Steve Rogers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
unshielding) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
keepcruising2018-07-02 06:32 pm
unshielding) wrote in keepcruising2018-07-02 06:32 pm
Entry tags:
Steve/Nat
[ It's not always easy in close quarters with everyone. Steve gets irritable and can't get space to himself. Sam and Wanda just try to steer clear of him when he's like that, but Natasha's never been one to back down, even when Steve growls. He appreciates that about her, because he'd hate to think she only did things to please him. She's about the least pleasing person he knows and that's what makes her the most trustworthy.
She's also the most annoying right now. He's in a sour mood and avoiding all of them. His success rate with this tactic is 0%, but he's still trying it, especially when Natasha's starting to smell ever-so-slightly like she'll go into heat soon, which really doesn't help his head to stay clear. ]
She's also the most annoying right now. He's in a sour mood and avoiding all of them. His success rate with this tactic is 0%, but he's still trying it, especially when Natasha's starting to smell ever-so-slightly like she'll go into heat soon, which really doesn't help his head to stay clear. ]
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suddenly things click into place; clues that she could have put together much sooner if she hadn't been actively denying, disregarding, refusing. he'd been doing his best to cover it up until now. (she'd been doing better.) dread fills her like lead dropping to the floor of an ocean. they can't.
they can't do this.
she's broken.
natasha takes one slow step back from him, fingers flexing in spite of herself. (touch. feel.) ]
...No, Steve. I'm not— not with me.
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[ When he opens his eyes, he looks as utterly broken as his voice sounds. He feels wrecked and there's no excuse for it, because she's his friend and his teammate, but she isn't his. ]
I know. I'm sorry. I'm trying to--
[ He can't look at her anymore. He has to look anywhere else. ]
I'm trying.
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I'm so stupid—
[ she blurts out, stumbling back. ]
We should have never shared a room, what were we thinking—
[ she can't bear to look at his lost face, his slumped shoulders, for another second; she's already turning and fumbling, actually fumbling despite all her diamond cut reflexes for the door knob— ]
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[ Steve's shaken, but he's fast. The wraps are dropped on the ground and forgotten as he moves towards her, unable to stop himself until he's right behind her, close enough to feel each other's body heat.
He's intending to help her with the knob, but when he reaches around her, his hand lands on hers on the knob and he freezes.
She smells amazing, like a spring breeze wafting through his old apartment in Brooklyn, carrying with it the scent of fruit from the market down the street and flowers from the next street over. She smells like home. Impossibly so. ]
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...home, before the room... ]
The room's made it worse.
[ her voice is tense, barely audible, tight as a violin string. ]
I need to give you space.
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[ He says it before he can think. He'd wanted space so desperately earlier, but now it sounds like a prison sentence.
The last thing he wants is space. He wants to be near her. ]
I'll be good.
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a hand is still twisted behind her on the door knob, ready to flee.
trouble is, it means his arm is more or less around her waist, too.
her mouth has become a desert in the midst of this exchange, the surge of hormones, the heat of the moment. perspiration starts to tickle the back of her neck, amplified by anxiety. she finds she has to wet her lips with her tongue before she can speak. ]
What if I can't be?
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He can smell her like this. He can smell everything and there's a part of him desperate to take care of her that tells him he can't let her leave when she smells so distressed.
There's always been something about the smell of a distressed omega that leaves Steve wanting to fix it with a desperation he can't quantify, like it's his mission to make it stop. It's especially strong with Natasha, who he's known and cared about for a long time now. Maybe she isn't his, but she sort of is, too, and he wants to take care of her.
He's carefully still as he watches her.
He's got her trapped and cornered and he has to remind himself not to pounce. It won't fix anything. ]
You can.
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all that manages to do, given their proximity, is to push their chests together.
a small, terrible sound — half-pained, half-aroused — chokes out from the depths of her throat. ]
Why torture ourselves?
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It kills him to see her like this. She's the strongest person he knows, not just the strongest omega. ]
I wish you would let me help you.
[ And there it is. All he wants is to make her pain go away.
