Contrary to popular beliefs, Steve Rogers was not a strong man. At least, he didn’t think he was. He didn’t know when this feeling started to surface. Was it the moment he saw Bucky fell to his death? Or was it when he woke up seventy years later, with no one to tell him he did well and everything was going to be all right? Steve wasn’t sure. He couldn’t be sure of anything anymore. He was just so fucking exhausted. Tired of being Captain America, tired of being so good, tired of being alive.
Steve sighed. He took off his suit and dumped it on the bathroom floor. He wished his life would be a lot different than this. He could hear her soft footsteps right outside the bathroom and he felt another tug at his heart. What did he do to deserve a woman like her? He thought to himself. He knew she would argue and told him that she was the one who doesn’t deserve him.
“Steve?” Her voice broke his train of thoughts. He looked up from the sink, startled.
She didn’t bother to knock. The door was soon pushed open, revealing a red haired woman with worry plastered all over her face. She leaned on the doorway with her arms crossed in front of her chest, her lips pursed into a thin line.
“You look like shit.” She commented and he laughed.
“Well, not everyone could look like a model after a mission.” He replied with an easy smile. He always wondered how she managed to do that. She seemed to bring out the best in him, making him feel at home with himself.
“I do not look like a model after a mission.” She mumbled as she sat on the bathroom counter.
“I was talking about Bucky.” He joked, stepping away from her when she tried to kick him.
“You’re a little shit, Steve.” She grinned. Her smile quickly faltered when she saw his mask slipped. “How are you doing?” She softly asked.
He turned to her in surprise. Of course. She would know if something was wrong with him. She has always known. Every single detail didn’t go unnoticed. It was a trait he loved and hate at the same time. She kept her gaze on him, trying to find out what he was thinking.
“I’m okay. It was a long mission. I’m tired.” He lied.
“Bullshit.” She narrowed her eyes.
“Natasha.” He started and paused when he saw the vulnerability in her eyes. She was really worried about him, he realized. “I’ll be fine.”
“You always said that.” She whispered, tugging him closer so she could hug him. She was small against him. Steve wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, wishing they could stay this way forever. She rubbed his back and hummed a Russian lullaby he found very soothing.
“I’m really tired, Tasha.” He finally muttered.
“I know.” She answered in a soft voice she reserved for him only.
“I just—I didn’t know what I want anymore. This superhero thing is just so fucking exhausting.”
“You’re lost.”
“Yes.” He nodded, planting a soft kiss on her neck.
“It’s okay to be lost, Steve. You’re human. You are allowed to feel emotions. You are allowed to just lose it.” She pulled away to looked at him in the eye.
“I can’t.” He choked out.
“Oh Steve.” She whispered in a very soft voice that made his heart swell. “You didn’t deserve this.”
“I just want to breathe.” And he told her about his life, his fears, his nightmares that he never told anyone else. She stayed silent, her thumb rubbing circles on his wrist while he spoke. He didn’t have the courage to look at her when he was done.
“You are more than you think you are.” She said before she kissed him. She tasted like the ocean and the berries he used to eat when he was young. She was warm in his arms, a reassurance that he was alive. She didn’t protest when he wrapped his arms a little tighter, as if afraid that she would disappear.
* * *
He didn’t know how long he slept. She was no longer on his bed when he woke up. He let out a small groan before he grabbed his sweatpants and trudged out of his bedroom. She was already in the kitchen, flipping pancakes and her face brightened when he greeted her. Steve made a mental promise to never take her for granted. He knew he was the only one that could see her smile and soft edges. She put down the last pancake on a plate and sat it down on the table.
“Good morning.” She kissed him. He put his hand on the back of her neck and tilted his head to get a better angle. She sank into the kiss in a matter of second, smiling into the kiss when he wrapped another arm around her waist.
“Morning.” He rasped out with a mischievous smile.
* * *
“I spoke to Fury.” She said when they were done eating.
“Hm?” He looked up from his plate.
“I asked for some time off.” She looked at him, a little hesitant and he couldn’t help but gaped.
“You asked for some time off.” He repeated. “Why?”
She shrugged but he could see the faint blush on her cheeks. A smile crept up his face when she mumbled something in Russian.
“Bora Bora is nice.” She said and Steve’s face broke into a huge grin.
* * *
Steve Rogers still didn’t think he was strong. He cried after a mission gone wrong and clung onto her as if she was his life savior. She was, he supposed. She picked up the pieces when he broke down and tried to end everything. She didn’t comment on how brash his decision was. She held him close until he stopped crying. She didn’t let go until he felt like he could breathe again. He could never tell her he didn’t have to worry about it when he was with her. She might run away and he couldn’t bear to witness that.
It was why he thought he was going to have a heart attack when she said it first. They were basked in afterglow, her head on his chest and he was humming to an old tune. It was so soft he almost didn’t hear it.