Chapter Text
UPSTATE NEW YORK | FEBRUARY 2016
It wasn’t very often that Natasha felt safe.
Sure, she could hold her own against pretty much anyone who could threaten her, and it wasn’t necessarily that she constantly felt like she was in danger. But doing what she did, regardless of for whom she was doing it for, she always had to be aware of her surroundings. She could never let herself be too comfortable, just in case. She could relax, but never become lazy.
Therefore, it came as a bit of a surprise when - for the first time she could remember - she woke up feeling truly, completely at ease.
It was quiet save for the low hum of activity on the street below, and there was a light breeze coming in through the cracked window that brought in the fresh air. It was nice, considering the body wrapped around her had to be at least two hundred degrees.
He had his arm draped loosely her, holding her against his chest, his legs tangled in hers. Natasha finally opened her eyes, just enough to take in the sunlight streaming through the curtains gently floating back and forth from the wind. She rolled over and her lips curved upwards at the sight of him.
Steve was still asleep, his mouth parted slightly and hair sticking up all over the place. She brushed a piece of it back from his face and he stirred, letting out a sleepy breath as his eyes fluttered open. The sparkled impossibly bright blue in the soft light filtering in through the window, and when he smiled her heart practically flipped in her chest and sent a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through her.
“Hey,” he mumbled, adjusting to place a soft kiss on her forehead. Natasha, still in a sleepy haze, smiled and leaned into it, but kept her eyes closed. When she didn’t respond he continued down her face, planting kisses on her cheek, nose, and finally her lips. She groaned in protest but he silenced her, sliding his hand down to rest on her hip and leaning into her so her back was flat against the mattress.
“Steve,” she whined. He grinned against her lips. “I’m tired.”
“Fine,” he breathed, giving up and dropping his head to her shoulder. Natasha huffed out a laugh and he snuggled into her, wrapping his arms possessively against her waist again.
They lay in silence for a while, and Steve’s soft breaths combined with the way he was rubbing the pad of his thumb lightly across her hip was enough to lull her back to sleep.
It wasn’t until she heard a distant crash that she finally let her eyes fly open, suddenly wide awake.
Something was wrong.
It was then that she realized Steve was gone and she was alone. Had she fallen back to sleep? She didn’t think she had, but her mind was racing and she couldn’t remember. That warm, comfortable feeling was gone, and instead her entire body buzzed anxiously.
“Steve?”
He didn’t answer, which only made her more on edge. She shoved the blankets off of her and leapt out of the bed before sprinting across the room and shoving open the door.
She was in her apartment, the one in Manhattan that exactly three people knew about. She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten here - hadn’t she fallen asleep in the compound last night? - but that wasn’t her concern at the moment, because Steve was sitting on the couch, his back to her, letting out sharp, ragged breaths. When she turned the corner she stopped dead in her tracks and gasped with horror.
There was blood everywhere, staining the sofa and the rug and the white t-shirt he’d been wearing. She almost tripped over the coffee table to get to him, dropping down on the couch and dragging his face over to look at her.
“Steve!” He blinked up at her with glazed, unfocused eyes. She dropped her hand to his, pulling it away from the giant, ugly wound. “What the fuck, what happened?”
“Worthy…”
Natasha’s blood ran ice cold in her veins as the deep, mechanical voice rang through the air. She whipped her head around, searching for the source, but they were alone.
“How could you be worthy?”
“What the hell…?” she breathed.
“I wasn’t sure you’d wake up. I’d hoped you would, I wanted to show you.”
“Where the hell are you?” she snapped, her voice shaking; but Ultron - wherever he was - didn’t seem deterred.
“Had to kill him. He was a good guy. Wouldn’t have been my first call. But…down in the real world, we’re faced with ugly choices.”
“Nat-“ Steve coughed thickly and Natasha dropped her gaze back down to his.
