Romanogers - Oneshots

I miss you

Haha the vote was unanimous.

Natasha waits for the lift doors to open and leans against the doorframe, listening to the mechanical whir as it responds to her summons.

She feels exhausted. Looks it. Her bones feel heavy. Her hair hangs lank around her face, no volume. The colour isn't as vibrant, as though it's been leeched out, drained through the split ends. Everyone chooses not to comment on the changes, though Clint had put a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. She's glad of the solitude, and she's not. On one hand, she just wants to be alone, deal with all that she brought upon herself, by herself. On the other, she wishes desperately for a distraction, for the hustle and bustle of missions and the headquarters to take her mind up and away from the internal torment.

The doors open. As if this day could get any worse. At the back of the lift stands Steve, arms crossed, staring at the floor. It doesn't look like his day was much better. Before, she might have smiled and gone to his side, stroked his cheek, kissed him. Natasha has to remind herself she's not allowed to do that. Not anymore.

She steps inside as he looks up. As he sees her in the doorway, something flickers across his face, something indescribable, but he goes back to staring at the floor. She walks in and stops with her back to him a couple of feet away from the doors, as far away as she can get from him without making it obvious, though it is, to both of them. She stands dejected, slouched, arms hung at her sides carelessly. Silence fills the air between them.

"I miss you."
Natasha doesn't mean to say it. It just comes out. Embarrassment clenches inside her and she waits for a response, unlikely as it is she'll get one.

Steve's head snaps up from the ground to the person standing in front of him. Another time he might have walked up behind her, kissed the crook of her neck, wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her as she giggled, a beam lighting up her face. But not today. Steve knows he shouldn't lead her on, he mustn't, this is hard enough already. But this is something he needs to do. He wants to be near her one more time without breaking any rules.

He pushes himself off the wall, walks up behind her and tilts his head like he used to, but it's not like before. They are barely touching, yet Natasha can feel the warmth radiate from a milimetre away. She can feel the muscles of his stomach brush her back. She flinches noticeably when she feels his breath on the side of her neck, shoulders shrugging, a sharp intake of breath. But he doesn't retreat, and rests his head against hers. They stay like that for a second before the doors open.

"I can't." He whispers, stepping from behind her and walking briskly away. Natasha watches him go as the doors close again, heart clenching, and wonders when this ache will go away, when her heart will mend.

A shortie.