Before the War

Extension of Self

  He turned on his side to face her. He was lying in a small bed, and there was a woman lying beside him. 

He smiled. "Hi."

"Hi." She yawned, stretching her arms over her head. Her eyes opened up a little more, and she assessed him, seemingly drinking in the sight of him.

Steve Rogers lay beside her, arm propped under his head like a pillow. He was smiling his genuine smile, the one she always seemed to catch. He was looking at her attentively. Almost as if he was afraid she might vanish if he blinked.

"Last night was..." she trailed off.

He closed his eyes, embarrassed for whatever she was going to say next.

"...something else." She smirked and he relaxed a little more.

They stayed there, holding each other's gaze. It was nice, to say the least, almost natural. It baffled them both just how comfortable they were, laying there next to one another with only sheets in between them. This was the very first time.

They had been partners for so long, they trusted each other like no one else. The way they worked together made it obvious to everyone that they were close both in mind and in heart. Neither of them had thought there was room for anything more. Yet they secretly knew it wouldn't be terrible if something more came about.

They had been together, on the run. Again. Though, this time it wasn't just them. They had a team. Overtime, this team had become a family of sorts. They had been there for each other when each of them needed it most.

A sturdy foundation, Steve would always say. Though when he said it, he always thought of glue. Silly as it might sound. He thought that the glue that held that team together was the joint leadership between himself and Natasha.

They had been working under the radar, trying to do what they could to help out when they could. They kept moving from place to place, searching everyday for a place to rest their heads on for the night. Though this time, the two of them rested their heads on the same pillow, on the same bed.

His face changed slightly, as something overcame his mind. Was it sadness, or worry that seemed to plague his eyes? She knew him well enough to know it was concerning. He cleared his throat, and she tensed.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't supposed to be like this." He averted his eyes from hers.

"I'm not. I'm not sorry." She said quickly, a smirk on her face. "It wasn't bad Steve, and we have time, the rest of our lives..."

Steve raised an eyebrow in surprise, then he chuckled.  "Nat. I only meant that you deserve better than a crummy motel in the middle of nowhere. But yes, we can and will work on it."

"I don't know," she looked around the room, the walls were an ugly yellow that clashed with the grey colored door and bathroom. "it's got character. Could be worse."

He looked around them, the paint peeling, cracking walls complimented the dirty tile floor. He smiled at it in good humor. "You're right." He looked at her, glad she was there to add in her humorous comments. Though he'd be the first to admit that at one point her humor irritated him. Back when they first started to get to know each other, he found her constant sarcasm... difficult, to say the least. She was always snarky when he was serious.

Oh how things have changed, he thought.

"It doesn't change the fact that it could be better. You deserve the very best, Natasha."

Steve reached over and brought Natasha's hand to his lips. Her hand had a new piece of jewelry on it, that Steve tinkered with after he brought her hand away from his kiss. It was a simple looking wedding band that matched the one on his finger. Silver, not gold, and that was an deliberate choice they both made. Silver was a clean slate, and not as shiny and pretty as gold, but just as tough.

"But you see I've already got the best. I've got you." She tugged on his arm and moved him closer to her. They were too far apart for her taste. She leaned in, beckoning him to kiss her. Like any good soldier, or any good husband, he complied.

She pulled away just enough for their noses and heads to be lightly pressed together. Like a lily pad on water.

She ran her hand through the beard on his face. It had gotten long, and heavy. It covered his face well, and she missed seeing his fresh face, so dashing and beaming with goodness. The beard also reminded of of the truth of their situation being on the run. It also brought memories of the reasons why they were on the run, and a civil war that had occurred not too long before. A war that separated them, and had broken her heart. It made him look different too. He looked a harsher man than he once was, and it was fitting because this was the man he had now become. He used to be a hopeful and bright eyed man. Now he was just a hardened man, still good, but hard. So, she hated the beard.

He placed his hand atop hers, and he closed his eyes. He leaned his face into her touch, nuzzling his nose and lips into her hand.

"Hey," he whispered. "just a little reminder... I love you."

"Thanks. I'll try to remember that. But you might have to remind me that again later. I'm sort of distracted at the moment, Rogers."

He laughed what she called his 'old man laugh'. Which came booming from his chest, followed by his truest smile. "You're Rogers now too. You know that?"

"Not legally."

"You mean, 'Not yet'."