MCU fic: “True North” (Natasha/Steve, T)

Rating: Teen
Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Relationships: Natasha Romanoff/Steve Rogers
Characters: Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers
Words: 878
Summary: Post-Endgame fix-it fic. Wherein Steve changes the picture in his compass to Natasha and reveals his feelings for her. There might be a kiss. You’ll just have to read.

“You truly don’t know?” Steve Rogers grins over the rim of his coffee mug – it’s a bit smug, a bit exploitative, and it makes Natasha ‘Never Blink’ Romanov slightly uncomfortable. “How could you miss it?”

“I don’t know what there is to miss, Steve.” Natasha growls at him in between bites of scrambled egg – they’re not the best, but neither of them had exactly been grocery shopping since the whole Thanos thing, so she was down to eggs or stale toast. “You still have a beard, you still fight like a ballerina on steroids. Not much else to notice, Steve.”

Steve just laughs, setting his coffee down on the table, and reaching into his pocket to retrieve his precious compass. Natasha can’t help but roll her eyes when she sees the damn thing. She’s not sure what about it irritates her so much. He doesn’t look at it very much, not since Thanos, at least, not that she’s seen, but it still lives on his person, in a special pocket sewn into his suit, in his pocket, sometimes in his hand when he’s nervous.

“This.” he opens the brass instrument and slides it across the table toward her. It spins to a stop with the face still toward Steve. She pauses mid-bite, sets her fork down, and reluctantly turns it around to look at it. She’s expecting to see a picture of Peggy Carter, of beautiful, perfect Peggy, the one he dreamt of a dance with, the love he lost, but that is not what she finds.

Instead, fitted perfectly in the case is a picture of her. When she was still a redhead, when she still had those curls, he liked to tug on when he teased her. When she still had hope in her eyes and wore her heart on her sleeve for him, so that he could trust her a little easier.

“Wh – Steve?” she looks up at the blonde man across from her.

“I will always love Peggy, but the truth is, I’m not in love with her. I’m not sure I ever was.” he explains, something unexplainable but so, so tender softening his eyes and his voice. “I love Peggy because she was part of my journey to now. The past is the past, Nat.” Steve gives a casual shrug, “I’m not going to live in it. I’m not going to be a slave to a ghost. That’s all she is, now. Peggy was an important part of me, then, but you – you are an important part of me, now. I like to think Peggy was just preparing me for falling in love with the Black Widow.”

“You – you’re…?”

“Since you used my shield to hitch a ride on a chitauri.” Steve can’t help but laugh at the expression on her face. “I thought you knew, Nat. I really did.”

He’s up, now, moving around the table, closing a hand around her wrist, and hauling her up, quick as lightning so she can’t get away. She’s caged in his arms, pressed against his chest, and feeling self conscious about how flushed she is. His forehead presses against hers, and he gives her a tender smile as he tells her the true meaning of that compass, she’d damned to hell so many times. “I keep that compass on me because of you, because when I open it and I see your face, I’m reminded that I have a way home. You are my compass, Natasha, my home. I haven’t had a real home in so long, I forgot what it felt like until you came along.”

“How can you…” Natasha is teary-eyed and so goddamn confused, now. How the hell can the righteous all-American super soldier love her? The broken Russian princess, born of blood and fire and destruction.

“Because I’m not Bruce Banner. I don’t see a monster, Nat.” a hand to her cheek and his thumb is sweeping the tears from her lashes, brushing them away with the slightest of touches. “I see my best friend and I’m in love with you.”

“You better be sure, Rogers, because I don’t share!” Natasha growls.

“Never been more sure in my life, Nat.” Steve laughs, leaning closer to her. She can practically taste the coffee and toothpaste on his breath. She can feel his heat pressing into her, feel it curling in her stomach, settling at the base of her spine, tugging at her eyelids. His mouth closes around her bottom lip, teeth sinking into the plump flesh.

She should be ashamed at the noise she makes but he sucks on it just enough to pull her in, to make her want more, and she can’t help but whimper. And, boy, does it work. Before she can respond, he’s pushed her against the wall and his tongue is licking into her mouth, as desperate to taste her as she is to taste him.

“I love you, too, Steve.” Natasha finally gasps when they pull away to breathe.

“Well, thank God. I’d hate to have to change that picture, again.” Steve laughs, tightening his hold on her. Natasha just smirks, grabbing him by the back of the neck, and yanking him down for another kiss, both of them sighing with relief.

It’s about damn time.

One comment

Leave a comment