**Before you continue to the story, please read the note or you might be lost:

The Cap & the CW was written after I had some inspiration about the new Cap3 movie. For those who don't know, in the comics, all the superheroes within this Marvel Universe begin a civil war over a legislative bill. After amateur superheroes (non-Avengers) take on a fight that goes horribly wrong and innocents are killed, the government wants all superheroes to register their aliases and true identities, and also agree to only act against threats when called upon by the U.S. government. It was called the Superhuman Registration Act.

Cap doesn't want to register, Stark does. Natasha is on Stark's side. Things on both sides get heated and deadly. This story takes place in the middle of the war. I wanted to see what would happen to a couple if they ended up on opposing sides. This may or may not be a one-off. Don't know yet if I have enough material for a series.

And if you're wondering what happened to Bruce and Natasha, yes this takes place within that Universe, but I'm throwing their whole relationship thing out the window. It never happened and I wish I could un-see that entire movie.

Enjoy,

Whales :)

He stepped inside the door cautiously, she could see his brow furrow even in the darkness. He didn't set his keys on the counter, choosing instead to keep them clamped noiselessly in his palm. He knew someone was in here. Her heartbeat quickened with each ponderous step he took into his apartment. He stopped dead and with nostrils flared he sniffed quickly at the air, his head beginning to turn in her direction.

"I let myself in," Natasha said. She was a curvy, slight woman of medium height. Her fiery red hair was in a long ponytail just above the base of her neck. Her bold, straight-cut bangs brushed her brow, scarcely falling short of her eyes.

People always told her that her eyes were her most striking feature. Not her full lips, generous hips or fine cheekbones, but her eyes. Cut like diamonds and brilliant as emeralds, they were her best feature and she knew it. Not that she couldn't sway her hips just so and tilt a situation to her advantage, but still it was the eyes that always caught them.

Just now she couldn't quite look him in the eyes, Steve. He had relaxed markedly since she'd revealed herself—she didn't see the point in dragging it on any longer—but there was still a rigidness in his posture that usually wasn't there when she was around.

But then, she'd been half responsible for it, hadn't she?

He was tall, Steve. A humble giant of a man. All smooth, broad planes and chiseled marble, like a walking Michelangelo statue. His knuckles popped when he opened his hand and set the keys on the counter. He shut the door behind himself and walked over to the kitchen sink, flipping on the recessed lighting under the cabinets as he went.

It cast stark shadows across the kitchen and living area, but the meager light still left her in relative darkness. He leaned against the sink and crossed his arms. The silence stretched out and Natasha noticed the muscles in his jaw bulge. Steve was getting impatient. That's what he did when he got impatient.

Suddenly Natasha wasn't sure why she'd come. It had been a stupid, stupid idea. Her pulse quickened again, the normally steady thump-thump turned into a patter of nervous dread. Why had she talked herself into doing this? Who breaks into someone's apartment and just waits for them to come home, in the dark?!

Well, she had to say something.

"I… saw you at the meeting today and I realized it was the first time I'd seen you in—in God, almost three weeks. And I…" Natasha trailed off. He leaned his head to the side and popped the vertebrae. Something else he did when he was irate.

"Three weeks and five days," Steve said in a monotone voice.

Natasha swallowed. "Yeah, it's been a while."

"You just realized that it's been almost a month. Guess Stark keeps you busy. But glad the meeting reminded you that I exist."

That stung. Natasha hadn't meant it like that. Of course she knew exactly the date and the time she'd last seen him. It wasn't like she didn't think about it every day, it's just… well she'd needed something to say and that was the first thing—stupid thing—that had come to mind.

Natasha frowned at Steve deeply and shut her mouth. She would not take the bait, she would not. "I'm sorry. This isn't why I came, I didn't come here to start any crap with you. I'll let myself out."

Steve didn't move an inch, didn't say a word. Her heart pounded in her chest, blood coursing through her ears in a deafening roar. She shouldn't have come here. Natasha felt a lump rise in her throat and for an instant, an insane and absolutely terrifying instant, she almost cried.

"Why did you come?" Steve rasped. His voice was sharp and jagged, as if the words had sliced his throat open on the way out.

She stopped, her hand encircling the doorknob. Silence, thick and suffocating bloomed like sickly flowers in springtime. "Because, I wanted—I needed to see you and…" she stopped. And smell you and look at you without looking away and have your things all around me making me feel safe. I needed to feel safe again, Natasha thought desperately.

