Steve Rogers thought he was one of the lucky ones but Natasha Romanoff, well, she thought that she was terribly misfortunate and she would love to kick fate's ass. In a world where soulmates are real, unequivocal marks etched on skin signifying an i...
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"Seriously, Nat?" Steve Rogers spoke dubiously, looking at the brazen woman in front of him as her captivating, emerald eyes met his azure ones. God, she was stunning, making his heart thrum and inclination twist up his spine. "What is it with you trying to set me up with every woman you can think of?" He asked.
After neutralizing Loki and saving human civilization three weeks ago, he had joined S.H.I.E.L.D.'s strike team and was paired with Natasha and Epic, just as Maria had suggested many nights ago at Stark Tower. It wasn't really what he thought it was going to be; they had only been assigned two missions, both completed in a breeze with her stealth, Epic's sharp senses, and his brute strength. He wasn't expecting to charge into the fray of battle every weekend when he had accepted the job offer, but he had indeed anticipated more action. However, she had kept her promise to teach him how to fight tactically and every other day, they met in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s state-of-the-art training center to spar. Today had been going well - he actually felt on top of his game - until she suggested he ask out S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, Rachel, then Samantha, and then Ali.
It had completely thrown him off.
He was only interested in one woman who clearly didn't want him and clearly wasn't his soulmate. He had been trying to cross the lines of professionalism with her, to earn her trust and, at least, see her outside of work once in a while. Last week, he had somehow convinced her to go out to dinner with him, and he had reveled in it all. However, no matter what he felt for her; the potent vestige, the spark of his soulmate mark, and the unduly - frankly unprofessional - protectiveness, he had to face the music.
Natasha wasn't his soulmate like he thought she was.
"Come on, Rogers. You need to get out more... go out with some twenty-first-century women and get laid." She retorted, taking advantage of Steve's dismay and landing a swift kick to his abdomen. The words even left a sour taste in her mouth - every woman she mentioned, every place she suggested he take them - it all made her heartache painfully and her stomach twinge with envy.The more time she spent with him; the long nights on missions, the wonderful evening he had taken her out to dinner in Brooklyn, and the days they spent training, the more she had come to adore him. He was an utter gentleman, but he didn't treat her like she was just another pretty face. He genuinely cared about what she had to say and she did as well, reveling in his stories from the war, the way he smiled at her, and the way they could talk for hours about anything and everything.
God, she was so far gone, but she had to protect him from herself.
She could never have him.
A sinister, former KGB assassin and the glorious Captain America weren't even supposed to be friends and that's what they were becoming.
"Who says I don't... go out, I mean?" He mumbled, swiftly recovering from her kick and grasping her arm in his strong grip. He was heedfully not to restrain her too tightly as he kicked her leg out from underneath her in the way she had taught him. She gracefully landed on her knee and twisted her arm out of his grip before taking a step back, stealthily like a cat.
