Posted this fic on my AO3 account two days ago and I've just been too busy to post it on here. I love Romanogers and just felt I needed to write this before IW destroys me. Title comes from the song "Handyman" by AWOLNATION. Enjoy!

It's the night before what could possibly (probably) be the end of their lives and yet Steve's in such a deep sleep that Natasha can't help but smile. It's the first time in so long that she's seen him look at peace during his sleep. Usually he's either tossing and turning, groaning from some nightmare of things past or not yet come (she's never sure which) or he can't find sleep at all and spends the night searching for something to keep him busy. That fact that he doesn't even react when his door slides open for her tells her that the events of the past few days have really taken their toll on him. If he was awake she'd make a joke about what an old man he was becoming (maybe he'd laugh; it's been a while since she's heard his laugh). Then again with all that happened she's sure that everyone feels a hundred years old (she knows she does).

She makes her way out of the doorframe (half afraid if she stands there too long someone will see her, the fact it's the middle of the night be damned). The metal floor warms her bare feet with each step she takes (something T'challa's little sister said she'd installed in these guest rooms for maximum comfort) and a faint purple glow from the tiles lights her way to the bed, as if it's a magical force pulling her towards it.

When she gets to the side of the bed a thought passes through her mind that makes her freeze up. She imagines, for a moment, an extremely brief moment, that they're just two normal people and she's just crawling into bed with the man she loves after a long night. Suddenly, she's burning with shame (such a thought is so forbidden in their world).

Part of the mythos of Black Widow is that she feels no fear. That might be true for Black Widow but Natasha Romanoff isn't so inhuman that she can't feel fear (right now she wishes she was though). At this moment she's face to face with one of her greatest fears. The fear that she'll take this next step into the bed and shatter everything she's built with Steve.

Natasha has many relationships she treasures. Her friendship with Clint is irreplacable. No one will ever be the father-figure mentor that Fury is to her. Being a big sister to Wanda is something she enjoys so much. But none of her relationships mean as much to her as her one with Steve. They'd been through so much together, grown into these new hero roles together. Since the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. it was Steve who was always by her side, helping her find a new place in this world while she helped him find his. For so long she's considered their relationship a friendship but lately...it'd felt like more.

Love is for children. That's the code Natasha's lived by and it's worked well for her so far. But what she feels for Steve isn't love, at least not the kind that one found in rom-coms and novels. She knows romance was never in their cards (it's rarely in the cards for any soldier or spy). This is more than a romantic love. This is a want. This is a need.

She knows what was keeping her from finding sleep that night: the thought of never getting to be with him, just the two of them (not as heroes or partners, just people), for one brief moment in time. She knows she needed to come there. The only problem is what if he doesn't need her.

She strongly considers just bolting out the door, not caring if it wakes him or anyone else. After tomorrow, if they make it through, she's sure nobody would even remember. But then that thought, if they make it through; that thought is enough to tell her she needs to do this (she has to do this).

So, moving slowly, she sits down on the edge of his bed. She doesn't make a peep so she assumes its the shift in his bed that causes him to jolt awake. Before he can do anything she gently places her hand on his shoulder, whispers "shhh", and pushes him back down as she crawls in to lay beside him. The look on his face has gone from one of alarm to one of curiousity (maybe he thinks it's all a dream; part of her hopes he does).

They readjust themselves so that they are lying on their sides, facing each other. They're not close enough to touch but neither pulls the other close, neither knows if they should (what would he do if she did...if only she had the courage to try). For a moment they linger in silence, just staring into the others' eyes, until he breaks it.

"Couldn't sleep?"

She shakes her head. "Not really. Thought you might be up. Stood in your door waiting for you to say something but then I realized you were asleep."

Suprise flashes in his eyes. "I must have really been out...How'd I not hear you?"

She let out a soft laugh. "I'd be losing my touch if I'd let you hear me."

"Yeah, that's true," he says witha smile.

Silence again. The soft purple glow of the room is the only thing illuminating them enough to see each other. As she stares into his blue eyes, she can almost hear him asking the question running through both of their minds: What happens tomorrow?

"Tomorrow..." They speak at the time and can't help but smile, even if both of them are sad. No one wants to talk about tomorrow. Tomorrow is when time is up. Tomorrow is when they have to face their biggest threat ever, the one that's lingered in the shadows for all these years. T'Challa's sister's technology can only block Vision's mind stone from projecting for 24 hours. The second it stops is the second Thanos and his goons appear. The second this war truly begins.

