When you Awoke{Romanogers}

Ch 79

A/N: another old chap idea
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Run. All she can think right now.
Run, and never look back.
"Agent! Agent Romanoff come back!"
The lower ranking agents tried to run after her, but they couldn't keep up.
She's not going to look back. She doesn't care that it's rude, the recruits can get training from another agent.
Run.
Natasha finally cracked under pressure, the new mission breaking down her defenses.
Others in the building watch as she's running out the door, Fury just ahead of it.
She's indulged to much, seen to much to be considered human; gone to deeply to no longer realize what she wanted in the first place.
Another mission. Another game.
Natasha runs past him, and he says no words.
The commotion left in her wake leaves a ringing buzz in her ear.
Maria is shouting after her, and she can hear the anger in her tone, but Maria knew this would happen, and she told her anyway.
It's crazy, it's stupid, and it's reckless. Madness.
Natasha scrambling to get to her Corvette, Maria bellowing behind her.
"Natasha! Natasha stop!"
She jumps in and starts the engine, pressing the pedal as hard as she could.
Natasha doesn't know where she's going, or when she will get there.
She isn't a spider, she's a bird, and she'll fly.
Where will she go? Natasha decides it doesn't matter. Anywhere. Away from them.
She has the windows down, her red hair flowing in the wind like streams. No one sees her escape. She won't let them.
Where should I go?
~X~
Maybe it was the adrenaline, but the others were to predictable.
When she knocked on his door and he came out, Natasha knew no one would guess here.
Steve was wearing old jeans, and a well-worn leather jacket that hardly hides the slender yet impressive muscles underneath.
His lips were pressed together, his blue eyes staring questionably into hers.
His eyes, strong, kind, noble. Unlike hers.
She's lost again, lost in the calmness that was Steve.
He narrows his gaze. "Look Nat, I don't know why you're here or what your doing-"
She presses a finger to his lips. "Steve just let me in."
His brow furrows quizzically, and he looks over her, trying to see if she was testing him. "Why should I let you in?"
At first, Natasha wonders if he's playing her. They've hardly talked, aside from the occasional mission or two, Natasha never socialized with him. As she looks into his sweet eyes though, something inside her eases.
Steve let out a sigh and stepped past, inviting Natasha into his apartment.
He raises an eyebrow as Natasha doesn't move.
"You going to move or-?"
She widened her eyes quickly and rushed inside. "Yes, sorry."
She realizes that he lives in a Brooklyn apartment. She's never been down here before. It's plain and simple, without flourishment or flair, very suiting for a man out of time. Right away she can tell Steve is an artist. There are pads and sketchbooks strewn about with larger canvas pictures hanging on the wall. He's very good, but with his predicament, he's somewhat old fashioned. Besides a Starkphone, there is no bit of technology anywhere. Only a kitchen with normal kitchen stuff, and an old record player.
"Why are you here Natasha?" He's staring at her curiously, eyeing her black cat suit and weapons that's just as dangerous as his shield. "Are you in trouble? Was someone hurting you?"
She raises her hands defensively.
"No, nothing of the sort Steve."
"Then why?"
She know why, but it's hard to say, especially to him. "I had to get away."
Surprisingly, Steve seems satisfied with that. He disappears somewhere in his apartment, only to comeback with a first aid kit. "Your hand," he says when she regards him curiously. She flips her hand over to see a scratch on it, not major but is still quite large, and bleeding. "Here, go sit down."
She obeys. Natasha settles herself in one of his small chairs in his small living area. Steve removes his jacket, revealing the muscles she knew were under a t-shirt. He touches her when she nods, carefully prodding and applying the medicine. When his calloused figures settle on her skin, it's nothing short of electrifying. When he's done, he lets her hand go, and her skin aches where he touched it.
"You should go," he finally declares.
"Go where?" she whispers.
"Go back to SHIELD, Nat."
She can't. She won't. "There is nothing I want there."
He looks up at her. "You can't stay."
"Why not?"
He stares, and she stares back. Stares and struggles. "I don't know."
He looks down, and suddenly, the apartment becomes quiet, much unlike the loud buzz she is used to at SHIElD.
"If I stay, may I teach you?"
Steve's eyes connect once more with hers. "Teach me what?"
"To use the shield, the new one." The distance closes and both stood up, Natasha taking one step forward.
Steve stares back defiantly. "I know how to use the shield."
He hesitated, she noticed that. She's been on enough missions to notice the uncertainty he has with it. She can see he wants. She may not know him, nothing beyond his handsome face and kind eyes and the drawings hanging all over his world, but Natasha knows this.
She's always been very perceptive, very keen at reading other people. He's already grabbed the shield, and she notices there's a tiny lick of his lips and flick of his gaze up and down her body. She reaches out with the newly cleaned hand, connecting it with the one holding the shield strap.
Another electric shock courses through her, but focused on teaching Steve.
Tentatively, he takes her hand, weaving their fingers together. Her hand is soft and delicate, much unlike Steve's rough calloused one. Both could see that they fit together, and all they do is breathe.
"Show me," he implores.
She stands in front of him, and she almost gasped out loud as his other hand grasped her hip.
She could feel the power ripple underneath his t-shirt, suddenly aware she had her back pressed very close against him. She starts showing him basic movements, how to throw, how to block, anything to keep her mind off of how close together they were. "Do you believe somethings happen for a reason Steve?" Natasha asked after awhile.
"Sometimes," he whispered.
"There's a reason I ran, and why I ran into you." She closed her eyes and turned around, Steve dropping the shield in the process.
As they slipped closer together, she feels his lips first. Steve's lips are just as soft as she imagined, and he tastes of mint, and he smells like charcoal and leather. It isn't a bad scent, more like one she wanted to dive into. He is sweet and uncertain at first. The gentle kiss deepens and she welcomes it. As a superb actor, she learned to fake genuine feelings, but this...this felt real. As slow as the movements are, it's a frantic need to undress, unveil, reveal. Kisses are frenzied, deep and passionate. Hands are everywhere, to much and not enough, and she cries out as he holds her to him, worshipping the long expanse of her throat and the soft skin around it.
Steve carries her to his bed, and soon both lose themselves in one another, drifting off to a world of their own.
~X~
Natasha stays with him

