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Natasha couldn't wait to get back to her own bed. It had been one of those days that made a person wish they had never gotten up that morning. Natasha rarely allowed herself the luxury of such an attitude. She had been through worse, she could handle it. It wasn't even hard to handle it. Not really.The toll their mission had taken was mostly emotional. The physical threat had been minimal. They were dealing with tech outside of what other government agencies could safely deal with, but it was still nothing in the face of Tony Stark's gadgets. No threat ever held a candle to Tony’s intellect.Their team had been sent; Natasha, Clint, and Steve. They contacted Tony and had him working behind the scenes, of course. And Bruce had been helping, she was almost certain. The three that had been called in were being used to rein in this episode's bad guy (girl in this case) once Tony (and/or Bruce) got a lock on the inferior tech and turned it all into “very bulky, very ugly, modern art.”Directly quoted from Tony, naturally.The opposing force quickly recognized they had little chance once their weapons were de-weaponized. They put up surprisingly little resistance.No, there was very little by way of physical demands today. But the fact that the ring leader had been a woman who had holed up in an elementary school had taken the difficulty level through the roof. She had, correctly, assumed that taking refuge in a place with so many potential victims would slow the process significantly. No one was going to risk barging into an unknown situation, to apprehend an unstable criminal, surrounded by, not only so many potential victims, but such young potential victims.They had managed to resolve the situation with only seven people needing medical attention: two teachers and a janitor who had been trying to protect their students, two older boys who had tried to gang up on the woman, a girl who had gotten in the way, and a young boy who had a severe asthma attack. The worst injury between them was one broken rib and one concussion. Some scrapes and bruises, a sprain or a pulled muscle here and there, but there had been no casualties.All in all, it was a win. The damage was all the emotional toll. The knowledge that, had they not managed to settle things the way they had, any injuries or deaths were on them. As easy as it had ended, it could just as easily have gone wrong. And if it had, it was children that were going to suffer.It was always worse when it was children.Clint had taken off already, headed to his farm to see his own children and wife. These always hit too close to home for him. Natasha had sent her love, telling him to squeeze them extra tight and give them each an extra kiss from their Auntie Tasha.Clint had tried to just bring her home with him. And, yeah, it had been tempting. But Natasha knew what she really needed: time to "recharge." Clint had tried to convince her she could do that on the way, or once they got to the farm. He knew how relaxing she found his little piece of land. What he didn’t know was why she most definitely needed to be alone to recover. Not around children she cared about, a family she actually had a place in. All those things she had long reconciled herself to not having.He didn’t know that when she said she needed to "recharge," it actually meant she needed to drop. Or especially that it actually meant taking those meds she swiped religiously from SHIELD medical to induce said drop.It wasn't that she couldn't drop, per se. She most certainly could. At least, she was pretty sure she could. Most subs could drop. Hell, most had to. Okay, not most. All, save for Natasha herself, she’s pretty sure.Well, Natasha and probably any other Sub who had survived the Red Room. She’s not sure if any others had. She knew there were none before her, so probably not after her either.She’s not convinced she still counts as a Sub anyway. If there were more that made it, if any of them could have still been counted as Subs. After all they did to stamp it out of them...The meds she stocked up on whenever she had a clear shot at them were made to help switches balance out when they decided to settle into a Sub life. Or to help Subs who had suffered some sort of trauma, either relating to a drop or in their life in general, that prevented them from successfully going down. It was not meant to be used alone, and especially not in the capacity she had been using it.Dropping was supposed to be about safety; keeping a Sub calm and protecting them from things that threatened to overwhelm them. When that was threatened, that guaranteed safe space, whether due to a traumatic drop experience (going down alone, being left alone at some point in the middle, or having to fight one's way back to reality due to an ill-equipped Dom supervision), some form of mistreatment during a drop, (abuse: physical, mental, emotional, sexual, or neglect) or even just a severe trauma drop, dropping may become an issue for a Sub. Any drop that the Sub doesn't allow or have the proper help through, really, can lead to problems, although that usually only happens in extreme cases.Natasha has experienced all of the above, and she couldn’t say which is the worst.So, no, Natasha isn't taking the meds because of any of those things. She does it so she can control when she drops, how long she drops for, and also ensure that she can come up from the drop on her own with minimal lasting damage. Drops are meant to be supervised, all the way from helping a Sub down in a calm caring manner, to encouraging them to stay down as long as they need, right up to when they are able to safely come back up, finding their way back to their own mind. And usually with a good deal of TLC in the aftermath as well. Although that is all dependent on the circumstances, the Dom and Sub involved, etc.Drops are different for every Sub, and depending on the kind of drop, present differently. The more extreme result in some degree of loss of consciousness, ranging from the barely awake/almost asleep stage where they may still be conscious of what happens around them, just unable to interact themselves, to borderline comatose. The more routine drops may just result in a slight increase of submissive behavior, the Sub allowing themselves to defer to whoever put them down, and gravitating towards those they trust, Doms in particular.Again, Natasha is intimately acquainted with the entire gamut.Doms are the most helpful to a Sub in need of dropping or in the midst of a drop. Anyone can bring a Sub through drop, but Doms are equipped with almost an extra sense of what the Sub needs and when they need it. Subs, Switches, and any of the other of the minority identifying designations may recognize the signs, but Doms can feel it. Some Doms, not just any stranger on the street, but one that has formed a close bond with a Sub, will oftentimes sense the need to drop before even the Sub does.Natasha now had that bond with several people who could act as a Dom for her. Unfortunately, they were all missing one very specific piece of the puzzle that is the Black Widow. None of them knew she was a Sub.It's not like there is a special marker that tells everyone you meet what your designation in life is. But usually, observing people for more than a couple of meetings tells you everything you need to know. But Natasha was specially trained (conditioned) not to give anyone that power over her.The Red Room trained them to be expert spies, the perfect assassins. And being ruled by instincts the way a Dom or Sub is didn't play into that well. So they were removed entirely. A very painful process to experience.Natasha had shaken a lot of her training. The killing, for example. While the ability remained, the act itself had been mostly stopped long ago. The only exceptions were if it was completely unavoidable. She regained her compassion for human life. Her lack of trust, not allowing people close enough to even know her real name, that disappeared with Clint. Although that was less due to her own desire to let it go and more with Clint's desire to smash through her carefully crafted walls with so little finesse the Hulk would be proud.But being without designation, keeping that one little piece of herself under lock and key, that wasn't even an option to undo. She had gone through the process of locking it away once. She was determined to never let it out again. That was what made her good at her job. She would be as good as giving up her position on the team if she ever let that last little bit of her slip free.So she never would.Natasha laid the little green pill and water bottle out on the nightstand. She had already changed into her softest lounge clothes after wrestling out of her Widow uniform. It was always a struggle when she had reached the point she was at now. Barely keeping her head above water that she hadn’t even noticed building up around her.It was always just hoping to drown her before she could do anything about it.After wiping herself down, hopefully ridding herself of whatever grit and grime had accumulated throughout the day’s struggle, she was ready to crawl into her bed and turn off for 2-4 hours, like her chosen dosage of drop medication promised.Granted, the drop would only last an hour at most. Getting herself relaxed enough to let it work, and then clawing her way back to herself would take much more time than the drop itself.She laid her head down, and grabbed her drop pillow from under the bed. It was a heavy body pillow she could fold in half around herself, making it feel like there were arms around her, holding her and protecting her or like she was laying between someone's legs with her head in their lap. At times she liked to think she could feel someone petting her, soothing her back to reality. Clint’s gentle but grounding touch, Bruce, calm but strong, Thor’s big hands stopping her from falling apart completely, Tony, his fingers talented enough to fix even the most broken things, Steve’s warmth, firm and in control, always protecting, always leading, all of them always safe…Already allowing her mind to drift to the things that she most wanted, but could never have, she molded the pillow around her (one end under her neck, wrapping around her waist so the other end fell to the small of her back), Natasha leaned over to take the pill, then settled in.Her last thought as the world went black is how much better the pillow would be if only it were warm...
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Clint stayed home for about a week. He tried to split his time between the farm and the compound as best he could, but at times that was easier said than done. One day around noon he reappeared, bag in hand, looking far less stressed than the last time Natasha had seen him.
"Hey, how was home?" Natasha asked, knowing he loved telling stories about Laura and the kids.
"Home was good. Home was home. Although we could've set an extra place at the dinner table. There's always a seat open for you, you know." Clint opened his arms for a hug, knowing that one of them being away stressed her out just enough that the normally distant redhead would welcome the contact. No one was quite sure of the reason behind it stressing her out, or especially why it was enough stress that she was okay with things like hugs once they returned, but no one ever dared mention it.
She folded herself into his embrace neatly, accepting the final piece of her life coming back into place. It had been a long week. She thought back to how this had become her life. About how much better (and touchier) it had gotten.
And tried not to think about how much better it could still get...
All of the Avengers were rather tactile in nature. Just in their own little ways. Tony didn't shake hands but he had days where he would only exist within someone else's personal space. When his brain wasn't rapid firing on some project or another, when he had time for his dull human companions, he tended to be stuck to someone like a shadow. Sitting close enough on the couch to dramatically flop across a lap or splay out enough to twine his feet with someone's legs, it was always something.
The trust he needed to have in a person for this closeness was almost as hard won as Natasha's lack of trust. It had been literal years of the team watching him interact that way with Rhodey and Pepper, then turn into an entirely professional being (well, not exactly professional, but as professional as Tony ever gets outside of his business world) to interact with any of them. It was like watching a curtain fall.
So it was a while before it became natural for him to be in contact with them that way. Bruce had been similar in his need for space, although obviously for different reasons. They all had taken extra care to show him they didn't fear him or what he could become. And in doing so they had normalized the Hulk for Bruce as much as for themselves.
They were increasingly proud of both their own accomplishments as well as Bruce’s increased comfort level when in intimate settings with them.
Of course, he was still a hellishly awkward introvert to anyone outside of their little circle, but if anyone was good at taking the victories as they come, celebrating the little wins, it was the Avengers.
Bruce still referred to the Hulk as "the other guy" but it was in an almost fond manner now. They had come to learn Bruce was very nearly touch starved, having avoided close contact with almost everyone in his life for years. It had startled all of them to learn exactly how isolated he had forced himself to become.
They had set about fixing that as soon as they were aware of it. It was rare for him to go a full day now without someone finding him to have one of his favorite sort of messed up pet and cuddle sessions. Even Natasha had found it tragic enough to adjust her usually firm stance on keeping as little physical contact as possible.
In fact, the little bouts of closeness were the only real supply of affection she allowed herself. Any more and she would become dependent on it again. And she had long since vowed never again.
But for Bruce, how could she not have made the exception?
They quickly discovered that he especially liked lying with his head in someone's lap or sitting on the floor leaning against an occupied bit of furniture and having his hair played with. Just the feeling of fingers combing through his messy curls worked miracles on him.
They knew now not to touch him unless they had actual time to devote to him. They had learned the hard way that it was all or nothing with Bruce. Although he was a minority designation, a “beta” (the layman's term for a baseline human) and an entirely different set of rules applied to him, his response to touch after being deprived of it for so long could easily be mistaken for a routine drop.
Any designation could drop of course. It was just less common in the other designations and practically a requirement for Subs.
Subtle but obvious, he melted into whoever laid a gentle touch on his shoulder, stroked his cheek, or put an arm around his waist to pull him close. It was as endearing as it was unexpected, given what an awkward mess of a person he still presented to the general public.
It resembled a drop in every way. But if he didn't get his fill, he wouldn't ask for more. No, not Bruce. Instead he would be out of sorts for a time, almost as though he was beating himself up for wanting, needing, perhaps even expecting, more.
They had all figured out that was exactly the case and made an unspoken vow to never let him settle for anything less than what he wanted. Always more than he needed, because they all knew that what he needed was so much less than what he deserved.
So now they all definitely knew better than to risk it unless they had the proper amount of time to devote to their recovering team member.
Thor- an alien/Norse god- was a different animal entirely. He was truly like a puppy, an overgrown one, that genuinely thinks their spot is on whatever lap is available. No, he had never sat on any of them, but the sentiment remained the same. Always with a hand on the neck, an arm slung around someone's shoulders or waist, trapping them to his side, sitting full body- shoulder to foot- pressed against whoever he had dragged to sit with him on the couch or loveseat that night. It was endearing, really. Thor didn't spend much time on world but when he did, personal space always took a hit.
Natasha tended to keep her distance. From all of them but Bruce that is. The others, being unable to get a read off her, didn't think to question it. After Steve left on his motorcycle to acclimate to this new century, there was something off about Natasha. No one knew what, but Clint, Pepper, hell, even Tony noticed it. They tried to bring her into their lives more, include her in things they were doing more often, but nothing really seemed to help.
In an interesting turn of events it had been Bruce who finally got her looped in with the rest of them were. Ironic considering it was the same time Natasha truly got Bruce to come around to the rest of the team in the first place.
He had been at Shield purely by chance, Tony having requested he look over something the Shield lab people couldn't crack and Tony himself had little to no time for.
They had met in passing, Bruce spotting her and changing his course from the resources area he had been heading for, to instead fall into step beside her. He had been heading to do some research, but the source text was in Russian, so Natasha would likely save him loads of time. It was her first language after all.
And she was more than smart enough to be able to follow where his brain had the tendency to go. Well, conceptually. Only Tony had been capable of following the science rhetoric and technobabble he would inevitably fall into.
She was also well versed in his habits and all of the ways his mind jumped through flaming hoops to get him places. She was easily the person best suited to helping him.
They ended up going to the resource room anyway, a large library with files and books relevant to everything Shield was involved with as well as tech resources, data banks, and whatever latest model computers Tony had come out with.
There were even a couple of couches, chairs, a coffee table and end tables in one corner to serve as a break from the uncomfortable desks found scattered everywhere else in the room.
It happened when she perched on the arm of the chair he was sitting in, looking over his shoulder at whatever papers he was reading. She had her arm laid along the back of the chair that rested just above his shoulders and would occasionally come into contact with him when either of them moved. Unintentionally, her arm slid further down as she became more engrossed in the papers until she was nearly leaning on Bruce, arm curled slightly around his left shoulder, hand just hanging naturally at his bicep.
Slowly, Natasha realized Bruce didn’t seem as enthusiastic about his project anymore. In fact, he sounded less focused than she had ever heard him before. He was responding to her questions but only the bare minimum. She stopped and looked at him for the first time in probably twenty minutes.
No, she thought, it couldn't be...
And yet it was. His eyes were unfocused, his expression lax, as though all of his carefully controlled emotions had gotten away from him. Natasha didn't quite know what to do, but she knew enough to know she couldn't just leave.
Instead she settled in, bringing her hand in to brush along his arm in short strokes, and tightened her arm ever so slightly around his shoulders. The tone to his responses got a little breathy, his speech just noticeably less enunciated, but other than that, they just continued on as they had been.
About an hour later, Bruce seemed to come back to himself enough to realize what he had been doing. He tensed under Natasha's arm and pulled away a bit.
Natasha was having none of it. She let him go, a bit disappointed, but instead of pulling him back to show it was alright, she straightened herself up a bit (as she had been slouched to lean on him pretty heavily) and reached out a hand to card through his hair under the pretense of fixing it. In reality, she wanted to relax him again before saying what needed saying.
"This has been nice. It was good to be needed for something other than my Black Widow skill set." Natasha joked but somehow it felt more like truth than she was comfortable with. "You seemed to enjoy it too. Maybe we can do this again sometime?"
Bruce looked shy at her bluntness in addressing the situation. But he was still too relaxed to make any attempt to cover up how much he had enjoyed himself. "Um, yeah, I was, it was nice, you were, I mean- you didn't have to do that. But yes, it was very...nice." He finished a bit uncertainly, as though he would be shamed for admitting to such a thing.
Well Natasha wouldn't stand for that.
"You can find me anytime you need me. I'm always up for something more mind challenging than body challenging. It was pretty relaxing for me, too. Almost therapeutic, wasn't it?" She punctuated the question with a squeeze to the dip between his shoulder and bicep, the perfect spot her hand had found to rest. If there had been any doubt about which part of the evening she had meant before, the small gesture worked wonders at chasing it away.
She just really needed him to understand that this was okay. That all of it was okay.
She didn't want to think about why that was. (She ended up having a panic induced drop later after thinking about how close she had probably been to being under as well, and those thoughts definitely ended up haunting her for the next several months while she tried to figure out the balance of helping Bruce while making sure it was all for his benefit rather than her letting her training slip back into needing it for herself.)
She had to shake herself to drag her thoughts back to focus on what Bruce was saying.
"Yeah- yes, it was." Now he was really coming back to himself, regaining control of himself, taking the reins again. "Thank you, Natasha. That was far more than what I had initially planned to have you help me with..." He fixed his glasses back onto his face from where they had been sitting on an end table. "...would you like to come back to the tower with us? Me and Tony, that is. We were just here consulting and I should probably go and find him but I'm sure he would be thrilled to have you come back... I think he gets a kick out of having us there with him, you know? Much more entertaining for him than just me, I'm sure. And I know that's not really me, you know, paying you back or anything but-"
"Sure, Bruce. That sounds good." Natasha secretly found the rambling sweet, but she didn't want that stress she had managed to rid him of returning so soon. "I probably need to work on being around people again, too." Natasha made sure to measure her words carefully, lest she say something that would give her away.
She did leave just a hint of vulnerability in her tone to try putting him back at ease a bit. (Because that’s what spies do, they manipulate and they lie. The vulnerability was there because she decided to put it there, no other reason, okay?)
Bruce beamed. "Great! I'll just go find Tony, then. Are you free to leave?
Should we wait for you or-?"
"Nope, I'm a free agent for the rest of the day." And with that they collected their things and stood then headed out to the hallway to find Tony and go back to the tower.
And Natasha never really left after that. She meant to, she really did. She just...couldn't.
First it was Bruce needing her to stay so he knew what had happened with them was alright, then it was Tony with this, that, and the other thing, and then Clint doing things that Tony kept (understandably but inconveniently) trying to kill him for, and then it was Steve. He had come back. Finally. And by then she didn't even want to leave anymore.
She refused to acknowledge that there might be a reason behind that. It just happened. And for the first time in a long time, she felt okay. She felt safe, she felt accepted, and, most importantly, she felt wanted.
It was an entirely new feeling, and she wasn't about to let go of it. She would treasure it for as long as she could. Because
she
something was bound to mess it up.
