle of her living room and turned to face her, waiting patiently for her tirade.

She turned and glared at him for a long second, before launching herself onto him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, her lips smashed against his. Steve briefly tried to defend himself, before realizing that her lips were on his, and she wasn't trying to kill him. Or at least not in the typical way; suffocation was still a possibility if she didn't eventually give him a chance to breathe. Even with enhanced lung capacity, he doubted he could outlast Black Widow.

Once he realized she was kissing him and not attacking him, Steve momentarily froze in shock, but Natasha either didn't notice, or didn't care. It wasn't the first time she'd ever kissed him, even on the lips, but they'd mostly been short, chaste (-ish) kisses, intended to distract or reassure him, or just because she was in a particularly happy, flirty mood. There wasn't anything remotely chaste about this assault on his lips.

After a few seconds, Steve's body reacted on its own, and his arms wrapped around her lower back to hold her up, and his lips began kissing her back, though substantially less aggressively than how she was kissing him. Or trying to eat his face, he wasn't quite sure.

After a minute, Steve's brain finally caught up with everything, and he tried to push her away. He managed to loosen her hold on his lips by pushing her away by her shoulders, but her legs remained firmly wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck.

"What the hell, Nat!?" he exclaimed as soon as his lips were free. Now that she was slightly away from him, he could get a good look at her face. She had a wild look, and it slightly terrified him. Okay, it very terrified him; slightly terrified was the normal state of being around Natasha.

"You weren't complaining a second ago," she respond before launching herself at him again, using her arms that were still around his neck to pull his face back towards her.

Steve managed to turn quickly enough that her lips landed on his cheek, but this didn't dissuade Natasha in the least, as she just began biting his neck instead. Even with the super-serum that coursed through his veins, he was sure he was still going to have some marks there in the morning.

Once again, Steve tried to push her off, but despite his strength, she clung on. He knew he could push her off if he got the correct leverage, but he was far too much of a gentleman to put his hands there. So he gave up trying to remove her and instead said (or more like groaned), "Seriously, Nat! What has gotten into you? I thought you wanted to let off some steam about the mission!"

"Oh, I am letting off steam," she practically growled into his neck.

"This doesn't exactly seem like letting off steam," he gasped in reply, "it seems a lot more like foreplay."

He let his hands rest on the small of her back, as she continued to attack his neck.

Between kisses she replied, "There's more than one way to get some stress relief, Rogers. And you're the only person I know that I won't break." Physically, at least, she added in her mind.

She pulled back slightly to look him in the eyes and said, "Now shut up and stop being a gentleman, and start acting like you have gorgeous girl wrapped around your waist who is trying to make out with you!"

She leaned back slightly and unzipped the front of her catsuit, before plunging back down to his lips. Steve had only caught the slightest glimpse of the inside her breasts and her stomach as she unzipped her catsuit before she crashed down on his lips again, but any restraint he might have had left disappeared with that slight glimpse, and he began returning her kiss with fervor.

To expedite things, Natasha reached behind her with one hand, and grabbing one of his hands, pulled it around between them and placed it on her breast. At the same time, she ground her core against his burgeoning erection, causing him to moan into her mouth and squeeze her breast tightly.

She rolled off of him, still panting slightly. She hadn't been able to be that rough with anyone in, well, ever. And even with their super-serums, she was pretty sure they were both going to be slightly sore in the morning. Not bad for an 88 and 96 year-old.

"Feel any better?" came Steve's voice from beside her, lightly teasing, and definitely out of breath.

"A little," she retorted good-naturedly, half-heartedly hitting him in the chest, too tired and satisfied to do anything else.

They both chuckled lightly, and then lay there in silence for a few more minutes before Steve spoke again. "While I know it normally isn't that rough, I understand now why people like doing this so much."

At this, Natasha's eyes sprung open in shock. Propping up on one elbow in order to look directly at him, she said, "That wasn't...you weren't...?"

"A virgin?" he supplied, opening his eyes and looking at her. "Yeah."

She opened and shut her mouth a few times, unsure of what to say.

"It's fine, it had to happen sometime. And you're not a half-bad person for it to be with," he teased, trying to lighten her suddenly tense mood.

"Even if that were the case, your first time shouldn't have been like that! I am so sorry, I didn't know. I assumed you had done it at least before you went into the ice, if not after coming back out as well."