Well, that's not all he wants, but that's all he'll ask for. ]
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she may be broken, but she doesn't want fixing. ]
We'd only wreck everything we have. [ her voice is gravelly, forcing back any dampness. ] If you're going to choose an omega, it can't be me. I'm not— I'm not right.
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[ He takes his hand back now, tears himself away from her to take a big step back, even though his body is screaming at him to close the distance again. ]
Natasha, if that's how you think I see you, then you really can't think much of me.
[ She's not just an omega and it wouldn't matter if she wasn't one at all. He feels connected to her, loves the way they can finish each other's thoughts in a fight and pull easy smiles from each other. That's not just about sex. ]
There's nothing wrong with you.
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[ she pauses, slumping against the door. it's rare that she's at a loss for what to say. she uses diction carefully. it's in the dna. ]
Maybe that wasn't the right word.
[ the loss of his warmth near her body should be a relief; instead she feels like a ghost has just walked over her grave, as if she's never been more hollow or wanting. she wraps her arms around herself. ]
Maybe I meant "mate."
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[ He can't push.
He can't chase.
He won't be that alpha. That's never been the man he wants to be and he knows that that's not how you care about someone. ]
Tell me you don't feel the same way and I won't bring it up again.
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[ she swears her hardened heart stops beating as she waits for an answer, pressed back against the door, startled that the words even made it out of her mouth. ]
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[ Talking about feelings: not actually one of his many skills. ]
I... you're already my partner in all the ways that matter.
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it's true: ]
You're mine, too.
[ she lies so well, like her very own language. she can't lie about this. ]
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If you want me to drop it, I will. I don't want you to think I'd ever--
[ How does he even finish that thought? He wants to be there for her and he doesn't know how. ]
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You said you'd drop it. But it turns out the reason for all your anger and anxiety is me. Just being around me.
[ one hand reaches for his; the other drifts up, splays over his chest. she's trembling. it's a test for him, but it's nearly breaking her as well. ]
How do we go on like this, if just being together has you slamming doors and me crawling out of my skin?
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[ It's hard, having her so close. It takes all of his resolve to stay still, especially when he can feel her shaking and he'd give anything to take that away. He can't go back on his word, though, and he can't use his intimidation. Not on her.
Never on her. ]
You're the smart one. You tell me what you need and I'll give it to you.
[ Even if it's for him to leave her alone. ]
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what does she need? her body has all kinds of ideas. her mind has others. her heart has different desires entirely.
it's a flurry of indecision and a searing ache of loneliness and longing all mixed up together this close to him. he smells so good — tantalizing and comforting at the same time. thinking is too difficult like this, but she can't bring herself to take a step back again.
instead, she leans her head softly against his chest, and brings his hand up to her face. she nuzzles slowly at his palm, letting his scent wash over her... her eyes roll back in her head and they close; she sees a million brilliant warm colors behind her eyelids. her head dips minutely so that her lips can graze in self-indulgent strokes over his wrist.
body. heart. taking over the mind. ]
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Steve's breath hitches, but he does his best to let her lead here.
His other arm comes up to wrap around her, but it's a loose barely-hold that she could break with no effort if she wanted to. He only wants to comfort her, to make sure she feels that affection that's always bubbling under the surface, not to trap her in.
This isn't about him.
It can't be when it's her body that's going through heat. He can smell it now and he wants to bury his face in her neck until it's all he's breathing, but he needs her to invite him in. ]
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her body says: how can things get any worse?
already swimming in the scent of him like home in winter, before she had to struggle to survive in any condition, she moves her lips from his wrist to his throat, barely any pressure. a butterfly's touch, wet but slow, as she stands on her toes.
she considers the arm braced around her; it feels nervous. unsure. like the last corners of her that fight this.
natasha can't be of two minds. she has to choose a path and attack it.
she tilts her head. slides her fingers into his hair. bares her neck to him. ]
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After that he ducks his head, nose brushing her throat. Careful, not because she's delicate (he knows better than that) but because she's worth the care. Because he knows better than to think that strong people don't deserve a little gentleness sometimes, too.
She might think she's broken, but he doesn't know a stronger person in the world. Even if sex really is off the table, that won't change how he sees her or how he feels. ]