Redrum

One

It had finally reached the end of a very, very long day. Steve was just returning home from an intelligence mission in New York. Agent Hill had called him in the middle of his morning jog to alert him of a possible Winter Soldier sighting in Times Square, but unfortunately, it had been a false alarm.

Steve was a little more than relieved when debriefing was deemed necessary and gladly retreated to his fifth-floor apartment just outside of D.C. He groaned as he read his watch. 12:30 A.M. Not being a night person mixed with the fact that he hadn't eaten anything since his sparse breakfast was making him irritable. He loved what he did and the agents he worked with, but it was nights like these, where he returned home defeated and exhausted, that made him resent his line of work.

Attempting to balance his shield and duffle bag in one hand and unlocking his door with the other proved to be a difficult task even for the super-soldier, causing him to drop not only his keys but shield as well.

"Shit," he mumbled to himself as the loud ding of Vibranium meeting the light carpet echoed through the empty hall. As he bent to pick up his belongings, Steve heard the soft creak of a door open behind him.

"Is everything all right, Captain Rogers?" Sharon, his long-time neighbor and S.H.I.E.L.D.-appointed babysitter asked, peeking out from her dark apartment.

Ever since Nick Fury had been shot in Steve's apartment, Sharon had upped her vigilance when it came to the agency's most valuable asset. Despite the fact that Fury was alive and well, she took the incident very seriously and had vowed to not let it happen to Captain America.

"Fantastic," Steve said through clenched teeth, a little too coldly for his liking. Yes, Sharon was pretty, and sweet, and intelligent beyond reason, but he still resented her for her position.

He sighed he pushed open his own apartment door and turned to look at Sharon. "I'm sorry," he offered. "It's just been a long day."

She smiled and waved the apology off, satisfied with the fact that the soldier had returned unharmed and in one piece. She began to turn and shut the door but stopped abruptly.

"You weren't expecting a visitor, were you?"

"Huh?" Steve said before directing his attention to his should-be empty apartment.

The scene felt too eerily familiar to him. The last time he had stood outside his apartment with Sharon, listening to muffled music coming from his dark apartment, someone attempted assassination on his boss. This time, however, he had a little better idea of who had broken into his apartment. He smirked before looking back over his shoulder. "I wasn't, but I guess I'll be entertaining tonight," he said as he slung the duffle bag over his shoulder and stepped through the apartment threshold.

To his surprise, he was greeted to an empty room, bar the abandoned headset lying on the coffee table and black heeled boots tucked neatly underneath. He sighed at the sight, glad that he had been right about his visitor.

"Natasha?" Steve called out but received no reply. He went over to open his bedroom door, but stopped when he heard the muffled sound of water coming from his shower. He smiled to himself, glad that Natasha still felt comfortable enough to make herself at home in his apartment.

It had been almost two years since Steve had seen his partner. After briefly meeting at Fury's faux grave, Natasha had disappeared, citing the need for a new cover for her absence. During that time, Steve checked frequently with Fury and his fellow Avengers to see if anyone had heard anything from her. The last he knew, she had been in California on a recon mission, but that had been almost a year ago.

"You're home early," the familiar voice said behind him, jarring him from his thoughts and almost making him drop the sandwich he had been building. Steve turned to see Natasha walking out of his bedroom scrunching her damp curls in a towel. "Oh, I'm starving," she said eyeing the plate in his hand.

Steve sighed and handed the sandwich over, reaching for a new plate to remake his meal. "And you're in my home," he said with mock sternness.

Natasha sat down at the island and took a bit of her sandwich. "Fury said you were out of town on a lead. Wouldn't be back until at least tomorrow," she said matter-of-factly as if this were a regular occurrence.

"Hit a dead end and decided to come home early. Breaking and entering is illegal you know."

"I didn't break in, Steve," the assassin coed as she leaned back in her stool. "I simply let myself in." She raised a brow and smirked before taking another bite.

"What does that even mean?" Steve questioned, but knew he wasn't going to get any answers. "Where have you been, Natasha?" His voice was laced with a little too much plea for his liking, but he really had been worried when he hadn't heard a peep from her for so long.

"Relax, Rogers," she said in a sultry voice. "I'm here now, aren't I?"

She was right. Having Natasha back in his apartment, in his space was really all he could ask for. He thought back to that day in the cemetery, how it felt like he was punched in the gut when she said she was leaving. As if by reflex, he touched the spot on his cheek where she had gently kissed him goodbye.

"I guess that's all we could hope for, huh?"