She
Something always did.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Steve was a firm believer in a lot of different things. He had always done what he could to stand up to the bullies of the world, had always believed in fighting for the little guy. That hadn't changed with the serum and subsequent transformation from the little guy into one of the bigger guys. The ones who confused size and strength with power and the right to treat others however they wanted.That hadn't flown with big-Steve any better than it had with tiny-Steve. And it still didn't. His time in the ice had done nothing to dull the passion in him. Unfortunately, now things tended to be on a larger scale than when he started out.Instead of fighting little battles with Hydra (admittedly not that small but in comparison, they paled slightly to what he faced now), he had moved on to alien threats. Not to say the "little things" were any less important to him, but they tended to get left to others more, just out of convenience. Once you got past a certain point, it was hard to go backwards.He still saw things, still knew things were happening that shouldn't. Injustices against Subs, commonly, and also, less commonly but no less seriously, injustices against Doms. Forcing anyone to submit to another's will, forcing anyone into a role they aren't comfortable playing, it was all wrong.Submission is not something that can be commanded, not forced or coerced. It is a sign of respect that is necessary from everyone at some point in their lives, no matter their designation. Steve himself had always been decently mild mannered. Respectful, not to be confused with timid as many did. Prior to puberty and his consequent development into a fully fledged Dom.He had always been a Dom. He hadn't seemed like he would be one, before the serum. He had been fiercely against submitting to anyone's will unless it was purely out of respect and necessity. Teachers got to assign homework, obviously, parents got to assign chores.But no one gets to assign designations.It had happened to him time and again in his pre-serum days. People trying to force him to be a Switch if they were feeling generous, or, more often, a Sub. Being kind and respectful was often mistaken for submission, particularly in those days. Or mistaken for weakness, which people also confuse with submission. Steve always knew better. That's not how dominant and submissive relationships work.Still, the words haunted him. "No one will take you seriously as a Dom, Steve." "It's just not realistic to think someone could submit to you." "You just won't be able to pull it off sweetheart."Those had hurt the most because, generally speaking, they were intended to be well meaning. People who were supposed to be his friends even, trying to prevent him from heartbreak later on in life.His father had been the worst offender when it came to this particular crime. As a Dom himself, he just couldn't stand the fact that his own son was such a disgrace to the title.So Steve was intimately aware of how often people tried to others into boxes they thought more convenient or more fitting given their views of the world. He hadn't stood for it back then and, especially given how much things had changed in the last half century, he refused to let it happen now. Not if he was aware of it and could help.A mission with Shield brought him face to face with such an opportunity to get back to the basics of helping people.They were stopping a human trafficking scene, one where tech from the Chitauri and other alien threats had come into play. Their task of tracking down the last bits of alien technology had led them to this particular factory, into the basement, which, naturally, was not included in the plans filed with the city.The room was divided into sectors. There were people everywhere. Most of the victims were young adults, mid teens to late twenties. A few looked to be preteens still. Most of the criminals were taken care of already, having been called up to join the fight. The few that were left to handle their prisoners were a piece of cake.The captives appeared to be drugged and, if their faces and visible patches of skin were anything to go by, beaten well to ensure their cooperation."Hey Cap," Clint hollered from a doorway down in the far corner of the basement. "You're gonna want to see this!"Well if that didn't sound ominous, he wasn't sure what did.Steve took off at a jog to get to the door Clint had disappeared through. Peering around the corner hesitantly, his jaw dropped. There were marker boards everywhere, and with pieces of chemistry equipment scattered all around, it could only be some sort of makeshift lab. In the corner there was a bookshelf filled with file folders.Walking over to the shelf shed some light on what was going on. There were reports left open atop the fixture, and pictures of several young adults looked up from the files. They all looked worse for wear, much like the victims out in the other rooms.Along with the photos were what looked to be chemical equations, and- Steve had been part of enough medical procedures in his time to recognize a brain scan. There were key words that kept jumping out of the writing as Steve skimmed it. They all had one thing in common: hormones.This was some kind of experimental facility. Something to do with brain chemistry. And just as that clicked, Natasha, who had followed Steve into the room, dropped the file she had picked up onto the desk in front of him. Her face had lost all of the color it had gained during the fight and her eyes had lost any touch of emotion, features all but turned to a stone sculpture. Pale, beautiful, and cold. It didn't click what he was looking at until she spoke. The words made him freeze along with her."They're reassigning designations."Steve felt his stomach drop to the floor. There were few times in his new life as a super soldier that he felt any less than perfectly healthy. This was the first time he felt truly sick.--------------Natasha knew the formulas. She had grown up seeing them, every session she had in the Red Room lab. The only difference was the outcome. All the same chemicals, the same hormones, the same triggers. And pain. Always the pain.In the Red Room, they were programming the girls' brains to be without designation. This facility was taking Doms and Switches and making them into Subs.Most of the discrimination based on designations had been eradicated. Or at least, seriously dialed down, to the point it wasn't celebrated in public or polite company within the last fifty some years.Most of that discrimination had been, and still was, directed towards Subs. They preferred to submit to their more dominant counterparts, and there was a misconception that came in somewhere along the lines that they desired maltreatment. That they were made to be treated as less than the other designations because of their naturally submissive tendencies.Back in the day, if this sort of thing had happened, it would have been the exact opposite. Everyone wanted their children to be a Dom or a Switch. Parents were known to routinely attempt to cover up children with a Sub designation by forcing them to drop those submissive instincts.In present day, that tended to be classed as child abuse.Now, it makes sense. These people clearly had delusions of ruling the world, so finding a surefire way to beat the dominance that would threaten that plan out of their intended subjects was a reasonable, if twisted, step towards that goal.Steve and Clint appeared to be struggling with the concept still. Steve looked considerably more pale than she had seen him, definitely more so than when he came into the room. Any bit of color in his face was long gone. Clint on the other hand had a greyish, bordering on green tint to his normally tanned complexion.The three cleared out of the room as agents came in to deal with evidence and whatever else they needed on their end. Walking by the areas the victims were being held, knowing what they knew now was even more horrifying.One girl in particular caught Natasha's attention. She was by no means the youngest around but she may have been there the longest, judging by the way she was acting. She was among the most sober of the bunch, seemingly aware of what was happening.She was by herself in a corner of one of the first rooms after the stairs. The agents in the room seemed to be giving her space, since she seemed to be in better shape than the others. There weren't any fresh cuts, her bruises were smaller, less noticeable than the others. Her dark, curly hair seemed fresher, like maybe she had been allowed to wash herself recently.Natasha knew enough about the process to know it meant one of two things. Either she was easier to break than the others, or she had been there long enough the process had taken and she was just being held for further studying.Getting closer, evidence of old wounds, scars all over her arms and a few places on her face, supported Natasha's decision of the latter.Steve approached her slowly, clearly wanting to help somehow. Once he was close enough he reached out a hand to help her up. She looked up at him with wide eyes before immediately lowering her head and folding her knees under her, slipping easily into a classic submissive pose.Steve looked shocked. "No, it's alright. You're safe now." He was speaking in a soothing voice but it didn't appear to be helping the girl any. "You don't have to submit to anyone ever again."The girl, already obviously shaken by the events that had unfolded, looked up again briefly before shaking her head. "You don't accept my submission, sir?" Her voice was shaky and she sounded wounded at the thought."What? No. No, I mean that you don't have to submit! You're a Dom, aren't you? So there's no need to submit to me or to anyone else anymore." Steve was clearly struggling with how to handle this.Natasha stepped in, placing a firm hand on the back of the young girl's neck. She braced herself for what she was about to do and dove in. "You weren't given permission to speak yet. You may now, but a slip like that won't be tolerated again." Natasha rarely spoke with such command in her tone, finding it more than a little distasteful."Natasha!" Steve exclaimed, looking confused and more than a little angry. "Hallway, now please!"Natasha followed Steve into the hallway, knowing she was going to get a dressing down, but not really sure why."What do you think you're doing?!" Steve demanded, full Dom voice coming through. "Hasn't she been through enough?! We came to help, not continue abusing them!""I'm not abusing her. She was conditioned to be a submissive, probably for years. Her entire world just got turned on it's head, again. She had it figured out, her conditioning was complete." Steve knew Natasha pretty well by now, and he could tell, she was not budging on this point for some reason. "You saw her arms, her injuries are all old. It's much kinder at this point to let her have some sense of normalcy. Way less jarring for her right now.""You can't be serious!" Steve shouted, disbelieving. "You-""Now, wait a second." Clint cut Steve off before he could get truly started up. "Natasha might have a point, Cap.""You're joking! Clint, you don't actually agree with that logic, do you?" Steve couldn't believe what he was hearing! These were some of the best people he knew, they would never condone continuing abuse. They both came from abusive backgrounds! There was no way."Well, think about it, Cap. She has been here for who knows how long. If she has truly gone through their whole redesignation process, to the point where she doesn't need to be drugged or apparently beaten to ensure her cooperation anymore..." He looked around at their surroundings as if it physically pained him. "...maybe it is easier to keep treating her like a Sub until we get her some professional help. We don't know how damaging kindness could be to her right now."Clint seemed to have good thinking behind his reasoning, but still. Steve was having a hard time letting reason have any say in the matter. Seeing a Dom forced to submit that way...struck too close to home."Look, Cap," Natasha said, lowering her voice. "Look at her. She was shaking before I gave her that command. She relaxed immediately." Steve looked back over at the girl. She did seem a bit more at ease with her surroundings now. "And then when you snapped at me? Your voice, she responded to it. I'm no psychologist, but even I know that you do whatever keeps the victim at ease until they can get the help they need."Steve looked back again, torn. That was decent logic, but it went against every bit of what he stood for."Don't forget, Cap, if she completed the reassignment, she is effectively a Sub right now." Natasha reminded him gently. She must know how hard this was for him to accept."Treat her the way a Sub should be treated after a trauma, she should be fine. If she responds poorly, you adjust accordingly. Like any good Dom would." Natasha finished her explanation with a hand to his bicep, giving it a reassuring squeeze.Looking over at Clint, who gave a half smile and a shrug that he took to mean this was the best they could do, he gave up. They had sound reasoning, and they were right about her being in better shape after what little Natasha had done, so there wasn't much he could argue.He dragged a hand down his face and walked his way back the way he came. He was just so far out of his depths on this and everyone could tell. He rarely felt this way and he didn't like it. But his team seemed to have a better handle on the situation, so he would let them take the reins. He trusted them with that after all.He didn't want to think how the pair had gotten this kind of hard won way of thinking. It goes against everything Steve had ever been taught. To understand what someone might need in a situation like this- well, he preferred not to think of such suffering happening in at all, let alone to people he cared about so deeply.Clearly there was a good amount of pain still hidden deeper than their current relationship had uncovered. He could only hope he would eventually find the bottom of that seemingly endless pit.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
After debriefing back at Shield, Steve was lost. Not knowing what to do was a foreign feeling for him. He had never felt so confused in his life.And he had died in the 40's and woken up in the next century. So that held more meaning coming from him than most people.Maria Hill was heading his way when he left the room. She stopped and addressed him, “Captain Rogers.”“Something I can help you with Agent Hill?” he asked, trying his best not to sound as exhausted as he felt.But he always had time and energy to help the people he considered himself close to, and as one of the few people who had been acting as the glue that held together the surviving pieces of Shield, he definitely counted her among that rank.“Not necessary, Captain. I won’t keep you long.” She had a fairly gentle tone to her voice, for her at least. “Just wanted to get you this information on your friend, Sergeant Barnes.”He looked down and took notice of the manila envelope in her hand, tucked in towards her body.Right, he had been waiting for this for a couple of weeks now. Since finding Bucky really, finding out what exactly had been done to him and all the insanity that ensued. “Civil War” indeed. Nothing on either side had been civil.It had taken literal years to make them. The Avengers. They had been a team. For a while, it was mostly in name only. And then, even after they had gelled into a real team, somehow they were still so easily broken. Surprisingly enough, it had been a talk with Bucky that had set him on the path to repair what had been broken.------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------It had been quiet with them for far too long. They had gotten out in silence. They had gotten back to where they needed to be in silence. Now they were nearly to Wakanda, where Steve wasn’t sure they would find a friendly greeting, per se, but where he was sure they would find the help Bucky needed.The only other person who could possibly have the kind of technology they'd need was… and he had just...they had-Unimportant at the moment. Unhelpful to dwell on such things. He can’t do anything about anything right now. Not that he could do anything right even if he could.So, a trip halfway around the world, and still silence.Steve had thought about speaking, trying to lighten the doom and gloom atmosphere Bucky was essentially radiating. The distance between them, physically was going a long ways towards unsettling Steve. The quiet was taking him the rest of the way there.“Sorry about that Buck.” Steve began awkwardly. He wasn’t sure how to go about this, only that he couldn’t stand the silence anymore. “About all of that. Getting you dragged into...all that. I don’t even know what to say- he was-”“What the hell, Steve.” Bucky's worryingly monotone voice cuts him off from what is sure to be a full blown rambling session. “What in the hell was that.”He said it in such a way it was clear he had his own opinion on what the hell it was already. Somehow, even irritated as he sounded, he was still almost void of emotion. It was unnerving.Steve wondered what all had been done to him to accomplish that. He wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.Steve knew well enough that he could explain it just about any way he wanted, if Bucky was that irritated about it already, it was going to become a thing. Better to get it dealt with now while they were still alone. Steve let out a long breath.“I don’t know, Buck,” Steve answered honestly. He doesn’t feel like he was wrong, but he knows it isn’t how he normally would’ve handled it. “It’s just with everything lately-”“Bullshit.”Steve’s head snaps up from where he had been studying his hand intently.The look on Bucky’s face was neutral but the look in his eyes, that was rage. Not a look Steve was used to getting from his oldest friend.“Come again?” Steve wasn’t sure what was happening right now. He did, however, know he needed to tread lightly here. Bucky was a force to be reckoned with before the war, before his stint as a POW, before he was experimented on and then tortured into becoming a brainwashed assassin.Steve has a feeling that he might be worse now.“Bullshit. Total bullshit, Rogers.” Rogers. Uh oh. “You and your buddies have gone through hell together, saving the world, facing down the planet’s greatest threats, and you did what just now?”Bucky clearly had a lot to say. Steve was increasingly sure he wasn’t going to come out of this in one piece.“Buck, you know we’ve been through more together. We’ve been through life and death together. I think I’m allowed to choose to help my oldest and best friend over trying to imprison or worse, kill him.” Steve didn’t want to have this conversation. “I would think you, of all people, as the one I sided with, might be a little grateful for that decision. Not trying to shame me for it.”Huh. Turns out Steve was a little irritated himself. This was definitely not leading anywhere good.“If it wasn’t a dumbass decision, maybe.” Now there was starting to be some emotion on Bucky’s face. And an eye roll. That would be comforting if it weren't directed at Steve. “And I’m not talking about that part, although your impulse control may need some screws tightened.”Okay, if Bucky wants to do this, Steve guesses they’ll do this.“Impulse control? Are we really gonna compare our impulse control now?”“Yeah, we are. You’ve never thought a decision through further than executing the plan and we both know it.” So they were going in deep apparently. “I left for the war and the little control I always had over you, what? Just shipped out with me? Didn’t even let me leave before you were signing on to be the craziest version of a lab rat imaginable!”“We’ve been over this a million times, Buck! They needed someone, and it was the only way I was gonna be useful to my country!” Steve knew this was an issue for them, but still? After all this time?“And then, you get to the war, find out I’m gone, and head out! No plan, no back up, no nothing. And yeah, thanks for that pal. Cause it worked. We both lucked the hell out. But then I fell and then what? You crashed a plane so you wouldn’t have to deal with it?” Bucky was looking at him with so much intensity, Steve might have preferred the neutral expression he had been wearing up until now. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure there was more noble intentions to it too, but did you feel anything when you made that call? Cause knowing you like I do, I’m thinking it sounds an awful lot like an excused suicide coming from you.”Steve met his gaze, not answering. He wasn’t sure what he would have said if he had been able to find his voice anyway. He had never examined it that closely, never allowed himself to, but Bucky clearly had. And he tended to know Steve better than Steve knew himself.“And then you woke up. And they told you to fight again. So of course you did. Did you expect to survive that time? Or was it still more of the same? Just fighting without thinking about the future? Hoping it would mean no future to think about?”Bucky seemed to be on a roll, but getting the words out also seemed to be helping to calm him down, so Steve just let him continue.“And, by some miracle, you made it. You didn’t get yourself voluntarily killed or anything. I’d almost say I was proud of you. But most of that credit doesn’t even go to you! It’s your team. They’re the ones that kept you safe, kept you around. The Avengers.” The look on his face was accusing. If Steve didn’t know better, he might have said hurt.Steve looked at Bucky and raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. After several long moments, it became clear he had no intention to do so. “Okay,” Steve finally dared to speak. “Was there a point to all of this? Or did I just let you verbally abuse me for fun?”“They kept you alive, gave you a purpose, filled whatever void you woke up with. I get that. I wasn’t gone out of my mind the entire time. Bits and pieces of me broke through occasionally. So I get it. What I don’t get? How you repay them. By lying? Tearing them apart?”He wasn’t trying to make Steve defend himself, he really wasn’t. He just truly didn’t understand. None of that tracked with what he knew of his old friend, and Steve knew that.Maybe he was right. He had learned that his best strategy was trusting his gut instinct. So that’s what he did.But... Bucky was right. Rarely did he take the time to think about what those snap decisions meant in the long run. He didn’t usually have the luxury. He could only figure out what was most effective in the moment. And there were definitely times that, after the moment had passed, he was not his own biggest fan.“You don’t understand the whole thing, Buck. There’s so much more that-”“I wouldn’t understand. Because I’ve never been part of something that controlled my every action. That dictated where I went, what I did, how I did it.” Oh. Right. The humorless tone cut a bit deep. “Except that I have, Stevie. But the difference is, I didn’t agree with the goals of the ones running me. You had the same goals as the ones running you.”Bucky was always smart. But he had no business being this rational, this reasonable.Somewhere along the lines he had decided that his best strategy was keeping his team in the dark. Keeping Tony in the dark. They were unknown variables in his mission to save his friend, the less they knew, the safer they were, and the safer his mission was too.That- was an excuse. Steve sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. His shoulders fell and he looked back at his friend, the person who knew him better than anyone had any right to know another human.“What do you want me to say, Buck? I messed up? Yeah, I did. A lot, probably. But what can I do about it?” He dropped his head into his hands briefly before folding them and resting his lips against his laced fingers.Bucky looked like he was completely out of energy to deal with this. In all honesty, he shouldn’t have to deal with it anyway. He had enough on his plate as is. He made his way over to sit next to Steve, just close enough their knees knocked together when they breathed. The casual touch was grounding in a way that startled Steve. He went out of his way to be respectful of personal space with his team, knowing their various backgrounds that may make touch undesirable. But perhaps in doing so he had been denying himself a bit more than he should be. Since he really only interacted with his team, his old tactile tendencies had been essentially cut off cold turkey.“Look, I don’t wanna offend your delicate alpha-male, Dom sensibilities,” he paused, giving Steve a look, with a hint of his old smirk making an appearance on his otherwise serious face. “But you may wanna start with apologizing. Telling them you were wrong, made a mistake, all that jazz. Cause from what I can tell, you’ve been a real ass to those poor folks, ya know? And all they’ve really done is put up with your sorry self for years.”Steve looked at him, hearing the real Bucky in his voice for the first time, and felt such relief at those words, if he wasn’t so emotionally exhausted by it all, he might have shed a tear. Bucky faced him, saw the look on his face, cracked a real, honest to God smile, and said, “Punk.”And all of a sudden everything was okay again. Shaking his head and letting out a brief laugh and sat back, letting his head fall back on the headrest.“You’re right. It’ll have to wait though. I don’t think any of them are gonna want to talk right now, and we’ve gotta get you straightened out before we do anything else.”Buck looked at him for a minute before sighing. His gaze dropped to his hands in his lap. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. We get to Wakanda, get my rehab plan in place, which will give your team of idiots, and, yeah, to put up with your shit, they must be idiots, some time to cool off, and then you’re headed right back to ‘em.”“Buck-” Steve started, protesting not a conscious decision, just instinct at this point. “Nah, Stevie, you listen to me. Give them time to cool off, you’re right. Nothing good is happening if you show up now. But you don’t need to be hanging around with me watching them take my brain apart and put me back together again. I know you’re a masochist and all, but that might be a bit much, even for you.”That smirk that Steve was so happy to see not ten minutes ago was going to get old real quick at this rate.“You don’t want this to settle too long. Who knows what extra damage that could do. No, you’re gonna take your happy ass back to your team, and beg them to forgive your dumbness- I mean Dom-ness, sorry. Understandable mistake, obviously.” Yeah, getting old fast.“And then, you’re gonna find someone to Dom, good and proper. Cause I’m betting you haven’t done anything like that at all in this decade, am I right?” Steve avoided his gaze, but that was enough of an answer.“Not healthy, Steve. You know Doms need to dom just the same as Subs need to sub.” And yeah, Steve did know. But this new time, all the new people, he just wasn’t sure he could. Or even wanted to. What if things had changed since his day? What if it meant something different now? Everything else had changed, what if this was something new too?“You see? That doubt right there. That’s your sign. Means you’re losing it, pal. I’ll get myself fixed up, but you gotta get yourself fixed up too. Deal?” Bucky stuck out his hand, the flesh one, to shake on it. Steve hesitated. “I said, ‘deal?’”“Yeah, okay, Buck.” And Steve took the outstretched hand. Even that little bit of contact went a long way to settling his still roiling thoughts and emotions.When Steve looked up, there was Wakanda in the distance.------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------He had had little to no contact with Bucky since, mostly just getting updates passed directly from T’Challa to Maria Hill, figuring Shield was the one organization safe enough, now that it was being rebuilt with only the purest of the vetted volunteers, to handle such delicate communication.He was making good progress, “rebuilding his brain” or however he insisted on putting it. Last Steve had heard, it was nearly to a standstill. All the help the Wakandan tech could give, done. Just waiting on Bucky’s brain to fill in the rest.“Report looks good. I hope everything is coming along okay.” Maria Hill was a Godsend, she really was. Personable, yet badass as they come, he was endlessly grateful to her. Especially when handling the Bucky situation. She knew enough to respect the sensitive information, the precarious situation they were all in because of it.“There is a letter in there from Sergeant Barnes, directly to you. Good news I hope.” She smiled at him, genuine friendship peeking through, though still tight enough to remain professional.He took the envelope she held out, then grasped her hand tightly, shaking and holding, reveling in the casual contact not always accessible but always needed after the tougher missions like today.“Thank you. For handling all of this. It means a lot.” And he hoped she knew that he truly meant it.“Of course, Captain.” And with another brief smile, she pulled away and headed back the way she came.He watched her go, then looked at the envelope. Better wait to look until he gets home, he decides. But that means going home, and he’s not sure he wants to face everyone just yet, after everything they just saw.Barton comes out of his debrief looking nearly as exhausted as Steve feels. He stops beside Steve, claps a hand on Steve’s shoulder and says, “ Well Cap, I’m beat. Sleep for a week?”And so Steve knows he’s going home. Someone has to look after Barton, and that someone has to be him (the Dom in him refuses to accept that Clint is an Avenger, and being a Sub definitely didn’t mean he was in anyway incapable, at least not after everything that happened today, and he’s pretty sure Clint knows that).Steve brings his arm up around Clint’s shoulder and pats his hand on Clint’s opposite shoulder. "Me too, Hawkeye. And let's hope it stays quiet enough we can. Let’s go.”Nat hated to be looked after. He felt fundamentally wrong leaving her to find her own way back, but he had learned the hard way that she didn’t appreciate his Dom-brain after the tough missions. So they headed out.Steve would just make sure FRIDAY alerted him as soon as she set foot on the premises. Until he knew where all of his people were, he wouldn’t be able to truly rest.Oh, how he wished he could turn that part of his brain off.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It started with a mission. Of course it did.An Avengers mission specifically. Unfortunately it was one they didn’t know should have been a full Avengers' mission until after Natasha was in and deciding there was no way out with the handful of hostages they were aiming to save.“I can’t do it, Cap. They’ve got something superhuman going for them, or extraterrestrial, I don’t know. But I can’t get them out on my own.” Natasha knew when she was in over her head. And if she were the only one at risk, she would have done things differently.But given it was their whole mission at stake this time, she decided to call it like it was: a lost cause.She had gotten in, preparing to lead the captives to a perceived weak spot in their defenses where they would be able to meet with Steve and Clint. The three would be able to get everyone to safety from there, together. Easy.Until she had actually gotten in. They had run into a couple of snags already, and Natasha getting in alone was the only thing that had gone to plan. But once inside, she immediately realized the rest of the plan was a no go.Sighing, Steve ran a hand down his face. “Okay, Widow, get to-” he started, planning to direct her back to the rendezvous point just outside the perimeter, but she didn’t give him the chance. Her soft but firm voice cut him off.“You’ll have to come back to finish this one, Cap. We need the team.” He didn't like the feeling in his gut at the resolve in her words.“You’re right, we do.” Steve agreed, adding slowly, like it would help her to understand him, “So let’s go get them. Together.”Shaking her head even though he obviously couldn’t see her, she dropped her voice to barely a whisper. “No can do, Cap. I’m in already. Best place for me to be is right where I am. There’s enough people in here, they would have to do a count to make sure their numbers haven't changed. Which they won't do, cause they have no reason to." She looked around, eyes roving the planned exit point for anything she could possibly have missed, but already knowing there would be nothing. Just like she was telling Cap, she was stuck. She continued forward. "They won’t notice one more in the back. Just don't give them reason to count on your way out.”She had reached the area they were being kept. A large room, broken into sections by half walls, thin blankets spread around on the floor in groups. It looked less like a hostage situation and more like a makeshift prison.There were a couple dozen people around. Like Natasha had said, too many to notice one extra without reason to look at the numbers. And as of yet, they had no reason to do so. No disruptions, nothing out of the ordinary.Steve, however, was not happy with Natasha’s plan. “Natasha,” he never called her by name on a mission, so this was serious. “We are not leaving you here. We can’t protect you if you’re in there alone. And what you’re proposing, there would be no one here to monitor the situation.”Steve clenched his jaw, instinct telling him to get her obedience, to command her to come home with him like she’s supposed to, whatever it took. Just keep her safe.History told him all of that would be bad, and that, while reckless, Natasha tended to be perfectly reasonable. So maybe if he couldn’t gain her cooperation by reasoning with her...maybe it wasn’t as unreasonable as his screaming dominant traits would have him believe.And she was admittedly more than capable of taking care of herself.But he still wasn’t happy about it. And he was still definitely going to try more reasoning with her before letting her do this.“Steve,” no, she wasn’t going to give him the benefit of the first word. “I can monitor things from in here. I can keep my comm going for updates, keep you in the loop.” She paused. “It makes sense, Steve.” She rarely used names in the field, either. She meant business too.She heard the sigh from Steve and could all too clearly see him standing there, feet shoulder width apart, broad as hell, arms crossed, position highlighting his chest and arm muscles (unintentionally, but deliciously, her mind supplied) in a classic Dom stance, head shaking slowly with his chin tucked down slightly in thought, trying to come up with reasons it wasn’t a good idea.She could hear the hesitation though. Which meant she was close.“I can protect them in here, Steve.” And that was that, really. Her big trump card. They both knew that there was no way he could argue against protecting innocents, not against the big bad bullies he took such pride and personal responsibility in stopping.Natasha knew she had won. But she wasn’t one to gloat. At least, not at a time like this. Not when she knew her win was still precarious at best.And when she would much rather not have won at all. But that was not a thought she could even let enter her mind. Not when Steve was still searching for holes in her plan that would give him leverage to command her out, no matter the cost to the mission.And maybe she was a little touched that he gave in as easily as he did, knowing it was directly related to how much he trusted her. (The fact that that trust was a mistake on his part, she could deal with another day. Preferably when the outcome of him trusting her didn’t work so well in her favor.)Steve took a breath. That didn’t go how he wanted it to at all. He tried his best to maintain his composure, but it all just felt so wrong.If she were a Sub, he never would have been able to walk away. Thank goodness that wasn’t the case.Natasha could tell. She knew her Captain well enough to understand where his mind went. The least she could do after causing the distress that was surely plaguing him now was to try to reassure him.“Come on, Cap. I thought you’d be proud of me. Doing the responsible thing for once. Thought that was always what you were preaching about in those meetings we all zone out in.” No, that was not reassuring, that was bordering on antagonizing. Try again then.She took a breath to recenter herself. “I’ll be fine, Cap. I’ve been through worse for less. You know that. I always come out the other side.”Steve tried his best to shake himself out of his Dom headspace. She’s right, it’s logical, it’s responsible, and it’s going to be plenty hard on her without him making it any worse.She’s not your Sub. She’s not anyone's Sub because she isn't a Sub. She's not."You know that means you're on your own." He didn't phrase it as a question. He knew she was well aware."I understand."And damn her for making that sound like some form of submission when this was absolutely the last thing he wanted her to be doing. He knew it was her way of trying to soothe the tension suddenly racking his frame. And damn her for knowing that was exactly what he needed from her in that moment.“I’m not happy about this,” he stated unnecessarily.“I know.” She responded without a hint of hesitancy, just acceptance. No room for him to try to convince her otherwise.How had this gotten so far out of his control?“Okay.” He shook his head to clear it a bit. “Okay. But you be safe. Got it? You do only what is necessary to keep them safe, and you prioritize your personal safety over gathering information or whatever other thing you think might be worth the sacrifice. It’s not, do you hear me?”“Yes, Captain.” Steve wasn’t sure whether the groan he barely restrained was at her apparent obedience only coming out when it was the last thing he wanted to tell her to do, or at the sudden image that came to mind of her in a classic submissive position, knees folded under her, feet tucked neatly, firm, perfect posture displaying her shapely curves, hands laid delicately in her lap. In his mind her eyes were the only piece out of place.She had her head tilted down, the picture perfect Sub, but her eyes, that is what made it so appealing. Instead of focused on the ground like the perfect Sub would be, they peaked up through her lashes.Oh, the image she made as a Sub. Even if it was only in his head.The “Good girl,” that followed slipped out without permission from his conscious brain.He heard her exhale over the comm link in his ear. Oh boy was he going to hear it now.Hoping to cut her off from the inevitable scolding, he continued, “Your comm will need to be disabled for a good portion of the time so they don’t find you by detecting the radio waves or frequencies it uses. Figure out their schedule and make sure you only use your comm when it’ll go unnoticed. A couple minutes at a time is probably all you can risk it for.”“You got it, Cap.” Natasha was just thankful Steve had embarrassed himself enough with that “good girl” comment that he hadn’t caught her reaction to it. The breath it had forced from her lungs would’ve been easily recognizable to any good Dom paying any attention.And Natasha knew, as innocent as Steve Rogers may seem, he was both knowledgeable and a good Dom. And he was plenty attentive. Under normal circumstances. That didn't involved leaving behind a team member who is secretly a Sub. And as well kept as that secret is, she is still positive that on some level, it registers that this is more wrong because of that than if it were any other team member.But those two words... sheer magic on her entire being. Upon hearing them, her nails, which had dug into her palms from the moment she heard the tension in his voice when he agreed to her plan had released, only for her fists to ball tighter in reaction to the praise she so forcefully held herself above. She was causing the closest thing she had to a Dom, her team leader, unnecessary stress and, having been a while since she had taken some down time for herself to induce a drop, she was slightly susceptible to things like that.She couldn't afford it. That mindset had to go. She had no idea what she was getting herself into in here, regardless of how certain she was that she could endure it.She knew it would be no more than a couple of days before they got back to her. If Cap was already reacting this badly, he would be a force to be reckoned with once he was away from her. Getting her back would always be a top priority to him, but even more so because of his designations reaction to leaving a Sub behind.His Sub. Not his Sub, but a Sub that he was responsible for. Wow, her head was really swooping still.Shaking herself, she tried to pull it together. His next words washed over her, calming and steadying her. Not as a Sub from a Dom, although that tone was present in his voice just below the surface. But the sheer amount of care and concern and sincerity, from one friend to another was nearly overwhelming. "I don't know what all you've gone through like this before, but I'm sure there has been plenty. Just remember that you're not back there, okay? This time, you're in control. You can get out whenever you need to, and if you feel like you need to, you do it, Nat. I don't give a damn about the mission, I give a damn about you coming out that door and back to us."Footsteps sounded, telling her he had finally decided to move, hopefully heading back to grab Clint and leave. "You check in as often as is safe, and someone will be monitoring at all times. That's a promise. I'll be back as soon as I can." She heard a door shutting heavily, with finality. "We'll come get you, Nat. We will."Swallowing, Natasha steeled herself to respond, finger raised to her ear, poised to cut their communication off as soon as she entered the room with the captives. Her throat was tight as she said "I know you will, Steve. Now, go, be the big, strong Dom and save me." She let out a small laugh at the same time he did, the mere idea she needed a Dom to save her was so utterly ridiculous. "Oh, and tell Clint it's his turn next time. He still owes me from the last one."Hearing Steve scoff, she smirked. Good note to end on then. "Until next time, Cap.""Soon, Widow." And Natasha deadened her comm link, and braced herself. However long it took for them to get back to her, it was bound to be a rough time.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Steve rarely had any desire to have others handle situations for him. But this time, boy if he didn't wanna crawl in a hole and not come out until this whole thing was resolved...The first person he'd seen, obviously, was Clint. This was the reaction he was most worried about, so it was probably best he got it out of the way quick.
