THE WAY TO THE IMMIGRATION OFFICE was silent and miserable just like everything in his life is pretty much going to be from now on. The place was crowded with people, and Natasha was only embarrassing themselves further when she was heading straight upfront.

"This way."

Steve tries to stop her from cutting in line. "Natasha."

"Come on."

"But the line..."

But of course she pays no attention to him. And she completely bypasses the next person in line. "Sorry, I just need to ask him something."

Steve's the one who apologized on her behalf.

"I need you to file this fiancée visa for me please."

The attendant in charge shakes his head at her in disapproval but proceeded anyway. After looking through her file, he stops short and asks her to come with him. Steve follows in pursuit, and they are led to some sort of office with two chairs seated in front of a clerical table.

"Wait, what are we doing here?" Natasha asks the attendant.

"Please wait here. Take a seat, Miss Romanoff." And off he goes.

Steve was the first to look around, shaking his head. "I have a bad feeling about this." He says, before taking a seat of his own. Once he sees her still standing up and texting on her phone, he gives her a look.

It takes a few seconds for her to notice he was looking. "What?"

Steve shakes his head once more, not bothering to answer. "Nothing."

They hadn't wait any longer because a man dressed in a suit and tie came through the door.

"Hi. Hello." Natasha greeted.

"Hi. I'm Mr. Murdock." He introduces himself, gaze landing on Steve. "And you must be Steve." Then Natasha. "And you must be..."

"Natasha," she supplies.

"Natasha," Mr. Murdock repeats, taking a seat across from them. "Sorry for the wait. It's, uh, a crazy day today."

"Oh, of course, of course. We understand. And I can't tell you how much we appreciate you seeing us on short notice."

"Okay." Mr. Murdock starts looking through Natasha's file, and Steve had to give Natasha a nervous glance.

Usually, when his gut tells him that something wasn't right, it's mostly true.

"So, I have one question for you." Mr. Murdock asks, "are you both committing fraud to avoid her deportation so she can keep her position as editor-in-chief at S.H.I.E.L.D publishing?"

Something shifts in both of their faces yet they tried to remain collected.

"Uh..." Natasha trails off.

"That's ridiculous." Steve quickly denies, surprising not only Natasha, but himself as well. You'd think this was his ticket out of here yet he throws all that away for reasons he's unsure of himself.

"Where did you hear that?" Natasha asks the officer.

"Oh, we had a phone tip this afternoon from a man named—"

"Would it be, uh, Brock Rumlow?" she interrupts.

"... Brock Rumlow." Mr. Murdock confirms.

"Brock. Poor Brock. I am so sorry. Brock is nothing but a disgruntled former employee, and for that, I apologize. But I know that you're incredibly busy with a room full of gardeners and delivery boys to tend to." Natasha plays it off with a laugh.

Meanwhile, Steve feels himself dying inside little by little.

"If you just give us our next step, we will be out of your hair and on our way."

But what do you know, it gets a small chuckle out of Mr. Murdock. 

"Miss Romanoff, please," he ushers her to sit down. "Let me explain to you the process that's about to unfold. Step one will be a scheduled interview. I'll put you each in a room and I'll ask you every little question that a real couple would know about each other. Step two, I dig deeper. I look at your phone records, I talk to your neighbors, I interview your coworkers. And if your answers don't match up at every point, you will be deported indefinitely."

He says to Natasha before turning to Steve. "And you, young man, will have committed a felony punishable by a fine of $250,000, and a stay of five years in federal prison."

Steve has to blink at least a hundred times before he could take in what he was telling him.

Holy crap.

Holy shit.

All of this just so he could keep his job? What ever did he do wrong to make God hate him so much?

"So, Steve... you wanna, you want to talk to me?" he's looking at him as if he was seeing straight through his skull. And it makes him want to pee in his pants.

Steve reluctantly shakes his head, looking anywhere but at him.

"No?" Mr. Murdock questions.

Steve slowly nods this time, still looking anywhere but at him.

"Yes?"

Steve takes a deep breath before swallowing down the nervous lump in his throat. "The truth is..." He tries so hard not to let his voice shake.

Goddammit, Natasha Romanoff owes him everything after what she's putting him through. And now he's faced with the very difficult decision whether to choose his career or his life right now, because he couldn't care less about his crazy boss who treats him like shit anyway.

But, as crazy as she is, she's right on the part that everything he's worked hard for the past three years will be for nothing if she gets deported. He just hates the fact that she's right again.

And, really, what choice does he have left at this point?

