Synopsis: It freaks her out more than a little, the feeling of wanting to be close to him.
Note: Some thoughts on pre-serum Steve and time-travelling Red Room spy Natasha (maybe sent to turn future Captain America into a double agent?) apropos of this WIP Wednesday post.
The other day, I reread a couple of paragraphs of this Stucky fic about Steve's first kiss, and I hadn't even gotten to the actual kiss, yet, when it made me think about Steve and Nat's first kiss in the universe of the time travel fic. I also rewatched The First Avenger on Saturday, apropos of waiting for the right partner. (And also lowkey apropos of @the0fi's comment about Steve's heart.)
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The first time Steve walks her home after an evening at the movies, he doesn't touch Natasha at all. Literally keeps her at arm's length, then waves goodbye once she's got her key in the front door of her boarding house.
The second time, he hesitates before leaning in, slowly, as if waiting for her to flinch or maybe smack him. His lips, dry and a little chapped, find her cheek, and an unfamiliar warmth blooms in her stomach.
The third time, she tells him that he's being too polite.
His hands disappear into the pockets of his jacket. He lets out a nervous chuckle and scuffs the toe of his shoe on the ground. "I always thought that women liked a gentleman."
She tells him yes, they do, and he gets five stars for gentlemanly behavior.
"But don't you want to kiss me?"
A shy smile flashes across his face. He blushes, ducks his head. Of course he wants to kiss her, he says.
She's slightly taller than him in her heels, probably weighs more than he does, too, and could take him down with both hands tied behind her back, could easily take down a man twice his size. Still, the lack of alarm bells going off in Natasha's head at the thought of him touching her is both thrilling and unsettling.
It freaks her out more than a little, the feeling of wanting to be close to him. She isn't trying to seduce or cajole a mark anymore, and the person who pulls Steve closer isn't the Widow, the jaded Red Room spy. It's the small, untouched part of Natasha that she's managed to keep safely tucked away from the grimy fingers of the world. It's someone she hasn't allowed herself to think about in a long time.
Heart pounding in her chest, she slides her arms around Steve's neck and waits to see if he will spook.
He doesn't.
His hands settle on her waist before sliding around to her back, fingertips a gentle pressure through the lightweight fabric of her coat.
The stomach flutter from the other night returns tenfold when Steve leans in.
Their lips barely brush once, twice. His breath hitches, and she briefly wonders (worries) about his heart. He draws in a quick, shaky breath, and then they're kissing.
It's soft and warm, unhurried. And over in the blink of an eye.
Steve sways on his feet. His grip on her tightens for a moment before he steadies himself.
"Wow," he whispers, probably more to himself than as a compliment to her if Natasha goes by the way he faintly chuckles and can't meet her gaze.
"That was... that was worth the wait," he says and gives her the softest smile.