Romanogers - Oneshots

I don't want to be happy

Hi I'm back.

Steve walked into the living room at the Avengers tower. He was looking for Nat, obviously, as no one else hung there since the Snap. It was just her and him. Just like old times, he thought. Well, he didn't exactly spend that much time there, if he was honest. He didn't live there, and spent most of his time at the support group, or the...yeah basically just at the support group. He slept and ate at his apartment, but other than that, he drifted. He had nowhere else to go, he figured. He couldn't stay, holed up in the tower, like her, all day, surrounded by the ghosts of everyone he cared about. But she was always there. She seemed to be up at all hours, sitting in the main lounge area and either tapping away dejectedly at her laptop, or talking to the people who (rarely) logged on to the channel. He didn't see her sleep, she barely ate. Sandwiches seemed to be her diet now.

The Snap had changed everyone, no one for the better. But it had seemed especially bad for her. She had kept it together for a while. But after they had killed Thanos, the last strand of hope had been ripped away from them, and she had retreated deeper and deeper into her shell, built up higher and higher walls. She barely left the Avengers tower, except to visit the memorial every once in a while.

Whereas he ran from the ghosts, she surrounded herself with them.

The stones were gone. Everyone was gone.

They still worked out, trained, as if there was anyone left to fight. Barton seemed to be taking care of that for them, at any rate. Steve knew that had been especially hard on her. Her closest friend was gone. But, unlike the rest of them, his disappearance had been voluntary.

So when Steve walked into the living room and saw Nat crying his heart broke. She was still trying to hide it, he could tell, even though she thought she was alone. Her hair fell in front of her face as she sobbed into her hands, tears running slowly down her face. He had barely seen her cry over the past few years. She put work (that usually didn't need to be done) over everything. No time for emotion. It wasn't like she had moved on. She didn't even act like it. No, Steve knew she was still drowning in her grief. But she still didn't cry. Until now.

"I would offer to cook you dinner, but you seem pretty miserable already." He said, alerting her to his presence. He leant against the shelf unit, waiting for her reply.
"You here to do your laundry?" She quipped, blinking away the tears and leaning back in her chair.
"And to see a friend." He responded.
"Clearly, your friend is fine." she said, folding her hands over her stomach.
No you're not. He thought. Please don't pretend with me.
"You know, I saw a pod of whales when I was coming over the bridge."
"In the Hudson?" She raised her eyebrows in surprise.
"Fewer ships, cleaner water-"
"You know, if you're about to tell me to look on the bright side," she swallowed, tongue in cheek. "I'm about to hit you in the head with a peanut butter sandwich."
"Sorry. Force of habit." He replied.

But it wasn't. His usual optimism and eagerness to always stay positive had faded to almost nothing. He kept up the facade for the support group, but he was really just saying the same thing every day. He didn't even care anymore. He kept this side of him only for her, now. He wanted to raise her spirits, see her smile, anything, that would show the Natasha he knew was still in there. She was herself, but she wasn't. He wanted her back.

"You know I keep telling everybody they should move on, grow." He walks over and sits in the chair opposite her. The half-smile she wore a minute ago slides of her face. She stares at the desk, the many files that litter it. He can see more tears beading on her lashes. "Some do. But not us." At that, she looks back up at him.
"If I move on, who does this?" She gestures to the various files and scanners around the room.
"Maybe it doesn't need to be done." There's a pause.

He can see she doesn't accept that. She craves purpose, lives on it. Without it, he can see she would crumble. This is the only way she knows how to survive in this harsh new reality.
"I used to have nothing. Then I got this. This job..." She corrects herself, looking down and smiling at the memories, "This family." She looks back at his face. "And even though they're gone... I'm still trying to be better." She shakes her head, as if laughing at herself, but he can see her fighting tears that threaten to spill again.

Steve's heart breaks. She looks so broken, so lost. He just wants to hold her in his arms and never let go, but he's too far away. "I think we both need to get a life." He reaches across the table to take her hand. She accepts the offer, and takes it.

"You first." She counters, trying for a smile, but there's still tears running down her cheeks, and it looks pained, more like a grimace. He strokes her hand, his thumb making circles on her wrist. They look at each other for a few seconds, not breaking eye contact, before he sighs.

"We should try to be happy, Nat." Happy together, he thinks secretly.
"I don't want to be happy!" She retorts with more force, then lowers her voice when she realises. "Not without them. I can't."
"Okay." He surrenders, and kisses her knuckles. She looks away, but he keeps looking at her. He's losing her, he's sure of it. And his heart is shattering into a thousand pieces.