"Cap?" Clint'sounded confused, seeing Steve returning alone. His eyes did a quick scan of the area as he approached from the opposite angle as Steve, as if he, Hawkeye, could've missed something. "What's up? Why are you back?"
Clearly he was assuming the plan went bad long before Natasha could've gotten in.Given all of their mission history together, that made sense. If Steve was coming back alone, no panic, no attempt to contact over their comm, just determination in his step, obviously everyone was fine. Clint would never believe that Steve could potentially just leave behind a helpless-
Not a helpless teammate. No, Natasha was never helpless a day in her life. But the fact remained, he was leaving her helpless, leaving her here. She would have to be, or at least seem it until they returned.
Clint's eyes narrowed as flickers of what Steve must be feeling showed on his face. He felt drained enough by the circumstances it wouldn't all be there to read, but to someone as well trained as Clint, and someone who knew him as well as Clint did, there was enough.
"What happened, Cap?" The title sounded accusing when put together with the call he had just made. They had just made. Because he sure as hell would never have...
Damnit. He had to get a grip on himself.
"Nothing happened, Hawkeye. Plans went fine up until Widow was in. Then, according to your partner, we had to reevaluate." He wasn't sure where the anger in his tone came from. It certainly hadn't been there saying his goodness to Natasha.
His goodbyes...
Shit. No, pull yourself together. He wished Bucky were there. He'd see where Steve's head kept drifting, both directions and slap the Dom back into place.
Pressing concern here: Clint. Focus.
He and Clint had fallen into step beside each other. Steve continued straight ahead, eyes scanning front, allowing for Clint to look around covering behind them.
Steve told himself it was strategy. If he was honest, he knew he just couldn't stand looking behind him and not seeing Natasha there. Couldn't take looking back at the building he was leaving her all but trapped inside and trust himself to continue back to the jet.
"Ooooookay," Clint drew the word out, trying to follow what Steve was telling him. "So what's the new plan? Where are we going with this Cap?"
Steve's jaw clenched, fists swinging at his sides curled tight into balls as he plowed ahead. "Home."
He felt Clint's presence fall behind as he froze. Steve's step didn't falter though, and soon Clint jogged the several paces to catch up.
"What the hell do you mean, 'home?'"
There had been some yelling that followed. Clint was understandably upset that Steve was essentially leaving their partner behind with no help, no backup, nothing but her admittedly extensive training to rely on. He had yelled for a bit, tried to convince Cap they needed to go back. But all the while he had continued on towards the jet, away from the building right alongside his Captain.That was the great thing about Clint. He was far from a typical Sub, but his very biology was hardwired to complement Steve's. Meaning even if he absolutely disagreed with the decision, he had enough trust in his Captain, both as a person and as a leader, to back his play.In this case, it was under extreme protest, but if anyone else questioned the call, he knew Clint would support him. Had known since he fell into step beside him on the way back to the jet. Clint was talented enough he could've gone back in alone to meet up with Natasha. As soon as he made the decision not to, Steve had known Clint was with him.Telling the rest of the Avengers team was infinitely worse. Which had surprised him.They had been gone from the tower for several days, between prepping for the mission and actually doing it. In that time, only one thing had really changed.When they got back to the tower, Bucky had come home.Steve and Tony had only recently patched things up well enough that Steve felt welcome in the tower again. He had been crashing in housing designated for the rebuild of SHIELD. So walking in to see Bucky sitting seemingly relaxed on the sofa, one arm slung along the back, ankle crossed over his knee, reading a book with Tony in an arm chair not fifteen feet away was...disorienting. To say the least."Hey, when did you get here?" Steve froze in the doorway, Clint nearly plowing over him from how little attention he was paying. "I thought you weren't coming back for another week?"Bucky looked up briefly from his book, making eye contact for a brief moment, before looking back to mark his page in his book. "Yeah, well King T'Challa and Princess Shuri were making a trip here so I figured there was no need for them to make a special trip just for little ol' me." He said as he stood, straightening his clothing before walking over to Steve. "They've been accommodating enough, no need to owe them anything more." He stuck his hand out for Steve to take, which he did, somewhat in a state of awe, although mostly just dreading the additional audience for what he knew was to come.Shaking himself, he pulled Bucky in for a quick hug, something loosening just slightly in his chest at the familiar contact. Bucky was a Switch, generally taking on a dominant roll, but making an exception for Steve. When they were younger, Steve was pretty sure he did it just to boost Steve's ego, make him seem like he had a chance at earning anyone else's submission.As they grew older, Steve realized that it really was only him that Bucky would submit to. It was the first taste Steve got of how to truly be a Dom. Bucky was the first one Steve helped through a drop, was the first to help him through a Dom drop as well. They were rare for Doms, mostly presenting the same way as an trauma drop for Sub, they tended to happen when a Dom tried to suppress their dominant nature, or had no outlet for it. As Steve often didn't growing up as sickly as he had.As wonderful as the feeling of his first Sub was, especially after everything they'd been through and now having him back, he couldn't quite relax. And Bucky, observant son of a bitch that he was, felt it. He pulled back and looked directly into Steve's eyes, brow furrowing."What happened?" He had been through enough of these missions with Steve, of course he would recognize the signs. Just coming back from a mission, the tension, the inability to relax, even for Bucky who could get him to melt even in the roughest of moods. Of course he would know.Steve swallowed, a lump in his throat. Bucky pulled further away but kept his had grasped in Steve's."What's up with birdbrain? What's wrong with you?" Tony had finally looked up from his tablet, whatever he was working on obviously taking the bulk of his concentration. He stood and moved closer, peering around the two still in the doorway.His eyes narrowed and as his mouth opened, Steve's heart dropped into his stomach. He had just started making progress mending his relationship with Tony, and now this. He was going to ask where Natasha was and Steve was going to have to take the blame. Bracing himself, he forces his eyes to meet Tony's-And Clint came to his rescue by supplying, "Nat stayed behind." He sounded determined but concerned, definitely like he had his reservations while making it clear he supported the decision. "She got in, realized we needed the team. Chose to stay, do what she could from the inside. With the prisoners."Tony looked between the Clint and Steve, noticing how distraught they both seemed now they were home and with people who cared about them. Everything always hit harder at home, when there were people who cared about you and it was safe to be vulnerable. All of their combined fears came crashing in. Tony took in Steve and Bucky's clasped hands, Clint's tight posture and clearly shaken expression, the horribly guilty look on Steve's face, begging for forgiveness he obviously didn't feel he deserved.Tony sighed. He wanted to rip into his team. No, not even his team. This time it was Natasha's team. And he was sorely tempted to remind them that's exactly what they were supposed to be. He noted that faint tremble in Clint's clenched fist, the shallow, tightly controlled rise and fall of Steve's breathing..."Okay. Okay. What's the plan Cap?" He questioned. "You said you needed the team? You've got the team. What's our move?"Steve's next breath came out in a shuddering rush. If Bucky hadn't been there squeezing his hand, he was unsure his knees would have held him.Bucky spoke up. "I think first thing, your team needs a chance to...recenter themselves from this whole thing, yeah?" His eyes never strayed from Steve's face. "You can handle getting their mission notes and any other information relevant to planning this rescue, right Tinman?"Tony entered several commands on his tablet quickly and nodded, though Bucky wouldn't be looking away from his Dom for a while if Tony had to guess. He knew what Steve needed, knew what Clint needed. "FRIDAY is already on it, Robocop." He cleared his throat, directing his next comment at Steve. "She on radio silence?"Of course, if she was inside enemy lines she would have to be off comms for the majority of the time. But Steve would have been significantly more distraught if there was no chance at communicating with her.Still processing the apparent truce bordering on camaraderie that had apparently sprung up in his absence between these two men, Steve nodded, clarifying "She has her comm unit, I told her to keep it off as much as possible. Figure out patterns before turning it back on. That we'd have FRIDAY monitor the line and patch it through so any time she flips it on, we'll know. We'll be there for her that way at least." His jaw clenched, cutting himself off from anything else he might have said."FRIDAY, you heard the man." Tony could see how pressing his teammates need was getting. They were both slipping fast. "You guys, go. You're not either one of you any good like this. Take care of that and I'll get to work on this." Steve looked ready to protest, so Tony walked closer. He put a hand on Steve's shoulder, the side Bucky wasn't currently hanging off of and waited until he looked up, their eyes meeting. He felt the shoulder droop, the reassurance and physical contact with one of his team that he had still so recently be estranged from working wonders for him on a purely instinctual level. "We'll get her, Cap. Together."Steve had never felt as grateful to his team, to Tony specifically, as that moment. He thanked whatever power of the universe had allowed for this man's forgiveness. He had been failing left and right in his duty as a Dom recently. Nodding his head sharply, he accepted the comfort and internally vowed to do better.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
After Tony had excused himself, presumably to go get to work on their rescue plans, Steve looked over at Clint for the first time since they'd entered the room. And what he saw set all of his Dominant instincts roaring.Clint was holding himself together well enough, posture firm, hands steady, relaxed. Of course, as a Sub he would've been trained to deal with the signs of an oncoming drop. He would've been drilled on concealing any part of his biological instincts that could be used against him. It was only because of how well Steve knew his team that he could see the change in his coloring, could note the lack of focus in the usually devastatingly sharp eyes. There was a faint sheen of sweat starting at his hair line. All things that pointed to how much he was struggling.Usually Steve kept to himself. He was involved with the team, of course. He was not, however, involved with the team. They were his team in the field, his family in the tower, but he couldn't bring himself to cross the ever tempting line of bringing the Dom/Sub dynamics into it.His team mostly consisted of Doms and Switches. Clint was the only Sub. Bruce had no apparent designation. Neither did Natasha...Steve's jaw clenched so hard his teeth snapped together. His hands could not form tighter fists if he tried. He could feel Bucky watching him, well versed in how to handle Steve after difficult missions. But Clint...He had never seen Clint react this badly to anything before. If anything, he needed some time being in physical contact with Nat, then would take off for his farm with Laura. Steve wasn't sure what he did any other time, if he saw a professional, or had an agreement with someone, as people with partners tended to do when they were away from their partners frequently. He couldn't recall any mention of such a thing.He was fairly confident that, at the very least, Clint didn't have anyone within the tower he went to. And admittedly, with his background, it was entirely likely that he made do with the physical contact from their touchy-feely team between visits to home. But looking at him now, there was no way he could make it all the way there before dropping. He needed someone to help him down, and he needed it soon.He could sense Bucky trying to gauge how to handle the situation. He was much improved, clearly, even able to forge some sort of companionable relationship with Tony Stark for crying out loud. But he was uncertain around this new version of his old friend. He could see Bucky's eyes flicking over to Clint and back rapidly, unable to take his gaze off Steve, while clearly being effected by Clint's needs as well.The overall effect was that his friend looked downright helpless in his uncertainty.Steve forgot for a moment that, while Bucky was submissive for him when he needed it, his tendencies leaned heavily towards dominance. In fact, Steve was uncertain if Bucky had ever given his submission to anyone else, ever. His friend was a natural at being a dom, he had seen it in action more than a few times. But never had he seen his friend submit.Only to him.Seeing a Sub in such distress must be as painful for Bucky as it was for Steve. Sure, Clint was hiding it like a champ, but Bucky had spent the last however long being forged into what was essentially the perfect weapon. Someone who had been trained how not to show signs of a drop didn't stand a chance at fooling someone like Bucky. He had not only been trained to pick up on the slightest hints a person's body language gave, he was smart, and had always been naturally intuitive. And it was likely he had been through the same kind of conditioning that had been so thorough with Clint.To top it all off, Bucky was an experienced Dom with instincts possibly made more sensitive simply by being forced to observe while not interacting for so damn long.Fuck it. Steve was going to take care of his team the only way that he knew how to right now. Or he was going to offer at the very least. The last thing he would do to the people who meant the most to him was to force them to comply simply because he had an urge and refused to accept that this may be a selfish endeavor on his part.Definitely was a selfish endeavor on his part. Absolutely, he acknowledges as he reaches his hand out to run along Bucky's flesh forearm, drawing his attention back to Steve's face.The look there is enough to tell Bucky exactly what Steve's plan is. And the answering look of relief on Bucky's face gives Steve the boost of confidence he needs to make the offer to Clint.Taking on a new Sub is always the slightest bit terrifying. And exhilarating. Having someone give up the reins and offer up their trust in such a way... nothing compared. Likewise, taking on a new Dom was always a gamble. Essentially once a Sub was in a drop, they become defenseless, vulnerable in the most basic of ways. It's not something to be rushed into or taken lightly.Steve felt bad for offering the way he was going to have to now. But, he reasons, it is certainly the more kind option at this point. And it's not like he will make any demands of Clint in the future because of it. This would be a one time thing unless it is explicitly discussed with clear minds at a later date. Negotiation and communication are the most key factors in the game of dominance and submission.Something many people forgot. Steve would just have to do his best to make sure Clint understood going in to this that he was not one of them.Steve and Bucky looked at each other for a moment, then Steve flicked his head back towards the couch, now empty against the wall. Bucky gave a quick nod of his head, then lowered his eyes, head dropping enough he could peek up through his eyelashes in the most subtle show of submission. He turned to head towards the couch and sat stiffly at one end of the couch, positioned to look casual, posture conveying anything but.Steve shook himself. Dwelling on whether or not Bucky was ready for this kind of step wouldn't do any of them any good.Going to Clint was the most natural thing in the world. As soon as he let his eyes find the distressed Sub, he could no longer keep his distance and, before he had consciously chosen to approach, they were face to face. Clint didn't seem to notice Steve was even in the room still."Clint," Steve said, voice low and commanding, though not quite pitched as he would if he were trying to Dom Clint. At this point, he just needed the other man to be able to focus on him long enough to get a response from him. And if Clint was lost in the Submissive part of his biology, then the best way for Steve to bring him out of it was to harness just the slightest bit of his own Dominant biology.No, bring him out of it wasn't the right phrase. Follow him into it, reach him through it. Well, whatever he was doing, he just hoped he could manage it. Because Tony was right, as he usually is. They both need this.Hopefully Clint will be receptive to what Steve was about to offer.He looked up at Steve as if shocked to realize he wasn't alone but too drained to actually convey the emotion. Slowly, giving Clint time to realize what was happening, even in his apparently unfocused state, Steve raised his hand then reached out to place his palm on the back of Clint's neck. He knew that skin contact was grounding in a way that little else could accomplish.Clint flinched like the touch was unexpected, then as soon as the warmth of Steve's hand on his neck began to soak into his skin his eyes rolled back in his head and his shoulders sagged. His eyes opened again after just a few seconds and, although they were still a bit dazed looking, they were somehow more clear. Like the difference between being drunk and being close to sleep. Similar but vastly different. One was alert, worked up, the other was soft, peaceful."Clint," Steve started again, having gotten the Sub's attention. "I know this isn't really how we usually do things. Or ever, really." He still wasn't sure this was appropriate. Clint may seem more centered now, but he was still a far cry from clearheaded. Still, he trudged on. "I can help." He looked over his shoulder at Bucky, only the briefest of glances to be certain he had understood correctly, that everyone was on the same page. He received a curt nod from the brunet. "We can help. Me and Bucky. If that's something you're okay with."He didn't phrase it as a question. He may be out of practice when it came to Subs, but he still knew them. Remembered how these things worked. Particularly when they were struggling as much as Clint seemed to be.Clint raised his gaze from where he had been staring just off to his right and looked Steve in the eye. There was a gratefulness there, mixed with just a little bit of hope.It was the hope that threw Steve off. Had he really given Clint the impression that he would just let his team, no, his friends, suffer through something like this alone? When he had both the ability and the natural inclination to help?"I know this isn't how I should be doing this but I think we both need this dealt with. Now." Clint's eyes stayed steady on Steve's, seeming to follow the thought, just unwilling to respond. "I need you to answer me if we're going to do this. When was the last time you were under?""Three weeks," came Clint's reply almost immediately. So it had been a while then. Most Subs Steve was acquainted with enough to know such intimate details about their lives kept it closer to about a week, give or take. That may be why it was hitting as hard as it seemed to be this time."And how often is it usually?" Steve kept his voice hovering between command and command so he knew he would keep Clint's focus. They had a couple of very specific things to discuss before he let Clint go. When Clint didn't answer as quickly this time, Steve noticed the slight glaze to Clint's eyes. And belatedly realized he was stroking the side of Clint's neck with his thumb.Abruptly he stopped himself and squeezed the spot just under the other man's hairline. Clint let out a breath and the question was repeated. "Usually two weeks, never more. Laura won't let up about it much past a week. Something about 'torturing myself.'"Steve raised an eyebrow at that. "Well, then you found yourself a smart woman." Clint dropped his head slightly, but Steve couldn't quite tell if it was due to his agreeing and making Clint feel like he had done something wrong, or embarrassment from what should have come across as light praise.Could be either, Steve decided. Both maybe? Subs were unpredictable when they were close to a drop, especially to someone new. "Hey, Laura is right to worry. She just cares about you, alright? Same as we do here." Steve paused."You know that if you ever need someone and whoever usually helps you isn't available for whatever reason, you can always come to me. From now on, that's a standing invitation, understand?" Keeping it simple but making sure to get his point across.Clint nodded, clearly sensing this was important to Steve, whether he could follow the why of it all or not. "Good," Steve attempted to get back on track. "I don't know your preferences so I will just outline how I usually like to approach things. Is that alright?" A nod. "Okay. Since this is the first time I will have helped you, I would prefer keeping it simple. I am most comfortable maintaining physical contact until you are up again. That gives me better way to gauge where you're at. Is that something you're comfortable with?"The yes or no question was answered with an eager nod. "Perfect." Steve didn't mention that the contact he preferred was specifically skin to skin contact. That was definitely something to hash out when both parties were more coherent. Less driven by instinct. "I won't leave you while you're under. Under any circumstances, even if we don't maintain contact, I will never be more than a room away. Does that change whether you're alright with the physical contact?"He knew most Doms wouldn't dream of leaving a Sub they had put under, but knowing his teammate's background, felt the need to clarify, on the off chance Clint thought him staying throughout was dependent on the physical contact bit.It was absolutely not.Clint, effected as he was, still paused enough Steve felt confident he was considering his answer. He quickly settled on shaking his head though.Relieved, Steve nodded in return. "Good. That's really good Clint." He resumed the stroking with his thumb to accompany his words. "With as little discussion as we've had, I am not comfortable with anything more than basic physical contact. In future, should you want to continue this sort of relationship, we can discuss things further. For now, we will just stick to the basics, is that understood?"As he continued speaking, Steve let the hint of Dom slip into his voice. They had reached their starting point as far as he was concerned. Clint sagged a bit but nodded, his head hanging a bit lower with each movement of Steve's thumb."One last thing. Stay with me, Clint. Can you do that for me?""Yes sir." The response was quiet but steady still."Bucky is sitting on the couch. He tends toward dominance but acts occasionally as my submissive. Is it alright if he stays? If you don't want him helping you, he won't. He can just be here for me, if that bothers you. Or he doesn't have to participate at all."Clint looked back up at Steve's face and Steve immediately recognized his error. Too much information to process at a time. He raised his other hand and cupped Clint's face between his hands."I'm sorry sweetheart. I know how hard it is to focus right now." Trying again, Steve asked, "Is it alright if Bucky stays?" A nod. "Good. Now, he wants to help you too. Is that alright? You can say no if it's not. We just want you to be happy and comfortable, okay? Now, yes or no?"A pause from Clint, then a nod. "Good. That's so good, Clint." Steve cooed tiny praises at the Sub as he slid his hands to Clint's shoulders to guide him gently to the couch. "I'm going to sit you right between us. If you want to sit somewhere else, you just have to tell me."Steve got no response so he figured his plan was okay with Clint. He sat himself down on the couch, leaving a space between himself and Bucky. It was smaller than what Clint would actually need but for helping a Sub through a drop, that was perfect. Pulling Clint down next to him, Clint was turned at an angle into Steve with his thighs touching a dominant on each side."Perfect." Steve wrapped and arm around Clint's shoulders, pulling him to lean slightly into his side. His other hand reached around to grasp at one of Clint's hands that was resting on his knee. Steve let his fingers drift up under the long sleeve Clint was wearing, settling firmly on his pulse point.He could feel the rapid flutter going under his fingers. There was movement from the other side of the Sub as well. He looked over at Bucky for the first time since sitting down. Bucky had worked his arm behind Clint's back and was stroking a finger along his hipbone. Steve could feel the small motion on his own hip. He other hand, the metal one, had come up to grip Clint's bicep, hand gently massaging, if the contract and release motion was any indicator. Steve smiled. He had slid so naturally into the position he seemed to have startled himself. Not surprising, as this sort of thing was more instinct than conscious decisions.Clint relaxed further into Steve as he let his voice soothe the anxious Sub. He praised the amount of trust it took for Clint to give him this kind of control. He thanked Clint for allowing him to help like this, and for helping him back. Steve felt his own pulse settling as he spoke, the warmth seeping into his very bones from every point of contact.The thing that finally did the trick, that finally lowered Clint's heart to the crawl that signified he was well and truly under, was partially due to Bucky. Steve had been commending him on how well he had done on the mission, speaking soft and low into his ear."-so well. Everything went exactly like you said with getting in. And then getting out..." Steve had paused, unsure if mentioning it would unsettle the Sub burrowing further into his side with every word.Bucky cut in. "And then you listened to Stevie so well. You had to make a tough call. Most people wouldn't have done it. But you, that was perfect the way you trusted your Captain." Bucky looked at Steve and held his gaze. "He was doubting himself. Every bit of him wanted to turn around and fight, but you had faith in him. You believed in him, you supported his decision. Without that, who knows what could've happened."Steve looked away, but Bucky continued. "He always doubts himself when something goes wrong. That's why he needs people like us. People like you. You made him strong today, Clint. I dunno what happened out there, but I do know, when he was feeling like a failure, you being there and supporting him, that's what got him out of there, what made him strong enough to leave."And with that Clint let out a deep sigh and went pliant against Steve's side, head lolling on his shoulder.Steve looked over at Bucky, grateful for his friend in a way he couldn't even describe. Gently, he lifted his hand from Clint's shoulder to stroke Bucky's cheek. "Thank you. That was perfect."He saw the way Bucky's eyes fluttered just slightly at the tone he still had to his voice. "Nothin' that wasn't true." He nuzzled his face just briefly into Steve's palm before pulling away, reaching to drag a blanket to tuck around their Sub's body. "How you doin' there, feathers?"Steve let out a short laugh at that. "You know, nicknames are Tony's thing, right?""Hey, he's a bird, I don't remember which kind, but they all got feathers, don't they?"That smirk along with the weight and warmth of the Sub pressed tightly to his side finally let Steve breathe easy. His team. Down one. All still his.And just like that, he knew they could do it. Anything. Including getting Natasha back. As if there was ever another option.