Till the End of the Line: Our Now | Stucky Fanfic

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

2014

Steve glanced down at his phone, specifically at the texts that were waiting for him on his screen. Tony and Natasha had both sent him ominous texts in the past hour.

Meet us at the Smithsonian. 9:00 pm sharp! And please dress like you actually come from this century, Grandpa. I can't be seen with you in your newsies' outfit. Tony had sent him.

If you don't show up, I'll make sure you join the fossils. And that was Natasha.

Steve flipped the phone face down onto the counter and took a deep breath. He hadn't seen the team in about a month. Usually, it was just him and Natasha, who was working with STRIKE more often these days. Since Natasha and Clint went off on a top secret mission last month, Steve had been alone other than the trips to visit Peggy.

Part of him truly wanted to go to the museum with his new friends, but the other half really wanted to take a long, scalding shower, and tuck in for the night.

His phone chimed. The captain braced himself against the counter, eyes closed and head down. You can do this, Rogers. Man up and go out with the team, you need it, he thought.

Steve heaved himself up and plucked the phone off the counter. It was from Bruce. Steve, come on out. You're going to like it. The doctor didn't like to text and he knew Steve wasn't the biggest fan either, so a text from Bruce was far more important than it seemed.

"Looks like I'm going." Steve slipped the phone into his jeans and ventured into his bedroom to get dressed for the night out.

The museum was empty when Steve finally made his way up the steps. A guard let him in and mumbled something about the second floor before he slipped back behind the desk. Steve thanked him and started towards the stairs. The echoing of his footsteps and the murmur of voices ahead had Steve on edge. He didn't like surprises much, not when they usually meant bodily harm and hospital visits.

He moved towards the noise slowly, body tense and ready to take action. Steve could hear the clicking of high heels coming towards him, the footsteps reluctantly light as if someone was trained to be silent but wanted to make themselves known; Natasha. He relaxed a little, watching the corridor where she'd be entering.

The shadow appeared first, stretching across the wall in an abstract form of Natasha's infamous figure. Her footsteps grew louder and Steve could hear her humming a Russian lullaby he once heard.

And then she rounded the corner.

Natasha stood in an elegant red and black dress with her hair in deep ringlets draping over her shoulders and a belt around her waist with the widow's symbol. "How are we today, Grandpa?"

"Fine and dandy, as usual. And you?" Steve stuffed his hands into his pockets, casually walking towards her.

"How long did you have to convince yourself to come?" she asked quietly, sauntering towards him with her arms crossed and a smirk upon her lips.

Steve blushed. "Longer than I'd like to admit."

Natasha reached him and gently wrapped her hands around his left bicep. "You're here now. This way." She guided him towards the corridor that she had just traveled down, humming lightly as she walked.

"What should I expect?" he whispered.

"Nothing bad. It should be a nice surprise," Nat answered honestly. "Daisy's here and so is the rest of the team, but no one else."

"No reporters or agents?"

"Not a soul."

Steve nodded and picked up the pace ever so slightly, almost eager to arrive to their destination.