Romanogers - Oneshots

Time changes all

It's in a sudden period of quiet that Steve goes to talk to Natasha. Everything's been so fast, full of hustle and bustle for the last few hours, with arriving in Wakanda and all the talk of infinity stones and partial extraction that makes Steve's head spin. But now everything is quiet, almost still. People have retreated to prepare for the inevitable battle, Shuri taps away at the hologram studiously, though he wishes she'd speed up a little. That may be irrational and impatient, but time really is of the essence.

She stands over by the wide window, arms crossed, hands gripping her elbows as she gazes out across the land. Her expression is inscrutable, completely blank of emotion, but not unfocused. Her eyes brush over their location, not stopping anywhere too long, hyperaware. Steve can't tell for the life of him what she's thinking, a foreign feeling. After spending the last two years constantly at each other's sides, he knows her better than she'd probably like. He can now tell from the slightest twitch, a flicker of the eyes, most of what she's thinking, feeling. At first, she disliked it immensely, calling their seeming telepathy 'creepy', but in the end had simply relaxed into the feeling. He knew it was something she'd become fond of. Their wordless communication, a whole conversation in a tilt of the head, a swallow, is something Steve is pretty proud of, if he does say so himself. Something he knows he can rely on: their connection will never disappear, it couldn't, not what they have. But it worries him how closed off she seems, how unreadable. He's in the dark in a place he always thought he'd have a torch.

He sees her shoulders tense as she sense someone behind her and his stomach flips, but they soon relax again, along with his insides. He stops just beside her. Her eyes flick back to the landscape after side-eyeing him for a second. There's a question he wants to ask. It shouldn't bother him, he shouldn't care about the answer, but he cannot get it off his mind, and seeing her like this, somehow so close yet so far jut makes him even more apprehensive.

"Do you still love him?" It bursts out of him suddenly, and the way she chokes on air makes him suddenly want to take it back. He's not sure he's ever been that forward with Natasha: their relationship consists of light-hearted banter and quips, and underneath that a shoulder to lean on, though in those moments the air is usually empty of words. But people often say banter and sarcasm are used as shields, fronts to hide from their true thoughts. Perhaps they've been hiding for too long.

"What?" She turns sharply, astonishment evident in her eyes. Somehow he plunges forward, swallowing the lump in his throat as her electrifying emerald eyes fix him in place. 
"Bruce. Are you still in love with him?"
Natasha splutters again, mouth parted in surprise. "You just seriously asked me if I'm in love with Bruce." She shakes her head, though in disbelief rather than dissent.
"It's a serious question!" He defends, shrugging uncomfortably.
"No, you idiot!" He wonders whether he can see laughter behind the incredulity. She whacks him on the arm and he clutches himself, offended. Sometimes he wonders whether Natasha knows her own strength.
She sighs however, and turns back to the window, Steve watching her all the while, waiting for an explanation.
"I don't think I ever loved Bruce. I think we were attracted to each other, and mistook that for...something else. Someone who understands you, thinks like you, can relate? Everyone dreams of someone like that. It just didn't work the way we thought it would."
"Oh." He frowns, processing.
"Why?" She turns to face him, those hard green eyes prickling him again.
"Why what?"
"Rogers, I swear to god-"
"I don't know. I guess I just...wondered." The words stick to the roof of his mouth. Now is not the time to untangle the clump of feelings knotting inside him, and he is even less eager to spew them in her face witout warning.  
"Wondered, huh." Her eyebrows raise, a mix between scepticism and...something else.
"Yeah." He thinks she can tell he's lying.

"Men." She flounces off a second later, spinning on her heel and huffing.
He watches her as she goes, bewildered.
"What's that supposed to mean?" He calls after her.
Suddenly Sam is at his shoulder, a hand patting pityingly. "Damn, you got it bad." He says before strolling off in the same direction.
"What's that supposed to mean?"