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Natasha had been there for almost a whole week.She didn't expect her team to be back immediately, but she had still hoped.She had still hoped that they would make her their priority, even though she knew the mission had to be their focus. In fact, if they tried to do it any other way, if they had made her their priority, she would have reamed them about it for sure. She had still hoped that she would hold up better than this, had hoped that she wouldn't need the Captain in Star Spangled Armor to come to her rescue.Which part of that was due to her paranoid need to keep the team at arms length to protect herself, and which part of that was due to trying to protect them from her, she couldn't bring herself to examine. But she had still hoped. For so many things.Unfortunately, Natasha has had nothing but free time while she sticks to the corners of the room in this Godforsaken place. She has learned all the patterns, their schedules, figured out all she can to help her team. She has fed them all the information she has gathered. But that leaves her with far too much time to simply think on things. Primarily the things she tries very hard not to think about.It has been several weeks since she last dropped, probably nearing a month now. She usually kept a better schedule, had more consistency. Much as she disliked it, disliked the emptiness that persisted through her entire being after a drop, she kept track meticulously and no more than three weeks and a couple days would pass before she made herself suck it up and suffer the drop. She knew she could go longer if she needed to, but three weeks was when it started to take more than just the couple of hours she allotted herself for the drop and recovery time.Up to three weeks and all it took was a slightly prolonged recovery period. Once it was nearing four weeks, that was when the problems started.She came out of her drops feeling haggard, empty, cold, and most of all, lonely. Which is nothing she hasn't been dealing with for most of her life. But if she let it go too long, it was like her conscious mind had less and less control over her actions. Like she was running, more and more, on pure instinct.If someone offered physical contact or comfort, Natasha found herself nearly defenseless to pull away. She sought out company, which was less abnormal since she had been living with the team, but once she had it, she felt like she was drifting, unfocused.When it got really bad it would feel as if she was floating above it all, carried off by the voices of her teammates. She wasn't defenseless, never defenseless. But vulnerable. Vulnerable to their desires, their demands. Less forceful, more prone to follow orders, and above all, always desiring to please the people around her. In short, she was submissive. And she hated it.She knew it was just fallout from her drop, but it still left her feeling extremely vulnerable. The feeling was not something she was used to, nor was it something she would allow herself to get used to. Who knew what they would do to take advantage of her should they ever notice...Not that she believed her team would do anything that would hurt her. Because they wouldn't. Definitely not. ...would they?No. They wouldn't.All these thoughts brought out because she could feel it coming on. The symptoms that she had gone too long without. Things like irritability, lethargy, or on the other end of the spectrum, near manic amounts of nervous energy, along with dependency, lack of focus, and finally shaking and her bodies loss of the ability to regulate her temperature. Those last couple are the final symptoms, the ones that only happen right before her body forces a drop, and that only happens when it gets really bad.She had gotten much more lax about maintaining that particular bit of training since joining the Avengers. She remembers a time when she could go months and hardly experience a single one of those things.Now, at almost exactly month since she last dropped, she was counting the minutes until she would let herself turn her comm unit on, during what she estimated as the guard changing shifts. Too much other activity for her to be noticed, guards presumably discussing with each other what happened on their shift, any changes, etc. General socializing too probably.Whatever was happening, it was at least enough to distract them from noticing an extra signal in the radio waves for five minutes at most.She allowed herself three times a day. Five minutes of communication with whoever FRIDAY had her patched through to at any given time. And luckily, she hadn't had to wait for a greeting yet when she finally did tap in.To begin with, she only risked once a day. That lasted the first two days. Then she started getting more comfortable with the timetable she was working with. Dependency typically was the first hint that she needed to drop, like, yesterday if that were possible. She upped her communication to twice a day, coinciding with the two shift changes during normal waking hours.Then she had finally found herself unable to relax enough to sleep for even a couple of hours at a time. She wound up startling awake every hour or so throughout the night. So last night she had finally given in and connected, for the third time that day, to the link ever present in her ear. But that was all she would allow herself. Three times she could justify, three shift changes. It was undoubtedly safe, she had proven that much. Anything more and Natasha knew, suddenly it was her being needy, clingy.Dependent.She couldn't even consider that. The mere idea that her team could think she was anything less than cool and collected in this scenario was horrifying. This, which was leaps and bounds better conditions than she had experienced before, even as a child back in the Red Room.No. She refused.But she did know exactly how many minutes it would be before she could allow herself that small comfort of hearing their voices.And it was always voices, plural. There hadn't been a time yet that she was greeted by just one of them. Usually she heard from either Clint or Tony during the day, sometimes Sam thrown in the mix. Banner was there last night, wherever there was, when she finally had given in to the need growing unbearable inside of her.But the one constant, the one voice that had greeted her every single time, was Steve.It's not that she was surprised by this. If she could think through it logically, she would rationalize that, yes, it made sense. He was enhanced, likely needed less sleep than the others. He was their team leader, he almost certainly felt responsible for her. Maybe even the situation she was in.But she couldn't think it through clearly like that. All she could focus on was the vague hope that it was because he wanted to hear her voice as desperately she wanted to hear his.Even knowing that wasn't possible couldn't dampen the feeling she got simmering under her skin immediately upon hearing his voice."Knock, knock, who's there?" she asked as lightly as possible. She realizes she's staring into the darkness so hard her eyes hurt. She forces them shut, reminding herself this is just a check in, keep focused, and don't let them notice anything off."Nat? Natasha? You there?" Steve's voice was low in her ear, goosebumps spreading on her arms at the tone. He sounded a little frazzled, more so than any of their past check ins. Other than maybe their first, when he was still terrified his decision to let her stay behind was going to get her killed before he got back to her.Every instinct she had was begging her to ask what was wrong, why he sounded off, what she could do to calm him. But she reined it in and responded as close to her normal self as she could think of in her current state of struggling."Aw, come on, Cap." She forced a scoff she didn't feel. "Did you forget how to do knock knock jokes?" She was riling him up. She could tell she was acting out just a bit. Begging for a firm correction, something to even her out, just a bit. It was getting hard to focus and that's the last thing she needs in here."Widow," she hears the sigh that precedes her name and is just the slightest bit wounded by what she perceives in her current mindset to be disappointment. She shakes her head, attempting to clear it. For all she knows that could be a laugh. Her reality is so distorted when she gets like this. "What's happened? Anything new?"This is how their communication always goes. Information on the mission first, personal bits later. Makes sense. Still a slight sting to being put in second place, but usually she could almost laugh it off.Not today. It stung in the worst way. "Lighten up, Cap. She's got, like, no sanity in there. Cut her some slack." Tony this time then. "And while you're cutting some slack, try not breaking the table. Geez, you'd think she was mortally wounded the way you're gripping that thing."There was a pause, then, "You're not mortally wounded, right? I mean, I know this is a serious situation, but I'm not being totally insensitive, am I? Widow?" Right, Tony was waiting for her response. "Only my ego, from you thinking I can be mortally wounded." That gets a roaring laugh from the other end of the line, along with a forceful "shhh, quiet Tony" that only brings Tony's volume down about half a notch.But it goes a tiny ways towards bringing Natasha back to the present and out of her thoughts. "Nothing to report here. No changes in numbers, schedules, rotations, anything that I can tell from here. There weren't even any guard interactions today." For a hostage situation, it was downright boring on the inside. Fortunately that meant she could remain hidden all the more easily. The guards seemed to only be interested in the prisoners if they were making it difficult to do their jobs. And most of the prisoners were only interested in getting out unharmed.Rather peaceful place to be, given the circumstances."You must be bored out of your mind, then, huh Tash?" Clint must be there too. His voice is a mixture of Steve's concern and Tony's desire to keep it light.Tony saved her from having to answer, cutting in with "Of course she is. The Black Widow doesn't know how to just sit around an wait to be needed. She'll be out of shape and out of her mind by the time she gets home."Clint starts to respond but he's too faint for Natasha to make out the words. Steve's voice is very clear when he speaks again, though it's quieter than before. He must have her on a phone, probably walking away from the other two, as Natasha knows they're always two seconds from devolving into squabbling mess. "They're right. I'm sure this can't be easy for you."She can hear them if she really strains herself. "I thought they were idiots," she says flatly. Thankful that some of her responses are so second nature she needs only minimal brain function. Since that's what she's operating with at the moment."Obviously," Steve scoffs. "But we know how they are. Right now," his voice drops a bit more. "I'm much more concerned with how you are." He's very hushed now, like he's speaking directly to her and her alone. He is, she realizes. "Nat? Natasha." She jerks back as just a hint of command flashes into Steve's voice. Right. Spacing off again. She hadn't noticed it was this bad yet. "Natasha, answer me.""I'm fine." Her voice wavered only slightly. She was thankful she had to maintain such a low volume or she'd be so easy to read, just by her voice alone. "Just twiddling my thumbs, waiting for my back up to get it together and get me out of here."That's something she would say, right? Like, normally. When she wasn't hanging off every syllable spoken to her like it was all she needed in the world.Steve didn't react immediately, but when he did, the words made her heart race in a way she didn't ever remember experiencing before."Well, you won't have to wait too much longer." Steve sounded as strained as she felt. The resolve to his words strong as vibranium as he promised, "We're coming to get you, Nat. We're on our way." She let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding, though she felt like she might have been holding it the entire time she had been there. She just barely refocused on Steve in time to hear him say, "Be ready. Let me know if anything changes. I'll let you know when we land."And the comm cut out just as she responded "Yes, sir," in the most shamefully submissive tone.She'd never been so grateful to be cut off in her life.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Steve stared out the front of the jet, eyes not focusing on anything in particular. He was leaning in towards the window over the pilot's seat, jaw set in the most stubborn line his team had ever seen on their Captain's face. Not that any of the team questioned the reason for it.
Clint was at the controls, as per usual. Steve's left hand was supporting his weight on the metal above the glass. His right hand was gripping the back of the chair, still struggling to rein in the intensity he had carried with him all week.
And now that they were in the jet on their way to finish the mission and, more importantly, to get Natasha back, he was having a hard time even trying to disguise it.
Their last conversation had ended as they boarded the jet. Steve had charged ahead once he had his own gear ready, leaving the rest of the team to follow. After breaking, or nearly breaking, countless objects by losing control of his grip while discussing their missing teammate, they had all realized the need to tread carefully when broaching the subject. The ride stayed quiet as everyone was tense and no one knew what to expect from their Captain.
Steve had never been much of a loose cannon, always the man with a plan, even before there was a song advertising it to the world. Well, almost always. The only exception being the times he was the only one who would suffer for his lack of a plan. Like constantly being beaten in alleyways.
But even then it had been a plan to bring a negative situation to an end. It just rarely played out in Steve's favor. He was successful in stopping whoever he wanted to stop, just not in anything else. Self preservation included.
Tony had a feeling, looking at the tension evident in every muscle along Steve's back, that the lack of self preservation they both had been working to improve was about to be thrown directly out the nearest window.
Hopefully not literally, given they were currently in a jet at much too high of an altitude for that to be safe.
As they disembarked, no one spoke. They were clear on their plan. No one was willing to risk being unsuccessful. Not with stakes this high.
--------------------------
--------------------------
Things went fine. They each had their own plan of attack. Bruce had even come along, ready if they needed him, but hopefully just keeping the jet ready for a speedy get away if the need arose.
The way things were looking, that wouldn't be necessary. Tony and Clint had a good portion of the property covered, Clint from his perch, Tony from everywhere else. They were doing well at communicating over the comms while keeping the link clear of other chatter.
All in all, it was running so smoothly, Steve was becoming concerned. He was never one to be lulled by a false sense of security. The more smoothly it went, the more Steve was concerned they were missing something.
Unfortunately, they weren't missing anything. The inevitable issue came in the form of Natasha herself.
Visually, she appeared to be fine. Uninjured, protecting the innocent people she had stayed behind for. She was crouched in a corner away from everyone else, one of the places she had told Steve about during their brief comm sessions.
It was obvious she knew something was happening. She looked exhausted, but Steve knew intimately that even in her worst days, Natasha Romanoff was a force to be reckoned with.
But boy, did this look like one of her worst days.
Steve has seen her covered in blood and alien guts and with her suit torn to reveal truly nasty injuries. But, on closer inspection, something about how she looked made Steve's stomach clench. She must have endured absolute hell waiting for them to come back.
They all had supplements enough to keep them going for a while in their packs, wherever they carried them. Natasha looked like hers hadn't been touched, so she should be in fine condition.
Except she was looking at him with shadows so dark under her eyes they were practically bruises, her skin an unhealthy color, her position wound entirely too tight for the easy confidence Natasha naturally exuded.
And the look in her eyes. They were darting around in an attempt to take in everything at once, but she couldn't be noticing anything, as quickly as she moved on to the next thing. As frantic as the motion was, it seemed like a miracle she had the energy to sustain it. She was sagging in a way the tension in her body shouldn't have allowed.
She looked half wild, yet half dead. Steve felt a pain in his chest, guilt over leaving her in the first place forcing its way to the surface. He struggled under it a moment, closing his eyes to gather himself. He had to have it together, no other option.
Natasha hadn't noticed Steve. It made sense, given how quickly she was scanning her surroundings, but the fact concerned Steve. He knew she was better than this, so for her to be so off her game, something had to be really wrong.
Still keeping tabs on the whereabouts of his team as they were steadily reported in his ear, he mentally checked off which areas had been cleared. Steve had taken care of the insides as he went. From the sounds of it, the others were wrapping up the outer parts, just waiting on Steve and Natasha to get the civilians out. Or, now that he had seen Natasha again, Steve thought it might be more accurate to say they were waiting on Steve to make it out with Natasha and the civilians both.
Focusing back on the plan, Steve forced himself to move from the corner he had been using to gauge the situation. Natasha still took a few moments to register the movement.
When her eyes landed on him, he could see her attempting to process what was happening. He watched as she flinched, then forced herself to straighten her spine, although the effort looked like it pained her. After a couple of seconds, he saw the recognition pass through her expression.
The change in her posture was immediate. Her muscles drained of the tension Steve had been so concerned about, but to an alarming degree. She started to slump down, like the effort of holding herself up was too much.
"Nat!" Steve darted forward, falling into a crouch beside her, one arm around her waist, the other reaching around her front to grip her opposite arm in order to steady her weight. Her head lolled back and Steve feared for a moment she had lost consciousness.
As her head swung around, eventually finding Steve's shoulder to rest on, he felt the deep exhale pass through her. He tightened his arms around her on instinct. It reminded him so much of how a sub responded when they were reunited with their Dom after trauma or too long apart.
He had seen sub victims reunited with their partners before. They functioned well enough in survival mode, but it only lasted so long. It was like a human trying to function without sleep. It could only be done for a finite amount of time before the body would take what it needed with or without the consent of the conscious mind.
Adjusting his grip so he wouldn't jostle her, he removed the steadying hand from her arm and brought it up to brush the hair away from her face. Her eyes were still open, but there was a glazed effect to them now.
This was not the reception he had envisioned. Nor was it the one they had planned for. All of their check-ins had implied she was doing fine, though she had sounded exhausted. Now he wondered if there hadn't been more she had failed to let on.
"Cap," he heard over his comm unit. "You got Widow yet?" Tony had reported that he'd finished up his portion of their plan and was going to help Clint clear his section up, as that was the only place they had hit anything even close to a snag. There were more men in that section than they had initially accounted for, but it was still nothing outside of what Clint could handle, easily. Tony lending a hand would just smooth the process even more.
Steve was struggling to decide how to address the question. Yes he had her, but they might have to reevaluate how they managed the rest of this. "Iron Man. I have Widow. But there's something wrong. We may need more help in here than we thought."
He tried to keep his tone even, but something must have bled through. That or his team just knew him too well. Instantly, Tony was on the alert. "What's happening?" He heard the sound of Tony flying slow to a stop, obviously ready to change paths if he was needed elsewhere.
Steve knew well enough that Tony would be getting whatever he could for feedback pulled up on his HUD, but he was also pretty sure there was nothing around them that would give him any information on their situation.
"I've got her, but she won't be any help in getting the others out." His insides gave a squeeze and he centered himself again. "There isn't anything pressing over here, no immediate threat. Go help Hawkeye, then both of you get to my location to regroup."
Tony started forward again, but he wasn't about to let it go so easily. As if Steve expected anything less. "What's the situation, Cap? She okay? She was okay less than twelve hours ago."
Clint had remained silent so far on the comm, but Steve could still feel the presence, feel the need to know more. Best to not let his team be distracted by something when he could easily give them the information they craved. "She's okay, but something happened. I found her, she wasn't in great shape, she must have passed out or something. She's basically unconscious."
"She WHAT???" There was Clint. Steve could hear sounds of Clint still doing his job over the comm, and he was glad that his team was so naturally inclined at their own skill set that they couldn't be thrown off by anything short of immediate threat to life.
He looked down at Natasha, still pliant against him and hoped that was not the case here. She would be okay, because she was Natasha. She couldn't not be okay.
He could still hear Clint and Tony, both firing questions along with the sounds of their weapons being fired. He couldn't focus on all of it at once while still trying to reevaluate the remainder of their exit strategy.
Steve prided himself on not bringing Dom/sub dynamics into the team, mostly because the majority of the team was some kind of Dominant-leaning which could cause serious tension, but he needed to pull rank and get them focused back on their tasks so that he could focus on his.
"
Avengers."
There was the dominant tone to his voice in that one word, enough that he could hear even Tony freeze. Tony, who fought against Steve's dominance at every turn. Clint whimpered below his breath, soft enough Steve doubted Tony would hear over all his machinery and unenhanced hearing.
"I've got Widow. You have the rest of the outside to deal with. Then report to my location. I'll reconnect with you if anything changes." He didn't use any all out dominance for the rest of his speech, but it was there, implied, living just under the surface. He disconnected from the active line, knowing they would open it again if they needed him but trusting them to both understand that he needed to regroup himself for a moment and also to let him have it.
He looked around them again and swore because, of all the ways this could have gone, this was one of the worst he could have imagined for getting Natasha back.
When he looked at her again to try and figure out what had happened, he found her staring back at him, remarkably alert for being barely conscious moments ago.
He caught just a glimpse of panic before it was smoothed out by confusion and, as he continued to look, he thought he saw annoyance take its place.
"Natasha?" He said quietly. Given the state he had found her in, the last thing he wanted to do was startle her. No additional stress for her if at all possible. "Hey, are you back with me?"
Steve watched her blink, eyes staying shut just a fraction of a second longer than a blink should take. It was enough for Steve to see that, no, she was not completely back to normal Natasha.
That and she had yet to move out of his arms.
Shaking herself visibly, Natasha registered the warmth still around her. She was barely keeping her head above water, could feel the pull lapping at her skin, waiting with welcoming arms for her to just give in and return to the serenity of being held by her Dom.
The tone to Steve's voice had dragged her back above it all. She had gone under without any ability to stop herself as soon as she had clocked his presence. Never, not once since that last time in the Red Room, had she been in so little control over herself.
If she had been in a clearer state of mind, she might have been ashamed of her actions. As it was, she had no extra energy to devote to such pointless feelings.
Steve was still looking down at her, waiting for an answer to the question she had already forgotten he asked. When nothing came to mind after several more seconds of trying to recall his words, she shook her head again and said, "I'm fine."
She hoped it matched up enough with what he had asked to ease the concerned look on his face. Judging by the way his lips turned down in a frown and the furrow of his brow deepened, it hadn't done the trick.
Natasha swore she would do better. She couldn't remember why, but it was important that he thought nothing was wrong with her.
Steve squeezed his arms tighter around her, seeking to give comfort while it was allowed. He knew Natasha Romanoff wanted nothing to do with physical touch, outside of what he assumed was at least semi-regular sex, and it had always taken such effort to refrain from offering comfort the way Doms were naturally inclined to do.
The tightness raised the fog around Natasha again, blocking out everything undesirable. It dulled the sounds reaching her ears, it softened the image of Steve, heated her from the inside out in a way that she was unaccustomed to, perpetually freezing, constantly in need of the warmth she was now being offered.
She felt his fingers running over her side, nothing big, just small strokes like he didn't realize he was doing it. Or like he had no control over what he was doing.
Much like she had no control over the way she started to sink into the feeling again. She was so close to just letting go in a way she hadn't since those few times in the Red Room when she heard it.
Steve was talking to her. Of course, that made sense because he was obviously worried for her, naturally he would be trying to figure out what had happened while she had been stuck here alone, waiting for them to come back.
But suddenly, the words he was using penetrated the haze tucked over her mind like a cozy blanket.
"Good girl, I've got you. Don't worry, everything is okay, we're getting you out. You did so good, Natasha, so good for us."
And it was like ice water flushed through her veins. Her eyes snapped open, even though she hadn't realized they had fluttered shut in the first place.
He was talking to her like she was his sub.
He might not even realize he was doing it. If she'd had a clearer head, she would've known there was probably nothing offensive about it. He was a Dom, he was the leader of their team, he had just gotten her back from what he perceived to be a dangerous situation, and she was clearly not in the best condition. It all made sense and normally she would've controlled her reaction better, could've humored him and given him shit for his Dom instincts later.
But now, she was hanging on by a thread, trying to keep control over her own mind, and the little bit of dominant slipping into his tone was actively sabotaging all her hard work.
