Devotion [Book 1]

Texts From The Cold War

FanFiction.net

Texts From The Cold War by MandNwriterzz

Rated: T
Language: English
Genre: Romance + Humour
Characters: Steve.R + Natasha.R
Words: 6k+
Published: October 6th 2014

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Prompt: (330): I did my patriotic duty. I woke up next to a veteran this morning.

Natasha Romanoff takes a few moments to let her smooth eyelids lay over her eyes. But then she reminds herself to get up with a chiding tone. Her eyelids are still really heavy and she was feeling extremely lightheaded, but she manages to blink off the dulling effect of sleepiness with a few flutters of her dark lashes.

With a very much suppressed yawn, the fiery haired woman rubs at her face and peers out the window through her eyelashes in a still sleepy squint.

It is most likely late afternoon, judging by the clock hanging on the wall. She absentmindedly smirks at the red, blue and white color theme of the digits and the redhead sees the fiery orange ball of the Sun sinking deep into the horizon through the single, large, ceiling to floor window, covered by the thinnest curtain, a pretty thing that Pepper must have put up. The scene is almost breathtaking, but not as breathtaking as the sight next to her.

Something warm, strong and assuring is wrapped in a circular arc around her petite and supple figure, pushing Natasha firmly against a hard and chiseled surface, thus immobilizing her against that really smooth plane she was lying on.

Her hazy thoughts start to clear. Since when are her pillows that soft and comfortable? Since when are her bed sheets and comforters that heavy and satin-y smooth and soft? And have a little American flag sewn in the corner? She shifts in the person's arms and tilts her face upwards to let her wider than usual eyes gaze at the person's face.

And she smiles. Since it's his face.

Her nose twitches with sharp realization at the scent she is currently inhaling, not the fresh scent of Tony and Pepper's homemade laundry detergent for the bed covers, but that delicious smell of his skin. Like sweat, soap and the slight, sharp and clean tang of spearmint toothpaste.

Just like Steve.

Then he's blinking open his own eyes and Natasha's emerald green orbs meet his instantly, getting lost in the mesmerizing dark cerulean blue color of his eyes the way someone would get lost in the deep ocean.

"Hey," he murmurs with that small and shy smile she loves so much. "Get a good sleep?"

She remembers how she had woken up in a cold sweat last night, her covers pooling around her. How she climbed out and padded over to Steve's room and just walked in and crawled into his bed. She liked the way how he had just sleepily and instinctively wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"Yeah," she replies. "For the first time in a while, actually."

"Great," the man says back, brushing a lock of fiery red hair out of her eyes and she reaches up to ruffle his own sandy brown spikes.

Natasha gazes at his face, which is full of a tender kind of inexplicable emotion. "What is it, Cap?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, Rogers. Haven't I told you before you're a terrible liar?"

"Several times, actually," he grins widely.

The red haired female nods her head in a stern manner. "Mmm hmm."

"Come on, then. They others will be wondering where we are." Steve is about to climb out of the covers until the red haired woman lays a hand on his muscled arm. His blue eyes look back, inquiring.