Chapter Text
The Winter Soldier knows the redhead is special from the moment he sets his eyes on her. At first glance, all eight Black Widows that he’s been sent to train look the same. They dress in black clothes covering all but their fingers, necks, and heads. No chance of a soulmark accidentally showing during a sparring match. They wear their hair in braids. One stands out. Out of the eight, the redhead is the only one looking at him without fear or determination in her eyes. She merely looks curious.
He realizes it’s a ruse to get him to lower his defenses once it is her turn to spar with him. She is vicious, even by Black Widow standards. What she lacks in strength and reach, she makes up for in speed and agility. With the proper training, she could become invincible.
Weapons aren’t allowed while sparring unless explicitly specified. But she doesn’t need one. Her body is as much a weapon as his is. She isn’t afraid to fight dirty. Pulling his hair when he sidesteps a punch that could have broken his nose if he’d been slower. Biting his arm hard enough to bruise when he traps her against his chest with it.
She fights with the ferocity of an enraged cat and, oh, how the Soldier enjoys every second of their sparring match.
He blocks her next kick but misses the shift in her stance as she turns it into a scissor kick. The back of her foot connects with his jaw hard enough to send him stumbling a step back. Hard enough to draw blood when he cuts the inside of his cheek on his teeth. He catches her follow-up punch with ease, turning to show her his bloody teeth before he spits out the blood pooling in his mouth.
She freezes. Wary of his next move.
When the Soldier was assigned as the trainer for this handful of Black Widows, their handler had told him he wasn’t allowed to kill any of them. As if that needs to be said. As if a teacher not killing his students is something that needs to be specified.
So, he smiles, bloody teeth and all, says, “Very good, Widow,” and releases his grip on her fist.
Her smile comes and goes as fast as her attacks. He might have missed it if he’d blinked right then. He can’t miss the change in her posture, though. She walks back to her place in the line with a straight back and a bounce in her step. Not proud, not exactly. Satisfied. Eager. As if the bruises blooming on her skin where his attacks landed don’t hurt her at all.
He can’t wait to spar with her again.
***
The mission doesn’t need two agents, he’s only there for backup. But the Winter Soldier doesn’t mind. He loves watching the redheaded Black Widow work almost as much as he loves sparring with her. The mission itself is straightforward: assassinate the son of an oligarch before he runs off to the West with his father’s secrets—and most importantly—make it look like an accident. Luckily, the mark is stupid enough to be swayed by a pretty smile.
Twenty minutes pass between the Widow enters the mark’s house with the creep’s arm wrapped around her waist till she exits it again. The guards whistle and whoop at her as she walks past them. All they see is the mussed blonde wig, the messed-up makeup, and the wobbly walk. But the Soldier doesn’t fault them for it. They didn’t see what he saw from his perch on the roof of a nearby building. They didn’t watch her go into the ensuite bathroom with the mark. Or see her reenter the bedroom a few minutes later to stage the bedroom and make herself look like she and the mark has had vigorous sex, after which he’d taken a shower.
Slipping in the shower will be ruled accidental. No one will connect a Black Widow’s deft touch with the mark’s death.
The Soldier follows her for several blocks, making sure she isn’t followed before he draws her attention to the alley he’s hiding in. She shrugs off her cover as she approaches him. The unsteady wobble becomes even and confident, her gaze becomes focused. She doesn’t stop till she’s standing so close to him that his thumb brushes her thigh when his hand twitches at the unexpected proximity.
Her bright red lipstick is smeared, and it makes him strangely jealous. He wants to be the one smearing her lipstick. Wants to kiss her until his lips are as red as hers.
“Here,” he says and offers her a handkerchief to clean off the makeup. He’s got a change of clothes for her as well, but he’s too curious to see what she’s up to to care much about it.
She takes the handkerchief without a reply, her fingers brushing his. Wipes it over her mouth until the red on her lips comes from friction instead of the lipstick now staining the white cloth. He can’t take his eyes off her lips. Doesn’t have the willpower to step back, away from her inescapable pull.