She knows she shouldn't. This crazy, foolish, reckless behavior. She can't bring herself to leave, and he never asks her too.
They become...lovers of some sort.
Affairs are common, especially in her line of work, they come and go.
But this...this is real. It's apparently the biggest secret she has ever kept, agents aren't supposed to date or even sleep with their other agents. Natasha's even taking it one step further by sleeping with Captain America!
Did Natasha finally crack under pressure of her whirlwind life? Was Steve just going to be another failed attempt at love?
This is a fantasy, and at the center was Steve. He finds her secrets, his lips trace all of the lies and make them into truths.
He reacts with surprise when she tells him her past, and she thinks he doesn't quite understand. That's exactly what she wants. She doesn't want him to fear her, or think she's a monster. She doesn't want him to love the Black Widow, she wants him to love Natasha.
So they have their love affair. Sometimes it's fiery and hungry. Others it's slow and tender. For a week she stays with him, walking out in public. And Natasha realizes, no one notices her. They go out, they flirt, and Natasha is loving all of it.
No cares. No concerns. No questions or obligations or lies she has to live with or enthusiasm she has to fake. Natasha forgets about it all.
One night, he takes her up on the roof of the building, staring at the starry sky, and they just sit and enjoy the picnic he brings for them.
"It's so beautiful," she says.
Steve looks up from his sketch book. "No you're beautiful."
Natasha brings her head down to stare at the ground, messing with the blanket fabric. Steve reached over a brushed a strand of hair away from her face. "Anything wrong Tash?"
She smiled at the nickname, but her face changed back to a sad frown
"I haven't been entirely truthful to you."
Steve stroked her face with a thumb. "You can tell me anything."
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A/N: and my phones dying so I need to end this chapter off here! So old early chap idea scrapped, but I will continue in next chapter. Also, I may have used some words from another fanfic but I didn't copy it! So don't go saying I stole it! Because I didn't.
Also, my lazy butt is still lazy to do the +140 followers gift still.

Happy Reading!
~Forever RedWind