Romanogers - Oneshots

Loving You is a Losing Game (1)

"Don't worry, Miss Romanoff. I'll kill him myself."
Natasha watches the unsuspecting king opposite rise from the bench and stride away, wearing the blood stains that decorate his shirt collar as gilding, that on his forehead as warrior paint. Already, he has a noble air, she considers, but his smouldering glare worries her.

These Accords are supposed to be stark, indifferent. That's the point. To rein everybody in, no buts, no ifs. And yet every signatory has managed to make this about emotion. Right now, all she wishes is that people would feel less. Sentiment twists things, warps the truth, hides logic from sight, when right now that is all they need. Natasha truly believes that if they'd reasoned properly, none of this would be happening. T'Challa wouldn't be off his head with grief, Steve wouldn't be...Steve would be here. He would be raking hands through his hair and worrying over his lip and fussing, which she'd only secretly love. He'd hug her and reassure her with the consolation that everything's gonna be alright, and she'd believe him, if only for a second, because Steve never lies, never to her.

Helicopters and hoses are everywhere, shouting and sirens a cacophony without bounds. Silver snakes writhe against the control of their handlers, coiling upward to twist inside windows and quench the curling flames with fervour. And all because of emotion.

Soot stains her clothes, rendering this outfit unwearable now. Pity. It runs its fingers through her hair and strokes her cheek in a way that's beginning to itch, though when she brings a hand up to scratch at the irritation, it only smears the stuff further. Natasha huffs impatiently, but is cut off as her phone starts to vibrate in her hand.

Her huff quickly turns to an exhale wrung through with relief. She can feel her conflict in her mind already easing, quieting as the line connects them. Though they may be heads and tails of a coin right now, Natasha knows it couldn't come between them. Steve had been hurt, of course, when she chose Tony, but he understood. In his eyes, just because she was 'wrong' didn't change the way he thought of her. One 'mistake' can't cancel out love.

The word still feels funny on her tongue. It doesn't quite fit in her head, like a gear out of place. This new setting is unfamiliar, but in the best way. Natasha didn't think she'd ever get the chance to feel this way about anyone, or have them feel this way towards her. But she has, is, every moment of every day. Nothing anyone says could ever change the way she loves Steve.

"Hi,"
"Are you alright?" His voice automatically lessens something in her chest, and she can breathe easier.
"Yeah, thanks, I- I got lucky."

The silence from the other end does manage to shoot one bolt of uneasiness through her mind, though she knocks it aside, rising from the bench. Her eyes flick warily to the sides, checking for loitering figures and eavesdroppers, and she lowers her voice.

"Where are you?"
"Nat look- "
They speak at the same time, wires crossing with a fizzle. Pressing the phone closer to her ear, as if that will somehow pull her closer to him, she cuts off, leaving a space in the air for his speech.
"I'm in Germany."

A lie, though Steve can tell she doesn't detect it. Relief breeds with shame. Relief: this is only going to hurt, it's better without questions. Shame: he's never lied to her before. And her unwavering faith in his honesty makes this all the worse. In reality, Steve is just a few metres away, obscured by a tree. Sunglasses cast a tint over his vision, but he can still pick out her scarlet head easily, a buoy of still calm in a sea of steadily rising smoke and panicked shouting. Having her this close, and yet this far, is like a weight in his bones. It's getting harder and harder to stand his ground and not rush over to hug her, nuzzle his head in her hair and her shoulder, feel her compact frame against his own. He wants to tell her how scared he was when he heard, the fear that wrapped its cold fingers around his heart in the two dialling tones before she picked up. He wants to tell her how much he loves her, and how sorry he is for making a whole mess of this. But mostly for his next words.