"The truth is..." he clears his throat, choosing his next words carefully. He knows Natasha's looking at him right now, possibly giving him a pleading look; hence, why he's not sparing her the time of the day to glance back. "Mr. Murdock, the truth is... Natasha and I..."

Dear God, help him with what he was about to say next.

"... are just two people who weren't supposed to fall in love, but did."

He repeats the exact same words that she said earlier in Pierce's office. Thank heavens for his sharp memory then.

From the corner of his eye, he swears he sees Natasha breath a sigh of relief before putting up another of her fake smiles.

Suddenly, an idea comes to his mind, and the next thing he knows, he's doing the best acting he's done in his entire life. "We couldn't tell anyone we work with because of my big promotion that I had coming up." He finally looks at Natasha, who furrows her eyebrows at his claim.

"Promotion?" Mr. Murdock asks.

"Yeah," Steve tilts his head at her, smiling slyly. "We, we both felt that, uh, that it would be deeply inappropriate if I were to be promoted to visual graphics editor."

Natasha can only nod her head along. "Editor... mhm."

"While we were..." Steve gestures to him and Natasha, even laying a hand on her chair, around her back, to properly sell the story. Even though nothing about this is pleasing to him at all, he might as well take the advantage.

After all, she does owe him a lot.

"So," Mr. Murdock still looks skeptical but moves along to the next question at hand, "have you two told your parents about your secret love?"

"Oh, I, uh, impossible. My parents are dead." Natasha says casually, which takes Steve aback and makes him remove his arm around her. "No brothers or sisters either."

That, he does not know.

"Gone," Steve adds lamely.

Mr. Murdock looks at him again. "Are your parents dead?"

Natasha answers for him, though. "Oh, no. His parents are very much alive."

"No, very much." Steve echoes.

"Very much," she repeats with a forced smile. "They're, uh... well, we were gonna tell them this weekend. Gammy's 90th birthday."

That catches Steve's attention.

"And the whole family's coming together. And we thought it'd be a bit of a nice surprise."

He's staring at her because he can't believe what he's hearing. He can't believe that she knows all of this. And better yet, he can't believe that actually listened to him and even remembered everything he said earlier when he thought she couldn't care less. Maybe she still does.

Whatever it is, this is weirdly surprising.

"And where is this surprise going to take place?"

"At, uh, Steve's parents' house."

"Yeah, and where is that located again?"

Natasha shoots Steve a warning look in her eyes before faking another laugh for Mr. Murdock. "Um," she puffs, "why am I doing all the talking? It's your parent's house. Jump right in."

Steve forces a laugh as well, before taking another breath just as he gives an answer.

"Connacht."

"Connacht." Natasha's still in the middle of remembering where that is when Steve does her thinking for her.

"Ireland."

"Ireland?"

Well, that escalated rather quickly.

Mr. Murdock has his chin placed on his hand, looking at the both of them suspiciously. "You're going to Ireland this weekend?"

"Yeah."

"Yes, yes." Natasha continues to smile, reaching out to rub Steve's shoulder affectionately. While Steve looks at it rather uncomfortably. "We are going to Ireland. Ireland, that's where, uh, my little—that's where my Steven's from."

When he reaches out to touch her hand, she pulls it away.

This could not be more awkward.

So he pats his shoulder instead.

"Fine, I see how this is going to go." Mr. Murdock says, writing something down on a sticky note. "I will see you both at eleven o'clock, Monday morning for your scheduled interview. And your answers better match up on every account."

Steve takes it because Natasha's busy answering another phone call again. "Thank you," he says.

"I'm looking forward to this one." Mr. Murdock gives him a sick smile.

He forces one back. "We're looking forward to this one too."

And that couldn't be any less true.

This was going to be a very eventful weekend.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

He still can't believe that this is happening to him. And what he finds even more impossible to believe is his boss, herself, whose eyes are, once again, currently glued to her phone, not even the least bit fazed at what they could possibly face should they choose to keep up this act.

"Okay, so what's going to happen is we will go up there. We will pretend like we're boyfriend and girlfriend, tell your parents we're engaged." Natasha says ever so apathetically, her attention still focused on her phone and nothing else. "Uh, use the miles for tickets. I guess I will pop for you to fly first class, but make sure you use the miles. If we don't get the miles, we're not doing it."

Steve's not listening, just as she doesn't even consider for one second to look up and look at him, and see the ludicrous gaze he was giving her. She truly was something else. Out of this world. Like a demon bestowed from beneath.

"Oh, and please confirm the vegan meal, okay? 'Cause last time, they actually gave it to a vegan, and they, uh, forced me to eat this clammy, warm, creamy salad thing which was a complete disaster—hey, why aren't you taking notes?"

