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Growing up means you can sit at home on NYE with your hockey and your hot toddy and your pile of tissues and not feel like you're missing out. (Except on the two-working-nostrils thing. That I'm resenting.)

A drabble, for values of drabble that are whatever I say they are. Post-CA:CW, pre-IW. In my head it's a POV shift for Buratino, but it's completely canon compliant, so that's optional.

Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanova; 700 words that probably don't need a cut



I know you said that you didn't want to talk about it..." Natasha begins as they're walking through the Vinohrady part of Prague on their way to meet up with Wanda.

"I said that I couldn't talk about it," Steve corrects with a sigh and she can hear both the annoyance and the resignation that she's bringing it up. He knows she doesn't mishear.

"And that's what worries me," she replies because it does. Steve has no limit to what he'd do for Barnes; he started off by willing to die for him and that was just the beginning.

"It's nothing that can hurt you or Wanda or Sam," he tells her and she rolls her eyes for her own sake, since he's looking firmly ahead. Like he can see a point across the street at which she'll drop the subject.

"That wasn't what I was asking," she tells him. Then switches over to Bonn-accented German and asks him about what time the train is because they're crowded with others at the corner waiting for the light to turn. He goes along with it easily, telling her in a Bavarian accent that it's the last train and they'll have plenty of time.

They cross with the light and Steve speeds up and so Natasha loops her arm around his to slow him down. He's not getting away that easily. And he knows it because he slows down and crooks his elbow so she can rest her arm in his more comfortably.

"There aren't many places he can hide that Tony or Vision can't find him," she says once they're clear. "And I'm struggling to come up with a list of those places that won't take what they can get out of Captain America in exchange for the one thing in the world he needs."

He looks down at her sharply, but not with anger. He doesn't remind her that he's not Captain America anymore because that's a paperwork thing to everyone not Tony or Thunderbolt Ross and he gets that. He also doesn't challenge her choice of words: a safe haven for Barnes isn't a wish, it's a necessity.

"He's the most lethal assassin in this century and the last," she goes on when he doesn't say anything. "He's not only a wanted man, he's a temptation to whoever's got him. But you're not worried about him, not like you've been for the last few years. So you've got some kind of assurance that he won't be used by whoever's got him. Which makes me wonder what you promised to do for that to happen."

She thinks he'd agree to a lot for this kind of protection. Far more than Captain America-in-uniform ever would. Far more than Steve Rogers ever would in any other circumstance. He'd dirty his hands to keep Barnes's clean.

"I promised not to talk about it," he says with both asperity and humor.

"Steve."

This time he does stop walking. He runs his left hand through his hair, a gesture that would be a sign of nervousness in anyone else but just seems to be a tic with him.

"You know the story of Orpheus and Eurydice?" he asks, waiting for her answer. She nods. "I didn't go through Hell to fuck things up at the end. I'm going to follow the rules."

And there's nothing really to say to that for more reasons than Steve has that look on his face and tone in his voice that really does kill all conversations dead.

She nods shortly and he holds out his elbow again and they continue to stroll toward the cafe where Wanda is supposed to be waiting.

"I'm not asking out of self-concern," she says when they're almost there. It's important to her that he understands that.

"I know," he tells her, squeezing her arm against his body like a kind of elbow hug. "Bucky asked me the same question, for the record. I was happy to tell him that he's an idiot. You... you're being a friend and I am grateful for it."

She's not good with being told she's valued as a person, so she deflects. "Just not enough to tell me," she pouts.

He grins. "Nope."






Happy New Year, folks.
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Domenika Marzione

February 2025

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