Steve had always loved to draw. Ever since he was a kid, he always carried his sketchbook around with him to wherever he might go. When he wasn't working – or when there was no one beating him up – he was drawing. At first, he drew only buildings and cars, they were not only the things the boy was interested in at the time, but also the only things he felt himself capable to draw. As he grew older, he started to draw human figures, he started with male ones and then he moved to female figures. He loved the softness of their curves, to him, a curved line was way more expressive then a straight one. His main goal was the find the right woman to draw. The one who would express everything he felt, the one who was worth drawing in all of her greatness and details.

He hadn't found that woman yet, that was, until he met Peggy. The second Steve laid eyes upon her, he had a sudden desire of drawing her, so he did what he wanted to do. He filled a sketchbook with her in every position he had seen her take, with every expression she showed. But just as quickly as she appeared in his life, she vanished. No, Steve vanished.

Women of the modern world were so different than the ones he was accustomed with, they were somehow less graceful, but so were the men, he figured it had something to do with the lack of time they had, with the frenetic rythm of the modern days. But then he saw Natasha. At first sight she looked like every other women, but her appearance deceived, she moved at her own pace in her own world and she was calm, with a cool temperament, as if she wasn't affected by the mess that surrounded her.

And for the first time in forever he felt the urge to draw again, to draw her. And Steve filled a sketchbook with drawings of her, her face, her body, her eyes, all of her and he was always perfecting his skteches trying to capture the inumerous facades of Natasha Romanoff and feeling as if he was always falling short on that task.

~X~

Tony had invited them to live in the Stark Tower - currently Avengers tower - and even built a floor for each one of them. One day, when Steve walked in the living room – which was also know by Bruce as Common Room – he saw one of his worst nightmares come true, all of the team sat on the couch looking at a book, his sketchbook. His breath was caught in his throat as a desperation feeling began to form in the pit of his stomach. They were so caught up in viewing the contents tat they didn't even realize he was there. Sometimes they whispered something between themselves and most nodded and muttered in approval.

He cleared his throat and everyone but Natasha gasped in surprise, "What, if I may ask, are you guys doing?"

"We were just looking at your sketches." Clint replied indifferently. Steve heard a bit of anger – or would it be jealousy- in the archer's voice as he spoke.

"Yeah, who knew the boyscout could draw?" Tony added, he seemed very amused with what he saw. Natasha had a faint blush on her cheeks.

"Thanks, guys. I guess..." Steve muttered shyly.

"Steve." Natasha said standing, he felt himself shiver involuntarily. He knew the day would come when she would find out about the drawings, he just didn't expect it to come so soon. He didn't want his life to end that soon. Her tone wasn't cold, it was menacing and her eyes blazed like flames. Why was she so angry about that? "I want to have a word with you later."

All of the Avengers whistled mocking at her words, but the look she sent them was enough to make them shut up. "I'm going out." Natasha announced them as she went to her floor to change and grab her purse. A few seconds later she left through the front door.

Steve walked to the couch where all of them were sitting and snatched his sketchbook from Stark's hands.

"I'm warning you, don't you ever go through my stuff again," Steve hissed, "I can assure you that you don't want to see me angry."

He went to his floor and he slammed the door so hars that it could be heard all over the tower.

~X~

Steve told J.A.R.V.I.S to tell him when Natasha arrived back in the Tower, "It doesn't matter what I'm doing, it doesn't matter if I'm taking a bath or sleeping, just tell me, please."

"Yes, Mr. Steve." The A.I replied.

It had already been two days since Natasha left and everyone but Clint was worried sick about the redhead. Steve tried to contact her every day at least three times, but she never answered her phone. He couldn't help but feel guilty, was that all because of him? because of a couple of innocent sketches? What if something happened to her?

The situation in the tower was tense. Steve felt like he couldn't walk around freely anymore, for every time he did, everyone glanced weirdly at him, as if everything that was happening was his fault, so he simply stayed in his room sketching her, as if that would help bringing her back.

~X~

It was the end of the third day and Steve was almost going out looking for her, when J.A.R.V.I.S announced her arrival back in the tower. Steve was sitting on her bed and he jumped quickly making his way to her floor, he wanted to speak to her before anyone else did.

Natasha and Clint were the only ones who required passwords to enter their floors, that wasn't much of a surprise since both of them were spies. Since Steve didn't know the password, he knocked on the door and waited for her to answer. It took her around five minutes and he was almost leaving, but she eventually opened the door. Natasha wore a silken robe with drawings that seemed to be Chinese. He smiled internally at the view, something more for him to draw later.

"Hi, Steve." She greeted him, her voice sounded weary and the look in her eyes too, "Please, come in."

"Hey, Nat." He said and walked in.

Unlike what he expected, her floor had almost no decoration and, besides the methodically organized files and some basic furniture, there were dozens of bottles of vodka scattered all around the room, all of them empty.

"So, Cap, what brings you here?" She asked him motioning for him to sit as she took her own seat in front of a window.

"I was worried about you, Nat. What was that all about? Running like that." He blurted.

"Steve, I'm no longer a child. It's been many years since I've learned to take care of myself, I don't need anyone to worry about me." She told him, her voice was bitter and he could almost hear how broken she was inside. Once more, he felt guilty.

"I know, Natasha, I do. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, that's what friends do. Besides, it was my fault you went away, right? If I hadn't sketched you without your permission, you would've never gone away."

"Steve..." She told him looking down, he could see tears gathering in the corner of her eyes, they gathered on her eyelashes too and they seemed to shine against the light. Another scene for him to draw. "It's not your fault. Sometimes I need space, I need to disappear. It's got nothing to do with you."

Steve sighed in relief and nodded, "So, do I have your permission to draw you, ma'am?"

"Yup, I can even pose for you if you want me to." She told him looking at him again, the tears that had been there only a few moments ago had now disappeared, her eyes were smiling gently at him.

"Thanks, Nat." He smiled, "Can we start tomorrow? You can meet me in my floor or wherever you want."

"Of course. And well, you are the artist, you are the one who should decide the place." She replied.

"In my floor then." He told her and stood ready to leave. Steve could feel her eyes on him as he did so, as if she was scanning his body, "Now I have to go, good night, Natasha."

"Good night." She nodded as he made his way towards the door, "Oh, and Steve," She added when he was almost closing the door making him stop and look at her, "I'm glad you chose me as your muse."

Steve was happy and relieved. Still, he was worried about her, she almost broke down in front of him, something she never allowed herself to do and he wondered if he had gone there at the wrong time, but he shrugged it off as he made his way back to his room.

In there, he spent hours and hours drawing her face, the tears on her eyelashes and that silken robe and her before finally deciding to go to bed.