In that moment, when Natasha’s eyes lock onto his face, looking at every twitch and tremor for confirmation of what she’s just put together, she gets what she’s looking for. Even if she doesn’t need it, now that she has the context, everything is right there on his face.
The way his lips purse, like his body is so used to hiding this that it’s closing his mouth on his behalf, just so he can’t say anything more. The way he can’t look at her, but for just a split second, he looks up like he’s checking in with a higher power. And god, even the way that he glances down when she says his name, his eyes not looking at the track but through it, all the way to the bottom of the earth, like after he’s checked in with the best he needs to consider the very worst. Maybe that’s where he’ll end up, after all this.
But eventually Steve’s eyes make their way back to her. Small lines form between his eyebrows when he realizes that something’s different now. There’s a recognition on Natasha’s face that wasn’t there before, and he can see her struggling as she shifts her body, as she looks away.
“It’s okay … Natasha-“ His voice is choked and quieter this time, because his last five words were all that Steve could manage, and these three are being pushed out through sheer willpower. But it’s important to him that Natasha knows that she doesn’t have to say anything. That it already means something to him that she hasn’t stood up and left. But the uncertainty on her face right now — he wishes it doesn’t kill him, but it does. On any other night, about anything else, Steve Rogers would never even think to doubt her resolve to stay, but tonight, when he’s realized how much he’s lied to himself over the past two days, Steve can’t help but wonder if maybe he'd given himself too much credit, and that she’s reconsidering-
Natasha speaks again before he can finish his train of thought, and Steve’s glad honestly, to give her his full attention. It’s easier than putting that attention on himself, but more importantly, Steve is listening because he can tell Natasha is opening up in a way that just doesn’t happen, and if she trusts him enough with this part of her, he’s going to make sure that he’s damn well listening.
The longer she talks about Anna, the more Steve suspects that this story isn’t going to end well, but at the same time, he doesn’t understand why she’s telling him this. What are you saying, Natasha? But Steve doesn’t guess, or try preempt her by trying to finish the story in his head. He just waits, patiently, because she deserves that. His answer does come in the end. Bruce. Of course.
Suddenly, Steve feels trapped, because now he knows exactly where this is going, even if he doesn’t know what the path there will look like, and he’s not ready for her to teach him this lesson. But the panic that’s threatening to rise up again is being pushed down by something else he feels.
Steve’s always been at his best when he has someone else to think of in addition to (or let’s be honest, instead of) himself. Back when Bruce left, he’d asked Natasha how she was doing. He’d seen the way they looked at each other, even if he hadn’t known how far it’d gone and that Bruce had asked her to run away with him. Natasha though, she shrugged off his disappearance with such indifference that to this day, Steve had never believed it. He even pressed her on it in the beginning, but she hadn’t wanted to talk, and Steve knew better than to force Natasha into doing anything. In the end, he was forced to let it go. All he’d been able to do was make sure Natasha knew that if she ever did want to talk, he’d be there.
Now, she’s telling him more than he ever imagined she would. But it’s not only that. Steve can feel a deep sympathy spreading through his chest when he sees the tears trickling down her face. He can imagine exactly how that must feel, because his eyes are red and swollen and the skin on his cheeks is still raw from being dried by the wind. When she takes his face in his, he can see the cocktail of pain and hope mixed in her eyes, as if she wants nothing more than to offer a trade.
Natasha is giving him her memory and her feelings, as a gift to help him understand something. All she’s hoping for in return, is for Steve to find happiness. That’s it.
That’s it, and Steve knows it, and yet all he can do is look back at her with concern and self-doubt.
Do you understand what I’m telling you? It’s worth it.
There it is again. That path. The one that says he can love who he wants, feel what he wants, and that the world will keep spinning and he will still be him. He’ll still be Steve. She’s already gotten him to take one step tonight and Steve takes some comfort in the idea that he doesn’t regret saying Tony’s name in front of her. But that’s the only step he’s prepared to take tonight. The wall of suffocating emotions that’s threatening to separate who he was this morning from who he is now, it isn’t just something he can plow through with a strong arm and a running start. He needs the help of time.
But this conversation belongs to both of them now. As much as he knows she’s doing this for him, he can see on her face that it’s hurting her to be this honest. Everything she’s doing now goes against the nature that’s been trained into her, the one she uses as her most important weapon day by day, and she’s doing it for him, because she thinks he’s worth it.
When her hands fall from his face, there’s a moment where the only sound is the whistling of the wind, and Steve just reaches over and puts his arms around her, pulls her in, and holds her tightly against him. He wants be for her what most people see when they look at him: a strong and sturdy immovable wall, that’s hers to lean on whenever she needs. He’s lost the ability to use his words, but Steve can still use his actions.
This is their lifeboat now, and it’s his turn to row.