“I’m here,” she insisted, sliding her thumb across his cheek. He closed his eyes but found her hand, squeezing it weakly. “Just hold on, solnyshko. I’ll get help, okay?”
“You can’t save him,” Ultron taunted.
“Oh, go fuck yourself.”
Natasha grabbed a blanket hanging off of the back of the couch before covering the wound on Steve’s stomach. It didn’t do much and blood seeped through the fabric, staining her hands.
“What doesn’t kill me-” Suddenly everything around her exploded and she ducked, shielding Steve’s body with her own, as glass rained down on them from every angle. An army of robots crashed through the windows, surrounding them, their eyes glowing menacingly. “-only makes me stronger.”
Natasha gasped and shot upright. She sucked in a few shallow breaths, desperate for air, and immediately reached for her nightstand. When her hands curled around the grip of her pistol she clicked off the safety and whipped it up, aiming it at…
Nothing.
It took a few seconds for the realization to register in her brain that she was alone, pointing her gun at the wall of her room. That it was a dream, that Ultron was long gone, and that Steve was very much alive and in his own room and definitely not in her bed.
Fuck.
Natasha clicked the safety of her gun back on and lowered it, letting it fall onto the bed next to her before leaning forward to bury her face in her hands. Despite the confirmed lack of a threat her heart still pounded wildly in her chest, and she attempted a few deep breaths to calm herself down.
It had been almost a year since they’d taken down Ultron in Sokovia, and even though Tony and Bruce insisted they’d purged their systems of him, it was like the virus had spread to her mind and stayed there, popping up out of nowhere to haunt her with his human-like mechanical voice and menacing, glowing red eyes.
Just one more thing to add to the list of nightmares.
And then there was Steve, seeing him sleeping peacefully and wrapped protectively around her, contrasted with the lifeless way he’d looked up at her, his eyes filled with terror and his blood everywhere…it reminded her too much of when James had gotten to him on that helicarrier, when she’d watched helplessly as he bled out in her arms. That image was nothing new, but would sneak up on her every once in a while, pulling her right back to that day and forcing her to relive the horror of him almost dying all over again.
With her pulse racing and her anxiety as spiked as it was, Natasha knew she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. So she stored her pistol back on the bottom shelf of her nightstand and swung her legs off of the edge of the bed. She forced herself to get up and dress, then slipped on her tennis shoes before leaving her room and heading downstairs to the common room.
“Good morning, Agent Romanoff,” Friday greeted her cheerfully when she entered the kitchen. Natasha grunted irritably in response. “I already started brewing a pot of coffee for you.”
“You’re the best, Friday,” she muttered back, yawning as she found a mug in the cabinet. By the time she did the coffee maker beeped and she poured herself a cup, not bothering with her usual cream and mountain of sugar before taking a long gulp.
It was the perfect temperature - Friday had learned over the last several months exactly how Natasha liked her coffee - but still burned all the way down her throat, waking her up more than the caffeine probably would.
“What time is it?”
“It is currently four thirty-seven,” Friday answered. Natasha sighed and took another sip of her coffee. She hadn’t fallen asleep until after midnight, and she was expected in the training facility by nine. It was going to be a long day.
“Is S-“ She paused, catching herself. “-anyone else up?”
“The facility’s other occupants are all currently still sleeping.”
That was probably a good thing. As much as she wanted to sneak into Steve’s room and crawl into his bed with him, it definitely wasn’t a good idea. Not when she could still feel his arms around her, feel his lips against hers, could feel the warmth of his skin as he snuggled closer to her.
It had felt so real. Too real. As tired and vulnerable as she was at the moment, she couldn’t trust herself not to succumb to the feelings she’d buried deep in her mind, the ones she refused to entertain, not even if she knew it would calm her down.
It always did, whenever she had nightmares. She’d wake up in a panic and end up in his room. He wouldn’t say anything, but his mere presence never failed to sooth her. It was an unspoken agreement between the two of them, that they’d be there to get each other through the nightmares. That there was no pressure to talk about it but the offer was there nonetheless.