"Our undercover kiss on the escalator was my first kiss since 1945, when would I have had time to be with anyone since then?"

"You said that wasn't your first kiss since waking up!" she exclaimed, slightly upset at Steve for lying to her, and very angry at herself for taking his virginity.

"I thought you knew I was lying," respond Steve softly.

"I did, until you said you were always honest. I assumed that applied to kisses as well."

Natasha sighed deeply, and rolled back onto her back. As always, she had ruined everything, and this time it was Captain America himself that she had tainted. There went her sleeping on his couch privileges, and she'd be lucky if that was the least of it.

Steve turned on his side so he could look down on the redhead, who had her eyes closed, refusing to look at him, even though he was sure she knew he was looking at her. "I don't regret what we did," he said softly, moving a wisp of hair out of her face.

"Yeah, well, you should," growled Natasha, still refusing to open her eyes and look at him. "Your first time should be with someone special."

His heart broke for her at those words; clueless as to anything to say, Steve simply lay back down, resting his head in the crook of her neck, and wrapped his arm around her. He held her there until she eventually fell asleep, before allowing himself to fall asleep as well.

When Natasha awoke early the next morning after a restless sleep, she quietly slipped out of his grip, and after throwing on some workout clothes, headed down to the gym.

Thirty minutes later, Steve woke to an empty bed. Remembering Natasha's words from the night before, he assumed she'd slipped out early so she wouldn't have to be there when he woke up, despite the numerous (even majority of) mornings they'd woken up together after she'd moved from his couch to his bed in the middle of the night because one of them had had a nightmare.

Sighing, he threw on the pants from his Captain America suit, and headed out to find her, hoping she hadn't gone so far as completely leaving the Tower.

~A~

"I'm not sure what that bag ever did to you to deserve your wrath."

Natasha spun around and saw Steve standing in the doorway watching her, with a small smile on his face.

"Morning, Nat."

He was really the last person she wanted to see at that moment, but she knew she couldn't avoid him forever.

"I already apologized, I don't know what else to do," she replied as she turned back towards the bag, attacking it with renewed ferocity. "I promise it won't happen again."

Steve sighed and shook his head, before quietly walking over and grabbing her arm mid-punch, and spinning her around to face him. She looked like she might kill him, but he ignored it.

"If you're going to let out your anger on something, do it on me, not that poor bag."

"What, like last night?" she scowled. "That's whole reason I'm down here in the first place."

She tried to shake off his grip, but he held her firmly. He didn't mind if she wanted to fight him, but he didn't want any surprise attacks. She glared daggers at him that would have made any lesser man quake, but Steve just said, "I'm going to get breakfast, and you're coming with me."

"I'm not hungry," she growled, leaving no room for argument.

"It wasn't a question," he replied, as he spun her halfway around and directed her out the door, still firmly holding onto her upper arms, marching her through the halls in front of him.

She briefly considered elbowing him in the gut and slipping his grasp, it wouldn't be very hard and she knew he wouldn't fight back, but it's not like she really had anywhere to run to, and Steve could pretty easily locate her in the tower even without JARVIS's help if he wanted to. So she settled for glaring at all the people who had the nerve not to pass by them, since it was still too early for any of the other few occupants of the tower to be awake, as she let him guide her through the halls to the elevator, and up to the common living area. Even in the elevator he kept a firm grip on her arms, like there was anywhere she could escape to (okay, fine, so she could, but this wasn't that desperate of a situation).

Once they reached the kitchen, Steve let her go, and headed over to the fridge. "What do you want?" he asked, staring into the well-supplied fridge.

Tony could be a bit overbearing most of the time, but he did keep the place well-stocked with food. (Steve had suspected house-elves ever since Nat had introduced him to the Harry Potter books, since he never saw anyone bringing food in.)

"Nothing."

Ignoring her, Steve began listing the contents of the fridge that might appeal to her. "There's some roast beef, some chicken, a pizza, pretty much any breakfast food you could possibly want, plus a bunch you couldn't…."

"Seriously, Tony? What is half this stuff?" He mumbled to himself.

"Fine. Cereal." she said, just to make him shut up and leave her alone. "With vodka," she added, as he reached into the cabinet to get down two bowls.