Steve felt Natasha freeze, her body practically jerking to attention in his hold, and he saw her eyes snap to his face. He had never seen that look in Natasha's eyes, and he hoped to never see it again. It took him a moment to place the emotion, it was so foreign on her features, but when he did, his gut clenched at having put it there: fear.
He was more than a little confused. She couldn't be scared of him, could she? She had just been left on her own in an enemy base with minimal contact with her team, and now that they'd found her, she was scared of
him?
Something serious must have happened to get that reaction. Steve's instinct was to hold tighter and chase that look away with reassurances, but wasn't that what he'd just been doing? Hadn't he been reassuring her, both with his physical presence as well as his-
He released his grip on Natasha, much as it pained him to do so, when he realized. He had been speaking to her like he spoke to subs in need of a Dom.
Natasha had gotten a grip on herself enough that when Steve's hold released her, she managed to not fall over. That was a relief, at least. She didn't know if she would've had the strength or the energy to get up again if she'd fallen flat on her face because her Dom dropped her like she had burned him.
She should've known it was nothing like rejection, the look on his face should've told her he was horrified with what he'd been doing, treating a non-submissive like they were not only
A
sub, but
HIS
sub.
It wasn't the worst thing in their society, but it was up there. Particularly for Steve, as he tended to hold himself to higher standards than most.
She should've been able to read that for what it was. But in her compromised emotional state, she was nowhere near able to separate those things from the fact that he had released her. He had done it so suddenly, she almost felt like she had whiplash from the sudden absence of sensations that had been holding her hostage in her own body.
She couldn't make the submissive part of her brain see the obvious fact that he had been horrified by his own actions, not by the failure of a sub in his arms. They were one and the same to her. She had been right where she wanted to be for a moment, then she had ruined it and made him release her.
Fortunately, it was the push she needed to remove herself from the situation.
Moving back from Steve, Natasha braced herself for all kinds of awful questions or apologies, none of which she was prepared for. She wasn't sure which would be worse, him being sorry for doing exactly what she wanted, or for him to demand the reason she seemed to want it in the first place.
When Steve finally spoke, it was neither, but it still wasn't any better. "Shit. That was… forgive me? There's- there's absolutely no excuse for that, you shouldn't forgive me. Shit."
Steve shook his head like he could clear it out with the action. Maybe erase the memory. Or even the instinct that had made it happen in the first place.
Natasha certainly wished it was that simple.
"Okay, look. I know that was unacceptable behavior, that's obvious. If we can just forget about it until after we get outta here, you can beat my ass in training for it tomorrow." Glancing at Natasha, he frowned, then revised his words. "Or whenever you're feeling up to it again."
Natasha let out the most half hearted scoff Steve had ever heard. It was sad, but it did go a long way to reassuring him that Natasha would in fact be just fine.
He shot her a very small smile and, after a second where she still looked a little lost, she rolled her eyes back at him.
It was the expected response, but it grated on her every nerve ending as she did it. This was not how a good sub behaved.
Then again, she had never been a good sub. A good operative for whatever intelligence agency she was currently working for, a great fighter, but never a good sub.
Maybe that's why her Dom never held her…
Jumping at the thought like she could physically escape it even though she should know damn well that it doesn't work like that, she hastily attempted to stand up.
Steve saw the change, watched the emotions play out across Natasha's abnormally expressive face. He had no idea what was going on, he'd never seen anyone so conflicted, so at odds with their natural personality. So he knew she would be okay, but he still had plenty of concerns.
He reached out to steady her as she stood, not sure if she was with it enough to stay upright under her own power. The second his hand made contact with her upper arm, she whimpered, then flinched back.
Withdrawing immediately, Steve made sure to keep his distance while still remaining close enough to catch her if she collapsed again. Which seemed increasingly likely the longer he looked at her.
He didn't like the way her eyes dropped from his face and refused to look at him again. She turned away from him and started walking, a sway to her step that had nothing to do with her usual confident swagger.
She turned a corner and it took him a second to catch up. She was leaned against the wall, not like she needed it for support, but to keep her grounded. Steve added that to the list of questions on "What the hell happened to Nat?" that didn't seem to be getting any shorter.
Taking a breath to steel himself for whatever reaction he was about to get from her, he stepped around the corner and approached her. He held his hands out in front of him so she would know he had no intention to touch her.
She still jerked away from him before he got close enough to make contact. "Hey, it's okay, Nat. Just let me help."
Something in that was the wrong thing to say. Natasha got that crazed look in her eyes again and then took off running as quickly as she could towards the entrance to the main hall.
Taking off after her, he caught up quickly. Further proof she wasn't doing well: usually she was much harder to catch.
"What the hell are you doing?" Steve called after her. "We have to figure out what we're doing to get everyone out. And we need to stay together!"
Natasha kept moving, though the energy that seemed to give her the sudden boost to start running was quickly fading. Eventually she was forced to stop, but she had made it to the other main vantage point she had used during her time stuck inside this place.
It was hers. Here she was hidden. Here she was safe.
"Natasha!"
"Don't touch me, Steve."
Steve stopped just short of reaching out for her. "Why? What's wrong? Why won't you tell me what happened to you?"
Steve saw her straighten her spine before looking back at him. What could possibly take so much out of the Black Widow, superhero extraordinaire, to make turning around to face him such a battle?
She took a couple of breaths and glanced behind her again, apparently checking for signs that anything was out of the ordinary. Finding none, she stopped craning her neck around and actually looked at him. For a second, at least.
"Nothing is wrong. Everything is fine. You came to get me out, now everything is fine, but we don't have time to get sentimental and have our big reunion in the field."
Natasha's attempt at a quick cover was less than convincing but Steve respected her wishes and kept as much distance between them as he was comfortable with.
It was admittedly not much still, but she didn't push. This was entirely expected. Unwelcome, but expected. She knew intimately how the Doms got when one of their own was in danger.
It didn't matter that she wasn't technically his, wasn't anyone's. She was part of his team, his family. She was his. She was all of theirs.
Steve finally came up next to her and they fell into step together, proceeding forward as quickly as they could manage while keeping stealth their top priority.
There was still a shocking lack of problems getting to an entry point to await the rest of the team.
As soon as they were in the clear, tucked away in an easily defensible nook near the door, the Captain turned to Natasha. "As soon as we get back to base, it's straight to medical."
It wasn't quite his Dom voice, but it was close. As close as it could be without slipping into it again, that natural register that would be her undoing. Still, his tone left little room for argument.
Natasha, of course, had to take advantage of the little room there was. She had already been weak in front of him enough for the day. She couldn't let it happen again.
"I'm fine, Cap. Really. Let's go." Natasha tried to lead the way out the door, trying to trudge on through the misery she was feeling to get on with the mission. She could do it, she had before. Not a problem for someone like her.
Or so she kept telling herself.
Thankfully, Steve was having none of it. He stepped in front of her, blocking her way. "Not a chance, Widow. You know the drill."
Natasha forced another eye roll. This was really the last thing she needed right now. Struggling to hold it together already, she definitely did not need to be wasting more energy keeping up an argument with the Dom whose presence she had been craving for the past week. The Dom she had been trying for the better part of the week to keep out of her mind for fear of dropping to her knees to submit the moment she heard his voice again.
Which she had already basically done, but she was trying her best not to think about that fact.
Although…maybe she did need to. Maybe the arguing was the only thing keeping her from doing exactly that again.
Well, better not to risk anything now. She knew she was off kilter enough already, she didn't need to do something as out of character as suddenly being docile when it came to listening to Steve.
Steve, who was still looking at her, still holding himself to physically block her way, waiting for her to respond.
"The only drill I know of, is for when someone is injured. Since that clearly doesn't apply here," she gestured down to her apparently unaffected form before continuing, "I'll be returning to the field where my team needs me." She finished strong, trying to turn his attention back to the team.
His team, the one that was still actively working the mission. The one that, in wasting time here with her, he was leaving to fend for themselves, down two members from full force.
She knew it was less than ideal. If she could just get
HIM
to focus on that, she was home free. She'd be able to finish here, the mission always having a centering effect on her, then fly under the radar long enough to get home. Or to SHIELD. Or the helicarrier.
Didn't matter where. Just anywhere she had a room available to her so she could deal with herself like she always does.
It might have worked, too. Clearly Natasha knew Steve well enough to know exactly what buttons needed pushing to have him fall in line with her wishes. He was well and truly impressed by how tempted he was to abandon their fight here and go rejoin his team.
But Natasha was his team too. He was with his team, and she was the part of his team that needed him right now.
He hadn't heard anything on the comms, though the open link had been reestablished, so he could tell the plan was still going off the way they'd hoped. A minor hitch here or there, a couple quickly rectified mistakes. Just like before he had found her, things were working like a well oiled machine.
What he was more focused on now was the manic energy he was starting to feel coming off of his teammate. The wild look in her green eyes had yet to calm, her usually tight leash seemed to be barely hanging on since he'd gotten her back.
Now that she was talking, there was a tightness to her voice. He could almost pretend it wasn't there, maybe, had it not been combined with the delicate trembling that had started accompanying every inhale.
All of it screamed that she needed help. Even putting aside his own instincts as a Dom, which were screaming from the moment he'd lay eyes on her, as a team leader, she would be of no help to anyone in this condition.
And that's what he was sticking with if she tried to call him on it. She could try and argue otherwise, but she would not win. He'd just work with facts for the time being.
"Iron Man, Hawkeye, report. How are things looking out there?" Steve addressed his team via comm unit.
"Just wrapping it up here, Cap." Tony's response was just about what Steve had been expecting given the radio silence in the last several minutes.
"All clear, Cap," came Clint's reassurance. If anyone knew whether they were done or not it was Clint, keeping an eye out for everyone from the best vantage points available. They all knew not to breathe the sigh of relief until Clint had called the all clear.
Cap looked at Natasha and shrugged. "They've got it taken care of. Sounds like we're off the hook."
The smirk he gave was brief but got the point across. He was getting his way.
Or so he thought. She couldn't let it go that easily.
"Should still go and help. Tie up loose ends and all," Natasha reasoned, followed quickly by, "and since I'm fine, there's nothing stopping us."
Something about her posture screamed 'challenge' and Steve's instincts as a Dom were fighting to make an appearance again. His brain was reading this as a Sub begging to be dominated, acting out to make their Dom take them in hand.
It was classic psychology between a dominant partner and a submissive. He knew the reasoning behind it, the anticipated outcome, why it was needed, etc.
He also knew the response that had been drilled into him from the time he presented as a Dom.
Submissives needed to be taken in hand, both mentally as well as physically, at times. Steve would never dream of physically handling a sub he wasn't familiar with, let alone treating someone who was
not
a submissive like they were one. But he did know how to handle a bit of posturing from a sub who needed to submit.
"
Natasha."
The command of a dominant was difficult to refuse for anyone, Dom, sub, or otherwise. Especially susceptible to them were those dealing with some sort of trauma. It's why every emergency response team and hospital were required to have a certain number on their staff. Most other professions weren't required to disclose their status, but the majority of people did anyway.
The response was instantaneous. Natasha's body locked up, unable to resist in the state she was in. Whatever state that was. Her eyes snapped away from his, the challenge over before she could truly start it. "You know I won't do this unless I need to for the safety of my team, but I need to know that you're okay so,
you WILL go see medical when we get back and you WILL listen to what you are told until you are recovered.
Is that understood?"
Natasha wobbled under the force behind it. She had rarely been on the receiving end of such a strong command. Usually the lack of submissive tendencies was enough to deter the asshole Doms who thought they could make anyone their sub. And never had she been subjected to one when she was in such bad shape mentally. In the Red Room, of course. But since then…
She gritted her teeth to stop herself from letting out an undignified response like, 'yes sir' that would give her away entirely. She nodded, knowing Steve would do nothing to knowingly harm her, but also knowing she could only handle so much more before this all became a rather obvious issue for her.
"Good. Now, is there anything in that command that you are uncomfortable with?" When Natasha didn't respond, Steve prompted gently, "Nat? Talk to me. You know how commands work. I'll change it if there's anything wrong with it."
Natasha's jaw dropped open. She knew this was how Steve did things usually. She had heard him give commands before, and he always made sure they hadn't made the receiver uncomfortable. But she had never heard a Dom refer to anything they said as even potentially wrong before. That just wasn't a thing.
Definitely not to someone they saw as submissive.
Clearly mistaking her reaction to mean that, yes, there was something, but she couldn't vocalize what it was for whatever reason, he reached out and, giving her time to move away if she really wanted to, he put his hand on her waist.
She let it happen, doing her best to convince herself it was fine, she could handle it. After all of two seconds with the heat from his hand seeping into her freezing body, she shuddered.
As she did, he heard the breathy sigh that came with it. His eyes never left her face, trying to judge what she couldn't, or wouldn't, tell him by her expression.
Given who Natasha was, it didn't bode well that it was working.
The only thing Steve could see in the image Natasha presented was
need.
Not sexual, because he was well enough acquainted with what that looked like. Not with Natasha, of course, but in general.
This was a different kind. This was the need that Doms and subs had for one another. Steve was more familiar with that, but seeing it on Natasha's face, in her eyes, her posture, every movement she made…
What the hell had they done to her???
Her eyes had fluttered shut as he watched her, but she forced them open some. She now was watching him with a half-lidded gaze, through her eyelashes. It was a look that every Dom dreamed of receiving from a gorgeous sub.
And Natasha certainly was gorgeous. No, that part was not in question. What was in question was the fact that Natasha, his teammate who had never had any leanings one way or the other on the Dom/sub spectrum, was suddenly falling hardcore into the sub category.
Steve remembered the last time he had seen people acting in a way that belied the status they were known to have. Images of what basically added up to torture for the purpose of scientific experimentation made Steve's hand grip tighter on Natasha's waist.
It alarmed her, a small sound in the back of her throat drawing Steve back to the present. He had to know. He had to figure out how bad this was, what he was dealing with, how much damage had been done.
He could beg and grovel for forgiveness later. He WOULD beg and grovel for forgiveness later. He wasn't sure he believed she would ever give it, let alone that he would deserve it, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it. For now, he just had to know.
While the Dom voice worked on just about everyone, there were certain things only subs responded to. Steve hated himself for even considering it, but he had to test it.
"
Natasha, kneel."
He made sure to keep it as warm and gentle as possible, quiet and reassuring even, if the situation had been different.
Natasha gasped in a breath at the same moment as her knees buckled. Everyone was influenced mentally by a Dom's command, but only subs were physically moved to obey.
Steve moved quickly, slowing what would've been a hard crash to the ground had he not been standing so close. Natasha's head fell forward once her knees touched the ground and Steve was suddenly gifted the most beautiful view in existence.
Natasha Romanoff, on her knees, submitting to him. It was everything he had ever dreamed and more.
If only it wasn't so wrong.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Natasha had seen Tony and Clint round the corner on their way to meet up. The timing had been terrible. There was no time it could have been worse. As soon as she heard Steve's voice, she physically could not make herself focus on anything else.
"
Natasha. Kneel."
She had never heard a command spoken so gently before. The wave of obedience that washed over her was just as gentle, only overwhelming her so badly because of how far gone she was. There was no control left in her to even try to fight the desire to obey.
She fell to her knees, her descent slowed by Steve reaching out and easing her down. There had been so much in his command, he clearly thought it would take a lot to get her to listen.
Then again, he had been convinced for years that she wasn't a submissive, so why would go easy with his command?
But no, he had to have known. He had commanded her to kneel and only subs knelt. So he had to have known before he did it.
But he couldn't have known, because if he did, why would he be doing this, here and now, when they still needed to get out? Yes, maybe they had things under control, but surely they still needed to make their way to the innocent people that were trapped here and make their escape.
But she couldn't help with any of that anyway, because he knew she was a sub so he must be leaving her here while they went to deal with everything themselves. She could be dealt with later after everything else had been taken care of. It was her own fault, she could suffer the consequences.
Her thoughts continued to spiral, nothing making sense, one thought appeared, only to be replaced with the next nonsensical fear, all stemming from her deepest secret being discovered.
They knew. They all knew.
Bad.
Worthless. Burden.
Weak.
Waste of space. Waste of time. Waste of breath.
Waste.
Everything she had ever learned about herself as a sub came rushing back, replacing the hold she had over her usual calm demeanor.
Shit, no. She couldn't lose it this easily. She had to focus, had to think. She had worked so hard to get where she was, it couldn't all be for nothing.
Natasha's breathing slowed. Fear. Fear of losing it all, just like that gave her back some measure of control.
She kept her head down; she could still hide this last bit from them. They weren't entitled to anything she didn't want to give. The only reason she was on her knees now was because her brain chemistry was convinced she was weak and
wanted
to kneel.
She had been trained to deal with intense pressure. She was perfectly equipped to handle stress in extreme situations.
Situations like this.
Worse, even. She'd been through so much worse than this. She was a survivor of the Red Room.
She had been picked apart, from the time she was a toddler, to figure out which parts of her were worth anything and which parts needed to be eradicated.
Most of what was her they had decided was useless, that it all needed to go.
What was left was the Red Room. The Widow. That’s what she was, at her very core. Power and blood and death, disguised in seduction.
The Red Room had taken all the parts of her that weren’t useful to them. Unfortunately, they had left her with the one part that she would give anything to be free from.
The part of her that her entire team had just found out about.
Panic was creeping over her skin, a very real threat, making its presence known, but not settling in just yet. Waiting. Warring against the desire to just let go, that it would be fine. She trusted her team and they had come for her.
She couldn't deny it would be so much easier that way. There were two options left to her. One promised peace, the other promised pain.
Not physical, of course. She knew down to her bones that none of her team would ever raise a hand to her outside of training.
The
team, she reminded herself, as she already had an idea of how things would go from there.
There was every likelihood they would leave her. Not literally, of course. They would take her with, never the kind to leave people behind, but then they would expect her to be out of the tower and any of their Avenger spaces immediately.
She didn't think they were cruel enough to decide to keep her against her will, but she had lied to them. People acted in unexpected ways when they felt they had been betrayed. She had seen worse for far less.
Maybe she could fix this. Switches sometimes knelt or felt compelled to obey when given a command from a Dom in extreme circumstances. This definitely fell under the category of extreme circumstances. Maybe she could convince them she was a Switch that tended towards dominance.
From what they knew of her, it shouldn't be much of a stretch. She had been mistaken for a Dom plenty of times. Yeah, she could totally do that.
Now she just had to wait. Wait until the moment passed. Wait until she was okay again, was clear headed enough to make an actual plan without her thoughts speeding away from her before she could even latch onto them properly. Wait to see if she could fix this. She was a master at fixing things like this. Lying was her specialty, she could come back from this.
She had to.
She was a sub. A female sub, at that. They would never let her fight again. If she was a Switch, maybe it could be different.
It was that simple then. That’s what she had to do. She had to convince them she was a Switch, just going through an off day, brought on by excessive stress, maybe one close encounter too many with the enemy.
In all the time they had known her, they had never given any indication that they questioned her apparent lack of designation. They couldn’t be so convinced simply from one incident.
Everyone had breakdowns, right? Surely she must be due for one soon, in their eyes at least. They had never seen her have one, she had made sure of it. They had no idea it happened with increasing frequency the longer it had been since she had forced a drop. They certainly didn't know she was up to a couple of times a month by now.
But what they didn’t know wouldn't hurt them, right?
No. It would only hurt her.
And that’s fine, she reasoned. If she was only hurting herself, she was fine with that. She didn’t want them to hurt, didn’t want them to hurt for her especially. If she could just have herself be the only one hurting then everyone would be happy.
Everyone but her.
That traitorous voice in her head (that sounded suspiciously like Bruce, at the moment) was immediately shoved to the back of her mind, along with the sub voice, ever present in that dark corner it has been banished to for so long.
Yeah, she could do this. There was no issue. Realistically, she could play it off just fine.
She was a Switch. That could easily be why she didn't listen in the field, why she bucked so harshly against commands. Naturally dominant people didn't take direction like that well, in her experience.
They would never know any better. It was more power than she wanted them to have over her, but it was better than the alternative. By a long shot.
If this was the compromise, fine. She could live with that. And explain that the Red Room really did eradicate everything else from her, leaving her with only the occasional breakdown and a plethora of unhealthy coping mechanisms. And she could deal with that on her own, thank you very much.
Glancing up, she saw the look on her Dom's face.
No, Steve's face, she corrected herself. He was looking down at her with a pained expression.
Of course, she had just complicated their entire team dynamic by being in such bad shape. They were probably counting on her to help, not hinder their progress.
Maybe they really hadn't known. They couldn't have expected anything from her if they had already known.
Or maybe they didn't know for sure, but they had suspicions. This would have been the perfect time to test her. Maybe that's why Steve looked so crushed. Maybe they'd all had a bet on whether she'd kneel or not and he'd lost.
Maybe she had just ruined her place on the only team that had ever mattered to her…
The thoughts just kept coming in a way that was making her sick but she had no way of knowing what was right and what was simply her insecurities making an appearance in order to hurt her while she was vulnerable.
Steve hadn't moved from her side and she was grateful, but she also desperately needed space. She couldn't be falling at his feet like this and still make them see her as a Switch. She had seen Switches when they needed to submit and there was still a noticeable difference between a Switch submitting and a sub.
Natasha tried her best to pull back, to keep at least a little personal space for herself. Steve either didn't notice or was having none of it. He kept his arm tight around her, brought the other hand up to start soothing down her side. The feeling was hypnotic and Natasha's mind instantly quieted.
What had seemed to last for ages in Natasha's mind had, in reality, taken less than a minute. Steve had watched all the different emotions play through her posture, her breathing, the glimpses of her face. There was so much going on in her mind and all he wanted to do was soothe it.
Once Steve felt Natasha start to relax into his touch, he raised his hand to the others that he now saw coming towards them. He waved them off, then spoke into his comm unit. "Give us a second. The civilians are down the hall, to the left. Check to see what kind of shape they're in. Your way should be clear."
He saw Tony about to protest, even as they kept their distance. Cutting him off, Steve assured them, in his best 'I'm the Captain, listen to me' voice, "Go. The halls should be clear, everyone we had accounted for has been dealt with already."
Still they paused, frozen by the sight in front of them. There was no way they were going to let this go entirely. Steve quieted his voice again. "I've got her. You get them," he tried one last time, making sure to not slip into his dominant voice for fear of disturbing the pliant sub in his arms.
Natasha. Not a sub, just Natasha. He still didn't know what was going on with her. No matter how much he wanted it to be real, this wasn't natural. It felt so right to run his fingers down from her shoulder to circle around her wrist. He felt her pulse to see how she was doing. He knew the basics of sub physiology, knew how to check in when they could no longer be a reliable gauge of their own state of mind.
He felt the pulse, steady but still high enough he felt confident she wasn't under. He didn't think she would be, but he also never imagined Natasha would actually be kneeling for him, so he needed to check. He wouldn't risk causing her any harm by not keeping a rational head during whatever it was they were dealing with.
"Natasha," Steve waited until she turned her head. She wasn't quite facing him, but he could see her expression and it was a start. "How can I help you?"
He had no idea what to do. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to scoop her up in his arms and not let her go until he had brought her down as gently as possible and worked her back up to full consciousness, petting and reassuring and comforting her every step of the way.
If it were anyone other than Natasha, he might have gone ahead and done just that. But she had to be scared out of her mind, not sure what was happening, let alone what to do to make it through the drop that was so obviously about to completely overwhelm her.
Natasha looked up at him, not understanding the question. He was the Dom in this situation. What did he possibly need her input for?
He must not have understood the question she thought had been clear on her face because he tried again. "Natasha, you look like you're about five minutes away from dropping, hard. And that's if I'm being generous." He looked worried at the prospect of it happening sooner and she had a hard time disagreeing with him.
He waited for her response, clearly wanting her to acknowledge what he had told her. She nodded shakily, unable to think up a better response.
"I need to know what you want while you're under. What, who, how, anything you can tell me. You know how sub drops go, I need to know how you want me to handle it." He cut himself off, a new thought clearly having just occurred to him. "If you want me to handle it at all, that is."
