In Another Life | Steve x Natasha Headcanon

In Another Life

Water. It was the water, he decided. Often, people asked Steve Rogers what the most surprising thing he'd experienced after waking up from what might be the longest ice bath ever. 70 years, to be exact.

70 years. That number never failed to blow his mind.

But the water. Endless amounts of it, as long as you paid your bills, and scalding hot, too. He marveled over it as he scrubbed the dirt and grime from his arms and torso. Back then, you would have to boil water for warmth or endure the bone-chilling opposite. And now? All it took was the turning of a knob.

Steve inhaled deep lungfuls of the humid air before relenting and twisting the temperature to cold. Almost instantly he could breathe better. Old habits die hard, he guessed.

The water hit his skin like small icy bullets, reminding him of the actual bullets that were fired at him not long ago. After a narrow escape from New Jersey that ended in missiles being fired on Camp Lehigh and him and Natasha almost dying, they'd turned up, desperate, at Sam Wilson's door.

That reminded him to hurry up and get out so they could discuss their next plan of attack. They had to stop Project Insight from commencing, although that would be hard seeing as S.H.I.E.L.D. had deemed him a fugitive and were perpetually on the lookout for him. It flooded his veins with anger, how easily and completely an organization committed to public safety had been corrupted. Infected from the inside out.

Then again, they were about to turn guns on the people who needed protection the most, so maybe they weren't that committed after all.

There's another thing that's changed, he thought darkly. Nobody keeps their promises anymore.

After slipping on a shirt and jeans, Steve entered the guest bedroom Sam had loaned them to find Natasha on the bench, dabbing at her hair with a towel and looking utterly defeated. Her eyes had that multilayered look to them like she was lost in old memories and didn't like what she was seeing.

He'd seen that from soldiers coming home from missions: always analyzing their moments in battle, thinking of ways they could have saved their friend, killed one more German, dodged that bullet. It was very capable and very good at driving you mad.

He took a seat across from her and met her eyes. Steve was used to them being a piercing green, but right now they looked clouded and dull. "Natasha," he said.

She blinked a couple of times and focused on him with startling clarity. "Yeah."

"What's going on?" he asked.

Natasha's brows creased slightly. She could probably count the number of times someone had asked her that on one hand. Dropping the towel, she murmured, "When I first joined S.H.I.E.L.D., I thought I was going straight." She paused. "But I guess I just traded the KGB in for HYDRA." At this revelation, she scoffed slightly and looked down. "I thought I knew whose lies I was telling, but... I guess I can't tell the difference anymore."

"There's a chance you might be in the wrong business," Steve said, never breaking her gaze.

She laughed, half enthused and half surprised, but the smile quickly slipped from her face. Natasha glanced at the window, then back to him. "I owe you," she whispered.

She was clearly referencing what went down at Camp Lehigh, and him carrying her to safety after she was knocked out from the attack.

He shook his head. "That's okay," he said, and he meant it. You never left a soldier behind. For some reason, that word seemed so impersonal compared to the warmth he felt blazing inside him.

Natasha swallowed. "If it was the other way around," she began, "and it was down to me to save your life–now you be honest with me–would you trust me to do it?"