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Part 6

Steve's having trouble keeping his mind focused.

After what Natasha had said to him before she'd jumped out of the jet, trying not to think about what her skin might feel like under his hands is even harder than it was before.

He doesn't remember exactly when or how he started to feel like this about her. When they'd first met he'd thought her to be distant and detached, but the events of New York had brought an unspoken bond over the team, her included. As he spent more time with her and they were partnered up on missions with increasing frequency, he'd come to see past her professional air of indifference.

She's his equal, and opposite at the same time.

They work so well on missions together because their skills complement each other perfectly. Working in tandem. He has his strength, she has her stealth. She can read people in a way he can't, and these days it's hard to find a mission that they can't do together. Sometimes it's like she's reading his thoughts, moving before he can even get the words out of his mouth. Technically, he's the ranking agent, but it never feels like she's taking orders. In fact he has no doubt that she could probably kill him with ease if the mood took her. It's a partnership which he's found difficult to explain to other people, but one which has never needed defining between either of them.

Until now he's never felt uncertain around her.

She's bold and quick and he's grown quietly fond of her witty remarks and jibes at him, even though he would never tell her. She doesn't treat him like a stranger in a distant land. He'd begun to seek her company more outside of missions too, and one day when she'd been huddled against him behind his shield, suddenly he'd realised that he was looking at her in a way that couldn't be considered professional anymore.

And if there's a chance that she feels even a fraction of what he feels, then he needs to know.

He glances across at her, and she's absorbed in dismantling and cleaning her guns. Her movements are precise and practised.

They're in the Triskelion armoury getting ready for another mission, but right now his mind is so preoccupied he can't even remember what the mission is. Already a few days have passed since their little talk in the jet and he still isn't any closer to figuring out if she had been joking with her offer or not.

"Well, you'll just have to figure that one out by yourself, Rogers."

Steve likes to think he knows more about women than he did in the 40's but to be honest, he doesn't think any of his knowledge will ever come into play when dealing with a woman like Natasha. And it's driving him insane.

He's arrived at the conclusion that the best way to find out would be to just ask her. But that's a lot easier said than done because he's spent the past three days mentally stewing over it and trying to figure her out. It doesn't help that she's acting the same way she always has, like she hadn't offered to sleep with him. It's infuriating. It's confusing. Just ask her already.

Natasha's just putting her guns back together when Steve finally musters up the courage to ask her.

"Nat."

"Mm?" Her attention remains on the guns in front of her.

"Were you being serious, what you said the other day about..." he trails off and rubs the back of his neck, looking very hard a spot on the floor.

Natasha looks over to him and waits expectantly but he isn't making any signs of continuing.

"About?" she prompts, hoping he'll snap out of it. He brings his eyes steadily back up to meet hers and huffs out a breath, like he's bracing himself for something.