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#I am going to slowly become an avengers blog and nobody can stop me
stolethekey · 5 years
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Hey! I love your blog! I was wondering if you’re still doing the soft angst prompts if you could possible do one for Steve/Nat with “I wasn’t ready to say goodbye” ☺️
from anonymous: are you still doing the prompts? would love for you to do ‘i wasn’t ready to say goodbye.’ ❤️
this one has also been in my inbox for five thousand years and i am also very sorry it took this long ok here we go
-
The air feels different as they eat at Sam’s table.
Natasha’s wolfing down eggs and waffles like she hasn’t eaten in days, and as Steve works slowly through his own heaping breakfast plate, he wonders if she notices it too.
It’s lighter, somehow, like their conversation in the guest room had cleared some of the unspoken fog between them. And despite everything, despite the metaphorical bomb about HYDRA infiltrating SHIELD and the literal bomb that had nearly killed both of them, he feels more secure about their partnership than ever before.
He wonders, as they shoo Sam out of the kitchen and wash the dishes side-by-side, just what it could become. If putting more out in the open could help it reach its full potential, whatever that might be.
“You asked me, earlier,” he ventures, clearing his throat, “Who the woman in that picture was.”
The sponge stills in her hand.
“Her name was Peggy Carter.”
Natasha turns the faucet off before turning to look at him. “I know,” she says, almost hesitantly. “But who was she to you?”
There is a moment of silence before he answers. “She wasn’t—not a girlfriend, really. A first love, maybe. But I went in the ice before anything could happen, so—”
“That’s rough,” she says softly.
“I think it’s mostly painful because of what she represents, you know? She’s always going to be my biggest what if—what if I hadn’t crashed? What if I’d found another way? What if I had lived through the sixty years I slept through?”
He sighs. “I guess I just—I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. To that world, to that life, to her.”
A faint, sad smile makes its way onto her face.
“No,” she says. “We never are.”
He meets her eyes, and something shifts in his gut as he does.
“Did you ever have something like that?”
“Yeah,” she says, almost wearily, as she turns back toward the sink. “SHIELD.”
-
Steve is standing on a bridge, gazing at the endless expanse of water before him, when she comes to find him.
He does not return the small smile she gives him.
“If you’re going to tell me that I might have to kill him,” he says shortly, “You can save it. Sam’s already given me that speech.”
“I’m not,” she murmurs. “I just wanted to say—I’m sorry. About Bucky.”
Steve sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry he almost shot your shoulder off.”
Natasha shrugs, leaning forward to rest her arms on the railing. “You’re not the only one he means something to, you know.”
He looks over at that, watching her study the water in front of them. He wonders if the scar that is forming on her shoulder will match the one on her abdomen, if it will be as painful a reminder to her as it is to him.
“You went to the museum,” he guesses.
“A while ago, but yeah.”
“Learn anything?”
Her gaze flickers briefly toward him before she answers. “Some. Not about me, but about who he used to be. It helped me make sense of the James I knew, I guess.”
He hums, and he lets the silence linger between them for a moment before speaking again.
“I wasn’t ready to say goodbye, back then. And I would rather not have to now, either.”
“Yeah,” she says softly. “Me either.”
-
He tries not to sob as Natasha walks up the aisle toward him, her footsteps echoing in the empty chamber.
It is hauntingly terrible, Steve thinks, that a room used for a commemoration of life just moments ago could empty out so quickly.
She opens her mouth to say something, but Steve suddenly feels an overwhelming urge to speak first, to do something other than recall the way that casket felt against his hands.
“When I came out of the ice,” he says, trying to control the shake in his voice, “I thought everyone I’d known was gone. Then I found out she was alive, and—I was just lucky to have her.”
The corner of her mouth ticks up into a small, comforting smile. “She had you back, too.”
His jaw clenches as he looks down at the floor, and she shifts in front of him.
