“You never touch him anymore,” Nat said.
Steve cast a glance her way. “It’s just easier.”
“No, what would be easier is telling him how you feel.” Her tone of voice told Steve everything he needed to know. His friends were plotting and he was tired.
“Nat,” he said with a heavy sigh. “He’s my boss.”
She wove her hand in the air, dismissing the claims. “Please. His ex owns the team, and I do the PR. I can spin anything, including that you are driving us all NUTS.”
Steve scowled and went back to cleaning his cleets. Without looking up at her, he decided to set her straight.
“I don’t touch him anymore because my fingers feel like they’re found their home whenever I do. I can’t touch the man I cannot have, Natasha. I haven’t felt this way about touching something since the first time I picked up a glove - like I was made for this, made to cradle the leather, made to cradle his face. I can’t stand it.”
“I’ll see you after the game,” Nat whispered. “Good to see you, Tony.”
“Always good to see you, Miss Romanova,” Tony said, his voice gravelly.
“You weren’t meant to hear that,” Steve said.
“You can touch me whenever you want, Steve,” Tony said and Steve’s eyes flew to the other man’s face. “Do you understand what I’m saying? You can touch me whenever you want.”
(A Mirror, Mirror fill for Team Marry, square “matchmaking”)