He’s caught in her web, and he never wants to be free of it.
The Soldier isn’t entirely sure which of them makes the first move. He only knows that her fingers dig into his tac suit when he steps forward to guide her backward, into the shadow of the doorway behind her.
The bag with her change of clothes and his sniper rifle is on the ground and he’s not sure when he dropped it. Only sure that he vastly prefers holding on to her squirming body than the bag.
Her lips are as soft as he’s imagined and her kiss as searing. Their breaths mingle, hot and demanding. A reminder that he’s alive. They both are. She’s right there in his arms. Right where he’s wanted her for weeks, months, a lifetime. They kiss, devouring each other. His head spins and he does his best not to grip her so tightly he’ll leave a mark. Presses his entire body against hers instead, feeling the soft give of her breasts and the firm resistance of her hard-earned muscles. She has no such qualms, digging her fingers into his shoulders, his back. He heals too quickly for any bruises to stay long. Wouldn’t mind wearing some made by her if only for a few hours. He’s not sure he could dislodge her even if he’d want to. Not that he’ll ever want to. Not when he’s finally kissing her.
But the world has other plans for them.
Glass hits stone a few meters to his right and they freeze. They disengage from the kiss, and he leans out of the doorway to spot the intruder. Slowly, slowly. Don’t attract attention.
There’s no one there. Except. The flick of a tail catches his attention. A ginger cat comes out from behind some empty boxes with a fat rat caught in its mouth. His relieved huff of laughter makes it speed up its retreat.
“A cat. A goddamn cat.” The Soldier leans his forehead against hers.
“Oh, good.” Her laugh sounds like it’s born out of relief instead of amusement. “I thought…” She doesn’t continue.
“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, me, too.”
Her arms come to rest around his waist. He isn’t pinning against the door any more than she’s trapping him against her. It’s a choice they both have made. An act of rebellion, unseen by their masters.
She leans her head back against the door, looking up at him, studying him. Time turns to molasses. Then finally, she licks her lips. “Natalia,” she whispers. “My name is Natalia.” The full circles of her irises are visible. Slivers of white are visible above and below them. It’s the first time he’s ever seen her scared and with good reason. They are weapons, not people, and weapons don’t have names. Fraternization between agents might be forgiven after punishment but claims to personhood won’t.
He reaches up, pushing a strand of red hair out of her face. “Natalia,” he repeats. The name sings in his veins, riding the adrenalin pumping through him. “Thank you,” the Soldier finally says. Because it is a gift. A token of trust that no one else has shown him for as long as he can remember.
Natalia doesn’t ask him for his name. Maybe she has already guessed he doesn’t know it, or maybe she gave him hers, wanting nothing in return. Either way, she raises her hand to trace the line of his smile.
And that’s when he spots it.
The sleeve of her dress has been pushed past her wrist to reveal the curve of her soulmark. The compass that all those marked bear on the inside of their left wrist. Just the outer curve of it. Not enough to tell him if the needle points to him.
The Soldier doesn’t know if he was among the marked before he lost his arm. Doesn’t remember ever having a compass, but then he doesn’t remember having an arm that wasn’t metal. Before his staring becomes obvious, he grabs Natalia’s hand and kisses the back of it. Then her lips again. Kisses her until his head spins and all thoughts of soulmarks are forgotten.
***
The next mission allows the Soldier to be more than just Natalia’s backup. The fun kind. The kind of mission where they both get in on the action.
It ends even better.
They return to the safe house smelling of gunfire and smoke. He locks the door behind him and turns. She’s standing so close that he nearly smacks into her. Invading his space like she loves to do whenever they’re alone. The grin she flashes him is vicious, then she’s on him. Clever fingers weave into his hair, pull him down into a kiss. Her taste is acrid from all the smoke she’s inhaled, but it only makes him want her more. Makes him want to kiss her until all he can taste is her and nothing else.
