A/N: This story idea is not mine; I am merely borrowing it. This prompt belongs to one of the followers on my fandom account on Instagram who wrote a caption about this on her post.

Oh, no. This was bad.

Very, very bad.

Natasha got out of the truck and ran to the front where the headlight was. Hopefully, there wouldn't be anything to telling.

Yeah, right.

On the red paint was a dent. A big, ugly one that screamed "Look at me!"

Well, she was looking, and it wasn't good. The dent was not going to be unnoticed by Steve when he went to work the next morning. So, she had two options. She could either tell him right away when she got home or lie and try to cover it up until she got it fixed.

To put it more accurately, if Natasha were the same woman she was that Steve had met years ago, she would have considered option b an actual option. However, she was a different person now. She had grown and expanded from the emotionless shell of a person that she used to be.

Lying to Steve would only put a rift between them and she definitely didn't want to do anything that would push she and her husband apart. He had brought out the best in her and made her aspire to be a better woman. There no way she could do a backtrack.

"Tsk, if only I hadn't parked so quickly in that stupid garage. Why do they have to put poles in parking spaces anyway?" The redhead ran her fingers over the dent. It wasn't necessarily bad, but it was unsightly. There was a faint yellow mark on the dent which made it more noticeable.

She put on her glasses and sighed. Now that she's taken a good look at the dent, she'd better get back home. The sooner she told Steve that she hit his car, the better.

Not that Natasha was nervous to tell her husband that she had dented his car or anything. It's just that she wasn't used to things like this happening to her. Normally, she was in full control of what she was doing and hardly ever made a mistake or a screw up like this. So her pride was a little wounded.

"Hopefully, Steve won't be wounded when I tell him what happened to his car," she mumbled to herself. He loves this truck."

Ten minutes later, she pulled in to the garage of their house, parked and turned the engine off. Sitting there for a few minutes, Natasha began to brainstorm of a way to tell Steve that she dented his car. She was amazing at baking things. Maybe she could whip up a batch of snicker doodles. He loved her snicker doodles.

As she sat in the car, trying to think of how to tell him that she hit his car, the kitchen door leading to the garage opened and Steve stepped out.

She looked up in surprise and cursed inwardly when she saw her husband walking to the car door.

Guess I'll have to settle for telling him now.

"I was wondering when you'd get back," Steve said as he opened the door for her.

A small smile graced Natasha's features as she undid her seatbelt and stepped out of the truck. "I ran into Sharon on my way out. We talked for a bit. She and Sam are going to celebrate their fourth anniversary tonight."

Steve smiled back and put his hands on his hips. "No way. They've been dating that long? I thought it was three years."

"That's what I said, too. I suppose we've just been distracted with our own relationship."

"I agree," Steve replied, leaning down to give her a kiss.

Natasha moved her face up slightly and their lips met tenderly. Then, they both pulled back and she took hold of his hand with her free one. "I need to show you something." She tugged him with her and they walked to the front of his truck.

It was hard, watching her husband's expression switch from curiosity to shock. He dropped her hand and touched the dent. "What?! Nat, how did this happen?! Did someone bump into you?!"

Oh, boy.

She chuckled awkwardly and shook her head. "No, uh...I hit one of those yellow breakers in the parking garage."

"But you're a better driver than me. I don't see how that's possible, unless..." His eyes narrowed and he gave her a pointed look. "Please, tell me you weren't on your phone."

He got her.

"Um, not exactly. I mean, yeah, I had my phone out, but only to check the time. I was backing up, but a car had been speeding in the parking garage and almost hit me. So I startled and moved the truck up, but my foot hit the gas a little too hard. That's when I hit the breaker."

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't speak for a moment, as the look in his eyes told her that he was figuring things out. After glancing at the dent again, he spoke. "I can take it to the shop and get it fixed. Shouldn't cost more than...a hundred dollars, maybe."

Relived, Natasha let out a sigh. "Oh, that's good. I was afraid it'd cost more than that. Well, I'm going to take a shower, then get started on dinner."

He looked at her and waved his hand. "No need. I ordered a pizza just before you got here."

"Oh. Alright. Did you get-"

"I ordered mozzarella sticks, too. It should be here in twenty minutes."

"You know me so well." She kissed Steve's cheek and went into the house.

"Steve? C'mere for a second."

Moments later, her husband walled into the bathroom where his wife was showering. "Yeah, Nat? What is it?"

"Could you wash my back? I can't reach it."

"Sure." Footsteps sounded, coming closer until the shower curtain was pushed back and Steve stood before her.