"It all comes down to this, huh?" he whispers, more to himself than to her. He looks even more drained after he says it. It's like the mere thought of tomorrow can drain him of his strength.

"You know when Fury called me in on this all those years ago I never thought it'd lead to a battle in what was supposedly a third world country with a whole army of heros against a mad alien warlord." She let out a chuckle as she ran her hand through her short, platnium blonde hair (it used to be red, long. just how long ago was that?) "What I wouldn't give to have the days of just spying on Stark back."

Steve nods. "When I woke up from the ice, I knew the world had changed. I just didn't think that meant it'd brought in whole other worlds. I've definitely seen some stuff that if I told people about back then they'd think I was insane. It's like something out of the sci-fi shows that were on the radio."

What they wouldn't give for this to all just be a sci-fi show on the radio. But it's real. Too real.

"Be honest with me..." she begins (he's always honest, she knows). "If you could go back and do it all over again the same way, would you? Knowing it'd lead you here?" (knowing it'd lead him to him death at the hands of a brutal alien army).

She expects some hesitation, some time to consider all the different paths, but she doesn't get any (perhaps he's already spent enough time thinking how each one goes). Instead she gets a rough hand on her cheek and the quick response of "Here is exactly where I want to be."

It's silent again, so silent she's pretty sure they can both hear her heart beating in her chest. Her eyes are locked with his, searching for any sign of a lie, of the truth that he's just saying that in an attempt to alieveate her fear. But the look is the exact same as the one he gave her in Sam's spare room when he said he'd trust her. Pure, honest.

"Would you?" he asks, "Do it over again the same way?"

It's a question she's asked herself many times before. If she hadn't done this...if she'd only done that...if...if...if. In one scenario, she back in Russia, a simple housewife, married to a general, raising two kids after her career as a balleria is over. It'd be a storybook life, one were she'd likely meet her end as an old lady, peacefully in her sleep. But no matter how many times she runs the scenarios through her mind, goes through all the different ifs, the Natasha at the end of them doesn't feel like her.

The Natashas at the end of them haven't saved countless lives, told the government off, trained a team of heroes, fought robots and aliens and magical beings. Those Natashas haven't become strong, independant women who can hold their own in such a dark world and still be able to see an inkling of the light. Those Natasha's never got to experience the mercy of an enemy who became a friend or what it felt like to become part of a team. Most importantly those Natashas never had anyone give them a look like Steve's giving her right now, like he's given her so many times before.

If doing it all the same way would bring her to here then she's good with it. If the day after tomorrow never comes then that's okay. At least she has now, at least she has all the yesterdays that've lead her to now. She wouldn't trade anything for those.

Without thinking, she runs her hand over his cheek (his beard is scratchy under her fingers, his whole look a far cry from that faithful day they first met on the helicarrier) and places it around the back of his head. She moves her body closer to his (she swears he inches closer as well when she does) and gently pulls his face to hers, planting a soft kiss against his lips.

She knows what she's just done can't be excused away as part of a rouse like it was the first time. She knows that the act has made her feelings clear (whether he pushes her away or pulls her close she's okay. It had to be done).

Mentally, she gets ready to say her goodbyes and return to her room when all of a sudden she feels one arm snake around her waist pulling her into him as the hand on her cheek cups her face, keeping it still as he pulls her in for kiss.

Maybe he's had practice since their last one (a flame of jealousy lights up in her stomach) or maybe it's just the fact that this one filled with so many emotions (sorrow, longing, excitement, fear, hunger, love) but Natasha knows now that she'd have regretted everything had she not gotten to experience this.

They pull away from each other after a moment (it only lasted seconds but she's sure the memory is burned into her for eternity). They rest their foreheads against each others and just take each other in for a moment.

"Now," she begins after a beat, "I can say I'd do it all the same."

He gives her another smile (she's seen it more this night than she had in the past few months that she can't help but feel her heart warm at the site) and wraps his arms tighter around her. She takes that as a sign that he doesn't her to leave (not that she was planning to now; let the others find them like this. she can handle any of their comments) so she adjust herself to her a more comfortable position, preparing herself to get the sleep she needs to face tomorrow.

"Tomorrow..." he whispers into her hair. She knows he wants to say something (can hear that pained note in his voice) but she stops him before he can fall down the rabbit hole of such depressing thoughts of what tomorrow holds.

"We might not have tomorrow," she whispers back. "But we have yesterday. And we have now."

He thinks about that for a moment before relaxing, falling back into her. "Yeah, we have now."

Now was what they needed.

Reviews and constructive criticism are much appreciated!