They are supposed to stay the night at the safe house instead of running for the hills the second the mission is completed. That means nine, ten hours before they have to leave. An eternity more like it.
“Missed you,” he says, pressing kisses along the line of her jaw. “Thought about sneaking over to your quarters at night.”
Natalia pulls back, looks at him with searching eyes. “Why didn’t you?”
The Soldier shrugs. “Don’t know. Wasn’t sure—” Didn’t know if she would want him to. Didn’t know if she’d think it was worth the risk of discovery right under everyone’s noses.
“Stupid of you,” she says with a smile, softening the sting of her words, using the added space between them to unbuckle the harness that stretches across his chest. Then adds, “I went to your quarters, but somebody was already there.”
Only person who’s been to his quarters the last few weeks had been—“Zharkov?”
She nods, attacking his gun belt next. “I spent an hour freezing my ass off on the ledge by your window, waiting for him to leave.”
He slips his hands down her sides to cup her ass, ensuring it isn’t still cold. “Should’ve come inside. Could’ve helped me hide the body after we murdered him.”
Natalia's responding snicker is cut short when he lifts her off her feet. The Soldier allows her a second or two to settle her legs around his waist before he carries her to the bedroom and places her on the bed with as much grace as he can muster. The urge to rip their clothes off fights the need to enjoy this moment. The harness and holster clank against the bedside table when he shrugs it off and dumps it there. He needs to unbuckle the thigh holster to get his gun belt off, and then they both join the harness on the bedside table.
When he looks at Natalia again, she hasn’t moved from the spot, or begun to remove her own clothes. He stops, looking at her. Has he misread her intentions?
She crosses her legs, leaning back on her elbows. “Don’t mind me. I’m just enjoying the view.”
He scoffs. Not getting the appeal. He’s too brutally made to be pleasant to look at. Build with a single purpose in mind. It’s not as if he’s gonna argue, though. Instead, he unbuckles the many buckles on the front of his tac suit jacket and dumps it on the floor, out of the way. His undershirt is next, and he rucks it up before he pulls it over his head in one go.
In the second or so that the black fabric blocks his view, Natalia’s off the bed and standing in front of him.
She reaches for him, places a flat hand on his chest. He wonders if she can feel his heart hammering. It’s loud enough to drown out his thoughts. Her fingers are cool, and she slides them over his chest, up to the collarbone, and along it. Keeping her green eyes locked on his face as she does so. Though he’s prepared for the touch, he can’t help but shiver when she reaches the wide band of scars that encircles his left arm.
She stops. “Does it hurt?”
The Soldier shakes his head. It’s not unpleasant, not exactly. “Oversensitive,” he says, aware of how little it explains.
Her lips brush over the scar next, and it feels as if he’s being electrocuted. Pleasure mixed with too much and not enough contact. Taking a step forward forces Natalia to take one back. The back of her calves hit the bed at the next step, and he uses the distraction to push her onto the mattress. The bed creaks when he kneels on it, a knee on either side of her hips, keeping her in place.
She grins up at him, her hands sliding up his thighs.
Her Black Widow uniform has a wide clasp that he has to unbuckle before he can pull the zipper down, down, down. The belt blocks his progress next, but not for long, then the zipper is undone as far as it can go, revealing the black cotton of her underwear. There. He bends to lick over the fabric of her sports-bra, but the fabric is too thick to properly feel the nipple and he pulls it down, out of the way. His lips close over her nipple and Natalia’s reaction is instant. Her back arches off the bed, into his touch, and her fingers dig into his hips. His eyes fall close. Shutting out sight to focus on the feeling of her nipple hardening under his touch and the sound of her breathing hitching with each suck.
There isn’t much room for the Soldier’s hand with her uniform unzipped but still on, and on top of that, he bungles it, ending up sandwiched between the uniform and her underwear. But it doesn’t matter, because, fuck, the fabric is damp already. She feels swollen under his fingers and her hips jerk in time with his touch. Like her bra, the fabric is too thick for him to do more than apply indirect pressure. It will have to do. Her breathing is coming in gasps, music to his ears. He can smell her arousal over the smoke and it’s driving him crazy.
