Friday, June 6, 2014

The Close-Call Kiss

Title: be my shield (five times we touched.)
Author: Laura Genn
Heat: FliRtY

This is from a fanfic Laura wrote regarding events before/during/after CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER. It ships Captain America/Steve Rogers & Black Widow/Natasha Romanoff. This scene, specifically, is what she imagined took place during the film -- We know that 1) Steve has a major battle and almost dies. 2) He wakes up in a hospital bed. 3) During all this, Natasha reveals all the records of her questionable past online (brave move!) in order to stop the bad guys. She imagined that Natasha went to look for Steve somewhere between events 1 and 2. This is that imagined scene.


Natasha drops to the sand, kneeling beside him. "Damn you, Rogers."

He raises his eyebrows. "You should be thanking me."

"For what?"


Somehow she laughs, though her throat is raw from screaming. "What makes you think I care?"

Weakly, his mouth lifts into a smile. His eyes are blue and fierce, like summer skies. "You're a terrible liar."

"Am I?" she breathes.

"To me," he says.

Everything rises up at once, a cleansing, searing tide that wipes her clean...

It has been so long since Natasha was certain of anything, but this — this thing between them — it is aggressive and persistent, and the thought of losing him now, after all they've been through, after all they've fought for, was enough to buckle her knees.

On impulse, Natasha grips his face between her hands and kisses him, slow and sure. His lips move in time with hers, and his fingers find their way into her hair, pulling her closer. She can't remember how to breathe.

Steve Rogers doesn't need her, and she sure as hell doesn't need him. But she wants him, not because of an assignment from S.H.I.E.L.D. but because, when she's with him, sometimes for the briefest moment she believes this could be home.

Abruptly, he cries out in pain.

Natasha draws back, her lips hovering inches from his. "Steve, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I..." She looks down. Bloodstains bloom across his chest, staining his uniform a dark, dark red. She pulls back, her face white. "Oh, hell, did you get shot?"

Steve shrugs, wincing. "Once or twice."

"I'll comm a medical team," she says, her adrenaline pumping. Damn, that's a lot of blood. Some of the desperation must show in her voice, because Maria Hill doesn't ask questions. She simply agrees to come, then disconnects immediately.

"You're going to be okay, Steve," Natasha says. "I swear, you're going to be okay."

"Are you?"


He holds her gaze, piercing. "Are you okay?"

At the question, heat flushes her face, burns through her veins. He watches her, unassuming. Willing to wait for her to gather her courage.

After a breath, she says, "I followed our plan."

Steve pauses, processing. A crease forms between his eyebrows, then vanishes as he remembers. "Your cover's blown," he says, and it isn't a question.

Natasha swallows. She's on the verge of something — a sob or a gasp or another scream — but she's repressed it all for so long, she can't even tell the difference. She wants to talk, but all she can do is nod.

Silence settles. There is only the river and their unsteady breaths.

"I don't have to see it," Steve says.

"See what?"

"Your history," he says.

She blinks, overcome. "Steve..."

"I don't have to see it," he says, not a sliver of deceit in his eyes. His smile is sunlight, chasing her shadows away. "I don't have to see any of it."

They stare at each other, barely blinking.

Softly, Natasha asks, "Why?"

He grips her hand, knotting their fingers together. "I trust you," he says. "To talk to me."

A single tear falls, slipping down her cheek. "Steve," she says. "Steve, you can't... I'm not..." Not who you think I am. Not the woman I'd like to be.

But he tightens his grip on her hand and says, "I trust you."

Without thinking, she leans down to kiss him again. He is inexperienced, allowing her to take the lead. And she does. He tastes like fire and steel and ash, like a thousand fractured yesterdays. She kisses him
harder, long and deep, desperate and damaged, like a promise of tomorrow.


For me, (admin) this is a perfect example of using emotion rather than body parts in a kiss scene. Lovely and genuine, yes? What do you think?


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