“After everything that happened with SHIELD, during my little hiatus—I went back to Russia and tried to find my parents.”
His heart gives a small, dull lurch as he looks up.
Natasha gives her head a little shake, and a stone drops in his stomach. “Two little gravestones by a chain-linked fence. I pulled some weeds and left some flowers.”
She exhales shakily, and he waits for her to finish. “I’m just trying to say—we have what we have when we have it.”
Her voice is thin, with both her own pain and his, and suddenly he is done talking about this.
“Who else signed?” he asks brusquely, trying to ignore the hurt that flashes through her eyes.
She sighs, and he feels slightly guilty at the relief that comes with her lack of protest. “Tony, Rhodey, Vision.”
“Clint?”
“Says he’s retired,” she says flatly, and her eyes flick downward in a way that tells Steve she may be less than happy with that decision.
He looks briefly towards the door, trying to delay their march towards the inevitable destination of this conversation.
“Wanda?”
“TBD,” she says, a sardonic edge to her voice, and he hates that she can read him so well.
“You know, I’m off to Vienna,” she continues, her voice deliberately casual. “There’s plenty of room in the jet.”
He gives a heavy, tortured sigh, and she takes a step toward him.
“Just because it’s the path of least resistance doesn’t mean it’s the wrong path,” she says quietly. “Staying together is more important than how we stay together.”
Steve looks up, meeting her eyes, and he knows that she isn’t just talking about the Avengers.
There was a time he would’ve given almost anything for that offer.
“But…what are we giving up to do it?”
She sighs, sad but not surprised, and he tries to ignore the pain that shoots through his chest.
“I’m sorry, Nat.” He swallows, agonizingly aware of the finality his words bring. “I can’t sign it.”
Her eyes are disarmingly clear as she gives him a small, resigned smile, tilting her head slightly. “I know.”
“Well, then, what are you doing here?”
She rolls her eyes, and the familiarity of the sight almost makes him recant his decision right then and there.
“I didn’t want you to be alone.”
It occurs to him, as she wraps him in her arms, that the choice he has made is not costless, either—and the fact that he is giving her up is too excruciating to think about.
So he tightens his arms around her, letting his unspoken words hover around them, and mumbles into her hair.
“I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.” And I’m not ready to say goodbye to you.
“I know,” she murmurs, her breath soft against his neck. “I know.”
-
They find their way back to each other, miraculously, and Steve promises himself he will never stop being grateful for it.  
This promise becomes more and more difficult to keep as time passes, as their friends disappear along with half the universe and the ones that don’t get snapped do too.
Their worlds have always had their fair share of pain, but the lining of hope and comfort they used to bring each other seems harder and harder to find.
He attempts to conjure up some semblance of it when he walks in on her crying, because Natasha has cried more in the past few years than she has in her entire life and every one of her tears sends a jolt of anger through his body.
“I used to have nothing,” she says hoarsely. “But then I got this. This job, this family. And I was better because of it.”
She swallows thickly. “And even though—even though they’re gone, I’m still trying to be better.”
“You are being better.”
“I let myself get attached,” she whispers. “I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.”
“Nobody was.”
She doesn’t answer, so he tries again, forcing some humor into his voice. “I think we both need to get a life.”
She cracks a slightly teary smile, and the fissure in his heart heals a little bit. “You first.”
-
Time, as it turns out, is his primary source of pain.
It is time that took him from Peggy, and time that takes Peggy from the world.
It is time that robs him and Natasha from developing whatever it is they have into whatever it is it could be, time that forces them to jump from motel to motel instead of spending time in the state-of-the-art facility he knows she deserves. And once they return to that facility, it is the time that fills their lives with pain rather than joy.
It is time that finally manages to do what master assassins, Nazi organizations, and one hundred and seventeen world governments failed to do—it is time that fully, irrevocably, takes Natasha from him. With her, it takes every semblance of hope he had for finding a life in the messy, once-beautiful world he thought he might someday build a home in.