But this was different. She’d had nightmares involving him before, but not like this. Even if this one had ended up as horrifying as all the others did, the beginning - the soft, hazy, peaceful part - haunted her more than Ultron’s disembodied voice and Steve dying in her arms.
Natasha scoffed at herself and drained the rest of her coffee before leaving the mug in the sink. This was ridiculous. It was just a fucking dream.
She desperately needed to hit something.
At least the gym was quiet, with everyone else still asleep. Friday lit up the giant room for her when she entered and she immediately hopped onto a treadmill to warm herself up - at least trying not to fall off of the damn thing would force her to focus on something else - and had already run three miles before the sun started peeking through the trees and sending hazy beams of light through the windows.
When that wasn’t enough to calm her down, she abandoned it and only gave herself a long enough break to gulp down an entire bottle of water from the fully-stocked gym refrigerator and wrap her hands before she started attacking a punching bag.
That helped, especially when she imagined each hit was in the center of one of those damn Ultron bot’s ugly, metal faces. She didn’t hold back, forcing every ounce of power she had into each punch, checking off a mental list every time.
One for taking her hostage and another for locking her up. One for attacking Helen. One for Pietro and one for Sokovia and one for the mess Wanda had been after he’d destroyed everything she’d ever known. One for each of the bots she’d taken out, one for each hit her team had taken. For almost killing Clint. For manipulating Wanda. A few out of her own pettiness for Bruce, for running away the second he knew the battle was over. One for every time she’d woken up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, panicking, Ultron’s voice ringing in her ears well after she’d realized it wasn’t real.
“Mornin’.”
Natasha paused mid-punch and glanced over to see Steve walking across the gym, his duffel bag slug over his shoulder.
Of course.
She should have expected this. She knew he came down here every morning after he woke up. He frowned at her, his eyes still a little sleepy and his hair sticking up in every direction.
“Hey.”
“What the hell are you doing up? It’s not even seven yet.”
Seven? How long had she been down here?
“Couldn’t sleep.”
She turned back to the bag and went at it again to avoid the look he was giving her. If she was up this early at all, especially unable to sleep…he knew what that meant.
“Wanna talk about it?” he asked carefully, crossing the room to drop his bag on a bench not far from her punching bag.
“Nope,” she panted between hits. “Just wanna…beat the shit…out of…something.”
“You can beat the shit outta me if you want.” Natasha stopped again and met his gaze. He was gave her her a dopey smile and raised an eyebrow at her. “More of a challenge than that poor punching bag.”
He had a point.
“Fine.” She dropped her hands and started unwrapping the tape, dropping it unceremoniously onto another bench and taking a long swig from her water bottle. “You know you’re at a disadvantage here, right?”
“You know my serum’s stronger than yours, right?” he shot back with a grin. She just rolled her eyes.
“You just woke up. I’ve had coffee. And I’m already warmed up.”
“Guess I’ll just have to work for it.”
“Or I’ll just kick your ass harder.”
“I’ll have to go easy on you then,” he replied. “So you’ll think I’m kicking your ass harder.”
“Such vulgar language, Captain,” she muttered under her breath, receiving a dirty look in return. “It’s adorable that you think you let me win.”
“You can tell me you think I’m cute without making empty threats, Romanoff.” Natasha just gaped at him, earning her a proud smirk. “Yeah. I can play that game too.”
She lunged at him, but he was quick and threw his hands up to block her. She took advantage of his unpreparedness to grab onto his arm, twist herself up onto his shoulders, and use the momentum to knock him down onto the floor. He landed flat on his stomach, her thighs wrapped tightly around his waist as she straddled his back. She ducked her head down so her mouth was right next to his ear.
“You were saying?”
He retaliated quickly, twisting himself out of her hold and springing to his feet. She swung her leg around from where she was already on the floor and it smacked into his knees, causing them to buckle and sending him crashing back down to the mat. He was anticipating it - she knew he was - so instead of trying to pin him down again she twisted away and sprang back onto her feet. She took a few steps backward, eyeing him carefully as he stood, plotting his next move.