What he doesn’t expect is what comes next. Natasha’s noticed so much about him and Tony, and it shows, and it makes Steve wonder if everything had always been painfully obvious to everyone else, and that he was the only one too foolish to see it. He scrunches his forehead at the thought, and his eyes naturally close. Now, Steve needs this hug as much as she does. He needs someone to hold and protect, because being here for Natasha is the only thing that’s keeping him from falling apart as she talks — as he realizes that she’s saying out loud how he feels about Tony.
It’s a few hours too late, but Steve finally stops trying to hold this one piece of him in check, and he let’s how much he truly cares about Tony spread freely through his chest — and for a moment, it so overwhelming that it hurts, and his chest tenses to try to ease itself from the pain. “It's about you, and him, and finding someone who makes you better than you are when you're alone. And he does that for you. You do it for him, I see it.” He knows exactly what Natasha means because he’s seen it. Even before he started lying to himself, Steve’s seen it.
Ever since he met Tony they’ve fought, constantly, over countless things. Steve remembers how frustrating Tony can be, and how Steve's always told him as much. But he also knows that it’s those very frustrations that challenge him. Looking back, even on their very first mission, when Steve thought Iron Man was nothing more than a fancy metal suit worn by a hollow man incapable of thinking of others — Tony's mocking remarks was what prodded him to go looking for Fury’s secrets.
But god how they've grown. They learned to be teammates first, and then friends. Then Steve found himself actually missing having Tony around after each mission was over and the Avengers parted ways. And now, he can't help but wonder where Tony is, whether he really would be okay, and how, if something were to happen to him tonight and Steve could have been there to prevent it-
He hugs Natasha tighter at the thought, his fingers curling gently on the shoulders of his jacket on her shoulders, as he stares blankly at their surroundings, his cheek barely brushing against her hair.
If something happens to Tony tonight, he'd never be able to forgive himself.
But it’s what Natasha says to him at the end that really strikes Steve deep to the bone. Deeper even, than Natasha could expect. It’s not his file, it’s not in any archives, it’s not even something he’s told Bucky. Instead, it’s just a memory of a night when he was twelve-years-old, etched into his memory with an unparalleled purpose and conviction.
She’s right. He’s never let anyone tell him how to live, and there’s a reason why. To Steve Rogers, there is always a bright line between what’s right and what’s wrong, and when it comes to fighting for his country, both against her enemies and at home, Steve has never used the law to determine his actions. Even before the one dozen forgeries he committed to try and join the army, Steve has always known that what’s right isn’t a choice the government gets to make for him.
He didn’t know it at the time, he’d only been twelve after all. Maybe eleven. But he’d been reading at the library close to closing time, and he got to a passage that struck him so much that he snuck under the tables so he could keep reading, even after the doors were locked. As a little boy, he’d been searching for what it means to love your country, and he’d somehow found the answer in the pages of Mark Twain. The passage wasn’t long, maybe just six paragraphs, but it was the foundation to everything Steve did and will do for the rest of his life.
‘I pray you to pause and consider,’ it began, but Steve’s favorite part was the middle. Twain wrote that in any country that claims to be a republic, its people are the most important, that they have a voice and reason and they must use and exercise that reason. That ‘it is a solemn and weighty responsibility, and not lightly to be flung aside at the bullying of the pulpit, press, government, or the empty catch-phrases of politicians. Each must for himself alone decide what is right and what is wrong…’
That night, he committed the entire passage to memory, even if he nearly got a beating the next morning for spending the night sleeping on the library floor.
Each must for himself alone. Decide. What is right. And what is wrong. It is a solemn and weighty responsibility.
It’s slow, the way his lips begin to curl, but Steve actually manages a soft smile, even if his eyebrows are still furrowed like he can’t even believe it himself. He releases Natasha from his grip, so that she can see him, but also so that he can cradle her face in his hands, and wipe away her tears. She’s helped him tonight, more than he can say.
He can still hear her voice repeating that phrase. You've never let anyone tell you how to live, so why would you let anyone dictate how you love?
Love has never been a priority in his life, because Steve has never believed that his own life mattered much. At most, he sees himself as another solider in the never ending fight for freedom and for justice, and whether he feels lonely or not, scared or not, loved or not, it doesn’t matter to him. It can’t matter, to a man who is always ready to sacrifice himself so that others might live.
He still needs time to process how he feels, Steve knows that. But for the first time since he rode the elevator up here, Steve doesn’t feel at the mercy of powers he can’t even see. He has agency — the very freedom of choice he’s willing to die for — and Steve sees now that this decision is his, and Tony’s, to make.
If it works out, or even if it blows up, either way, it should be their choice. Not God’s. Not the government’s. Not society’s. Not even the Computer’s.