Timing is everything, as the saying goes, and maybe it is—but god, he wishes it wasn’t.
The timing of the funeral is really something, too, because the sun is out and the lake is beautiful and Steve could not hate it more. He hates the way his eyes burn during everyone’s speeches, hates the way his fist clenches in an effort to stem the audible sobs wracking his body. He hates the sympathetic pats and murmurs that he barely notices, hates the pity in everyone’s eyes as he stands and walks to take his place at their makeshift podium.
He hates that he can trace the ghosts of her footsteps on this very deck, hates that he has somehow once again cheated time and she has not.
Tomorrow, he knows, they will return to the job at hand, and he will fight alongside his friends, because that is the only thing he knows how to do and he will not let her sacrifice be in vain. At the moment, however, he knows nothing but grief, pain, and an all-consuming hatred for the concept of time.
His hands shake as he takes a deep breath, trying to collect himself before he speaks.
“Natasha meant a lot to me,” he says, letting his eyes shut briefly. “And I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.”
send me a soft angst prompt from this list (or one of your own)!
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shadowolf19 · 5 years
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[Steve/Tony Fic] Undisclosed Desires
Summary: Tony absolutely hates having to sit a mission out, especially when it’s because of some poor ass excuse like he just couldn’t finish the repairs on his suit on time. So what if the cooling is not tested? Or if one of the propellers goes off unexpectedly? There are worst things that can happen, right? Words: 2203 Fandom: Marvel Sub-fandom: Avengers Assemble Genre: Angst, Drama, Introspective Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Accidental Confessions, Friends To Lovers, Happy Endings, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Moments, One Shot, Slash Notes: Secret Santa for @suitofhumour, who requested Avengers Assemble plus some of the additional tags/warnings aforementioned. Hope you’re having a great holiday period and that you like it! :D Read under the cut or on my AO3 page if you prefer (link on my blog)
Tony absolutely hates having to sit a mission out, especially when it’s because of some poor ass excuse like he just couldn’t finish the repairs on his suit on time. So what if the cooling is not tested? Or if one of the propellers goes off unexpectedly? There are worst things that can happen, right? But unfortunately for him, that isn’t what the others thought as well, so after a very quick vote, they decided he would remain behind to give them directions and stuff. Which means, he’s bored out of his mind right now, because the team is on its way back after a fully successful operation, and he’s sitting in the control room watching as the jet (painfully) slowly makes its way back to the Tower, a blue dot crossing the map, currently situated over the Atlantic Ocean. He thinks of bringing a project up on one of the side screens, just to make time go by faster, but he knows he’d get distracted anyway, the team’s safety being on top of his concerns at any given time, but especially right now. So what he ends up doing is taking one of Cap’s baseballs to throw it up in the air absentmindedly, eyes promptly shifting on the central monitor between takes.
