[ Honestly, she wishes she could remember how this had all started. Probably a snide remark on her part, if she's being realistic, something that brushed all those morals up the wrong way and reminded Steve how she's on the wrong side of the grey scale.

Or maybe it wasn't even that, maybe she's reading the situation all wrong - it doesn't happen often, but it does happen - and maybe this all rests squarely on her shoulders. Maybe finally acquiring something of a friendship beyond professional courtesy means accepting that disagreements will happen sometimes, but it's been a long time since Natasha has referred to anyone as a friend. You can't really blame her for being rusty. ]

Will you just listen. [ Slamming her fist against the solid metal surface she'd previously been leaning against had been unwise, uncharacteristically spontaneous, and the outburst had taken her by as much surprise as it had Steve. Her knuckles are starting to bruise already, but better a bruised fist than a bruised jaw.

(Supersoldiers are hard to bruise, sure, but that doesn't mean she couldn't have tried). ]

I'm never going to be a hero. You're Captain America, I'm a spy. You're a public figurehead, I'm a well-kept secret. I can't change to fit into your moral standards. [ And at last some of the tension drops from her shoulders as she shrugs: ] I won't.

[ She hasn't argued with someone like this in a long time, either, and the sensation is entirely unpleasant. It's not often she deals with new experiences any more, and this is one she'd not like to repeat. It's much easier when everyone is kept at arms length, maybe then she wouldn't care so much about where Steve views her moral standpoints any more.

...Then again, she hadn't cared aboard the ship either, and look how that had turned out. ]