He paused momentarily, arm stretched out about to grab the bowls, closing his eyes so as to allow the desire to strangle her to pass.

Then he resumed what he was doing, setting a bowl and the box of her favorite cereal in front of her, before turning back around to grab the milk out of the fridge. He also grabbed a bottle of vodka and poured her a double shot, before setting the milk carton and glass of vodka in front of her. As he turned around to put the bottle of vodka back in the fridge, he said, "I don't care that it's impossible for you to actually get drunk, that's all you're getting."

Natasha grumbled something that Steve took to be a thanks, even though it was far more likely a death threat, and sat down on the barstool next to her, pouring his own cereal, sans the vodka.

After several minutes of eating in silence (well, eating on Steve's part, mostly pushing around the cereal in her milk/vodka mix on Natasha's part), Natasha finally spoke. "Stop trying to be nice to me and pretend everything's normal. It's not."

"Nat," he replied softly, trying to make eye contact with her, "the only person with any guilt about what happened last night is you. And even that wasn't until after you found out I was a virgin."

"I don't feel any guilt for having sex with you," snapped back Natasha, still refusing to make eye contact with anything other than her cereal bowl. "I just assumed you'd already done it before." After a second she added, "And you should be mad at me. Just because I don't talk about sex with any importance doesn't mean you shouldn't either. This kind of thing means a lot to you, and it should have been with someone that matters to you."

After pinching his eyes shut for a second in exasperation, Steve reached over and gently turned her face towards him, before leaning in and tenderly brushing his lips against hers. "It was."

Before she could respond, he stood up and walked out of the room, leaving JARVIS to clean up his bowl.

The rest of the day Natasha avoided him, even skipping their afternoon training session. After she didn't appear for supper in the common area dining room, Steve finally took the elevator down to her floor. When he stepped out onto her floor, he looked up at the security camera above the door, and JARVIS unlocked the door for him without a word.

Walking in, he didn't see her anywhere, but saw the remnants of her supper on the kitchen table, and heard her shower running. So he sat down on her couch, and started looking around her living room. Other than the previous night, it was the first time he'd been on her floor; and he hadn't had much chance to look around last night.

"What are you doing here, Steve?"

Steve turned and saw Natasha standing in the doorway of her bedroom, her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at him, wrapped in just a towel. She had apparently heard the door open, and came out to investigate.

Standing up, he said, "You've skipped everything else today; you're not skipping sleeping on my couch as well. You've slept there every night you've been at the Tower since you moved in; you're not stopping that now because of last night."

"I don't want to," she said shortly, turning and disappearing back into her bedroom.

She hoped it would be enough for him to leave, but she knew better than to believe it; and sure enough, she wasn't disappointed, as after a few seconds she heard his footsteps coming towards her bedroom. It wasn't that she didn't want to sleep on his couch like she always did, but she didn't think he should want her to, and she felt too guilty to sleep on his couch like everything was normal. So even though she wasn't planning on putting up a very strong fight, she also wasn't going to make it easy on Steve to convince her to sleep on his couch.

So when she heard Steve come around the corner into the open doorway of her room, she dropped her towel. As she expected, when she turned around to face him, he was staring at the ground awkwardly, refusing to look at her.

As she rummaged around in her drawers for clothes to put on, making sure to keep her bare front directly in his line of sight should he decide to look up, she said, "You've seen everything there is to see, not sure why you're looking away now."

"It's still indecent for me to look at you while you're changing," Steve mumbled in response, refusing to look up.

Once she threw a bra and underwear on, Nat said, "Fine, I'm decent now."

Steve looked up, before immediately looking back down again. "That's not appropriate!" he said exasperatedly.

Nat rolled her eyes, and as she found and put on jeans and a low-cut, thin shirt, she said in her own exasperated voice, "This is close to what I wear to sleep in every night, and you see me training in a sports bra all the time. What is your problem with this? It isn't that much different from either of those.

"There. I'm in completely acceptable clothing now."

Despite knowing she had no real reason to be irritated at him, she still was. They'd had sex after all, and despite the fact she thought he should be, he didn't seem bothered by the fact. And he wasn't trying to pretend it didn't happen, so the least he could do was actually act like he'd just had sex with her the night before, instead of acting like the complete gentleman he always was; it just made her feel even worse about herself.