Natasha handed him her soapy washcloth and turned her back to him so he could wash it for her. She cooed in pleasure as he stroked the washcloth up and down her back. The feel of the wet, yet soft cloth on her skin felt amazing. Even more so because of how sensitive Natasha's back was.

She let out a moan when Steve ran the washcloth down to her lower back, almost touching her backside. Slowly, teasingly, he ran the cloth over her backside and on the side of her hips. Natasha's legs started to tremble at this point and her breathing had become shallow.

From the the heavy breathing behind her, she could tell that Steve was also aroused as well. They may have been married for only seven years, but it never took Steve very long to get turned on. The same went for Natasha. They were a couple who would always have a bit of fire and passion in their marriage.

Tired of feeling her husband's hands on just her back, Natasha turned around, facing him. She could see the pulse in Steve's neck and grinned. It never failed to excite him, seeing his wife naked. She was beautiful, from the top of her wet, curly hair to the lovely auburn curls on her nether region.

"Steve...touch me," she whispered to him.

The blond man raised his hand to caress her breast tenderly, but before he could bend his head down to taste the taut nipple, the sound of the doorbell rang and shook them both out of their lustful haze.

They both sighed, nearly at the same time and Steve gave her a rueful smile. "That'd be the pizza."

"Bad timing. Tsk. Go ahead. I'll be out in a few minutes." She touched his shoulder and nodded, pulling the shower curtain back in place once the bathroom door clicked shut.

Later, at the dinner table

"Nat, do you have the keys to my truck?"

"Mmhm. They're in my purse."

"When we're finished eating, can you give them to me? Turns out that Nick's daughter went into labor last night, so he's given all of his employees the week off."

"That's great, Steve. Are you planning to have that mechanic look at the truck tomorrow?"

"Yeah, and about the truck...I think it's better if you drive your own car for a while."

"...what?"

"I think you should drive your own car."

"I do drive my car, Steve."

"I know, but you also drive mine, too, sometimes."

"This is true."

"However, I think it'd be better for you to drive your car and not mine."

"Is this because you're mad about the dent? I said I was sorry."

"I know, but I just want us to drive our own cars from now on. That way, we can avoid accidents like what happened with my truck."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"No, Steve, don't you dare try to be evasive with me. Why should you both stick to driving our own cars?"

"Because we're less likely to have accidents if we're driving our own car. My truck isn't your car, so you don't take care of it the way that I do. Same goes for you. I'm not saying that either of us are lazy or anything like that, but it's a fact."

"So you don't trust me to take care of your car."

"Nat, I didn't say that."

"Well, then you need to work on how you word things because it sounds like you don't trust me to take care of your car."

"That's not even the point here."

"Oh, really. And what is the point?"

"It's what I just said. We should drive our own cars."

"Do you trust me with your car?"

"That's not what this is about."

"Just answer the question, Steve. Do you trust me with your car?"

"..."

"Tch. Thanks for letting me know. I'm going to bed." Natasha pushed back her chair and stood, going upstairs.

Three days later

Steve came into the living room and called out for his wife. "Uh, Nat?"

"Yeah?" The redhead walked out of the kitchen wearing an apron. She was in the process of making dinner.

There was a sheepish look on his face which bewildered her. "Honey...? What is it?"

"Remember a couple days ago when you brought the truck home with a dent?"

Natasha crossed her arms and gave her husband an annoyed glare. Why was he bringing this up? He was lucky she chose to talk to him after telling her that he didn't trust her with his car that night. "Yes."

The blond chuckled awkwardly. "Well. It's a funny story, but I...uh...I hit it, too."

Her jaw dropped. "What?"

"I put a dent on it on the way home from the store."

She narrowed her eyes. "How?"

"I was pulling out of the parking lot and bumped into one of those little closed off sections where they keep the carts."

Natasha smirked. "Let me guess. You were on your cell phone?"

It was hard to not start laughing when the man nodded meekly. This was just what he deserved, especially after how he talked to her yesterday.

"Well, you'd better call that mechanic at the shop and get it fixed." She turned and made her way back to the kitchen, humming to herself. Then she stopped and shot her husband a stern face. "Oh, by the way. You can't drive my car."

Laughter bubbled up from her throat as she went to the kitchen, a bit of pep in her step. Meanwhile, Steve watched her leave and cursed under his breath. "Great job, Rogers. Now she's going to hold this over your head for the rest of the week. Idiot."

If it were any other woman, he wouldn't believe that she'd tease him for it, but this was Natasha Rogers after all.

He would never hear the end of it.