Finally, finally she notices him when he's been silent ever since they walked out of that immigration office. And, surprisingly, Steve still finds himself in disbelief when she's clueless as to why the hell he's looking so lost and helpless.

He abruptly turns around to shoot her an incredulous look. "I'm sorry, were you not in that room?"

"What? What?" His lips were pressed into a thin line, waiting for the realization to sink inside her self-centered brain. "Oh! The thing you said about being promoted? Genius! Genius, he completely fell for it."

"I was serious." He insists, giving her a hard, cold stare. "I'm looking at a $250,000 fine and five years in jail. That changes things."

"Promote you to visual graphics editor? No. No way."

"Then I quit and you're screwed. Bye bye, Natasha. It really has been a little slice of heaven."

He turns around and starts walking away.

And what would you know? She does need him after all when he hears her calling his name.

"Steve. Steve! Fine! Fine." Natasha calls after him, quite desperately, making him stop in his tracks. "I'll make you editor. Fine."

He reluctantly draws closer to her, and he's not entirely sure if she's being serious or not. But for all the years he's known her as his boss, if she does guarantee something, she'll make it happen. Unlike other higher ups in the corporate industry, Natasha Romanoff actually has some morals left by keeping her word.

And he damn hopes she keeps it in this little deal they made.

"If you do the Ireland weekend and the immigration interview, I will make you editor. Happy?" she offers.

He graciously accepts, "And not in two years. Right away."

"Fine."

"And you'll publish my art pieces."

"Only if you make it digital."

"Natasha."

"Fine. Ten thousand copies as a collection, first run—"

"Twenty thousand copies, first run," he imposes. He might as well make the most out of this once in a lifetime opportunity. Or tragedy. However this ends. "And we'll tell my family about our engagement when I want and how I want."

Natasha doesn't seem like she's in favor of the whole thing but she's too occupied to even argue anymore. "Fine." And she goes back to texting on her phone.

Then, an idea pops into his mind. Wanting to turn the tables on her, he asks slyly, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"What?" she asks uninterestedly.

"Ask me nicely."

Finally, she looks up, trying to study his cool, collected face to search for an answer. Yet, she's completely lost. "Ask you nicely, what?"

"Ask me nicely to marry you, Natasha." He drags on, trying to bite back the shit-eating grin threatening to appear on his face.

Now, she heard it. She understood it. But there's no way in hell is she going to do that; especially with all these people passing by. "What does that mean?" she asks, acting dumb.

"You heard me." Steve exaggerates a smile. "On your knee."

She gapes at him like a fish out of water. She knows he's doing this as some sort of payback and, quite frankly, she didn't expect Steve Rogers to be on this level of petty.

She always took him as this naive, bumbling tadpole who came from the 40s judging from his taste in music (she hears him humming sometimes); but maybe spending three years here in New York changes people, even the most prudent ones.

She looks around, clearly cursing the fact that they were in the middle of everything for everyone to see. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she grumbles.

"I can't believe it either."

"Shut up."

"Not a good way to start a proposal."

Natasha cuts him off with a look which immediately silences him. Annoying or not, she's still his boss after all. Reluctantly, she starts to kneel down, holding out her hand for him to help her down on one knee.

Steve watches her in amusement, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Does this work for you?" she asks him sarcastically.

"Oh, yeah, this is good enough," he replies in a jerkish way.

She fights the urge to roll her eyes or say anything stupid. She could feel her face growing redder by the second, unconsciously brushing her ponytail because she can't—doesn't even want to look Steve in the eye. 

She really can't believe she's doing this. It feels humiliating even just thinking about it. 

"Okay, uh, will you marry me?" 

"No." He rejects, pushing her over the edge further. "Say it like you mean it."

Heaving a deep sigh of annoyance, she then gazes up at him. Just get this over with, she thinks.

Faking a smile and a bat of her eyelashes, she tries again. "Steve?"

"Yes, Natasha?"

"My sweet, sweet Steven."

"I'm listening."

"Would you please, with cherries on top, marry me?" she asks sweetly.

Steve pretends to ponder over it, before finally agreeing. "Okay. I don't appreciate the sarcasm, but I'll do it. See you at the airport tomorrow."

"Good."

And he walks away, not even so much helping her get up.

That jerk.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

a/n:

more gif's from the movie (just imagine them as steve and nat)

things will def get interesting from here on and IM SO EXCITED 

PLS COMMENT DOWN ANY CHAOTIC THOUGHTS BC IM HAPPY TO READ THEM HONESTLY