So when Steve looked up at her, before he could say anything, Natasha threw her hands up in the air and exclaimed, "Fine! I'll sleep on your damn couch. I don't feel like arguing about it with you right now."

Then she brushed past him and out of the apartment, leaving a very confused Steve standing in her bedroom all alone. By the time Steve reached his own living room, Nat already had a movie started on his tv, and was curled up in a tiny ball on her end of the couch.

Over the next few days, Steve noticed that Natasha continued avoiding spending any more time alone with him than was necessary for their training, but she seemed to have stopped beating herself up over what had happened, and she was always on his couch come nightfall, so he didn't say anything.

A few days later, they got their next mission. A simple one day in and out with just the two of them, and the next day everything had gone back to completely normal between them. Neither of them put too much thought again into what had happened, and the next couple missions went as smooth as could be expected in their line of work.

A month later, they had finally finished their latest mission, and were flying back to Avenger Tower. The mission had fallen to pieces as soon as it started, and had only gone downhill from there. They had managed to all make it back to the Quinjet in one piece, but Natasha looked like she was about to rip the head off of anyone who even looked at her wrong, so needless to say, everyone but Steve was hiding as far away from the cockpit as they possibly could, ready to make their escape as soon as the jet landed.

As they neared the Tower, Steve looked over at her. Once she looked back, he cocked an eyebrow in silent question.

"Seriously!?" she whispered angrily. "I thought we'd settled that!" She could certainly use it, but she'd promised Steve she wouldn't do it again, and here he was tempting her, making her, if possible, even angrier than she already was.

"No, you settled it, and completely ignored everything I said," replied Steve calmly.

"Because you weren't thinking straight! And clearly aren't now, either!"

By this point they had landed, and they could both hear the other agents scurrying away from the jet as fast as they could. Once Steve was sure they were all gone, he replied, "Did it ever occur to you that I might have actually enjoyed it?"

"Of course you enjoyed it!" shouted Natasha. "It was with me after all, and I'm damn good at it! But that doesn't mean it was right, or should ever happen again!"

"You want it to, though," commented Steve, still with a calmness that only riled Natasha up even more.

"Of course I want it to! I haven't been able to do this since joining SHEILD because there's never been anyone I could risk breaking until you, since you can't break! And despite the fact that I promised you I would never do it again, you're over there tempting me!" Natasha shouted back.

"Well, I'm following you to your floor regardless, and if you still want to kick me out then, you can," replied Steve as calmly as ever, knowing he'd already won.

They both knew she could put an end to this game if she simply went to his floor and his couch like she did every night, instead of going to her room like he said, but they also both knew she wasn't going to.

"I'm going to kill you, Rogers," she growled as she got up and walked out of the jet, with Steve right behind her.

When Natasha woke up, she found herself wrapped in Steve's strong arms, more content than she'd ever admit, even to herself. While she didn't feel as guilty about sleeping with him this time as she had after the first time (and especially not for the scratches that she'd given him for tempting her into it in the first place, that even his super-healing would take a couple days to heal), she still didn't want to be there when he woke. She wasn't sure what he'd be like the morning after sex, but whether he was a snuggler or woke up regretting what they'd done, or anything in-between, she didn't want to find out. Even if she was eventually going to have to find out anyway, since she wasn't always going to be so lucky as to wake up before him, and it didn't look like this was going to end anytime soon.

But as she tried to wiggle her way out of his grasp, he hugged her tighter, and sleepily mumbled, "It's only 4:30. Even you can sleep in a little later than this," before burying his nose in her hair.

Since she couldn't escape without fully waking him, she closed her eyes, and contrary to her expectations, drifted back off to sleep.

When she opened her eyes again, she could tell from the light in the room that it was 07:00. She couldn't feel Steve behind her, so she rolled onto her back, hoping he'd left. But she had no such luck, as she saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, his Captain America pants on, watching her.

"What are you looking at?" she scowled.

"Do you ever just say good morning like a regular human?" chuckled Steve, just shaking his head at her.

"If you're looking for a regular human, you're definitely in the wrong room." After a second, she added, "What are you still doing here, anyway?"

"Are you kicking me out?" asked Steve with a cocked eyebrow, unsure of whether she was kidding or not.

"No," Natasha grumbled with an eye-roll, as she got out of bed. "Although if you're this annoying every time I have to wake up next to you, I'm kicking you out before I go to sleep next time."