The jet is almost back to the Tower when it happens, and although there’s only the tiniest change on the screen (if you can call the fact that for just a couple of seconds the blue dot doesn’t move as such), Tony immediately picks up on it, because… well, it’s not that he has a sixth sense or had a premonition, but by now, worrying has become sort of his second nature. “Guys? What’s going on?” he asks in the comm, already jumping up on his feet, but no reply comes. Relax, it can just be a turbulence or something, he tells himself, didn’t the weatherman predicted snow this morning? He has no idea whether that’s actually true or a pathetic attempt of his mind to keep him from panicking. “Hey, can you hear me?” he repeats, eyes fixed on the screen, and in that moment the jet starts moving again, as if nothing had happened. Uh. Maybe it was just thunder or rain or whatever. He slumps back into the chair, his breathing slightly more regular now, as he fights the urge to call out yet again, because if everything is good and the team picks up on how stupidly worried he was over nothing, he would not hear the end of the tease for a damn long time. But then the radio starts spitting out Nat’s voice in brief and broken statics, and Tony understands that no, he wasn’t actually overreaching. “To-To----- Medic----- Help----- L-Long-----“ What is going on? Something involving getting medical assistance for sure, and well, the fragmented message is indication enough that the jet has been hit by more than just mere lightning. Or at least that’s what his brain is telling him. “Jarvis? Activate the medical bay, pronto. And call in Dr. Brent, there’s been some sort of emergency and I’m not taking risks,” he commands his A.I., and has been walking so fast that by the time his last word leaves his mouth he’s already on his way to the rooftop. Five minutes later, the jet lands tentatively on the tarmac, and it just takes Tony the briefest of glances to detect that whatever or whoever hit it did a significant damage to the vehicle. But he couldn’t care less about that right now, not when he doesn’t have a status on his teammates, so he runs towards the plane, not even waiting for it to come to a full stop, and starts shouting at it, as if his voice could be heard from within the vehicle. Just a few seconds later, the door opens and he sprints inside, but before he can climb more than a couple of steps Nat rushes out to stop him, placing a firm hand over his chest and searching for his eyes. “Tony, listen to me, we need to get Cap to medical attention as soon as possible. He’s the only one who got hit and… well, let’s just say he’s not in perfect conditions.” She keeps her glance steady but Tony has stopped listened as soon as his ears heard that Steve got hurt. Of course, Tony would feel bad if it had happened to anyone, but Cap? Although he would never admit it out loud, Cap holds a special place in his heart, always has. Don’t they say you should never meet your heroes? Yeah, Tony guesses that’s part of the reason why. You inevitably get attached beyond your wildest expectations, and especially in this line of work, that comes with a very dangerous price. Tony makes a movement to skirt around Nat, but she must have been expecting it because she stops him right away, and before he can think of another way to circle around her, the end of the jet opens up and he catches sight of a stretcher being rushed towards the entrance. “Steve!” he yells at the top of his lungs, turning in the opposite direction to make his way back down, but once again Nat anticipates his move and delivers a precise, small blow to the back of his neck, and a second later Tony collapses into her arms.
It takes about an hour for him to come back to his senses, and when he does, his body jerks up almost immediately, wanting to resume whatever it was doing when it got unplugged. He blinks the rest of the dizziness away, and comes to a sitting position in what he now recognizes to be his room. He jolts his legs off the bed and stands up, steadying himself against the wall as the predictable lightness in his head overpowers his will, but after a few moments he manages to move his feet without hesitation. Damn, Nat, why did you have to do that for?, he wonders to himself as he makes his way out of his room and into the corridor, and in his mind there’s not a doubt about where he’s headed. A couple of minutes later, he’s entering the sick bay, eyes immediately spotting Steve lying unconscious on the first bed he comes across. He swallows some of his nervousness down and takes the next few steps that separate him from the other, kneeling down next to the bed for lack of chairs in the nearby and throwing a quick glance at the IV next to him. “Steve?” he calls, although his brain already knows that the other is asleep, or worse. Still, he can’t help himself. “See, this is what happens when you guys shut me out…” he offers, shaking his head as looking at Steve, seemingly peaceful in his stillness. This is stupid, why am I talking to him when it’s obvious that he can’t hear me?, he ponders, but that’s a question that won’t get an answer. He lifts a hand up, moves some of the blond hair out of Steve’s forehead, sighing quietly as doing