The look on his face told her the prospect was more than a little distasteful to him, but if they were her wishes, she knew he would try to follow them. He had enough respect for her as a teammate, regardless of how he saw her as a sub. Maybe some of that respect would still carry over now that she was essentially worthless to them. Maybe they would still extend some of that kindness.
Until they decided to kick her off the team, of course. She couldn't expect anything to last longer than that.
Still, it would be nice. Maybe just once she could have this. Her Dom holding her through the traumatic experience of finding her way back to reality. That fight was worse than most she had faced, even as an Avenger. Partially because there was nothing she could do to prepare for it, let alone stop it.
The other part was because she was doing it alone. Always alone. Ever since that last time in the Red Room where the kind and gentle man who had helped to train her had been removed for being too merciful with the girls.
Steve's voice cut into her thoughts again. "Natasha, I need you to focus for me. What do you want me to do?"
Natasha made an effort to avoid his eyes but he wasn't having it. "Natasha, look at me."
So she did. She had no energy to fight it anymore. She wanted to. Especially if this was the one time she could just let it happen.
The voice inside of her that always pointed out that she couldn't just let it happen, ever, no matter the circumstances, was buried by the look in Steve's eyes, all over his face.
There was still concern, maybe more than before, but there was also a peacefulness Natasha had never seen before.
Was this what Doms were supposed to look like? Natasha was the first to admit, her experiences hadn't exactly been healthy representations. But there was no way this could be how a Dom got when they helped a sub.
A nasty slideshow played in her mind, all of the Doms of her past. None of them had ever looked like this. She couldn't even imagine any of them in this situation. Couldn't picture their features calm and reassuring, couldn't place any expression there but the twisted and snarling expressions they had always worn in the Red Room when the topic of submissives was brought up.
A tiny light that barely scratched the surface of her memory corrected her. There had been one other. But just the one and, clearly, he had been the outlier.
She latched onto that one ghost from her past and slowly his face came forward in her mind's eye. Finally, after dragging it through what felt like miles of the sludge her brain was being weighed down by, she could see it clearly enough. As she compared it to Steve's face directly in front of her, she noticed the similarities.
Nothing alike in appearance, of course. One with dark hair and cloudy eyes, Steve with much lighter hair and bright blue eyes. But the expression. That was where the similarities lay buried.
Eyes attentive, fixed on her face. Lips set in a firm line, jaw clenched in a way that looked uncomfortable to maintain. The furrow in the other man's brow had been deeper than Steve's, probably because he knew
all
of the horrors Natasha had experienced as a sub in the Red Room.
More accurately, he had known all the horrors every girl had gone through and then realized Natasha had the added handicap of being a sub the entire time. It was enough to throw anyone off, she could admit that.
Steve was only seeing what she was going through now. He could only see the things they had endured together. He was probably trying to imagine what else she had been through but she knew there was no chance he would come even close to what she had gone through.
The mannerisms, the expressions, they were all so similar. Was it possible there was an entire category of Doms Natasha had no idea existed? Was it possible they weren't all like the instructors at the Red Room and every other jerk of a Dom she had encountered since?
The thought was making her head spin, which was a nuisance she didn't need given how off her head already was. She wasn't sure it was still on her shoulders at this point, except that she could feel the heaviness from trying to hold it up.
"Do you want me to go and get Tony instead? I know you have a different relationship with him, would that make it easier?" Steve was still trying to urge some response out of her, she realized. "Or Clint? I know he doesn't usually handle this side of things, but he has plenty of experience with drops, maybe he would be more comforting?"
Natasha gripped onto Steve's arm. She hadn't realized she had moved her hand to touch him, but the mention of him leaving her, even just to get someone else to help her, was physically painful. She heard a whimper, but couldn't tell where it came from. Likely it was her own mouth, but with the look in Steve's eyes, it wouldn't have been misplaced coming from him either.
"Natasha?" Steve questioned. "Please, just tell me something. I made this happen, I don't want to make it any worse." He had a pleading tone to his voice now and it stabbed at her heart. No, she shouldn't be making her Dom feel bad when he was trying to help her.
Somehow she mustered up the energy to speak, but all she managed to say when she opened her mouth was, "No." It was quiet and shaky, but it was adamant.
"No?" Steve repeated, looking for clarification. "No, what?" She shook her head, knowing she couldn't force more words out. "No, you don't want me?" There was sadness to the question and she shook her head frantically, desperate for him to understand that, no, that was the furthest thing from what she meant. "Okay, okay. Calm down for me. It's okay. No, you don't want me to leave?"
She sagged in his hold again, and as he brought her closer to his body, she burrowed her face against his chest. She had never been one for physical affection, but when the physical being you were getting affection from was this perfect, warm and willing, how could she not take advantage?
"Okay. Okay, I won't go anywhere. Don't worry, I'm right here."
Steve's hand had migrated up to rest on her head, carding through the strands of hair that had fallen in front of her face, trying to tame them back away from her eyes. He continued to soothe her for a moment before again realizing where they were. It seemed he was having almost as difficult a time with keeping his head as she was.
"Natasha, come up for me. I need you to talk with me for a moment." When her eyes met his, glazed over, he corrected, "Okay, I need you to listen to me, then." She bobbed her head once in acknowledgement, the only acknowledgement the haze around her would allow. Taking that for agreement, he continued.
"We still need to get out of here. Tony and Clint are getting everyone else to the jet, I need to know what to do with you."
There it was. The moment was coming. He was going to leave her to go help the team. Well, good for him. She knew it was the right thing to do, but she still felt like she was going to shatter the moment the pressure of his arms left her body. She was too sensitive and too fragile and too under to be rational about this.
Were she anyone else, anyone with less training and experience in these things, she would have had no ability to recognize the rationality of it at all. But just because she could see it, didn't mean it affected her any less.
Steve watched Natasha's eyes water even as she nodded, seeming to resign herself to something unpleasant, and he had to tamp down a second of panic. "Hey, no. It's all fine. There's nothing to cry about, Nat."
What on earth had caused that reaction? As he felt her grip tighten on him, he realized. She was new to all of this, there was no way she could know how he handled things with subs. Yes, she had seen how things appeared from the outside, but most of what happened between participants was still a private matter.
She had never been a sub in this scenario. He knew she had occasionally helped a sub in a drop, but experiencing it from this end had to be overwhelming and uncomfortable. Not to mention it happening in unfamiliar, unsafe territory. He had some explanations he needed to cover.
Mentally shaking himself for not starting out with the usual explanation he gave when he was with a sub for the first time, he thought about what she would need to know. He was just so thrown off by the fact this was Natasha. She already knew him so well, the familiarity between them, it had all seemed so natural and comfortable for him. He didn't have the same cautious feelings of needing to lay out the steps like with others.
Somewhere in the Dominant part of his mind, she was already his so it didn't matter.
It hadn't even registered to him that they had never crossed this line before. Pulling himself together so he didn't make any more stupid mistakes that would only hurt her in the long run, he let loose the reins he held on his instincts, his Dom mentality superceding his Captain identity in order to help his sub.
Like any decent Dom would do.
It made Natasha's already wobbly head spin again. She had seen Steve slip into his Dom headspace, but he would never do that during a mission. They had encountered plenty of subs in need and never before had she seen him act outside of his role as Captain America. He was always safely in control of everything until they stumbled off the jet after even the roughest mission.
Natasha had always thought that cool, level headedness was what gave everyone such a sense of security.
Now, seeing the Dominant come out in his features, she knew how wrong she was. This was the reason he kept cool and level headed. This was the energy always thrumming under the surface, the thing that made him exude safety and power and control, and now it had been unleashed.
And it was all directed at her.
If she had seen this side of Steve any other time, it would have been unsettling. If she had seen it earlier today, would have made her drop to her knees when she first saw him. It was overwhelming in the best way.
The sense of being safe and protected she got from the man in front of her was so powerful, she barely kept her head. The only thoughts left to her were "yes" and "safe."
Where other Dom's expressions hardened, closed off, Steve's seemed to open up. While others always seemed to like they were slipping on a mask, he seemed to become more himself. It was like he was taking his mask off. And it happened as smoothly as if he were walking through a doorway.
She had only had the one man act as a Dom for her. It was for such a brief period and she had been much too young to appreciate the little details. But he had been so similar to Steve in how he handled his Dominance, she wondered if the transformation had been the same for him.
All of that was background noise because she was so thoroughly caught by Steve's gaze. She knew, distantly, that the expectation when a Dom looked at you in full Dominant mode, was to kneel and bow your head in a show of respect, of deference.
If it were a sexual scenario, there were other expectations as well, but the one constant in her training was 'get on your knees and never meet their gaze.'
She tried to look away from the too intense stare, but Steve reached out to stop her from turning away. His hand gently turned her back to him, seeking something on her face.
When he spoke, it was like a balm on her nerves. "
Natasha
. Do you want me to help you through this?" She was nodding before she could even register the question.
Honestly, no, but only because she didn't want to be dealing with any of this. If she was going to have to put up wth it from anyone, she was glad it was Steve. At least he was a good man. He would be kind.
"Good. If you would rather have one of the others, we can talk to them as soon as we get to the jet." She tensed up at the mention of the others, but Steve continued as if reading her mind. "If not, we can come up with a reason for them to mind their own business. They won't judge you for this, but it is up to you who knows."
She shuddered, flashes of how they could react popping up in her brain. They were quickly dismissed though, as Steve leaned in to press a kiss to the top of her head. The heat that radiated from the point of contact caused a different kind of shudder to follow.
"We can close off in the back of the cabin, in the cargo area if that's what you'd like. They know enough to know you need some time. They won't question it, I'll make sure of it."
And closing themselves in the cargo area of the jet brought all kinds of images to mind. None of them involved Steve working her through a drop.
Even with her mind wandering again, Natasha knew she gave some response. She wasn't quite sure what though. Not that it mattered. Steve continued on, trying to get it all out of the way while she was as close to her right mind as she was likely to get for the next several hours.
"Good. That's really good, Natasha. We just need to get you back to the jet now." He paused and looked at her a moment, noting that while she was with him, she was definitely still out of it, teetering on the edge of the inevitable drop. "I don't like the idea of not touching you while you're like this. But I doubt I could convince you to let me carry you back."
He wasn't wrong, she would have thrown a fit. Or, the Natasha he was used to would have. The Natasha that she found had taken residence in her own skin was very interested in the idea. Him carrying her, his arms around her, feeling his bulk supporting her, muscles shifting under her, scent wrapping around her, cradling her like she was something precious. She was never going to admit that to him though. Or anyone if she could help it.
"I'm sure you don't want to stroll back holding hands either." Something must have changed on her face because he chuckled once. The sound was indescribably pleasant to her. "Thought not. Are you okay if I put my arm around your waist? Like I would if you were hurt?" He chuckled again. "Or if someone less tough than the strongest woman I know was hurt?"
Natasha felt her heart pitch forward in her chest. It was so subtly worked in, the praise said in a joking tone, barely there but said in a way that she couldn't argue. She didn't even want to. Huh. Usually she rankled at the very thought of praise directed her way. She felt herself sink in a bit deeper.
Steve watched the effect with awe, seeing Natasha so sweet for him was addicting. He was already positive he would have a hell of a time topping this experience. If only this could be the norm for them…
No, he had to make sure he kept her best interest in mind through this whole thing, whatever it was. She was not like this normally; something bad had happened to her, so her recovery from this had to be his top priority.
"I'm sorry, Natasha. I'll lay off until we're on the jet." She whimpered too softly for anyone without enhanced hearing to catch. "Hey, I said until we're on the jet. Once we get there, no holds barred."
Her face flushed a pretty pink, the color offset by her gorgeous hair and pale skin. He leaned down to kiss her head again, unable to resist while he had the opportunity. The guilt that panged in his chest was something he could address later. He knew there would be hell to pay for this episode, but there was no need to stress about the what if's of how she was going to react to all of this. He'd just have to wait it out.
"Alright. Can you stand?" When Natasha didn't respond, he tried again, a little firmer. "Natasha, can you stand for me?"
She paused, then nodded her head. She still made no move to actually do so.
Standing up slowly and bringing her with him was no problem. She was very maneuverable, limbs loose, but not entirely out of her control. He got her standing with minimal effort. He wrapped an arm around her waist, hunching down just slightly to help support her.
She had only wobbled a bit when adjusting to holding her own weight, but if they were already in this position, he may as well take advantage of it and make sure she didn't manage to actually hurt herself by trying to be too functional.
She swayed for the first couple of steps. Trying to acclimate to moving at someone else's pace when she was in such an affected state couldn't be easy. Steve tightened his hold on her, making sure she wouldn't falter an inch.
He pointedly ignored how much closer that brought her to his own body. That would do nothing for his sanity.
Natasha was in no state to mention it, in any case. She leaned into him exactly like he wanted. Steve couldn't tell if it was for her own benefit or for his. Whichever way, he would savor it.
As they started on their way to the jet, Steve checked in with the team over their comm line. "Hawkeye, Iron Man: Widow and I are heading back to the jet. How are we coming with evacuating the civilians?"
"Back up showed up right on time, Cap." Clint's voice was slightly pinched over the line. Steve was sure it had to do with not knowing anything more about Natasha's condition.
"Good. Finish up and get yourselves loaded. Widow and I will be in the back. I need some time with her to reacclimate and debrief."
"You got it, Cap." Clint was always the one who read Steve's tone of voice best. Maybe because he was a sub himself and more susceptible to the little nuances of a Dom's voice than Tony or Bruce.
Natasha had always been able to read him too, now that he thinks about it. He had always attributed it to being trained to be the best at reading people. A fortunate side effect of growing up with the trainers she had. Then again, in light of their current situation, maybe there was more to it than that...
"Yeah, we get it. Just got her back and already you're hogging her. Gotta have her all to yourself, huh? What if we wanna scold her, too?"
"It'll have to wait. Captain takes first priority, remember Iron Man?" Tony was obviously trying to poke fun at the situation, more than likely to try and gather more info on Natasha's condition. Tony had a tendency to cover up his softer side with crude or insensitive words, something they were all aware of.
Deciding to take pity on them, Steve gentled his tone a bit and said, "She'll be okay, guys. Just needs some separation. Nothing to overwhelm her. One person at a time. She'll be fine."
He heard the breath Clint let out. There was no mistaking the relief but there was no way he missed the use of the future tense in the sentence "she'll be fine." Trusting his Captain, he made no comment though.
It was slow going to get to the jet. They were taking a way that hadn't been cleared yet, so Steve was being extra cautious. It was difficult to maneuver because he wouldn't let go of Natasha for even a second. He insisted on keeping her tucked tightly against his body.
Fortunately for him, Natasha thought nothing of it at the time, because the last thing she wanted was to be let go. She had never felt so peaceful before a drop. She had only felt this way during a drop with that one other Dom from so long ago.
And now it had been too long without a Dom and it was all catching up with her. She was stuck on the edge of this one. Normally she could pull herself back until it was safe and she was alone. This time, whether it was because it had been too long, the stress of the situation, or the close proximity of a Dom she trusted with her life who seemed more than willing to help her out, she had no control over it, or herself.
So she let herself be helped to the jet. Bruce was at the front, waiting at the controls for them. Clint would take over once they were in the air as long as he came back in good enough condition. They'd had this same set up for as many missions as they had been on together. The familiarity of it went a long way toward calming her.
She let out a breath as the door closed behind them, mind fuzzing out a bit more at the safe space she found herself in after being on her guard for so long.
"You've been monitoring the comm?" Steve asked as Bruce watched them calmly, eyes curious but not outwardly concerned.
Bruce nodded slowly. "Anything I can do to help?"
Steve shook his head. He was sure Bruce's presence was reassuring to Natasha, but, as a scientific fact, the presence of a Dom would get her through this better.
Or maybe Steve was just being selfish and clinging to the fact that, right now, Natasha needed him and he was the best one to help her at this moment. She was clearly receptive to him already, and, while they could wait for Tony or Clint to come back to the jet, she had started with Steve. And it was always a smoother return if it was the same person throughout the session.
Steve had the feeling none of this was going to be smooth though. Leading Natasha back through the jet into the cargo area that was rarely used for anything other than storing their gear, Steve got Natasha settled in a seat. He crouched down in front of her so he could look up into her eyes. They still hadn't settled anything on how this was going to go.
"Natasha, look at me again." He raised a hand to cup her cheek and direct her face to look at him. "Ah, there are those beautiful eyes.
Good
. Thank you."
Natasha breathed out heavily, eyes fluttering under the praise. Huh. Very sensitive then. That boded either really well or really poorly for this session.
"Stay with me for another minute, okay?" He waited for her small nod. "Are you still okay with this? With me being here with you like this?" There had been agreement before, but double checking when the situation was this...abnormal seemed prudent.
Natasha nodded almost shyly. Natasha was never shy. Steve felt that pang of
guilt
in his chest again. He ignored it with no small amount of dread, knowing he couldn't avoid it forever.
"Here's how I do things when I Dom for a sub for the first time. I know there is a lot wrong with this situation, but I know when a sub needs to be taken down." Natasha jerked her head at that. A strange reaction, but maybe being called a sub brought up how wrong this all was.
"I know. Don't worry, we won't do anything crazy. My rules are that, first, we maintain physical contact for the entire session, and second, you answer me honestly when I check in to see how you're doing."
True, those were his only two rules for a first time session, but normally he didn't need to verbalize the second part. He had a feeling with Natasha, it wasn't quite as obvious as he liked to think. Especially if she had never had a Dom take her under.
Which she hadn't. Of course she hadn't. Why would he even think otherwise? Bringing his full attention back to Natasha, he waited for her to nod again. It was more hesitant this time, but more trusting too.
"Good. Thank you, Natasha. Just a couple more questions, okay? What position would make you most comfortable?" Natasha's eyes grew wide, and her eyes darted away from Steve's for the first time since he started speaking.
"Hey, no. None of that." Steve scolded lightly. Natasha's face grew red, eyes now downcast. Steve tried to follow the conversation from her perspective. She had been scolded, yes, but nothing serious. Then again, who on his team had ever been treated with gentleness. It was entirely possible that she was waiting for worse to come.
"No, Natasha, no. You didn't do anything wrong, you've been perfect.
So good for me
." Letting just the slightest bit of
that tone
slip in for comfort, Steve brushed some stray hairs away from her face, hoping to catch her eyes again. "I just don't want you to try and hide anything from me. You didn't try to run from me, but I could feel you starting to close off. That's the same as running when you're dropping like this, alright? I can't have you doing that, okay? That's all. That's all it was, Nat."
Slowly, she looked up at him, eyes guarded for a moment before he smiled at her and brought his other hand up to rest on the back of her neck, sliding under her hair to touch the skin just above her suit. She relaxed again instantly.
"There we go. Now, I'll make it easier this time, yeah? Did you want to kneel for me?" He watched discomfort pass through her expression before she nodded. "Are you sure? You don't have to. We can do this without you kneeling. If you're not comfortable with it, we
will
figure something else out."
Natasha wasn't comfortable with kneeling. She had never had a good experience kneeling and mentally, she flinched away from the very suggestion.
But this was Steve. She was safe with Steve. And there was a part of her that desired nothing more than to kneel at his feet and have him pet her hair while she laid her head on his thigh. Just to be a normal sub, for once in her godforsaken life.
She would try, she decided. She would try because it was what Doms wanted and it was what subs wanted and she was a sub right now so she should want it. She
did
want it. So she would try.
She nodded again, more decisive this time, hoping she hadn't upset her Dom. He seemed to take it as a genuine desire to kneel, so he nodded and helped her stand, lowering himself into the open seat, helping her gently to her knees when she felt like dropping down, hard, careless of the impact as she hit the floor.
"Easy. No hurting my teammate." When Natasha looked up at him briefly, he was smiling down at her and she flushed pink again. He reached his hand up to pinch at her chin and she swiped at his hand without thinking.
Immediately she panicked, tucking her hands back in her lap and going still, but not before Steve let out a laugh, saying, "There's my Natasha. Good to know she's still in there for me."
Steve let his hand settle on the side of her head, applying no pressure beyond its presence there. Slowly, very slowly, she let her head drop until finally she was resting against his thigh. The feeling definitely hit her harder than she thought it would but there was still the nagging in her mind that wanted her to move, reminding her of all the reasons she hated kneeling.
It didn't matter in the end. She had been entirely too close to the edge for entirely too long, so as soon as Steve's hand started stroking over her head, fingers digging lightly into her scalp, she succumbed to the beckoning darkness, whether she was ready for it or not.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
They got back to the base and everyone else filed off the jet. No one had any idea what had happened, but they all knew it was something big. Natasha and Steve had been sequestered in the back the entire flight back.
That was not how things usually went.
Nobody mentioned it as they went about their post mission business. Debriefs, changing out of their suits, showering and just generally trying not to let the wild conclusions they were bound to come to take over their minds.
If it was anything too serious, they would already know about it. Right?
So they tried to go about their lives for the rest of the day, but each Avenger had a little piece of their mind trapped in the back of the jet where Natasha and Steve remained.
Natasha had hit her drop hard. Steve had gotten her to her knees beside him, barely gotten his hand in her hair and she had been gone
Her head fell against his thigh and her body drooped like a puppet whose strings had been cut. There was no subtle shift down; one moment she was teetering on the edge, the next she had no control.
Steve used his other hand to steady her against his leg and got her settled against the wall of a storage shelf behind her. He cursed himself for not having the foresight to grab a blanket or something to cushion her position or cover her with.
Subs in a drop were extremely sensitive to everything, from sounds to touch, so the softer the items they had contact with, the better. Any extra itchiness or chafing could cut into the healing sense of safety and serenity they were supposed to feel in their subspace.
As a good Dom, he should have ensured they had things set first, before letting his sub drop. But he hadn't and he couldn't leave her now. He had promised he wouldn't, not to mention it went against every single instinct, both as a team leader and a friend, as well as a Dom.
Looking around to see if there was anything that could be used for his purposes, he found a trauma bag tucked in a corner. It was awkward maneuvering around Natasha to reach it without disturbing her, but somehow he managed.
Inside was a shock blanket, a bottle of water, ample bandages of all shapes and sizes, adhesive, anesthetic, adrenaline, ice packs, sugar and protein rich snack items, and all the way at the bottom, a tiny stuffed teddy bear.
It wasn't just for the team, although they had each used something from it at some point. Given that most of them were enhanced in some way, they had it just as much for the people they were tasked with saving.
To his knowledge there was nothing physically wrong with Natasha. Nothing observable at least, nothing she had made obvious to him. And with the state she was in, it was pretty unlikely she would've been able to hide it if there was. That was a serious concern Steve had when she was on missions.
He had a feeling she wasn't up to the challenge of covering those kinds of things up for the moment. She had been so focused on making it out, he knew that single minded focus was the only thing keeping her together. It had been painfully obvious just watching her that she was falling apart at the seams.
He was glad he'd managed to get her on the jet and was able to help her let go rather than being forced under by the demands of her own body. For a while there, that had seemed like an inevitability. Whatever had happened that let them avoid that outcome, he was thankful.
Luck was on his side again as he pulled out the blanket, grabbing the water and snacks as an afterthought. Just in case. She looked like she hadn't kept nourished like she should. Thinking on it some, he figured that made sense. If she was struggling with some sort of drug that was altering her this way, or suffering the effects of some kind of traumatic experience, she wouldn't have been in the proper mindset to monitor those things.
She had the means to stay nourished and hydrated. Enough for up to two weeks, kept on their person at almost all times when in the field. She hadn't been trapped, not really. It was only her sense of duty that had held her there. She had the means and the opportunity to care for herself, but she hadn't.
She must have been struggling with this most of the time she had been there, he decided. Pulling it together to push through for their calls, to do her job in figuring out the intel and updating them on whatever they needed to know in the process.
She had done admirably no matter her state, of course. But this made what she had done for them seem damn near impossible.
She nuzzled into his thigh, hand dropping from her lap to between his feet. Her hand cupped around the heel of his boot, like she needed something to hold onto, a physical reminder of not being alone.
