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Sam was the one who stumbled upon Steve. He just needed to wash his hands, but there was Steve in the communal bathroom just staring into the mirror.
“Deciding if you need a shave?” Sam asked.
Steve turned to look at him, blinking slowly. “What?”
Sam gestured to the mirror. Steve just looked at him blankly for a moment, but then he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair.
“Just thinking,” he finally said.
“About Natasha?”
Almost instantly, a flush appeared on Steve’s face. “What? No. Why would I be thinking about Natasha?”
Sam squinted at him. “Why wouldn’t you be? You two are together.”
“What? No. We’re not. Together. We’re not together.”
Sam repressed the urge to roll his eyes. “Everyone knows you’re together. You know that, right?”
Steve stared at him for a moment, the flush on his face growing darker. “How does everyone know?” And then realizing what he said. “Not that there’s anything for anyone to know. Because there’s not.”
This time Sam did roll his eyes. “First off,” he said, “you’re a terrible liar. She is a great liar, but you are a terrible one. And two, you two sleep together every night. Even Natasha can’t pretend you don’t.”
Steve let out a sigh, a seemingly endless one. Then he shrugged at Sam and said, “Next week is Valentine’s Day.”
“So it is.”
“What do I get her? Do I get her anything? She’s not really the roses and candy type.”
“I’ve seen her eat a lot of candy.”
“Not helping.”
Sam grinned. “There’s got to be something she would really like. Something personal. That would mean something.”
Steve looked thoughtful. “She mentioned the other day that she misses dancing,” he finally said. “Before” — he waved a hand around — “all this, she used to do ballet.”
“There you go,” Sam said. He clapped his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You got this.”
--
Natasha was the one who found Sam. He was on his laptop, researching one of their next targets for a mission when she plopped down on the couch beside him, looking more intent than she normally did.
He looked up to find her staring directly at him. It was a bit disconcerting, actually.
“Hi,” he said, a little warily.
“I know you know.”
“Uhhhh …” Sam racked his brain, trying to figure out what it was he knew that she knew he knew.
“Steve and me,” she said.
“Oh.”
“I asked him if you knew, and he said no, but he’s a terrible liar.”
“He is,” Sam said, still unsure where all this was going. Even after these past couple years, he still couldn’t read Natasha well enough to know whether she wanted to hug him or strangle him.
“Can you help me?”
Sam waited for her to continue.
She glanced around the room, as though she thought someone else might be hiding under the coffee table.
“Valentine’s Day,” she finally said, her voice dropping to an almost whisper. She shrugged, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable for a moment. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Oh!” Sam said.
“I told Steve we shouldn’t trade presents, and he said okay, but he’s a terrible liar.” She stared at Sam again. “What do I get him?”
He smiled, and then told her the same thing he told Steve. “There’s got to be something he would really like. Something personal. That would mean something.”
He watched her think about it. Then her eyes lit up.
“Drawing!” she said. “He told me he misses drawing.”
Sam smiled. “There you go.” He patted her hand, hoping she didn’t hit him. “You got this.”
A real smile spread across her face. “Thank you, Sam.”
--
He found them both in the kitchen on Valentine’s Day. It was early morning, long before most anyone else was usually up and making breakfast.
They were still wearing their sleep clothes, Natasha in yoga pants and one of Steve’s shirt, Steve in shorts and a white tank top.
They were wrapped around each other, their lips locked together.
Sam backed out quietly, before either one could see him, but not before he noticed the ballet shoes hanging from Natasha’s fingers and the sketch pad clutched in Steve’s.
Sam smiled to himself and headed out for a run, happy to give his two friends some more alone time. Besides, he had his own date to get ready for later.