so, because his skin is cold and sweaty and Tony knows it’s not a good sign. He stays there, still and mute, and doesn’t even know how much time passes before he starts rambling, more to himself than to Steve really, because at this point he’s very much sure the other is passed out. Nobody awake would be able to not even flinch a muscle. “God, Steve, what have you done? Why were you the only one hurt? I bet you pulled some stupid self-sacrificing crap because you thought you’d be fine. What the hell were you thinking, uh? That’s why we have the Hulk on the team! I mean, no offense to Bruce, but the big guy can take an awful lot of hits, I can assure you. But you? You’re like me, and Nat, and Clint, and Sam, you’re only human, even with the serum, because guess what?, that doesn’t make you invincible or anything, it just gives you extra strength and stamina, but if you get hit badly… well, this is what happens, I suppose.” He stops at this point, shakes his head to himself, pinches the bridge of his nose as trying to focus his words to what he actually wants to say rather than a confused mumble. Not that he fully knows what that is anyway. But he feels he at least has to try. “Anyway, I believe I owe you an apology. Now, if you were awake you’d stop me right this second and say something like, ‘Forget about it, Tony, it’s water under the bridge’, and I’d jump straight at that because we both know how awkward we get whenever we try to have a conversation about feelings… But seeing you can’t talk right now, I guess this is my chance to finally tell you something I’ve been meaning to for quite a while, but never… um, got around to actually do it.” Yeah, he knows what he wants – needs – to say now, and this time nothing or nobody will stop him from doing it. He’s wasted too much time worrying about it whereas he should have just spitted it out when he still had the chance, when Steve wasn’t… No, he mentally corrects himself, this is not over, he’s gonna wake up and we’ll talk about it even if it’ll be awkward at first, but then… “See, the thing is, I think I like you, and not in a… friends way, if you get what I mean,” and he gives him a smile, as if the other could actually see it, “You know what?, scrap that, because that’s just part of it. I think I’m actually in love with you, and I’ve been for quite some time now. I don’t… I don’t know whether you like me or not, in that way I mean, because I know for a fact you do like me as a friend… god, why is this so hard to say out loud even when I’m clueless whether you can actually hear me right now or not…” he wonders, shaking his head to himself and leaning back to sit on his heels, gaze falling off Steve to find the floor as he crosses his arms over his knees and lowers his forehead against them. “Jesus, Tony, I didn’t know… just how dramatic you can be sometimes…” a feeble voice says all of a sudden, and for the first few seconds he’s one hundred percent sure that he has imagined it. He must have, right? He blinks some wetness off his eyes before throwing a tentative glance upwards, and sure enough, Steve is attempting a smile in his direction. “S-Steve?” he mumbles, a tight knot in his throat that he didn’t know he had. He uncrosses his arms to stand up again, and leans forwards towards the other man, hands desperately seeking one of his. “Oh my god, you’re awake…” “Well, yes, I’d say so, since I’m talking to you…” comes the reply, as he moves his right hand out of the sheet so that Tony can grab it. “I thought… I thought you were in a coma or something, I…” he stops halfway, realizing just now how he had let his emotions take control of his brain. Nobody had ever told him exactly how serious Steve’s injuries were, and he didn’t stop to ask about it to anyone on his way here. The only thing he knew, matter of fact, was that the other had been hit somehow, and that had come from Nat, who might as well be the best secret agent in the world, but hardly a doctor or even a nurse. “As I said, dramatic…” Steve giggles softly, throwing a sweet glance over to him and sighing quietly as their eyes finally meet. Now realizing that this mistake has come into being, in fact, because he has let his imagination (or fears) running wild, Tony shakes his head to himself and lets out a nervous chuckle, because he knows that he has to own what he just confessed moments earlier. “Listen, uh… About what I just said, I honestly thought—“ But before he can go there, Steve squeezes his hand tight and overlaps with his voice: “It doesn’t matter, because I feel the same way, and have been for quite a while now too. I can tell that you meant it, so I won’t allow you to take it back. I just have a question.” Tony wasn’t expecting anything like this, and is so flabbergasted that he seems to have forgotten how to form a logical sentence in his brain, so all he does is nodding at Steve’s request, blabbering along: “Y-Yes, sure, what is it?” “Would you go on a date with me?” Steve lets out all in a single breath, keeping his gaze on the other even if he’s awkward and shy as hell. And Tony smiles first, but then lets out a heartily laugh, rubbing some more unexpected tears out of his face: “Gosh, yes, yes I would.”
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