Just then she heard him move and soon after felt the disturbance in the air that always told her someone was behind her. Steve was so close that she could feel his body heat against her back and his warm breath stir the hairs on the back of her neck. She closed her eyes, still holding onto the doorknob.

"I didn't come here to fight you, Steve. I can't, and I don't want to," Natasha whispered.

It was a while before he responded. When he did speak, it cut her. "You didn't even look at me," he said softly. His tone was so wounded and pleading. She closed her eyes to guard against the guilt and the pain. "It's been three weeks and five days and you looked at everybody but me. You still haven't looked at me, not even now."

"I know."

"Why?"

She shook her head mutely, wanting to run away from this. Natasha wasn't sure what she was looking for when she'd come here tonight, but this wasn't it. Firm, strong hands gripped her shoulders and she jumped, eyes springing open.

Steve shushed her and squeezed in reassurance. "Turn around," he said. Natasha did so, but reluctantly. She couldn't meet his eyes, instead looking just over his shoulder.

"I'm losing you and I can't do anything about it," he told her sadly, angrily.

Natasha looked down. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't true, that they could salvage this thing they'd created, that they could be together. But did she really believe that anymore? The things they'd said to each other that night… harsh things, had illustrated clearly that a line had been drawn and they were not standing on the same side.

She took his hand in hers and studied it. It was both rough and smooth, the ridges of his fingerprints both familiar and now alien to her. "Do you see me differently now?"

"What?" Steve asked. She was sure that her question seemed like a complete non sequitur.

She continued turning his hand over and running her fingers along the knuckles and grooves. "When you look at me, do you see me differently than you used to?"

Steve paused in thought and Natasha held her breath. "Natasha," he stilled her hands by closing them between his own. She froze in place, her eyes fixed on the middle of his chest. "Please, please look at me."

They had been happy once. Couldn't they just go back to that? Why did it have to be so hard? She just wanted to wake up on a sun-dappled Saturday morning, with him hard and expectant behind her, running his wonderfully solid hand over her hip and asking if she wanted eggs even though she knew that he had absolutely no intention of cooking anything, let alone getting out of bed.

Natasha was so afraid. She'd avoided him for the better part of a month. This morning both sides had had a meeting with the Governor and she'd had to be there, so did he. But she couldn't look at him, couldn't bear seeing something else in those eyes. It would destroy her, she knew, if Steve looked at her the same way he looked at everyone else. Natasha would know in an instant that she was no longer special to anyone.

Natasha dared herself to look up, she at least owed that to him. Their eyes met. Natasha gripped Steve's hand hard and sucked in a breath.

His eyes were Cerulean blue with flecks of gold in them. They were sad and tired, but… "I see you, Natalia." Steve meant it, he really did and she loved him for it. "Do you see me?"

"Yes," she replied, "and you're beautiful."

Steve didn't ask for permission, he just kissed her. Natasha kissed him back and forgot about everything else. She didn't come here for this, but that was alright.

Steve encircled his arms around Natasha's waist and lifted her clear of the floor. She was used to that and barely noticed. The feeling of being pressed against him again was indescribable. He was nearly crushing her to his chest, her breasts were mashed almost painfully against him, but she didn't care. She filled her nose with the smell of him and it sent a shiver of pleasure shooting down her spine. His pulse was hammering just as much as hers and their kisses grew deeper and more urgent. All of a sudden the light in the room began to fade and Natasha realized that Steve was carrying her down the hall towards his bedroom.

Steve sat down on the bed and set Natasha sideways on his lap. The bulge in his crotch was pressed against her bottom, and he closed his eyes and moaned when she shifted. He kissed her neck, her collar bone and the hollow of her throat. Natasha ran her fingers through his hair, encouraging him. But then he stopped.

He placed a kiss so delicate and soft on her neck, just below her jaw, that she hardly felt it. "I needed you Nat. I needed you so bad." He nuzzled her neck and inhaled deeply, taking in her scent, and breathed out a hot, contented sigh. "Missed you."

Natasha cupped his head in both of her hands and pulled his face up to hers. She'd needed him too and had missed him fiercely. She knew what she needed to do, what they must do. Natasha cupped his face and held his gaze for several long seconds. "I need you to fix this Steve. I need you to find a way. For us. Okay?"

Steve nodded firmly, a promise. Natasha knew him, she knew he'd find a way to end the war or at least find a way for the two of them to remain whole if he couldn't. She kissed him deeply, and passionately with all the pent up longing, fear, love and lust she'd been holding in for nearly a month.

Steve flipped Natasha onto her back, and her world shrank to just the two of them and the bed they moved upon.