"Oh, so there's going to be a next time? What about your promise to never do it again?" he asked teasingly.

"Shut up."

They soon settled into a routine. Whenever Natasha gave him that look on their flight back from a mission, or as they deboarded the jet at Avenger Tower, Steve knew that any mission reports he needed to fill out wouldn't be done until the next day.

As time went on, Steve noticed that Natasha seemed to need to let off steam more and more frequently, even when the missions hadn't exactly been complete failures; not that he was complaining or anything. And there was no shortage of missions that didn't go as well as they'd have liked. They'd taken out all the easy HYDRA bases, and everything left was well-entrenched, and highly intelligent.

Natasha eventually insisted he keep a drawer full of clothes in her room, so he would have clean clothes to change into in the morning, instead of having to put his Captain America suit back on to go up to his floor. And by insisted, what really happened was when Steve woke up one morning and started putting his Captain America pants on, Nat sleepily mumbled, "Top drawer."

Pausing and looking over at her in confusion, she mumbled into her pillow again, "No pants, go look in the top drawer," vaguely waving her hand over her head almost in the direction of her dresser.

So Steve walked over to her dresser, and pulled open the top drawer, where he found an assortment of his own clothes. He noticed she'd only taken clothes from lower in his drawers, clothes he didn't wear on a regular basis and therefore wouldn't miss now that they were down here. He turned to smile at her, before remembering that her face was still buried in her pillow and she wouldn't see him, and then smiled at her anyway. For claiming that she didn't want to do this, she was awfully thoughtful and thorough about it.

On nights they didn't have missions, or else the missions went well enough that they didn't go to her room, Natasha still slept on Steve's couch, usually still ending up in bed with him after one of them inevitably had a nightmare. She had quickly noticed after they'd started sleeping together that the only nights neither of them seemed to have any nightmares was the nights they'd worn themselves out with each other, but she pushed that thought to the back of her mind, and if it had occurred to Steve as well, he was smart enough not to bring it up.

But waking up next to Steve on mornings after they'd ended up in bed together because of nightmares had never been as much of a problem for Natasha as waking up next to him after sex was. It was usually easier for her to slip out of bed without him trying to keep her there if she wanted to, but without the guilt she felt after having sex with him, she found she usually had no desire to escape. It was comfortable next to him, and its not like she ever missed out on any training given how early a riser Steve was himself.

So while she continued to grumble to Steve about sleeping with him, and especially about waking up next to him the morning afters, she had no problems about sharing a bed with him when she inevitably moved from his couch to his bed in the middle of the night.

One evening, several months into their routine, they came back from a particularly successful mission. Steve expected to have a relaxing night, maybe catch up with Nat on another movie he'd missed while under the ice, as both the main mission and Nat's side mission had gone extremely well, and they hadn't argued with each other at all about her side mission.

After unloading the Quinjet, he followed her through the Tower to his floor, watching the bounce in her step that only came on the rare occasion when she was truly happy.

When Steve closed the door behind him, and hung his shield next to the door, Nat turned around, and placing her hands lightly on his cheeks, pulled him down for a soft kiss. Taken by surprise, it took him a few seconds to react, before he returned the kiss, equally gentle.

When they separated, he looked down at her in confusion.

"What was that for?"

"I'm pretty sure this still means the same thing it did in 1945."

"But you only have — do this — when a mission goes badly."

"Maybe I still wanted to have sex, even if the mission didn't go badly. Do you want to stop? I'm sure I can find someone else," she asked, as she seductively scraped her fingernails down his clothed chest.

"No—no. It's okay," Steve stuttered.

"Good," Natasha smirked. "Cause I didn't want to have to find someone else."

A while later, as she rolled off of him, Natasha sighed. "That's what your first time should have been like," she said quietly, before adding under her breath, "Except with someone better than me," hoping Steve wouldn't hear her.

"Nat…"

"Zip it, Rogers. We're not having this argument again right now," she warned as she curled into his side and rested her head on his chest.

Steve wisely decided not to push it for the time being, and instead began lightly brushing Natasha's red hair, listening to her breathing become softer until she finally fell asleep.

~A~

"This is going to become a regular thing, isn't it?" she grumbled into his chest the next morning.

