Romanogers One - Shots

I've Needed This

warning: none

"Natasha!" The building exploded, throwing Steve back into the wall.

The shield took the impact and he got up quickly, searching the cloud of dust for any sign of the red head. She had been here a minute ago. He pulled a large chunk of cement away.

She emerged from underneath a pile of rubble, clawing her way out. Her face was scratched up and bloody, and her suit was torn. She coughed. Even through the dust, he could see her smile.

"Steve!" she shouted. "I'm fine!"

He smiled, and ran to her. As he wrapped his arms around her, she disintegrated into dust and blew away with the light breeze.

"Natasha, no, no," Steve cried. Not again. This was the third time this week already.

He sat up in his bed in a cold sweat. Checked the time, then looked at the calendar. It had been three months since the fight, three months since Natasha had walked out his front door and never come back. He'd asked around, but they said she'd disappeared.

He turned on the lights and went out for a run. Through the town. Past the gym. Past the Avengers tower. Past the - wait.

It was a small cafe he and Natasha had gone to often when they had dated. He looked again. No, he was correct. Sitting in one of the booths was the redhead. In his jacket. She had the hood pulled up mostly, but he could recognize that jacket from anywhere. She was sitting stirring a cup of something, and every so often she'd type something on her phone.

She looked up, and they made eye contact, and she quickly slipped out of the booth and was gone like that. Nothing left except the receipt. Large iced frappuchino, three shots of espresso, two shots of mint, one shot vanilla, with whipped cream. Her usual order. He didn't have to see it to know that that was what she had ordered.

For the last three months, Natasha had been struggling. With Steve (or more without), with the big mess she'd gotten herself into, with the fact that she had no contact with anyone around her. She and Clint hadn't talked for forever.

For the last three months, she had been hiding from her arch nemesis Ivan. He'd found her again, and she had been placed under protection. S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent out several agents to chase him down, and after three months, they finally found and killed him. She'd just gotten the message from Fury himself regarding the news, sitting in that booth early that Thursday morning.

The feeling that she was being watched grew and grew. She looked around, quickly, and locked eyes with a certain buff blond across the street. They both quickly averted their gaze, and she darted out of the booth, paid her bill, and left.

Steve looked back at the booth. She was gone. Gone. He'd found her and lost her again. He tried to keep jogging, but his mind wandered back to seeing her. Little flashes of her smile, the way her eyes sparkled when she got excited, the smirk. Her signature smirk.

He jogged back to the house and tried to go back to bed. It didn't work. He got out of bed and went to grab a drink of water. He splashed it on his face and wandered his living room. Where would she go? Not the tower. He'd check there tomorrow.

Meanwhile, Natasha walked casually down the other side of his street, fighting her mind. The threat was over. She should go see him. What if he didn't want her back? What if he turned her away? A tear slipped and soon she found herself trying to contain sobs. He couldn't want her. They had fought. She wiped her eyes, aggressively, and jogged down past his house to the corner of the block.

Inside, Steve could have sworn he saw her jogging past the living room window. But when he rubbed his eyes and shook his head, she wasn't there. He pulled his sweaty shirt off and dropped it on the couch.

Natasha walked back on the other side of the street. She saw him walking around, shirtless, in front of his couch. He pulled the shirt back on. She wanted him back. But did he want her? No. He couldn't possibly. She'd tried to explain, he hadn't wanted an explanation, and that was that. She shouldn't have gone back.

She did it anyway. In moments she was standing at his front door. She knocked.

Steve, inside, heard the three short raps. Who could be visiting him at this hour? He got up and pulled the door open. There she stood, eyes swollen with tearstained cheeks and running mascara. He stopped in his tracks. His girl was back. Beautiful as ever.

"Um...hi, Natasha. What are you doing here?"

"Hi, Steve," she said. "Can I, can I come in?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Steve said. The tension was so thick he could have cut it with his shield. He stepped back and pulled the door all the way open.

She stepped in and admired the pictures of her and Steve on his bookshelf. He hadn't bothered to take them down, but they were dusty. His favorite book was propped against a picture of them on their first date, one year ago.

"So, um...Steve-"

She was cut off by an aggressive kiss from Steve. He pulled away, slowly. He'd missed it, so much. It was too much for him to handle. She looked slightly shocked.

"Sorry, I..." Steve said. He knew he shouldn't have.

"It's okay," she whispered, and crashed into him, kissing him hard. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She pushed her fingers through his hair. He traced his hands up her back, under her jacket. The smells, the light scent of vanilla that constantly hung around her was still there.

They kissed. And kissed. And kissed. Both of them had missed it, both of them wanted it. It escalated into a frenzy, each fighting for dominance.

He separated, both of them panting. "I've missed this so much..."

"Shut up and let me love you," Natasha said, and kissed him again, finding the edge of his shirt with her hands and feeling underneath. He kissed her. She shoved him against the wall in the living room.

The kisses deepened again and soon they were tripping down the hall, her hands pulling his shirt off. They'd kicked off their shoes and soon Natasha was straddling him as he pushed her against the wall in the bedroom and kicked the door shut. He moved her to the bed, tracing down her jaw, leaving love bites on her neck and slowly working down. She'd taken off the jacket of his she'd been wearing. Between kisses, she pulled her shirt off. Her hair was tangled in his fingers.

"Natasha," he said, kissing her again. "I've needed this so freaking much..." another kiss, this time on the neck, "you're finally here." He kissed her and carefully climbed on the bed, on top of her.

He unclasped her bra, kissing her the whole time. He undid the zipper on her pants, rubbing his hands on her hips, and pushed them off. She found his and did the same. Then, stars.

The next morning, she awoke in the bed next to Steve, who was completely asleep. He snored gently. She looked around. She was at his place. Naked. She pulled the sheets up to her chest, then wrapped her arms around Steve.

"So, um, Steve," she whispered. "I don't care if you're listening or not, but I just want to tell you if you want me back I'm here. I know it's been rough and you can't just suddenly accept me after I fought my way away from you. It's a long story but if you want me I could explain it all and make it hurt less for you. But if you don't, let me know, and I'll walk out of here and never come back. I'll make it, I guess."

She pulled one of his shirts on and buttoned it up. Steve stirred, and she froze.

Steve rolled over to face her. He opened one sleepy eye and said, "Stay?"

"Forever," Natasha smiled, and kissed his forehead.