Into the Unknown || A Captain America Love Story

24

(Before we get started, the usual times skips mean a completely different scene from Captain America: The Winter Soldier. However, I have my twist on the scenes)

Steve

Natasha and I stand on an escalator in a mall. We both wear disguises, knowing that S.H.I.E.L.D. is still searching for us. I wear a jacket, a zip up jacket under that, a t-shirt, a baseball cap, and a pair of glasses. In front of me, Natasha wears a black and gray striped hoodie with the hood pulled over her head.
On the other side of the escalator, the one going up, Natasha spots someone. She quickly turns around to face me, her green eyes wide.
"Kiss me," she says.
"What?" I spit, my heart beating fast.
"Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable."
"Yes, they do," I stammer. "But-"
Natasha stops me before I can finish what I was saying. She takes my face in her hands and presses her lips to mine. It's different; guilt fills me and my eyes are wide open. I understand why she is doing this and I put my hand on her hip. My eyes slowly close, but the guilty feeling doesn't leave me.
After a few seconds, Natasha slowly pulls away. My heart beats faster and faster. Tori's face haunts my mind, like it has for a long time. Natasha swiftly turns around and begins to walk down the escalator.
"You still uncomfortable?" she asks me.
"Yes, but that's not exactly the word I would use." I spit, following her.

•••

Natasha and I sit in a truck, crossing the New Jersey borderline.
     "Where did Captain America learn how to steal a car?" Natasha asks me.
     "Nazi Germany," I say.
     "Hm,"
     "And we're borrowing," I spit. "Take your feet off the dash."
     Natasha grins, sliding her pink laced sneakers off of the dash of the truck. I stare at the road, keeping one hand on the wheel.
     "Alright, I have a question for you, of which you do not have to answer." Natasha begins.
     I glance at her, signaling for her to speak.
     "I feel like if you don't answer it though, you're kind of answering it, you know?" Natasha blabbers. 
     "What?" I groan.
     "Was that your first kiss since 1945? Besides Tori, of course."
     "That bad, huh?" I question her, thinking about the last part of what she said.
     "I didn't say that,"
     "Well, it kind of sounds like that's what you're saying."
     "No, I didn't," Natasha retorts. "I just wondered how much practice you've had since then."
     "I didn't need practice."
     "Everybody needs practice,"
     "It clearly wasn't my first kiss since 1945," I say. "I'm ninety-five, I'm not dead."
     "You just seemed reluctant, which I don't  blame you for. Anyway, nobody special before Tori, though?"
     I give out a short laugh.
     "Believe it or not, it's kind of hard to find someone with shared life experience." I say.
     "Well, that's alright, you just need to make something up."
     "What, like you?"
     "I don't know. The truth is a matter of circumstances, it's not all things to all people all the time. Neither am I."
     "That's a tough way to live,"
     "It's a good way not to die, though."
     "You know, it's kind of hard to trust someone when you don't know who that someone really is."
     "Yeah," she breathes. "You know what Tori was, don't you?"
     "Yeah, but I don't really want to talk about her right now." I reply, my voice cracking.
     "Who do you want me to be?"
     "How about a friend?" I say, after a long moment of silence. "I need to have someone to watch my back until this all ends. Until Tori comes home..."
     The last sentence I mumble, not wanting Natasha to hear the sadness in my voice.
     Natasha laughs softly, facing the road ahead of us. Her smile soon fades.
     "Well, there's a chance you might be in the wrong business, Rogers."
     Before I can say anything else, we pull up to the place we were going.