•Romanogers OneShots•

12 • Right Where You Left Me

Natasha thinks Steve will propose to her tonight. At least she hopes he will. (Steve is very much OOC but he needs to be for this fic)(Actually every one is OOC). (Based on the song 'Right Where You Left Me' by Taylor Swift). Angst.

Natasha couldn't remember the last time so ate out at a place as nice as this. White table cloths, and waiters dressed as nice as the restaurant goers. Natasha wears the diamond necklace Steve bought her for their 4th anniversary, though of course the anniversary of when they started dating. Natasha was losing hope that he'd ever propose. But she was happy, and had high hopes for what tonight could bring.

She was led to the main dining area by a waiter, who has already seated Steve in a corner booth. Steve stands up and kisses Nat, before pulling her into a hug. He lets go first and moves to gesture to her seat.

"You look gorgeous Nat,"

"Thank you darling you look handsome as well."

Soon the waiter comes by with their drinks and they both tell him their orders.

When the meal is over, Nat takes one of the last sips of her wine and smiles up at him as he orders their dessert.

"Nat I've been meaning to talk to you about something,"

"What is it?"

"Well I've been thinking that maybe we should um- ya know, break up?" He says nonchalantly and goes to rub the back of his neck with his hand. His watch that cost three months of Nat's paycheck, flashes mockingly, in the dim crystal chandelier lighting, of the chattering dining room around them. But now as Steve says those words, Natasha's head spins and the voices fade into a deafening silence.

She reaches to clasp her hands around the neckline of her dress, to pull the increasingly tightening fabric away from her neck. Instead she knocks over her wine glass, and the table cloth turns a menacing shade of vermillion.

"Shit!" Steve curses under his breath, as the wine soaks down the cloth and onto his dress pants. He stands dramatically and his chair slides out behind him.

"What did I do?" She tries to avoid it, but can't help how her words shake as they slide from her throat.

"Nothing Nat. There's just someone else?" He says throwing his hands up in air as he struggles to find his napkin, to aid his stained pants.

"Is that supposed to be a question?"

"No it's not, Jesus Nat!"

"Is it that nurse? I bet it is!" Her voice gets louder with each word, yet the tears stay in her eyes. Other people in the room seem to ignore their argument, as Nat tries to keep her voice low and cold.

"She's not a nurse. And yes it is her," Steve yells, this time his voice draws attention to his flushed face and the angry stain on his pants. With a final glance, Steve leaves Nat in the restaurant. She leans back in her chair and calls for the waiter.

"I'm gonna need a bottle of wine and the dessert to go please," She says. Her voice low with a tone of uncharacteristic shamefulness. The waiter nods slowly with a short smile.

Nat waits for her order, and leaves a 100% tip with Stark's credit card. When she gets out onto the street, she slips off her heels and undoes her pinned up hair. She finds a quiet spot on a fire escape, five blocks from Stark tower; stray cats scamper away as she pulls down the ladder. Natasha opens the small white container and unveils the wrap around the plastic fork,, she eats the single piece of cake and opens the bottle of wine. Tears silently slip down her cheeks and over the curves of the bottle.

--- --- --- --- ---

One week from that fateful day, she returns to the restaurant. This time it is only noon, and the dining area has yet to turn into its formal self. So she appears in sweatpants, and her hair up in a slightly less put together version of what she fashioned last week. She asks the women at the front desk for the same booth as before. She orders the dessert from last week and a bottle of champagne. She waits. She waits for Steve to come back. She waits for him to say it was a mistake, and say he doesn't love Sharon. But he doesn't, so the next week Natasha comes back to sit in the same booth, and order the same thing.

If their love really did die young, Natasha would not pay it any attention, as she can't bear the thought of actually thinking she was good enough for Steve Rogers. She considered confronting Sharon. After all, she works five floors below her. But the very thought of having to see the better version of herself, winds a coil in her stomach that threatens to release if tugged. She'd always worked better from the shadows anyway. Her actions threatened many from afar, where she is safe, where no harm could come to her or to those she loves.

After a few weeks, there must be a ghost drawn from the unsettling dust that draws around her after each visit. Because to her that's what it feels like. This wasn't something she was taught. What to do when a man as good as it gets hurts you. And that same feeling when she knows in the back of her mind, she hurt him too. Somehow. In a way, she can't possibly describe in words. So she waits.

She just hopes he knows that she is waiting. And for however long, whether it's next week or a lifetime. If he ever believes he truly did get it wrong, she'll be here. In the corner booth. Right where he left her.

--- --- --- --- ---

End.

Lowkey kinda proud of this one.