God, he’s wanted to do this for longer than he cares to admit. Her skin is softer than he’s dared imagine. Like the rest of her. So deceptively small and soft-looking. Supple curves hiding hard muscles.
He hears twin zippers unzipping before he registers what the sound signifies. Then the front of his pants falls open, Natalia grabs his cock, and he’s choking on a groan.
She tips him over with barely any effort, slides out of his grasp and off the bed. It isn’t until her hands leave his aching cock that he thinks about protesting. But by then she’s stripping her clothes off with an efficiency to rival her efficiency on the battlefield. Her bra goes flying off at a flick of a wrist. He’s pretty sure it knocks something over, but he doesn’t really care because she’s kneeling between his thighs, peeling his underwear off him, her hair flowing like copper over her pale shoulders.
Oh, God, her mouth—
Soft lips and slick tongue, she swallows his cock. Wood creaks and splinters under the Soldier’s left hand. At least he still has enough self-control to merely tangle his right in her hair. He can’t breathe, can’t think. His world is reduced to the feeling of her lips on him, the rolling of her tongue. Her throat contracts as she swallows him all the way down. Pleasure like fire runs through him, threatening to make him come right then and there.
Not gonna happen.
The slightest nudge of his hand and Natalia stops, pulls back, and looks up at him. He shakes his head, unable to form words, gestures at the mattress next to him. She crawls onto the bed, away from the mess he’s made of the headboard. He kicks off his pants, underwear, and boots with far less grace than she had hers and kneels on the bed between her legs, holding the weight of his upper body on one arm.
His cock feels freezing cold in the air, still wet with her saliva, but it will have to wait. He reaches between her legs and finds her, oh fuck, so wet. He must have groaned in appreciation, because she’s smiling up at him. There’s a flush high on her cheeks and her hair is spread like a halo around her head. He’s never seen anything as beautiful.
Before he can articulate any of it, Natalia pulls him down into a kiss. Hungry, devouring him. She very nearly bites his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood when he slips a finger inside her. The pain only makes the Soldier kiss her harder. And add a second finger. She’s so goddamn warm. So soft around his fingers. He fucks her like that, twisting and curling his fingers inside her until her breathing comes in gasps. Can’t wait to hear the sounds she’ll make when he makes her come.
Twisting his hand a little allows him to press his thumb against her clit. He grins and swallows the desperate sounds it draws from her. He rocks his hand against her, finger-fucking her and rubbing his thumb over her clit, again and again, timing it with the desperate rocking of her hips.
Natalia’s fingers dig into his back when she comes; this time she draws blood.
The Soldier relishes the pain. Being marked up by her, however briefly. No one but the two of them will know that she’s marked him as hers. She clings to him as she’s rocked by wave after wave of her orgasm. And he swallows down every beautiful broken sound she makes, committing them to memory for when she’s apart from him.
He only pulls back when she relaxes back onto the mattress, but Natalia doesn’t allow herself any time to recover. She reaches for his cock before he’s fully extricated his hand from between her legs, guiding him to her. There’s a bottomless hunger in her eyes that steals the breath from his lungs. Not for the physical act, but for him. The fingers of her free hand roam his face as if seeing isn’t enough. That she needs the tactile touch as well. She looks at him as if she’s seeing all of him, the good parts and the bad, and none of it makes her flinch away.
Who’s he to deny her anything? Inch by excruciating inch, he pushes inside, fucking her open. She feels amazing, her soft insides clinging to him, setting him on fire.
The Soldier stops moving once he’s seated all the way inside her. Lets his head dip down to kiss her and just enjoy the feeling of her around and under him. It isn’t till Natalia squeezes him with her strong legs, her heels digging into his ass, that he realizes he should start moving. He does so. Slowly. Enjoying the drag of her as he pulls out, the way she opens up again when he pushes back in. The little frown she gets when he hits her at a certain angle.