He was bluffing. He already knew what his next move would be, but was pausing to make her drop her guard.
She taught him that move.
Natasha grinned, running at him again but ducking out of his way and missing him on purpose, sliding past him and spinning around to attack him from behind. She landed a kick to the center of his back, but before she could jump up and take him down with her legs again he twisted around and pulled her into a choke hold. She pretended to struggle for a second, giving herself an excuse to catch her breath, before elbowing him in the side and yanking herself out of his arms.
They went on like that for several minutes, anticipating each other’s every move and never quite getting close enough to take the other down. It didn’t help that they were both much too stubborn to admit defeat and yield.
Finally, after she’d blocked three of his attempts in a row, she gave him an opening and let him land a punch to her shoulder. She stumbled backwards, letting out a little gasp of surprise and grasping her arm with her other hand. He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes going wide.
“Shit, I’m sorry!” He closed the space between them, reaching out for her, letting his hand fall gently on her arm. “Are you-“
That’s when she made her move, ramming him hard in the chest with her seemingly injured shoulder. He was taken completely by surprise and stumbled backwards, giving her the opportunity to lunge at him and knock him over. He landed on his back with a thud and she dropped down on top of him, trapping his arms at his sides and holding them tight with her thighs.
“Okay,” he panted. “That’s not fair.”
“When have I ever played fair?” she retorted with a smirk. He rolled his eyes and twisted, flipping her so he could twist her arms above her head, tightening his knees against her sides to keep her still.
“I thought I hurt you.”
“Trust me…if you ever actually hurt me, you’d know.”
He didn’t reply to that, just stared down at her sternly. It was hard not to laugh; he was giving her his Captain America look, the one they all teased him about, and it was taking everything in her not to comment on it now. Instead she tried to lift her legs to flip and pin him, but he didn’t budge. She couldn’t move.
That never happened.
Sure, they were competitive, but he always held back when they sparred. Now, however, he was using his full strength to keep her completely still. He must have felt her struggle, because his lips curved up into a devious grin.
“Having trouble?”
“I’m not yielding,” she replied stubbornly, and he raised an eyebrow at her.
“I thought you said I let you win?”
That was going to earn him an ass kicking. She tried to think quickly, figure out how she could trick him into easing up so she could slip out from underneath him, but the way he was looking at her was distracting. So were his eyes, sparkling bright blue in the light filtering in from the giant picture windows lining one side of the gym, burning with a determined, amused intensity that made her heart thump wildly in her chest, having nothing to do with physical exertion. It was just like the beginning of that nightmare, the exact same look that made her brain short circuit and suddenly stop working.
She hadn’t realized how low he was leaning over her until then, and suddenly it was the only thing she could focus on. He had to be doing this on purpose, trying to distract her. Using her own strategy against her. She wanted to be proud of him, but she was too busy overthinking way he shifted just then in a way that brought his nose closer to hers, close enough that it was just barely not brushing against hers.
He was going to kiss her. She could tell by the look in his eyes, the one that had suddenly shifted from smug determination into something resembling the same sudden panic flooding through her. The part that terrified her the most was the fact that it was taking everything in her not to kiss him first.
“Steve,” she breathed, her throat suddenly dry, but he didn’t move. She felt him relax a little, loosening his grip on her wrists and sides, but any thought of taking advantage of it had retreated to the back of her mind. “Steve, there’s cameras.”
It took a second for that to process, but when it did he backed off a little. Suddenly overwhelmed by the proximity - and also by the strong urge to drag him back down - she twisted her arms out of his grasp and shoved him over to roll back on top of him, pinning him down with her legs and resting her forearm against his throat. He didn’t resist, didn’t even try to fight back, and lightly tapped the mat.
“Told you I’d win.”