“I won’t,” he finally gets out, and his eyes have a familiar tenderness to them that Natasha sees for the very first time since she followed him up here. And because thank you isn’t enough, and because talking is still too much, he pulls her in again.
no subject
The way his lips purse, like his body is so used to hiding this that it’s closing his mouth on his behalf, just so he can’t say anything more. The way he can’t look at her, but for just a split second, he looks up like he’s checking in with a higher power. And god, even the way that he glances down when she says his name, his eyes not looking at the track but through it, all the way to the bottom of the earth, like after he’s checked in with the best he needs to consider the very worst. Maybe that’s where he’ll end up, after all this.
But eventually Steve’s eyes make their way back to her. Small lines form between his eyebrows when he realizes that something’s different now. There’s a recognition on Natasha’s face that wasn’t there before, and he can see her struggling as she shifts her body, as she looks away.
“It’s okay … Natasha-“ His voice is choked and quieter this time, because his last five words were all that Steve could manage, and these three are being pushed out through sheer willpower. But it’s important to him that Natasha knows that she doesn’t have to say anything. That it already means something to him that she hasn’t stood up and left. But the uncertainty on her face right now — he wishes it doesn’t kill him, but it does. On any other night, about anything else, Steve Rogers would never even think to doubt her resolve to stay, but tonight, when he’s realized how much he’s lied to himself over the past two days, Steve can’t help but wonder if maybe he'd given himself too much credit, and that she’s reconsidering-
Natasha speaks again before he can finish his train of thought, and Steve’s glad honestly, to give her his full attention. It’s easier than putting that attention on himself, but more importantly, Steve is listening because he can tell Natasha is opening up in a way that just doesn’t happen, and if she trusts him enough with this part of her, he’s going to make sure that he’s damn well listening.
The longer she talks about Anna, the more Steve suspects that this story isn’t going to end well, but at the same time, he doesn’t understand why she’s telling him this. What are you saying, Natasha? But Steve doesn’t guess, or try preempt her by trying to finish the story in his head. He just waits, patiently, because she deserves that. His answer does come in the end. Bruce. Of course.
Suddenly, Steve feels trapped, because now he knows exactly where this is going, even if he doesn’t know what the path there will look like, and he’s not ready for her to teach him this lesson. But the panic that’s threatening to rise up again is being pushed down by something else he feels.
Steve’s always been at his best when he has someone else to think of in addition to (or let’s be honest, instead of) himself. Back when Bruce left, he’d asked Natasha how she was doing. He’d seen the way they looked at each other, even if he hadn’t known how far it’d gone and that Bruce had asked her to run away with him. Natasha though, she shrugged off his disappearance with such indifference that to this day, Steve had never believed it. He even pressed her on it in the beginning, but she hadn’t wanted to talk, and Steve knew better than to force Natasha into doing anything. In the end, he was forced to let it go. All he’d been able to do was make sure Natasha knew that if she ever did want to talk, he’d be there.
Now, she’s telling him more than he ever imagined she would. But it’s not only that. Steve can feel a deep sympathy spreading through his chest when he sees the tears trickling down her face. He can imagine exactly how that must feel, because his eyes are red and swollen and the skin on his cheeks is still raw from being dried by the wind. When she takes his face in his, he can see the cocktail of pain and hope mixed in her eyes, as if she wants nothing more than to offer a trade.
Natasha is giving him her memory and her feelings, as a gift to help him understand something. All she’s hoping for in return, is for Steve to find happiness. That’s it.
That’s it, and Steve knows it, and yet all he can do is look back at her with concern and self-doubt.
Do you understand what I’m telling you? It’s worth it.
There it is again. That path. The one that says he can love who he wants, feel what he wants, and that the world will keep spinning and he will still be him. He’ll still be Steve. She’s already gotten him to take one step tonight and Steve takes some comfort in the idea that he doesn’t regret saying Tony’s name in front of her. But that’s the only step he’s prepared to take tonight. The wall of suffocating emotions that’s threatening to separate who he was this morning from who he is now, it isn’t just something he can plow through with a strong arm and a running start. He needs the help of time.
But this conversation belongs to both of them now. As much as he knows she’s doing this for him, he can see on her face that it’s hurting her to be this honest. Everything she’s doing now goes against the nature that’s been trained into her, the one she uses as her most important weapon day by day, and she’s doing it for him, because she thinks he’s worth it.
When her hands fall from his face, there’s a moment where the only sound is the whistling of the wind, and Steve just reaches over and puts his arms around her, pulls her in, and holds her tightly against him. He wants be for her what most people see when they look at him: a strong and sturdy immovable wall, that’s hers to lean on whenever she needs. He’s lost the ability to use his words, but Steve can still use his actions.
This is their lifeboat now, and it’s his turn to row.