Steve looked back in the trauma bag at the teddy bear. Many subs had comfort items like that. Most had a blanket or a pillow, maybe a shirt or other clothing item from their Dom that helped them through drops. Some held onto items from childhood, things like a cherished stuffed animal friend.
It was hard to imagine Natasha appreciating the gesture, even in this state. He knew he was likely going to face her wrath once she had recovered from whatever this was. He decided to swallow down the instinct to try making it better for her now when he knew, logically, it would only make things worse for them both in the long run.
He took the blanket and bunched it up behind her to cushion where her spine must be digging into the metal of the shelving unit. There was plenty of material left to drape over her shoulders and tuck a bit in around her lap to trap some of her body heat, but hopefully not too much.
The adrenaline of making sure they got to the jet and Steve finding her like this, along with her natural fight or flight response would surely make for some temperature fluctuation. Add onto that the fact that Steve was a literal heater, he didn't want her to overheat, but he also wanted to make sure she didn't get chilled against the metal frame holding her upright.
She sagged a bit further against him. There was so much trust in the simple gesture. Steve knew he hadn't earned it. He had betrayed it even before she had gifted him with it.
The best he could do was to try earning it back now. He got himself settled back again, but not before dipping his hand down to scoop hers up and place it between his hand and his thigh in his lap.
He felt her fingers curl into his thigh muscle, nails a blunt pressure through the pants of his Captain uniform. She let out a breath that betrayed how exhausted she must feel and he watched as her eyes fluttered.
Not every drop included sleep for the sub, but it was about resting and restoring the sub's mind and taking away the tension and stress from their body, so it was pretty standard that a drop and a good, hard nap went hand in hand. She would likely sleep longer than her drop lasted.
Steve wasn't sure if that helped the matter or not. On the one hand, he wouldn't have to navigate the minefield of Natasha in a drop, something she shouldn't be experiencing at all.
Then again, it might lead to her waking up even more combative and needlessly on the defensive. Drops left subs very vulnerable, something Natasha was decidedly
not
used to. He had no idea what he should expect from the next several hours, depending how long it lasted.
Sometimes they took twenty minutes, others took hours. The more intense, the more recovery time it would take. Steve was almost positive this wouldn't be a short one.
Shaking himself, he settled in for however long it took.
Technically, if she slept through the end of her drop, he didn't
need
to stay with her. But that wasn't the kind of person he was, let alone the kind of Dom he was. He was not leaving his teammate, his
friend
, to wake up from a potentially traumatizing event in a cold and impersonal setting all alone.
No matter what she threw at him, word wise or even physically, if she felt particularly cornered, it couldn't be worse than what just the thought of leaving her made him feel.
He stroked his fingers through her hair, working through all the tangles that had formed from not being able to care for it properly in days. She gave no reaction to show she was conscious of his presence, but he knew otherwise.
Leaving a sub in a drop, even while they were unconscious or asleep, could cause them real stress, which is the opposite of helpful in such a sensitive state of mind. She was sleeping deeply and peacefully right now, but he was positive if he left that would change.
The flight to get home seemed to take less time than the flight to get there. Steve didn't bother to question the reason for that. He knew damn well it was curled up against his leg at his feet.
He realized, as the sounds from the front of the jet faded, the others must have departed already. That meant they were alone. Well, that was probably for the better. He wasn't sure how he would have explained this if anyone had peeked their head in to check on them.
He startled a bit when the comm line in his ear reconnected. It was Bruce, his soothing voice telling them they were back and taking care of their end of things, business as usual. Whatever he was dealing with with Natasha, he didn't need to rush. They had things well in hand.
He really did love his team. They were very self sufficient when they needed to be. And reliable always.
Realizing how long it had been since they boarded and taking note of the stiffness just starting in his back from trying not to move, he brought his hand back to Natasha's cheek. He turned her head so he could see her peaceful features and decided that, even though she seemed content as she was, she definitely wouldn't thank him for letting her stay on her knees, slumped over like she was for however long this lasted.
Probably the opposite. In the interest of trying to make this whole experience up to her (preferably before she figured out that he would gladly suffer whatever unpleasantness she felt necessary to earn her forgiveness), he decided to move her.
But then came the question: how?
He knew what he wanted. If she were conscious enough to tell him no, he would have tried seating her in his lap, face tucked into his neck. One leg on either side of his lap, he could have her pressed as closely as he had ever dreamed.
Shaking himself, he decided something a bit more neutral would have to do. He wanted her in a position that wouldn't undo all the good a drop was supposed to do for a sub. Waking up entirely in his lap might not be the best thing for her sanity.
Gently, he got an arm wound securely around her waist. He got her up with one arm, using the other to manipulate her limbs and make the transition as smooth as possible. He intended to place her on the seat beside him and have her lean full body against him. Along the way, she had tensed, face scrunching up.
He stopped and placed her in his lap, balancing her across his thighs, legs curled with her knees toward the seat back, face and upper body turned into Steve's chest. Using gentle touches and a soft voice, he soothed her until she was peaceful once more.
He wasn't even sure what he was saying. He knew she wouldn't follow it anyway. It was just the tone of voice he used that mattered. Like a blanket covering her mind, he had been told. His voice would just keep her tucked in, nice and cozy until she was ready to come up again.
Leaving her there felt right. She tucked in against him so nicely. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his chest, the slight tickle of her hair under his chin. Using his other hand, he brought both of hers in, wrapping his fingers loosely around her palms and pressing them firmly into his chest.
When he was satisfied that she was surrounded by
his
warmth, and had gotten the blanket tucked back around them both to keep her that way, he leaned back. He had some serious thinking to do now. He had no idea what needed to happen, where he should go from here. There was just no way for him to know what the next twenty four hours would bring.
Would she wake up and be combative? Would she be shy and ashamed of being seen as weak and out of control? Would she blame him for what happened
like she probably should
or would she blame whoever or whatever did this to her? Would she interact at all or would she go into one of her post tough mission moods where she just tucked herself away in her rooms and didn't come out for a day, sometimes longer?
It was all one big unknown right now and Steve didn't deal with unknowns well.
He sighed and dipped his head to press his lips to Natasha's hair line. It wasn't really a kiss, just a press of contact meant to reassure them both. The warmth and the closeness went a long way to calming the nerves Steve hadn't noticed had gotten so far out of his control.
He noticed his thumb absently stroking her side where he was keeping her securely pressed to him. Doms went into a sort of reactive headspace to match a sub in drop. So while it wasn't unusual for him to act entirely on instinct with a sub like this, it was unusual for him to still be so conscious of every little thing.
Normally he could relax into it because he knew how to be with a sub, how to take care of them. His ability to act as a good Dom was one he never had to question. He knew he was good. He knew he would never hurt anyone depending on him like that.
By this point, there should be nothing but the sub filling his mind: their breathing, their movements, the points of contact between them, only them. But this time he was overly aware of every little thing. His thoughts kept racing, just as fast as they had from the moment he found Natasha.
Even so, he was instinctively acting as a good Dom. His body had slipped into its job subconsciously, despite the lack of cooperation from his mind. Stroking his thumb along her bicep, pressing her cheek into his chest, tucking his chin over the top over her head. And it was all done without a conscious thought.
And it was going to lead him straight into trouble if he let it continue.
Finally, Steve decided that he needed to put Natasha away from him, give himself some distance from her. He needed the space to clear his mind, give him back some semblance of perspective. The problem was, this closeness was exactly what he needed after the dreadfully long week they had passed without her.
The Dominant in him refused to be pacified with having her in his sight again. The only thing that soothed the tightness in his chest that had persisted since leaving her behind a week ago was the feeling of her skin against his, what little was accessible. The rhythm of her breathing where she was tucked into his arms displaying the peaceful slumber only he had been able to provide for her…
He shook his head; that was a thought he could not afford to let take root. It was one he wouldn't be able to weed back out if he did.
Pulling himself back together, he shifted Natasha off of his lap, settling her securely next to him, still half turned into his body. He kept his arm around her, purely for safety reasons, of course.
He tucked her head into the groove of his shoulder, looking down on her smaller form with sadness. People didn't often notice how small she was because she wouldn't let people notice. He often forgot that she really was just a regular human, not an enhanced being like him or like Bruce. She was out there fighting it all right next to him. Literally shoulder to shoulder, matching him nearly battle for battle, often punch for punch, with nothing more than her regular human skin and bone and muscle, her only advantage the nightmarish upbringing she had endured.
After some time of just sitting and providing her comfort, Steve leaned in close to her ear, sneaking his lips to press against her forehead on the way, he whispered, "Natasha. Hey, sweetheart."
She tensed briefly before relaxing back against him.
"I know you don't wanna come back up yet. And that's fine. But we made it. We're home. So as soon as you
are
ready, come back to me. You're home. You're safe. Everything is alright again."
The words were oddly cathartic. He hadn't expected his own overwhelmed response to actually saying them. He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh of relief, lowering his head to rest on hers, and finished in a quiet voice, rough with emotion, "We've got you back now."
They passed another hour just sitting there with Steve soothing Natasha anytime she moved.
Eventually she started to squirm beside him. He realized the time he had with her was limited now and did his best to brace himself for the abrupt return of reality.
It had simultaneously been the longest drop he had ever gone through with a sub and taken no time at all. He hadn't had nearly enough time yet.
Although, if he allowed himself to think about it, he might realize he was fast approaching a point where nothing would ever be enough.
Finally, unable to put it off any longer without feeling like he was neglecting her needs, he started trying to ease her back.
"Okay, Natasha. I know you can hear me. I don't want to rush you, but it seems like you're getting a little agitated." Her rapid shifting died down enough at his words that he knew she was ready. "Just listen, alright? All you have to do is follow my voice."
He adjusted his position in his seat, angling his body towards her. "Just follow my voice. It'll lead you right back to me. I'm right here, Natasha."
Drawing his hand down her arm, he picked her hand up and squeezed it, gentle but firm. "See? I'm holding your hand. I'm the body you're leaning against. Your head is on my shoulder." He felt each point of contact between them as she flexed her muscles, testing, like she was checking that he was really there.
He felt his lips quirk up in a half smile. "That's it. You're just fine. Nobody else has touched you. We're still on the quinjet, haven't even moved. The rest of the team made it back with us, too." Her head pressed hard into the crook of his shoulder.
"As soon as you're ready, I know that Clint would love to see you. Make sure I haven't damaged you since we got you back." The joke fell a bit flat given the situation. "He's been worried, Natasha. Hounding me like crazy trying to figure out what the hold up is. Why I've been keeping you trapped back here all by myself. And you know Tony has to be chomping at the bit trying to figure out what happened. You know how he hates not knowing."
He felt her flinch in his hold, closing off by pulling her knees up, tucking herself in a tight ball. The fine tremors carried from her smaller body into his, fear somehow radiating from her body language even before she was fully conscious again.
Confused what could have set her off so quickly, he questioned. "Natasha? Don't you wanna tell the others you're fine? They've all been just as worried as I was."
The fine tremors turned to all out trembling, her head tossing back and forth where it was still tucked against him. Her arms raised in front of her, barely in control of her own muscles yet still trying to protect herself from some perceived threat.
Taking her hands in his, Steve pressed them together, rushing to reassure her. For whatever reason, talk of the team was aggravating her. After a moment of thinking on why that might be, he thought he might have the solution.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. Is this about the team knowing? Calm down for me, yeah? They don't know anything yet. I didn't tell them anything, okay?" He let out a small chuckle and shook his head. "Honestly, I'm not sure I'd know what to tell them even if I was comfortable sharing this with them. So, don't worry. Whatever happened, we'll get it figured out. Until then, we've got you. You're safe; nothing to worry about."
Natasha was pressing her head further into his chest. She was shaking it back and forth like she was trying to shake off a nightmare. Although he wasn't sure if it was a nightmare or her reality that she was trying to escape from.
Hopefully, if he just kept reassuring her she was safe and that she was out of that place, he would be able to bring her back without undoing all the good the drop was meant to have done for her.
Eventually her eyes started to flutter, like she was trying to open them and just couldn't quite make it happen. He cupped her cheek so he could direct what she saw as soon as she was up. He wasn't sure how comforting the cold and impersonal back of the jet would be for her. It was familiar, but maybe not enough on it's own to make her feel safe. With any luck, seeing him would still be enough to calm her.
The waking process wasn't normally this stressful, for the sub or the Dom. Even with new partners, most subs had gone through enough drops to not need to be walked all the way back up like this. And most Doms didn't have to guess at how to best accomplish that. Their subs would give them an idea of how to handle it before anything happened.
That was not the case here.
Having no idea what Natasha found comforting or even comfortable was a serious drawback for this type of thing. He felt at a distinct disadvantage. He felt like he was having to fight against an invisible enemy, guessing what strategies to use, when to attack, when to retreat, and overall just having no idea which way was safe. He was flying blind and it was one of the more uncomfortable things he had experienced.
"Okay, you're doing great. I know you're not used to this, but you're doing so well for me right now. It's hard, I know. There's no rush. Just come back to me slowly. Little by little, it's all fine. I'm not going anywhere. Only thing waiting for me is a mission report, so please, take whatever time you need."
His thumb brushed against her cheek bone, just under where her eyelashes met her cheeks. He could see her eyes moving behind her lids, seeking out where the nice voice was coming from. Her lips pressed into a flat line, unhappy, but her neck was craning to get closer to him.
He had been told before that the Dom voice helping bring a sub back after a drop was like the best feeling fabric wrapping all around your brain, soft and cool enough to be refreshing, but warm and sturdy enough to guide even the most lost soul back to safety.
He hoped it would be enough to stave off the panic he could already see building in Natasha's increasingly conscious mind.
As her eyes fought to open, he forced his own gaze to settle on the fluttering lashes. Opening her eyes to see her friend, her captain, staring at her lips or her neck or probably anywhere else would be more points racked up against him. He had enjoyed the time he got to admire her while she rested, but that time was up.
He felt his lips draw up in a smile as she forced her eyes open. It only lasted for a split second, not even long enough for her eyes to focus on him, but it was enough.
"Hey, there."
She squeezed her eyes shut tight, like maybe that would fix it, snap them back in line and under her control again.
"No, no. Hey, now. Don't rush, it's okay. That was a hell of a drop, let alone for someone who isn't used to them. Just relax for me, okay, Natasha?"
He watched as she tried wrenching her eyes open again, succeeding marginally more than the first time, but still only managing a brief cross-eyed view of her surroundings.
Sensing what she was most nervous about at the moment was having little to no recollection of the moments before her drop, Steve tried to ease her mind a bit. "Just listen, okay? We're just sitting in the back of the quinjet. Here, stop moving for a second." He needed her to reconnect with her body a little better than she was on her own.
He waited while the little squirms stopped, apparently exhausted enough from her efforts that she would give whatever he was asking of her a try. "Good. Thank you, Natasha, that's great. You're doing great. Now, squeeze your hands. Feel that? Good. That's my hand. Now shake your head for me, just a little bit."
She did as he asked again, and he felt completely unreasonable pride well up in his chest. "Very good. You can feel two things: my shoulder and the back of the seat. Which one do you want to lean on? Or stay between both?" A tiny crease in her brow showed she might not be up to those kinds of decisions yet. Steve reframed the question as something simpler. "Which one is more comfortable?"
Natasha paused, thinking for a second, then tipped her head back pointedly against the seatback behind her. Steve scoffed when he saw the tiny smirk appear on her lips. "Okay, smartypants. I'll let that slide. But only because you spent the whole ride here sleeping against me, which tells me how you really feel."
He was sure she could hear the smile in his voice. It was such a part of their relationship, he hadn't dared to hope they would start this up so easily after everything had gone to shit.
"Okay, next one. Can you press your feet into the floor for me?" He continued slowly guiding her mind back into her body. He figured that must have been what she was struggling with, having watched her try and fail several times to force her own eyes open.
Sometimes a helping hand was in order for these things and Steve was more than willing to be the one to offer it.
He could see the strain in her muscles through her suit as she pointed her toes to get them to reach the ground. He had forgotten that these seats were about two inches too high for her to sit all the way back and still be able to reach the floor flat footed.
He always forgot the size difference between them. Usually it didn't matter because nothing stopped Natasha from doing something she wanted to do, least of all her size. Now he felt a little guilty because it made the task he assigned harder. Oh well, he supposed. Still the same concept and she still managed to make it work.
"Perfect. That's so good, Natasha. Now, one last thing, okay?" Her head twitched in what was almost a nod. "Can you open your eyes for me?"
Natasha scrunched her eyebrows up, as if that was an unreasonable request, but she did it anyway. This time, they opened for a second, blinked shut a couple of times in rapid succession, then stayed open.
Steve knew the moment she focused on his face because all the blood drained from her expression.
Her face, which had been flushed a healthy pink from sleep mere seconds before, was suddenly ashen. Shit. This was exactly what he had been hoping to avoid.
"Hey, no. Natasha, you're fine. It's just me. Just you and me in the back of the quinjet, remember?" Her eyes went wide and her jaw clenched shut. He felt her fingers twitch in his grasp, trying to form fists but unable to do so without ripping her hands from his grasp.
He wondered what stopped her from doing that? Was it shock? Or was she not ready to relinquish that last bit of physical comfort yet?
"You dropped. Something went wrong and you needed to drop. I helped you through it." Her eyes narrowed, but still she said nothing. "Do you know what happened? Did they do something to you?"
He had a whole list of questions to pick from, but in the interest of easing her back into full awareness, he forced himself to cut it off after the first two.
They were the important ones anyway. Everything else depended on how she answered those.
She remained silent, eyes fixed on Steve suspiciously, almost like she was unsure how he was going to react.
Of course. Natasha was easily the most independent member of their team. As someone who hadn't previously needed the comfort of a Dom (or a sub), she would be entirely new to the
mutually beneficial
nature of their sessions.
Well, that happened to be something he could easily fix.
"Natasha. There is nothing wrong with what happened. Really. It's all okay."
The suspicious look stayed firmly in place, so he sighed and continued. "Look, if you think that was all for your benefit, you couldn't be more wrong. I didn't do anything for you that I didn't already wanna do for myself."
At her dubious look, he fished around, trying to find a way to explain that she would actually believe.
"You remember other missions? Remember when someone gets hurt or has a close call and there's all that fussing and that 'Dom brain' stuff that you and Clint always joke about?"
He waited for her to respond. Eventually, she dipped her head in apparent understanding. "You were gone for a week, Natasha. A whole week."
He watched the flicker of acceptance appear in her eyes, the barest hint of understanding that he could build on from there.
"Yeah. So, this was either gonna be the hardest ride back for me, having to keep my distance, or for you, having to suffer through my Dom instincts. Instead, we both got off easy, don't you think?"
Natasha frowned and blinked at him. He let his lips lift up in a small smirk, saying, "I got to take care of you, just like I wanted, and you got to sleep through the whole thing. Win-win, don't you think?"
That made her feel sad for some reason. Of course, he had just helped her through a drop, so she was much more receptive to him than usual, all her focus zoned in on just Steve. Leftover instinct from him being the one to help her through and back out of the drop.
What was it that made it sad though? He was trying to say that he had enjoyed being allowed to help her that way. Of course he would, it was a novelty. If he had to do it all the time, she would wear on his nerves very quickly she was sure.
That she had been unconscious was the obvious answer. But if he knew she was in a drop, that that was what she needed, why would that be sad?
Win-win…
He won because he was allowed to give in to his instincts in a way that would've irritated her had she been conscious. She won because she didn't have to be irritated with him…
He was sad because the only reason he got to give into his instincts was
because
I was unconscious. He never would have been allowed to if I weren't.
But what part of that was the problem? Sure, her needing to drop wasn't great, especially because she was Natasha and she didn't do that, implying something was wrong.
That couldn't be it though. But why else would him getting to take care of her while she was unconscious make him-
No. He couldn't. Could he? Could he think, could Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, think that he had violated her by helping her through a drop?
Was that even possible? A sub needed guidance from someone more dominant than they were, Dom or Switch or even sometimes a particular type of sub. Why would that be a violation? She knew she was dropping, she didn't have a problem with him helping her through.
Well, yes, she did. But it was all because she shouldn't be dropping, she shouldn't need to, and she certainly shouldn't be making her teammate think that she needed to.
He had helped her and, though it had been horrifying, she was grateful. She hadn't had to claw and fight her way back to the surface this time. It was almost… peaceful. Scary, but peaceful.
Racking her brain, she tried to recall what had made him think he was the problem. As she tried to think, she realized she couldn't remember it all that clearly. Everything from the point where she saw Steve, heard his voice in person for the first time in a week, had been covered in a thin haze, like she was viewing it through smoke.
She couldn't even remember returning to the quinjet, just a few brief moments before everything went black. When he had been touching her and speaking so sweetly, even though she couldn't make out actual words…
Oh.
Oh.
She had been so out of it, he thought she hadn't consented to him helping her. It sounded ridiculous in her brain, but what if that was it? What if Steve thought he had taken advantage of her vulnerability, vulnerability that she shouldn't even be experiencing, and now he hated her?
Because no Dom worth a damn would leave a sub to go through a drop alone. He had no choice really, he was stuck doing it. And she was the one that put him in that position. Her and her stupid needs that she just couldn't escape-
"Shhhhh."
His voice cut off her racing thoughts. Even as slow and sticky as her brain was operating at the moment, her thoughts still managed to veer directly into panic, a hailstorm of unpleasant thoughts pelting her already fragile state of mind.
"I can hear your brain screaming at me to stop you." Steve's hand brushed her hair back out of her face again, fingers burying in the strands, pulling just enough to be comforting, to be grounding. "Wanna let me in on what I'm up against in there?"
Looking up to try and calm herself, his eyes caught hers. She stared, the familiar blue doing wonders for her racing heart.
"Okay, back to basics. Take a breath." He took her hand that had been sitting clenched tight in her lap and put it to his chest, unclenching it to stop her nails from digging into her palms as he did. "And let it out again. Just match mine. Good. Really good, Natasha."
They stayed like that for another few minutes, just working through getting her breathing back under her control. Slowly, Steve eased off the pressure of his hand in her hair, but kept her hand pressed firmly to his chest.
She appreciated it much more than she was comfortable admitting.
"Alright. I think it's time to try words again. What do you think?"
Natasha swallowed, as if testing that she had control over her throat again after the horrible constricting it had just done, and nodded.
"Good. Perfect. Okay, now spill." Steve tilted his head to follow her gaze as she tried to look away. "Start with just now and we'll work backwards, yeah?"
She nodded, a very small jerk of her head. It seemed to be enough for Steve.
"So, you just came out of a drop of some sort. You should be the most relaxed person on this jet. And yet, I had to talk you down from what seemed a lot like a panic attack." He was using just enough of
that tone
as he spoke to keep her heart steady at the reminder of her panic. "What happened?"
Natasha shook her head slowly, uncertain where to even begin with that.
Steve nodded. He could see that she was trying. She hadn't shut herself down like he had been so scared she would. Baby steps.
"That's fine. We can come back to that one, then. We can start easier." He paused. "Did you feel unsafe?"
Natasha's head jerked back at the question. How could he ask her that? Of course she hadn't felt unsafe. But then again, if he thought he had taken advantage of her while she was in a drop…
Steve squeezed the hand pressed to his chest, drawing her focus back to him. He was looking at her intensely, waiting for her answer.
"No." Her voice was scratchy and sounded like she hadn't spoken in years. The word barely came out, but Steve's face relaxed at the sound.
"That's good. Thank you, Natasha." She didn't miss the way his shoulder sagged with relief at being told she wasn't afraid of him.
She felt a smile forming at how very Steve that was of him.
"So, you didn't feel unsafe. Did I do something that startled you? Or say something that bothered you?"
The questions seemed silly, but as she thought back, she realized that, yes, that was exactly what had happened.
She nodded, head bobbing down just once. Steve's face froze, expression not faltering, but somehow seeming less natural.
"Right. So, I startled you?" A single shake of her head. "I said something that bothered you, then." Not a question this time, but after a pause, she nodded once anyway.
