Despite the fact that he came off aloof and assured, Steve couldn't help but feel he had done something wrong. Looking up from his cup of coffee, he saw Natasha daydreaming out the window, seated across from him.
It had been months since their illicit affair - and that's what he was calling it now. An affair. She had taken him to her bed almost a year ago and they had never spoken of it since. What he thought was a transcendental experience of sharing was obviously a mistake to his long time friend. Part of him felt dirty, like he had succumbed to her wiles, only to be tossed aside when she had her fill.
"And I guess one time was enough for her," his mind taunted him.
"Natasha..." He started, his voice low but forever commanding.
Startled, she blinked rapidly to focus and turned to him.
He couldn't help but notice the way the light of the afternoon sun played with the many red and auburn hues of her hair, neatly pulled back into a functional, low bun on the nape of her slender neck. She was beautifully defined by the light, the rays caressing the smooth slope of her brow, the fine tip of her nose and speckling on her freshly licked lips.
"What?" She asked abruptly, breaking his train of thought.
His mind scrambled for an excuse for saying her name, as he hadn't had a reason TO say her name, "Don't worry, Nat. We'll find him."
Him.
It.
Bruce.
For weeks, Natasha had been flirting with disaster and he could do nothing to stop her. Normally, he had offered his advice to her as she was courting Bruce, knowing full well it would end badly for them both. But their tryst in the woods had put a strain on their relationship and he felt he not only couldn't be objective in talking to her about her infatuation, but that he was painfully aware that he was riddled with jealousy.
And now Bruce had abandoned her. Abandoned the Avengers. Not only did the ranks need to be replenished but Natasha seemed genuinely heartbroken. And that didn't sit well with Steve.
"Thanks, Steve..." her voice whispered across the diner's table to him. He thought she was going to say something more, but she stopped herself.
He needed to get over her, he thought to himself, first Peggy, now Nat? He had a bad habit of falling for unattainable women. Maybe he liked the challenge? Or maybe the years of being bullied had somehow made him think he was undeserving of someone who actually wanted him for him. He didn't know. All he knew was he knew he was in love with Natasha, even though she was clearly not in love with him.
---
She could see the question in his eyes.
And the pain.
Natasha had no idea what to say to him.
After their affair, she got scared. Scared for herself and scared for him. Their encounter was too intense - it had too much energy, too much emotion...
"Too much potential?" Her mind asked her mockingly.
She knew what those kinds of relationships lead to - heartbreak, emotional turmoil, a complete loss of self in one another. They were ultimately destructive no matter how well-intentioned both parties were. While she had never experienced it herself, she had witnessed it enough to recognize it when it came her way.
So she ran, like she always did when things became untenable. And to throw him completely off, she had started a ham-fisted relationship with Bruce, of all people. Bruce was nice and all, but she had almost nothing in common with the guy and pitied his situation as a friend, nothing more. She also knew that Bruce's own fear of himself would never allow for them to become an actual item - he was a semi-safe pawn in her scheme to keep Steve away and protect herself.
To keep up appearances, she played the saddened damsel, especially in front of Steve. She needed him to get over her. Once he did, once he moved on, then maybe - maybe she could stop replaying that night over and over in head.
And just as she thought to not think of it - flashes of their naked forms tangled in one another glanced across her memory, making her heart skip a beat.
She was looking past him in the diner, her eyes almost glazed over in reminiscing.
"Well, I'm going to pay my check and head home. I have..." his voice barely broke through her haze, "uhhh, laundry to do," he finished lamely.
And with that, he got up, leaving a fist full of cash on the table, his large frame gracefully exiting through the flimsy glass door. Her eyes locked onto his long limbs as they strolled effortlessly on the pavement.
"Damn it, Steve..." she said to no one. Her head falling back onto the old-timey cushioned booth seating, closing her eyes.
---
That weekend, in her apartment, she tried to keep herself busy. For months, after her work outs, she had been picking random household projects to tackle - last week it was repainting a shelf with crackled lacquer, this week it was constructing a table for her laptop. Sure, she could buy one, but this gave her mind and her hands something to do.
She was wrist deep in sanding some wood that it took a minute for her to hear her phone going off.
*bih-beep-beep*
*bih-beep-beep*
Shaking her hands free of sawdust she grabbed at her phone without seeing who it was.
"Hello?" Her voice sounded a little annoyed.
"Hey Nat, I was wondering if you wanted to go get something to eat, I'm a few blocks from you?"
It was Steve.
Yes. Her heart said.
No. Her head retorted.
"I'm kind of busy right now with a project." She excused herself.
"What kind of project?"
"Uhhh...I'm building a laptop table."
"Really?" He sounded genuinely surprised.
"I found a YouTube video," she explained before he could ask her how she figured out how to do it, knowing full well she had a strong reputation with him about not being very handy .
"I didn't mean it like tha-" he began to pseudo apologize.
"Anyway, I should go..." she cut him off.
"Nat..." he started again, followed by a very thick, overhanging silence, "come on, aren't we still friends?"