"Hey, you're the one that started it last night," he teased her. After a second, he added more seriously, "But I certainly wouldn't complain if it was."

Natasha rolled her eyes and sat up, before walking over to his dresser. Steve stared at her naked backside, and had to smile to himself when she opened one of his drawers and pulled out her own clothes. He had no idea when she'd taken over one of his drawers, but she'd obviously been planning to sleep with him in his room, and wasn't something she'd just decided to do on the flight back the evening before.

Nat already had most of her clothes in the dressers in his spare bedroom, but if she was taking over a drawer in his bedroom, he assumed that it meant she was probably planning on moving off his couch and into his room permanently.

One night several months later, Steve looked over at the sleeping form next to him.

After their first night of love making instead of rough sex, Nat had in fact moved off the couch and into his room. Neither of them had actually said anything about her moving in there full time, but when he'd gotten back from his evening meeting with Fury, and found her curled up in his bed, at least pretending to be asleep, he'd just slipped into bed beside her, and they'd shared his bed every night since then.

But it wasn't really much of a change for them, since she had usually ended up in his bed anyway on nights they didn't have sex because of one or both of their nightmares making an unrequested appearance. The only real difference was that they always started the night in bed together now, and when they did have sex before going to sleep, it was in his bed instead of hers, like it had always been when it was just post-mission stress relief sex. Also, when they did have sex now, it was only rough, stress relief sex part of the time; not that their non-stress relief sex didn't get a little rough sometimes as well — they did both enjoy a good spar, even in bed.

Natasha rolled over in her sleep, and flung out an arm that Steve blocked with a skill only capable of someone who had gotten hit in the head a few times by stray arms; the redhead didn't tend to stay in one spot while she slept, unless she was really tired or satiated. Resting her arm back on her stomach, Steve brushed a stray hair out of her face. He watched her sleep, his mind wandering.

"Stop staring at me."

Steve's eyebrows rose in surprise; she apparently hadn't been as asleep as he'd thought.

"Thought you were asleep."

"That just makes it creepier," replied Nat with a smirk, before opening her eyes and rolling over on her side to look at him, a more serious expression gracing her face. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

"Will you go out on a date with me?"

Whoops; wasn't supposed to lead with that.

Nat swiftly rolled over so she had her back towards him, and gave a short, hard, "No."

That went well.

Steve knew there was no chance of talking to her anymore that night, so he rolled over and went to sleep himself.

The next morning, Steve awoke to find himself alone. He wandered into the common area kitchen a few minutes later, and saw the redhead sitting at the table, sipping a bottle of vodka. Steve quietly gathered up a couple bowls, the milk, and Nat's favorite cereal along with his own, and went back over to the table. He set one of the bowls in front of her, along with the milk and cereal, before sitting down in the seat next to her. Refusing to acknowledge his presence, Natasha grudgingly poured some cereal into her bowl, before dousing it in vodka. Then she poured a shot of milk into it, and took a bite.

Taking that as a sign she wasn't going to go on a hunger strike on him, Steve poured his own cereal and began to eat. They sat there in silence for a long time, both eating. Steve had just pushed his bowl away from him and opened his mouth to speak, when Natasha growled out, "Don't talk to me."

Steve wisely closed his mouth.

While Nat still showed up for their morning Avengers briefing, and for their afternoon sparing session in the gym, she never said a word to Steve, and avoided him as much as possible outside of those two interactions. And when she didn't join the team in the common room for supper, Steve was beginning to become seriously concerned that he'd completely messed things up between him and Nat.

But when he came back from the gym after a late-night workout and found her curled up on her side of the bed, sound asleep (well, he was pretty sure she was asleep; he had been wrong before), he figured she must not be too mad at him. Since he'd already showered in the locker room, he slipped out of his clothes and under the sheets, trying to disturb her as little as possible. She either ignored him, or really was asleep, as she didn't make any movements or say anything, and soon enough Steve fell asleep.

The following morning, Steve awoke to a cold bed once again and sighed, not looking forwards to having to search for her. As unpleasant as it would be, he had to make her talk to him again; one day was all he would accept of her completely ignoring him.

But he was startled back into the present by a small cough, and opening his eyes for the first time saw Natasha sitting cross-legged on their dresser, looking down at him.

"Nat!" he exclaimed still slightly groggily from sleep, sitting up.

