Close to You

All characters belong to Marvel Comics

I own nothing

"Natasha?"

She never expected to see him again, the noble soldier, and the man who had invaded her damaged heart. He was there, standing in the first snow fall of December that touched the bustling streets of Brooklyn, his ageless, and cut-stone face was seem as she remembered, and his short golden locks still formal that spiked at the crown of his head, and his crystal blue eyes that held warm and trust. His soft lips were full, and curved into a perfect smile as she felt the sense of his warmth veil over her still body.

She refused to meet his intense stare, and turned her back to him, unsettled by his sudden reappearance.

She wanted to rake those memories they away, make him fade within the depths of her stirring soul. How could she be so cruel to him? He was Captain America, the country's Golden Boy and patriot of freedom. And she was the infamous Black Widow, the great weaver of lethal deceit, and she was butchered not to feel emotion-love and warmth. She was hardened by tortures and the scars etched on her creamy skin were reminders of her guilt and mistakes.

Carefully, Natasha parted her lips, breathing in the frost-bitten air, and twisted her lithe frame around; she turned her head, and looked at Steve over her shoulder.

Tension ran thick in her body, and heart pounding rapid against her chest, she felt the familiar throb. For one moment, she chanced a glare at the store front window, meeting the reflection of her true self, Natalia Romanova, the woman he once loved, but it was just a glimpse of something real, vulnerable and human. She was beautiful, scarlet curls draped over her toned shoulders, soft green eyes with faint mixtures of blue, and her shapely body clothed in a long black coat. She knew it was dangerous to reveal her true self. She refused to disarm for him. He made her feel alive, mended her wounds with his own heart, and left sheltered by his warmth. He would never abandon her. They were partners, not friends, just people that watch the other's back during battle.

"Natasha," Steve spoke in a soft and unimposing voice. "How are you?" She rolled her eyes at him, watching a stupid look etch over his chiseled face. His blue eyes gleamed with concern, and his spiked locks twirled over his forehead. He wasn't dressed for winter, his bulky frame was only protected by a dark blue jacket, frayed jeans and a scarf. His hands were tucked in the pockets of his coat, while his shield attached to his shoulder blades.

"I wonder if one only I will meet you without Howard Stark's weapon attached on your back, Rogers?" she lightly jeered, watching a hue of crimson color his sharp cheekbones. His eyes were shining with tenderness, and yet she found pain configuring in his stern gaze. "You should have just called? I would of answered,"

"I did call, but your voice box was full." Steve echoed back, his lips turned up into a cozy smirk. "You've been busy I see.." His eyes snapped down to the ripped leather of her pants, just below the knee.

Natasha stiffened her lips, "Oh, that's nothing. I tripped on ice." she replied, keeping herself guarded from his invasive stare. "What about you, Cap, did you finally ask Sharon out on that date? Or did you find a new dance partner?"

Steve gave her a dumbfound expression, "Natasha, look, I'm not ready for dating. I have lives to protect. I can't be worrying about a dame when there are so many risks being Captain America. It wouldn't be fair to her." he paused within a fraction of a second, and swallowed down his pain. "I had a chance to be happy, but I made the sacrifice and waited for the world to meet me halfway again."

"Well, under the circumstances, I can't blame you for avoiding relationships. Everything is complicated now, we can only adapt to what we have in front of us, Rogers." Natasha tensed, and walked towards the alleyway, her arms folded protectively over her breasts. He followed her like a lost puppy, and tried to place his hand on her shoulder. She reacted instinctively, and grabbed his wrist, "Steve, I'm not the when you should be following. I don't deserve to have a dance with you." She stormed, fire burned in her greens, and self-resentment kindled in her heart. "You are a good man, and you deserve to be happy, without someone else's painful and dark past dragging you down. You need to have freedom from the shadows."

"A man never forgets his pain," Steve discharged back, slipping his wrist from her grasp. He pulled in closer, his breath heated over her chilled skin. His knuckles gently brushed the side of her face, as the gray shadows of winter shadowed his bright cobalt eyes; he was trapped in the moment with her, frozen under her dangerous allure, and weakened by the scent that wafted off her body. It was intoxicating. He coaxed her with gentle touch, and she was calm and stoic. Steve knew she was disarmed, a light smirk twisted over his lips.

"You're not the only one who has nightmares," he whispered, daring himself to invade her gray shaded soul. The thrum of his baritone entered through the barriers of her heart. "We all deserve freedom, Nat."

Natasha shook her head, stubbornly. Her eyes screwed shut and she felt blood pounding in her ears, the ground was sinking beneath her feet. Fear clawed at her, rabid and penetrating inside her bones, scarring her flesh with pain, she could feel her chest muscles constrict, breath ceased to exist in her lungs as words exploded out of her lips, "I'm not a saint like you are, Steve."

The gravity of her words, lulled him to stroke his fingers through her scarlet curls, and he blinked the snow flakes off his lashes, staring down at her with embers of blue fire. "I'm not perfect, Nat. I have weaknesses." he confessed, feeling his heart thumping faster. "I'm just a man in a uniform who fights for the little guys. That all I am, Natasha."

Feeling the empowering desire to kiss him, Natasha collided the firmness of his ample into his sculpted chest, wrapping her arms around his broad neck, splaying her fingers along his throat and crashed her lips desperately on his, calming the raging of the storm in his body.

Natasha closed his eyes, blocking out everything, and focused on the softness of his arched lips, they slipped and slid into folds of passion, his upper lip plunged in between her pink blooms, and the point of his nose dug into her cheek. Her skin quivered with subtle tremors, she was afraid to lose him, relishing the cool surface of his chilled lips dissolve over her urging mouth.

She kissed longingly, pressing everything she had onto his lips, capturing the tensions of wet heat embrace over her tongue until she devoured him with hunger and stole his breath away. Her lips peeled back, fully opening herself to him, no barriers, giving him the freedom to assault her mouth with searing kisses that left her numb and lost within him.

Steve rested his forehead against her own, holding it there as they shared the same breath and his enveloped one last kiss over her lips, before leaving his confession over her lips as he felt the thralls of the coldness enter through his bones, "I love you..."

She embraced him. Hearts pounded the same beat. Lips crushed lips. A roll of tears slipped over flesh.

A church bell knelled in the snowy breeze, she could have sworn it was playing the wedding tune.

"I love you, Steve," Natasha whispered heat against his lips, as he winced as the throb in his aching heart dissolved with those honest words that came from her own.

He smiled and pressed shakily over the corner of her slightly swollen lips, while his lips held a kiss on her skin, a whisper echoed in her ears, "Will you dance with me?"

For the first life in her tortured life, Natasha allowed her heart to answer, and tears carry happiness. "Yes,"