She’d meant it as a joke, but it fell flat. He just nodded, his eyes still locked with hers, and she felt him swallow thickly under her arm.
“Captain Rogers, Agent Romanoff…pardon the interruption,” Friday said suddenly, her voice echoing through the room. “Brock Rumlow has been spotted in Lagos, Nigeria.”
“Thanks Friday.”
Natasha hopped up quickly, then reached her hand out to Steve. He took it and she helped pull him up before immediately spinning on her heel, desperate to get as much space between them as possible.
He followed her out of the gym and into the elevator that would take them down to the armory, keeping his distance until the doors slid shut in front of them. Natasha saw him glance over at her out of the corner of her eyes and shifted on her feet, angling herself away from him.
“Friday, what do you have on Rumlow?” she asked, mostly to distract herself. Steve averted his gaze down the the floor.
“He’s been laying low in Lagos for a week, but besides that, not much,” Friday answered cheerfully.
“We’ll have to do some recon,” Steve commented lowly. Natasha hummed in agreement. “Might have to count Rhodey out of this one, bring Sam and Wanda and hang out for a few days to figure out what he’s up to.”
“Wanda might be able to figure out his plan if we can get close enough,” Natasha added as the doors opened, in the most confident voice she could muster. She didn’t wait for a reply, and instead strode out of the elevator and into the locker room before he could speak.
Once she’d stopped in front of her locker and was alone, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in. She could hear Steve on the other side of the room, clamoring around as he packed up his suit and greeting Sam. She pulled her own suit out of its storage cabinet and started shoving it and her gear into a duffel bag, desperate to rid herself of the panic still buzzing around in her brain.
She had no idea what the hell was wrong with her. This had been a slip up, and a stupid one at that. At least Rumlow was good for something, she thought bitterly. Who knows what might have happened if Friday hadn’t interrupted?
She was usually so much better at this. She was a master at compartmentalizing, pushing aside the feelings she still refused to admit she had and not letting them get in the way of anything else. And besides, they were finally getting back to normal, like it was before SHIELD fell with the added bonus of being so much closer and trusting each other and knowing each other.
Things were good now. The two of them were good, the team was good. All of the bullshit they’d been through since DC had seemingly faded into nothingness and they’d fallen right back into being partners without a single problem. Bruce was gone and she was over it, she’d slowly been able to push her insecurities back down and feel like herself again. She wasn’t pushing him away anymore, Steve wasn’t quiet and confused every time they interacted. The last four months had been great, and just because she let herself feel something for him again, they’d gone backwards so easily.
And why? Because she’d had some stupid dream about him? Because he’d pushed back when she teased and flirted with him, instead of blushing and taking it? Because he looked at her like that and suddenly all her self control apparently flew out the fucking window?
This was why she left last year in the first place, god dammit.
Steve and Sam left and Natasha relished the quiet they left her in. The lack of sleep was definitely going to catch up to her, and she briefly wondered if she’d have time for a nap before they got to Lagos. Steve liked to sit with her on the way to a mission, going over their intel one last time and mapping out strategies for any possible outcome. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to sleep in that close proximity to him, and she definitely didn’t trust her brain not to run with it either. The last thing she needed was to dream about him again and wake up with her head on his shoulder while he scrolled through his tablet.
Wanda made her way into the armory not long after Steve and Sam left, her backpack hanging off of her shoulder, and she offered her a smile.
“Good morning,” she greeted, and Natasha wondered for the millionth time since she’d moved into the compound how someone could be so upbeat this early in the morning.
“Hey.”
Wanda frowned at her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Natasha replied, much too quickly. Wanda tilted her head a bit, her eyes narrowing. “I’m just tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Okay…” Wanda replied, still not convinced.
“Steve and Sam are waiting for us, let’s go.”
Natasha brushed past her, avoiding the amused look on Wanda’s face as she followed her to the jet. She knew she didn’t purposely read their minds, but something told her she didn’t really need to this time.