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“There was no chance
trying to be the greatest in the league
Where’s the trophy?
He just comes running over to me.”
♟️
Cheering erupts from each part of the bleachers. Ribbons of little colorful papers rain down on the students who raise their hands, jumping and yelling to and at the sportsmen below who just broke their winning streak of 15. Said sportsmen are running around the field, puffing their chests out against the other team who faced defeat against the Shield’s.
All the jocks, the benchwarmers, and hell, even the water boy are huddling together in the 50 yard line in a big circle, chanting the school’s alma mater in a robust manner. It seems to echo all across the field. Almost as if they were mocking the other school as they limp and shake their heads.
But not Steve. His heart thrums as he runs straight to Natasha with a heavy chest already filled to the brim with excitement and anticipation for the next game.
Natasha, running from the bleachers, runs towards Steve with a saccharine smile painted across her chest and meets him halfway.
Right in front of the sidelines, they crash into each other's arms, Natasha struggling to circle his body due to his gear. Nonetheless, she relishes in the way he pants in the crook of her neck, loving the way his cheeks are pressing against her pulse as he smiles.
Steve smells like sweat and fresh linen, and Natasha embraces it as if he would slip away while Steve makes home in her neck, arms around Natasha's waist. They don't move, just basking in each other's presence, whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears.
Natasha congratulates him on winning yet another football game. His team has a winning streak of 16 as of today, and the next two weeks is another curiosity Steve has to train for, but all he's thinking about is Natasha, Natasha, Natasha. Maybe a little bit about dinner, but it’s mostly Natasha.
“You did so well, Steve.” Natasha finally pulls away, cupping Steve's jaw where sweat starts to run down his chin.
They're so close, chest heaving against each other. They could feel each other's heartbeat start to sync up despite the gear in the way.
“Yeah, well, I had the best and loudest supporter right up there at the bleachers shouting my name every five minutes, so…” Steve's eyes close as he laughs. Natasha wants to kiss him so bad, but she can't — they're in public. Instead, Natasha runs her hands around Steve's waist, looking up at him with sparkles in her eyes.
“I couldn't help it, you look really good in your...” Natasha pauses and tilts her head, not finding the correct word for his broad football gear.
“This thing…” She settles for that, running a flat hand over his chest and back up his neck, teasing the wet strands of hair that stick out from Steve’s habit of running his hands through it.
“Don't say that here, you know I’m a sucker for compliments,” Steve tilts his head, a gravelly chuckle emitting from his throat.
“—here, I got this for you.”
Almost from thin air, Steve places a golden yellow plastic crown from behind Natasha’s back and places it lopsided on her head. She cackles, throwing her head back, her unkempt hair flailing in the cool night breeze as she keeps it in place with a free hand.
“You suit this,” Steve whispers as a grin starts to find its way on his lips. His cheeks are probably red, but he decides that it's because he's still excited from the win. Steve's heart threatens to jump out of its chest when Natasha looks up with her head tilted and that endearingly mischievous smile adorning her lips.
Steve thinks he's going to faint with how light headed he's feeling right now, staring down at the most beautiful person he’s ever seen and known. And she's in his arms, wearing a crown that was actually supposed to be for himself. His little cousin made it for him.
“Where’d you even get this?” Natasha giggles, softly shrugging her left shoulder.
Steve shakes his head and just scans her face. Her eyes that seem to only have their attention on him, pupils blown so wide that the emerald green that he daydreams to recreate for his art projects is barely visible. Her cheeks—full and soft—smiling so adoringly.
It feels like an eternity that they were just staring at one another in each other’s arms that he didn’t notice Natasha pushing Steve to remove his gear.
“Off,”
He smiles, lifting his arms up to remove the body armor.
Steve’s stomach does flips when she places her hand on Steve’s chest once it’s off, feeling it rise and fall.
The crowd is still buzzing with excitement, blowing horns as a large “fuck-you” to the other team. But it feels as if time stopped around them, Steve and Natasha—they smile at each other, imagining the distant moment that their relationship will flourish into a bountiful fig tree—full of life and love, sweetness and warmth.
Natasha curses the painful remarks that are going to be made about them once people catches a glance of what she’s about to do, but with Steve looking down at her as if she carries a thousand stars in her eyes…she decides ‘fuck it’.
Both of them don't bother to fix the positioning of the crown, crooked, as their lips connect. However, when Natasha tilts her head, she lifts one hand to keep the crown in place and the other still on Steve’s heart, of which he covers in his as the other hand caresses Natasha’s waist.
Their kiss is like fire — crackling with confidence and pure pride, yet it was like snow falling unto the singlets of leaves. It was red, burning red, and burning their skin.
Natasha sighs into the kiss, letting go of the crown and letting it fall on to the grass, and wraps her arm around Steve's neck who only smiles against her lips.
She parts her lips allowing Steve’s tongue to brush against hers, causing a warm sensation to travel through her spine and drawing a small noise from the back of her throat. Steve runs his hand down her waist to her hips, licking and sucking on her lower lip.
“People are watching,” Steve slightly pulls back with heavy eyes and heavily breathing. He can see Natasha’s eyes flutter open, and lips pinker than before.
“I know.” Natasha murmurs, chasing his lips again. Steve gives her a peck, a little smirk painting his lips. He intertwines their fingers above his heart and drops them in between their bodies.
“We can't just give them a free show.”
Natasha thinks for a second before sighing.
“Hm, I guess you're right.” She hangs her head down and back up and hesitantly pulls away, resting her free hand on his shoulder.
Steve chuckles as he looks up to see the crown gone and on the floor.
“You dropped your crown,” Steve bends down around Natasha, picking up the flimsy plastic crown with fake jewels hot glued on the makeshift rivets.
“Sorry captain, I was too focused on your tongue down my throat.”
Steve laughs, pushing the crown further down Natasha’s head to make it stay.
Natasha groans.
“Ow!”
“Stop acting like a baby.”
“Am not! You scratched my forehead!”