Clintasha One Shots

Rogers

A/N: Hey guys! It took a while to write but it's finally here! This part is in Natasha's POV. I really hope you guys like this part, if you did then please recommend, comment and vote!

~Sam xx

Why did I have that double expresso? I sigh deeply, once again another sleepless night (due to being intoxicated by caffeine) We went out for dinner tonight, Clint and I, I was too full for dessert, so decided to have a double expresso instead. That was a mistake. It's currently three in the morning, and I'm staring at the ceiling. I've tried everything, lavender under the pillow, turning every single light off in the corridor and even wearing ear muffs! I turn on my side to see Clint sleeping soundly, he snuffles innocently, but I feel like he's mocking me.

When the clock hand points to four o'clock, I realize that there is no point in even attempting to sleep, so I might as well do something productive. I remember the huge pile of files Fury asked me to read through, the thought of work nearly kills me, but it's better than trying to sleep but failing. I left them on the kitchen counter.

Slipping on my slippers, I quietly tiptoe out of our room and shut the door silently behind me. God I hope I didn't wake Clint up. My slippers make muffled padding sounds as I walk down the steps, the automatic lighting comes on and I curse softly. I freeze in my tracks as I hear slight movement, I wait for about ten seconds before reassuring myself that no one has woken up. Finally, the kitchen. "Good Morning Mrs Barton, I trust you slept well?" Jarvis bellows loudly. "Ssshhh!" I whisper harshly. "Jarvis it's four in the morning! Shut up!" My voice has turned into a low whisper. "Ooops, my apologies." Jarvis apologises, now whispering too. Once in the kitchen, I sigh a sigh of relief. Rogers is a light sleeper, and usually wakes up at the sound of a pin dropping. Jarvis activates the lights and the kitchen lights up. The files are sat on the counter. Thank God no one moved them. I grab a juice carton from the refrigerator and perch on the stool accompanying the counter. "Nat?" a voice from behind me nearly makes me fall off the stool. "Steve? Why are you up?" I swivel round in the stool and see Steve on the floor hunched over a brown cardboard box. He doesn't answer. I clamber off the stool and sit down next to him. The box is full of yellowed papers and faded photographs. He looks up from the box and smiles a weak smile. "I could ask you the same thing." His voice is sad and his eyes are red. He's been crying. Tear stains smother his cheeks, and there are damp patches on the collar of his shirt. "Steve? Are you okay?" I ask curiously but also sympathetically. He wipes his nose on the back of his hand. "Sharon, she urm, she gave me this box." He pushes the box away, like I shouldn't see the contents. "Oh." Is all I can say. "Your turn." Steve says to me. "Sorry?" I reply, slightly confused. "Why are you awake?" I turn away and look back at the files, they can wait until tomorrow. "I drank a double expresso before bed, not one of my smartest decisions." Steve laughs. "We've all made that mistake." He mutters, looking back at the box. His bottom lip trembles as he pulls out a stained photograph. It's not the best quality, but I can work out what and who it is. "Is that Peggy on her wedding day?" I ask Steve, taking the photo out of his hands and into my own. He nods wearily, and takes it back. "Steve, are you sure everything's alright?" Steve stands up and puts the box on the counter and paces around the room. "Peggy's sick. She's sick and I can't do anything about it. We missed out on so much and it's all my stupid fault. Had I not gone through with the serum-" I interrupt him. "Had you changed your mind about the enhancement, you might never have even got the chance to go out with her. Don't blame yourself, it's not your fault." Steve shakes his head at this and sits down next to me again. He lets the tears fall once more. "The Doctors say that she's not going to make it, and she'll be lucky to make it through the night. How am I supposed to move on from her? I'd be a bad person if I did."  I rub his arm, attempting to be helpful. "She wouldn't want you to feel like that. She'd want you to get out there and meet someone and have a future, the future you've always wanted. She'd be distraught if she thought she was the reason you haven't settled down." Steve nods, but I know he's not convinced. "She's had a good life." I try to be supportive. "She's not dead yet, Nat." Steve snaps and I flinch at the harshness in his voice.

At five o'clock, natural light floods the room through the huge glass windows. We're still on the kitchen floor, Steve's still crying and I'm still trying to make him feel better. What happened to the strong, happy, talkative man I met a few years ago? How can someone decrease in happiness so fast in such a short amount of time? "Sharon wants me to talk at the funeral." Steve mumbles. "Steve, she's still breathing, Peggy's a fighter, she won't go down without a fight, don't think about funerals now." Steve sniffs loudly. "She's too weak to fight." I can't say anything to that. Steve turns his head and looks me in the eyes. "Would I be a bad person if I moved on? If I urm, If I settled down with someone?" His blue eyes pierce mine. "Of course not, in fact, I recommend it."
         
And that's when it happened. The kiss.