What he doesn’t expect is what comes next. Natasha’s noticed so much about him and Tony, and it shows, and it makes Steve wonder if everything had always been painfully obvious to everyone else, and that he was the only one too foolish to see it. He scrunches his forehead at the thought, and his eyes naturally close. Now, Steve needs this hug as much as she does. He needs someone to hold and protect, because being here for Natasha is the only thing that’s keeping him from falling apart as she talks — as he realizes that she’s saying out loud how he feels about Tony.
It’s a few hours too late, but Steve finally stops trying to hold this one piece of him in check, and he let’s how much he truly cares about Tony spread freely through his chest — and for a moment, it so overwhelming that it hurts, and his chest tenses to try to ease itself from the pain. “It's about you, and him, and finding someone who makes you better than you are when you're alone. And he does that for you. You do it for him, I see it.” He knows exactly what Natasha means because he’s seen it. Even before he started lying to himself, Steve’s seen it.
Ever since he met Tony they’ve fought, constantly, over countless things. Steve remembers how frustrating Tony can be, and how Steve's always told him as much. But he also knows that it’s those very frustrations that challenge him. Looking back, even on their very first mission, when Steve thought Iron Man was nothing more than a fancy metal suit worn by a hollow man incapable of thinking of others — Tony's mocking remarks was what prodded him to go looking for Fury’s secrets.
But god how they've grown. They learned to be teammates first, and then friends. Then Steve found himself actually missing having Tony around after each mission was over and the Avengers parted ways. And now, he can't help but wonder where Tony is, whether he really would be okay, and how, if something were to happen to him tonight and Steve could have been there to prevent it-
He hugs Natasha tighter at the thought, his fingers curling gently on the shoulders of his jacket on her shoulders, as he stares blankly at their surroundings, his cheek barely brushing against her hair.
If something happens to Tony tonight, he'd never be able to forgive himself.
But it’s what Natasha says to him at the end that really strikes Steve deep to the bone. Deeper even, than Natasha could expect. It’s not his file, it’s not in any archives, it’s not even something he’s told Bucky. Instead, it’s just a memory of a night when he was twelve-years-old, etched into his memory with an unparalleled purpose and conviction.
She’s right. He’s never let anyone tell him how to live, and there’s a reason why.
To Steve Rogers, there is always a bright line between what’s right and what’s wrong, and when it comes to fighting for his country, both against her enemies and at home, Steve has never used the law to determine his actions. Even before the one dozen forgeries he committed to try and join the army, Steve has always known that what’s right isn’t a choice the government gets to make for him.
He didn’t know it at the time, he’d only been twelve after all. Maybe eleven. But he’d been reading at the library close to closing time, and he got to a passage that struck him so much that he snuck under the tables so he could keep reading, even after the doors were locked. As a little boy, he’d been searching for what it means to love your country, and he’d somehow found the answer in the pages of Mark Twain. The passage wasn’t long, maybe just six paragraphs, but it was the foundation to everything Steve did and will do for the rest of his life.
‘I pray you to pause and consider,’ it began, but Steve’s favorite part was the middle. Twain wrote that in any country that claims to be a republic, its people are the most important, that they have a voice and reason and they must use and exercise that reason. That ‘it is a solemn and weighty responsibility, and not lightly to be flung aside at the bullying of the pulpit, press, government, or the empty catch-phrases of politicians. Each must for himself alone decide what is right and what is wrong…’
That night, he committed the entire passage to memory, even if he nearly got a beating the next morning for spending the night sleeping on the library floor.
Each must for himself alone.
Decide.
What is right.
And what is wrong.
It is a solemn and weighty responsibility.
It’s slow, the way his lips begin to curl, but Steve actually manages a soft smile, even if his eyebrows are still furrowed like he can’t even believe it himself. He releases Natasha from his grip, so that she can see him, but also so that he can cradle her face in his hands, and wipe away her tears. She’s helped him tonight, more than he can say.
He can still hear her voice repeating that phrase. You've never let anyone tell you how to live, so why would you let anyone dictate how you love?
Love has never been a priority in his life, because Steve has never believed that his own life mattered much. At most, he sees himself as another solider in the never ending fight for freedom and for justice, and whether he feels lonely or not, scared or not, loved or not, it doesn’t matter to him. It can’t matter, to a man who is always ready to sacrifice himself so that others might live.
He still needs time to process how he feels, Steve knows that. But for the first time since he rode the elevator up here, Steve doesn’t feel at the mercy of powers he can’t even see. He has agency — the very freedom of choice he’s willing to die for — and Steve sees now that this decision is his, and Tony’s, to make.
If it works out, or even if it blows up, either way, it should be their choice. Not God’s. Not the government’s. Not society’s. Not even the Computer’s.
“I won’t,” he finally gets out, and his eyes have a familiar tenderness to them that Natasha sees for the very first time since she followed him up here. And because thank you isn’t enough, and because talking is still too much, he pulls her in again.