She stared at him a few more seconds, more than slightly unnerving him, before asking in a completely expressionless voice, "Why?"

"Uh…why what?" Steve replied. He thought he knew what she was talking about, but wanted to make sure; it wouldn't do to bring up a sore topic at the moment if that wasn't what she was talking about.

"A date."

Steve looked at her for a second, trying to read her face; but when the spy didn't want someone to know what she was thinking, that someone didn't know what she was thinking. Then he patted the bed next to him, an invitation. She silently got off the dresser, covering the few feet between the dresser and the foot of the bed, where she gracefully resumed her sitting position, Steve obligingly moving his legs out of the way.

"Because I like you. In a more than just friends who occasionally sleep together kind of way."

Nat studied him carefully for a few seconds, before replying, "You don't believe you need to be at the least dating a girl you're sleeping with?"

A laugh escaped Steve; is that all this was about? "Is this just because you think I'm only asking you on a date because I think I should be dating any girl I'm sleeping with? I've been sleeping with you for months, and never once mentioned dating. Wanting to go on a date with you has nothing to do with the fact we're sleeping together."

Natasha remained expressionless, giving Steve no sign as to what she thought about his answer, or whether that was her concern or not. After a few seconds she asked, "Why ask me out now?"

Steve stared at his hands for a few seconds, trying to think of the best way to answer her, before looking back up at her.

"I've liked you at the very least since we ran for our lives together escaping HYDRA. And in the month after that that we were apart, I realized it for sure. I've wanted to ask you out on a date ever since that afternoon I found you sitting here on my bed nearly a year ago, but after the whole previous year of SHIELD missions where you were trying to set me up with every other girl you could think of, I assumed you didn't think of me like that. And when you started joining me in bed after nightmares, and then sleeping with me after missions, I didn't want to say anything that could end it, since something with you was better than nothing.

"And then the night before last, you asked me what I was thinking, and I'd been thinking about how I wanted us to be more than just friends who slept together, how you were more than just a friend I was sleeping with, and it just slipped out. It wasn't what I was planning on leading with."

Natasha looked down at where her own hands were folded in her lap, before saying softly, "I'm not the kind of girl a guy like you should be dating."

Steve shuffled forwards slightly so he could take her hands in his. Looking into her eyes that she wouldn't bring up to meet his, he said softly, "No, Nat… I don't deserve a woman like you. You are without question the strongest person on this team, you've been through what none of us will ever be able to imagine, and you've come through even stronger because of it. You're not the…thing…they created you to be—"

"—Assassin. Killing machine. Just say it—"

"You're the kindest, most caring person I've ever met…and without a doubt, if it was down to you to save my life, I would absolutely trust you to do it. And I want to be with you as more than just friends."

There was a long pause, before Natasha, still staring at their hands in her lap, whispered, "I don't know if I can be what you want me to. I was taught to be whatever the mark needed me to be; I don't know how to do it for real."

"Was I just a mark when you slept on my couch instead of on your floor? Every night you've calmed me down from my nightmares and then stayed in bed with me? The years you've spent catching me up on movies, and tv, and books, and everything else? Did you start sleeping with me permanently because you thought that's what I, the mark, needed?

"Or did you do it because you wanted to? Because you enjoyed it as much as I did, and I was never a mark to begin with? You are more than capable of being a good girlfriend, Natasha. You've been doing it since we brought down the Chitauri invasion, just under the guise of friendship. I'm just asking you to do it as my girlfriend now."

"Steve, I don't even know if I'm capable of loving someone," whispered Nat. "I was taught that love is for children; how can someone like that ever be what you need?"

Steve leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Natasha, pulling her into his chest. He knew she had trouble with the idea of love, that her past had broken her, but he really hadn't imagined that it ran this deep.

Kissing the top of her head, he said, "Nat, you already are."

They sat there in silence for a while, Steve holding Nat tightly to him, before Nat pulled away slightly to look Steve in the eye.

"Are you sure this is really what you want? Are you sure I'm really who you want? You're Captain America, you could have any girl you wanted."

"Exactly — Captain America could have any girl he wanted. Steve Rodgers, on the other hand — that's a much smaller list."

Natasha sighed, leaning back into Steve's chest, before giving a muffled reply.

"Okay…I will try."