Shifting a little lets him hit that angle with every stroke, makes the little frown become near permanent, makes her bite her bottom lip, oh, so prettily.
She retaliates by squeezing her inner muscles around him, matching the rhythm of his strokes. Nerves short-circuit, the light touch mingling with the hot pleasure pooling in his gut, threatening to overwhelm him. His pace stutters before he can brace himself. She grins. His next thrust comes harder and with more control. It’s a race of a sort. To see which of them can get the other one off first. And he intends to win.
His pace is getting desperate. He’s practically fucking her into the mattress. The bed creaks with every thrust and he doesn’t care. No one can hear them. No one knows they’re not supposed to be doing this. And he’s so, so close. The Soldier reaches between them blindly. Natalia looks like she’s close, too, but he isn’t willing to bet on it. Doesn’t know how to read her well enough like this. He’s fumbling between her legs, then his thumb finds her clit, and a broken sound is torn from her. Half sob, half moan. She contracts around him and—
White stars explode behind his eyes as his orgasm slams through him. Her inner muscles ripple around him, prolonging his pleasure until it’s almost too much.
He does his best not to collapse on top of her once the last wave ebbs out. Turns them both over awkwardly with her on top. He’d easily crush her, while she weighs next to nothing. And he likes the feeling of her draped over him, grounding him, while he tries to catch his breath. She tucks her face against his neck, her breath warm on his skin. It’s nice. Nice enough to let him fully relax once his heart has stopped hammering inside his chest.
He falls asleep without meaning to.
Wakes when Natalia shifts on top of him. It can’t have been more than a second or two, but she’s grinning at him.
“Am I boring you, Soldier?” She lets herself slide off his body to settle in the crook of his arm, her left arm angled on his chest so she can rest her head on it and watch him like she loves to do.
“Not in a million years,” he says with absolute honesty. Hair sticks to her forehead and he brushes it back, tucks it behind an ear. “Natalia.” It’s the first time he’s said her name aloud since that alley weeks ago.
She shivers, her eyes sliding close for a fraction of a second, then they are open and watching him again. “Milii moi,” she says in return, a smile tugging at her mouth.
The Soldier grins. “Oh, so now you wanna speak Russian?”
Glancing down then up coquettishly, her lashes casting long shadows on her cheeks in the overhead light. “No.” Then. “Zvezda moya.” Tracing the star on his shoulder.
“Thought about that a lot?”
“No more than you’ve thought about me.” That secretive little smile of hers. Looking as if she can read his mind and she likes what she sees. Miracle of miracles.
“Ah, so all the time?”
That cracks her perfect facade. Natalia snickers and hides her face against his chest. Little huffs of laughter flow over his skin before she pulls back, looking up at him. “Idiot.” She makes it sound as much as a term of endearment as she did the sweet Russian nothings.
He shrugs. “Can you blame me?”
She raises her left hand to brush his hair back, tuck it behind his ear, and the dark shadow of her soulmark catches his eye. It’s not polite to stare, even when intimate. But it’s right there. Right in front of his eyes. A perfect circle. Looking like a compass in all ways except one. The compass needle doesn’t point toward the magnetic north. It points to the West. Away from the Soldier.
He isn’t Natalia’s soulmate.
It feels like a gut punch. Part of him—the stupid part HYDRA has tried and failed to burn out of him—has believed, no, hoped, that he was her soulmate. That her compass needle pointed to his heart. They work so perfectly together. Fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Why wouldn’t he be?
But he knows, even while holding her in his arms, that Natalia will never be his. Not his soulmate and not his to have for anything other than fleeting moments like this.
***
After they’ve been discovered and their brief relationship brutally cut short, the Soldier sees Natalia one more time, though he won’t remember this for a long, long time. Sees her with tears in her eyes, reaching for him. Sees frost covering the window between them. Sees the pain he has caused her and wows never to hurt her again.