"Can you tell me what it was I said?" He asked it very carefully, seeming a bit scared of the answer.
"Win-win." She rasped, then she cleared her throat and tried again. "You said it was a win-win."
The look on Steve's face got tight, like he was trying really hard to contain himself.
Probably for my sake
, she thought with a wince.
"Of course, that would upset you. Why wouldn't it? I'm so sorry, Natasha. That was a very careless thing for me to say." He shook his head, looking down in shame. "I didn't mean it. Of course I didn't mean it was a good thing that you were- that you didn't have a say in any of what happened. I am so sorry that I-"
"You were sad."
Natasha's words cut him off before he could go any further in his apology tangent. He couldn't hide his confusion over what she meant.
"You said it was a win-win, but you were sad. You were telling me it was good, but you were sad about it still."
Steve's brow furrowed as he thought about how to respond. He nodded slowly. Carefully, he agreed. "I was. You were unconscious. I was concerned."
Natasha shook her head. "I was in a drop," she corrected him, then added, "and you weren't sad until you said win-win."
Steve looked down, eyes narrowed, trying to process the information. "I'm not sure what you mean."
"Win-win should be good. But it wasn't. Something made you sad. I made you sad." He looked back up into her eyes at her words. "You got to be a Dom, but only because I was unconscious."
Steve flinched back, almost like she had physically struck him. "Natasha, I know that wasn't fair to you. I knew it wasn't right, but I couldn't just let-"
"I trust you."
"You were so-," Steve stopped dead in his tracks. "You what?"
"I trust you, Steve. I may have been out of it, but I trusted you to get me through it. That's why it happened. I finally felt safe again, so my body just… gave up."
"But Natasha, you were-,"
"No, I shouldn't have- I'm better. I don't need it, I never needed it, but I saw you and it all hit at once and I couldn't control it and it just… happened. And you had to deal with it. With me. And you thought you did something bad and it made you sad. And it was my fault."
It all came out in a rush of words that she had no idea she could string together in such a fierce way, as weak as she felt.
"Oh, shit. No. Nat, no, that's not- no. None of that is on you, this isn't something you can stop just cause it's
inconvenient
. That's not how it works."
Natasha was pretty sure that if she wasn't so emotionally overloaded for the day, she would have started crying already. As it was, her eyes felt hot, but the only thing she really felt beyond that was a bone deep exhaustion.
She sagged a bit more against Steve's body. "Natasha, these are things we can't control. I can't control my instincts telling me to take care of you any more than you could control the need to drop, the need to
let me
take care of you. Under normal circumstances, we can keep those things in check, but this was not normal circumstances and
it's not your fault
that you couldn't control it. Nobody can."
"I can." She barely managed a whisper, but she was sure Steve heard her. Her deepest secret on the tip of her tongue, just waiting for her to open her mouth again.
Steve definitely heard, but he didn't understand. "No, Nat, you can't con-,"
"I can." Her spine stiffened again, she took in a deep breath and repeated, "I can. I always have. So either it's my fault, or it's yours."
She heaved herself up, world spinning as she landed on her feet for the first time in who knows how long. She waited until she had steadied herself enough she could tell which way was up, then strode out of the back of the jet, door opening automatically.
She was thankful that the door shut again behind her so Steve didn't see her run directly into the back of a seat as her vision swam and threatened to go dark.
Giving herself enough time for two deep breaths, she pushed off from the back of the seat she was using to orient herself, and stalked off of the quinjet.
Every instinct was screaming at her to go back. She was leaving the Dom that had cared for her so well and she wasn't ready for that yet. She had been so worked up since she came back that she was on the verge of needing another drop, just to calm herself down.
And you're walking away from the best way to do that!
Her mind screamed at her, conscious and subconscious warring against each other.
They were at the Avengers headquarters. She wasn't sure if she had been expecting that or SHIELD, but she could make either work. She just needed to get to her room. Just needed to get through this entryway, find the elevator, and then she would be home fr-
She rounded the corner leading to one of the designated living areas and she froze. She hadn't factored in having to face any of the others. She wasn't sure she would be able to…
That wasn't any of the team.
There was someone sitting in the chair on the left hand side of the room, but it wasn't anyone she was expecting. In fact, it was about the last person she ever expected to see again.
Sitting in the chair, looking alarmed at her sudden appearance, book lying forgotten in his lap, was the only other Dom she had ever trusted.
"Help." She couldn't have done more than breathe the words, but it didn't matter. The man was up and out of the chair, crossing the room in a handful of powerful strides, and wrapping an arm around her waist, just as her body decided it couldn't handle anything else today.
He supported her weight, taking her suddenly appearing then nearly collapsing against him better than she could've expected.
"Elevator." His mouth had been opening to speak, but at her command, it snapped shut again. He gave a curt nod and headed for the doors to the elevator. Natasha did her best to make her feet move, but it was all for show. The man holding her up was doing all the work, but he seemed to have enough understanding of either her or the situation to know not to scoop her up, even when it would have been the easier option.
The AI got them to the correct floor without either of them saying a word. Some distant part of Natasha's mind noted that meant he had been here long enough to understand how the tower operated.
When the doors opened, Natasha had just enough power to turn in the direction of her door. The man understood what the slight movement meant and soon they were in her bedroom, though she had no recollection of getting there.
Quickly, the man set her on her bed, then stepped back, acting as though he needed to reassure her he wasn't a threat. She settled a bit from the clumsy sprawl she had landed in, reaching under the bed for her pillow.
When she couldn't make her muscles work well enough to get it, she cried out, the sound a sob of pure frustration mixed with terror of the impending drop.
It seemed to startle the man by the door from his trance of watching her struggle, and he took a step toward her instinctively, then every muscle tensed up and he turned to leave the room, then shook himself and approached her again, slowly, weighing each step before he took it.
He took her hand from where it was hanging off the side of her bed. Once he had made contact with her skin, his other hand came up to fully encircle hers. The touch of metal was familiar, comforting in a terrifying way.
"What do you need?" the man asked, voice low and precisely measured to remove any hint of Dom. She appreciated the consideration; he was always considerate like that, but just then she would've given anything for him to just take over and release her from her misery.
"You. Stay." Her answer was immediate, the same as it had been the last time he had spoken those words to her. Her vision was fluttering, eyelids too heavy to fight anymore. Not now, surrounded by her own things and smells and the only Dom to help her through a drop until today.
He nodded and just as she was losing the battle with consciousness, he spoke again. One word that set her free.
"
Sleep."
She wasn't even awake long enough to realize it had been spoken in Russian.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
When Natasha awoke, she was in her bed. She could tell, even with her eyes closed. Her eyelids felt heavy, like they do when you're woken up from a deep, refreshing sleep. She had no recollection of getting there, but she had her drop pillow next to her, so she clearly hadn't been in the best frame of mind.
She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this refreshed from a drop. The headphones she sometimes used to cancel out noises when she induced a drop were still missing, which made it even more strange. They had disappeared a couple months back, 'mysteriously,' which meant someone had borrowed and broken them. Her drops had been even worse since.
She could have asked Stark for a replacement, but she hadn't. That meant admitting she needed them, that they made her drops more bearable. She didn't wake up feeling as lost and empty when she used them.
Logically, she knew that it was because when a sub dropped, they were supposed to have a partner with them which allowed them to check out of reality completely because they trusted their partner to keep them safe. When a sub dropped alone, their survival instincts would kick in, keeping their senses overly alert to make sure there were no threats present when the sub was left in such a vulnerable state.
Personally, it felt like a blow. Just one more thing she was dependent on because her biology said so.
Maybe she was acclimating though. She had no headphones this time, and she had never felt this good after inducing a drop. So sleepy and peaceful and warm…
Stretching as her mind came slowly back online, she pushed against her pillow only to realize she had made a terrible error in judgement. What she had thought was her drop pillow, was actually a limb.
And unfortunately, it was still attached to a living human being.
Natasha squeezed her eyes shut tighter against reality, though she knew it was only temporary. Flashes of the day before filled her mind, everything from the mission finally being finished and the team finally returning for her, to her ride back with Steve, dropping then coming back, to barely being able to make it to her room…
No, she hadn't made it to her room. She hadn't even made it to the elevator. She had been helped to her room. Which explained the body she was wrapped up in.
Now that she was more conscious, she recognized that she was laying tucked in someone's lap, curled up with her head pillowed on their thigh, with a leg stretched out on either side of her body. And now that she was moving, a hand had come up to rest on her back, right between her shoulder blades, steadying her.
At first she was startled, but then she was pissed off because someone was touching her like she needed steadying and she absolutely DID NOT need that kind of interaction from someone who just decided to swoop her up and bring her back to her room.
The fact she had actually needed the help did nothing to temper her anger at whoever it was. If anything, it might have made things worse.
Natasha remembered what state she had been in the night before. She knew who she thought she saw walking towards her. She knew who she imagined bringing her up the stairs, but she also knew she was wrong. She had been through too much, her brain had latched on to the last person she had felt safe with in that way, the last person she had chosen to let help, chosen to
seek out
for help, and latched on because it made her feel safer.
Psychologically, it was perfectly reasonable.
But now that she was conscious enough to recognize it, she felt beyond foolish.
Forcing her eyes open, she felt herself tensing for a fight. If she hadn't done so, she probably would have felt the person under her tensing up too, the fingertips digging into her back a bit, dreading the coming confrontation.
She recognized the sweatpants she could see on the leg in front of her. They had the Stark Industries logo printed in blue just below the pocket of the grey material. Simultaneous feelings of disappointment and outrage overwhelmed her.
He allowed her to be the one to break the silence. How thoughtful of him. After he completely disrespected her by spending who knows how much time in her room with her while she was unconscious.
Respecting her now that she was awake didn't seem to quite even things out.
She shoved down the tiny voice pointing out that he had been the one who made sure she actually
got
to her room, the one who helped her with her drop, who had done the right thing. It was Natasha who had the problem, unable to control herself long enough to even get to her room.
Keeping a tight leash on her emotions, whatever they might be, she started, "I'll forego the obvious start to the conversation where I ask what you're doing here and just skip to the part where I ask you to leave."
The word choice rankled. She didn't want to
ask
him to leave, she wanted to
tell
him, to
yell it
at him. To scream it in his face until he understood what she meant and even why she meant it.
She would allow herself none of those things. She had been out of control of herself in front of him plenty in what she figured to be the last day and a half; she wouldn't give anyone more proof to deem her an unstable sub.
The hand on her back pressed heavier and, for a moment, she worried that he wouldn't give this up so easily. She resisted, moved to raise her body from her laying position and, just like that, all weight keeping her still was lifted. The foolishness of her thoughts, that this man could even consider doing such a thing brought blood rushing to color her cheeks.
Raising herself to a seated position with her legs crossed under her, she tucked her hands in her lap and looked Steve straight in the eyes.
He looked like he was experiencing something distinctly unpleasant. Well, good. He should be. If she had to deal with this conversation, then so did he.
"Natasha," he began, but she cut him off before he could gain any kind of power over the conversation. She needed it more at the moment, whether he knew it or not.
"Listen, Steve. Thanks for getting me out, thanks for keeping the others away, but now I'm fine and just want to thank you for leaving my room." She refused to let him break eye contact while she spoke, no matter how much she didn't want him looking at her in that moment.
Maybe he did understand what she needed, because he had the decency to look contrite when she mentioned her room. He looked down at his own hands, bringing his legs in toward himself to loosely mirror her position. When he looked back up at her, she recognized his determined face.
She felt the refreshed and reenergized feeling she'd had mere moments ago deflate like a tire that sprung a leak.
"I'll leave, but not before I apologize for yesterday."
Oh. That wasn't anything like what she was expecting to hear. Not this early in the conversation.
Her surprise canceled out her control over her facial expressions. Not that it was great at the moment anyway, having just woken from her second drop in less than 24 hours with a partner who had Dommed her through both, and in her own bedroom, no less.
He quickly took advantage of her state of shock to get as much of an explanation in as possible. "Look, I know what happened yesterday wasn't exactly 'good.' Or acceptable, even. I understand that this is all new to you, that you've never had to deal with it before."
He looked sad, but continued. "But, Natasha, whatever they did to you, whatever made all of this happen, we're going to get it figured out. And until then, if you wanna keep it all under wraps, I get it. I won't do anything you don't want me to. And if that means not saying anything about," he gestured between himself and Natasha like he wasn't entirely sure what to call it, "then I won't say a word. I swear."
He gave her a moment for that to sink in. Her eyes were glued to his hands where he was holding them up in front of him, between their bodies, like a surrender.
Then his actual words hit her.
He didn't know.
Somehow, by some small mercy, he hadn't figured it out. She had dropped with him twice, and somehow he still had no idea what was actually happening. A part of her was proud that she had sold her role so well that, even when the evidence was right in front of their faces, they still couldn't believe she was a sub.
Another part of her was sad and she felt like crying for some reason.
Natasha did her best to focus on the part that was proud. Focus on the pride in her acting skills and the indignation/outrage at her personal space being so thoroughly invaded. Those were the things that would get her through this.
She clamped her mouth shut and let Steve continue. "I know I need to apologize for how things went on the jet on the way home. I need you to know that, under normal circumstances, I would never do something like that without permission. But you were to a point where either I could help, or you would've trauma dropped. And we've both seen enough of them to know how well that goes. And I couldn't. I couldn't let that happen to you, Nat."
Steve looked like he wanted to reach out to her, but he held back.
Swallowing, he plowed on. "Maybe that was selfish. Maybe I could've held out longer, maybe it could've been handled differently. But you were struggling and in pain and I couldn't just let that continue. Not when it was in my power to stop it, to make it better. So, I'm sorry it came to that. And I'm sorry that you really didn't have any say in the matter. But I'm not sorry for doing what I could to help a friend. I just hope you can see it that way too. Or any other way that lets you forgive me for it. Whether I deserve it or not."
He finished in a rush and damn him for looking so torn up about the whole thing. Natasha felt all the righteous anger she had been clinging to seep out of her, posture noticeably deflating. She had been prepared for a fight, to give Steve hell for taking away her choice in this, for treating her the way all Doms treated subs: like they were weak and needy and couldn't survive without a Dom to make it all better.
Of course, Steve couldn't let it be that simple. Or course, he would cut off her rant before it even got started because he was so worked up about it all himself. Very suddenly, Natasha just felt tired.
She closed her eyes for a few seconds, trying to gather what was left of her thoughts, anything he hadn't already thrown at her to use against him.
Settling for the one question she had that hadn't been addressed, she spoke in a low tone. "So why did you stay? If you knew it was so wrong and felt like I wouldn't forgive you for it. Why are you still here?"
He should have known when he was no longer needed. It wasn't that hard to figure out when someone transitioned from a drop to sleeping. Even someone without instincts could tell. She had seen Bruce make the call plenty of times. He could have left as soon as she slipped into that state of sated unconsciousness, leaving her none the worse for it.
Steve looked guilty again, the brief respite that had relaxed his features when she had opened her eyes and spoke, instead of screaming at him or threatening him with bodily harm, now long gone.
"I came to find you after you ran off." Yes, she had expected nothing less. "It didn't seem right to leave things that way, and I needed to know you were alright, even if you weren't in any state to be settling things between us."
It was nice to hear that he wasn't expecting things to be so easily worked out but she didn't want his play by play. Her patience hadn't been magically rebuilt overnight just because she got a good recharging session in.
"So you found me and just decided to sweep me up to my room? Just decided that was okay?" As she spoke, her anger was building again. Talking about it made her feel helpless again, and the next thing she knew she was lashing at him without ever meaning to do so, although her voice remained deceptively quiet.
"You can't just do that, Steve. This is my space. This is where I don't have to deal with all the bullshit of being an Avenger. You can't just come Captain America-ing all over my one safe place."
She wanted to scream at him. Instead her voice was dangerous and low, the hysterics she wanted to resort to having been trained out of her too long ago for it to fail her now. They had been taught to have the upperhand, and that was one of her best skills.
Steve wasn't one to shrink from a challenge though. He didn't puff up like most Doms who had been challenged by their sub.
A sub, because she wasn't his sub.
Still, most Doms wouldn't be able to take that kind of disrespectful talk from a sub, especially not one they had just spent hours Domming for.
Instead, he took a breath and spoke in what was easily the calmest voice Natasha had ever heard. It wasn't his Dom voice, but it had a similarly settling effect all the same. "Don't you dare make this out to be an Avengers thing. You can look at it however you want from your perspective, but know that this is mine: you're my friend, Natasha. With or without the Avengers, with or without SHIELD, this was about you needing help and me being able to help you. Because I care. Not because I needed the Black Widow, not because I felt guilty because we were on a mission I was leading when you were left behind, but because I, Steve Rogers, care about you, Natasha Romanoff."
He made sure to not break eye contact as he continued. "Now, if you don't think I should have come in here, that's a separate issue. But don't demean it by writing it off as Captain America's sense of righteousness saying it was okay. I treat you as Natasha, I expect you to do the same for me."
Swallowing the lump that appeared in her throat, she threw back, "What, expect me to treat you as Natasha too?"
Steve almost smiled, moving when he heard a knock at the door. "Treat me like a person that makes mistakes. And sometimes, even when I know it's a mistake, I choose to make it anyway. Because some mistakes you can live with. And some you can't."
He tried to pass her to reach the door, presumably to answer it since she hadn't moved to do so yet. She caught his wrist as he came within arm's reach. He stopped instantly and looked down at her.
Pushing past her instincts that agreed with him, that told her arguing was too much, that he was being real with her so she should afford him the same respect, she asked, "So you agree that bringing me here and staying with me was a mistake."
She didn't phrase it as a question, and he didn't treat it as such. "I think it was more than you were ready for." Glancing at the door, then back down at her quickly, he pulled away from her loose grasp. "But I also think you should take that up with him."
Him?
"Him?"
Natasha couldn't process her thoughts well enough to filter them before coming out her mouth. "Him who? We're talking about what
you
did and why
you're
here. Not anybody else."
But her words did nothing to slow Steve on his walk to the door. When he reached out and turned the knob, Natasha felt her heart jump into her throat. It couldn't be. No. She had imagined it. It was Steve who had brought her to her room,
Steve
who had stayed with her through the whole thing and even after, while she slept.
As the door swung open, revealing the masculine figure just beyond, she froze. Even her heart seemed to stop beating as the realization sunk in.
"Bucky. Hey." Steve glanced back at Natasha, checking to make sure she wouldn't protest. At the look of shock on her face, jaw dropped open, eyes wide, he must have decided she wasn't going to say no and moved aside. "Come on in. We were just having that, uh, conversation I said we were gonna have to have."
As the other man entered the room, Natasha gathered some of her wits again and at least managed to stop gaping at the open door like a fish. Steve stood, turning his head between the two of them, then gestured to Natasha.
"Nat, I know these aren't exactly good circumstances, but this is Bucky. He's the one who helped you last night. Which you seem to remember now?" He mistook her look of horror and recognition for horror that someone other than Steve had seen her like that. "Bucky, this is Natasha. I'm sure, had things been different, she would want to thank you for helping her, but as it stands, I'm also sure you can understand her feelings on the whole thing."
Bucky nodded slowly, unable to take his eyes off Natasha for even a second.
"Should I leave you the two of you to talk it out while I go find something for food? It's been," Steve looked down at his watch, "twelve hours since we got back. And I can only assume you weren't eating regularly?" Steve looked at her pointedly, not accusing, but daring her to argue.
She couldn't. She forced her shaky limbs to straighten and scooted off the bed, standing slowly, feeling out of sync with reality after two drops in apparently less than 18 hours. She sensed both sets of hands at the ready to reach out and catch her if she started to fall, but thankfully she maintained her balance and made her way to her closet, grabbing her robe and slippers.
She needed to be covered more than her outfit of undersuit garments offered, but she didn't think she could quite handle getting dressed and wearing clothes yet. "Believe it or not," she shot over her shoulder, "I had other things on my mind."
She was relieved when she turned back around that neither of them seemed to think anything of the shakiness to her voice. "And no, I need to find Clint. He's gotta be driving Tony nuts if you really meant it when you said you didn't tell them anything."
Looking at Steve, she waited for him to either confirm or deny. When he nodded his head, eyes blinking steadily, she took it as truth and headed slowly for the door. She had done well so far at holding her own weight and not stumbling, but she was still thankful when she reached the door and could hold onto it with the excuse of letting Steve and Bucky pass through before her.
"I don't think I can handle much more talking at the moment. Let me go settle Clint down and we can regroup later, hash out whatever we still need to about boundaries and respect."
Both men passed through the door, looking regretful as they did so. They both hesitated in the hall, though Bucky seemed to be waiting more out of awkwardness than any real desire to fix things.
She forced an eyeroll and shooed Steve, expecting his friend to follow. "Go. I'm fine. Shaky, but fine." Giving him something other than just a blanket 'all good' seemed like it might reassure him.
Sure enough, he nodded and faced Bucky, jerking his head down the hall. Bucky looked like he wanted to say something, then closed his mouth, shook his head, and set off in the direction Steve had indicated. Steve waited another second, reaching out to brush his knuckles against the back of her hand gently, reassuring her with just that small point of physical contact, before leaving with a small, still somewhat guilty smile.
Good. At least she wasn't alone in refusing to let it go.
Although Steve choosing to beat himself up over it made Natasha beating him up over it much less enjoyable. Still, she would take what she could get.
Briefly considering actually going to visit Clint, she decided against it. He would need a bit to calm himself down now that she was up and about, and, knowing him, he would come across Steve and… and the three of them would talk and he would begin to calm down just by knowing that she was already back to her usual independent self.
Instead, she found herself on her way to Bruce's lab. She wasn't sure why, just knew that he had always been calming to her. Whether that was because he was always trying to keep himself calm, or because it was the same concept as with animals and babies where they can sense your mood so you have to be in control and relaxed around them, or maybe something else entirely, she just gravitated towards him, since that very first day.
Reaching the lab took no time at all. She had no idea what time it actually was other than there was still sunlight showing through the windows. She could ask the AI, but she felt no inclination to do so. That would force her to admit all the time she had been nonfunctional for and somehow, every second she was out seemed like a tiny defeat.
When she pressed the call button located just outside the door, she didn't expect to be buzzed in so quickly. Last time it took the better part of five minutes and three separate buzzes for her to get the door unlocked. Being let in on the first try was unheard of.
Suddenly hesitant to enter, unsure what she would be walking into, she pushed through the door anyway. When she entered, there was silence. Not uncommon in Bruce's lab as his work tended to be much quieter than Tony's, but normally there was some hiss of chemicals or whir of machinery, maybe even the bubbling of something or another boiling over a flame.
This pure silence was foreign. There wasn't a place in Stark's building that was this devoid of noise.
Eyes finally landing on Bruce after perusing the lab, she took in the corner he had himself situated in. He was in an outfit similar to hers. Soft pants stuck out from under his robe, like he had been woken up very early and hadn't gotten to go back to bed. His glasses were on, the dark hair curling around his ears completely unkempt. He was wearing house shoes, but his socks showed from underneath them, hastily thrown on judging by the mismatched state.
Natasha knew he needed his socks to match. It was one of those 'control the little things' comforts that Bruce had. It was also one of the things that had endeared him to her in the beginning. Tony had no patience for making things match, while Bruce had no patience for things that didn't.
It was another example of how similar yet varied they all were. The Avengers wouldn't have been as enjoyable if they were all a matching set. Part of the charm for her was how ragtag they all were, even when some of their similarities were obvious.
Her need for comfort at the moment seemed to match up pretty well with Bruce's. Her robe was fluffier and tied tighter, while his hung open like he had barely managed to tie it shut to begin with.
"Hey," she started. "Figured everyone would be waiting for me out there so I decided to sneak in here for a bit." As far as explanations go, it wasn't very good, but she knew Bruce would accept it as more than he had known a minute ago and take it for the gift it was.
She loved Bruce for so many reasons, and that was definitely one of them.
He adjusted how he was sitting in the obligatory corner-of-the-lab couch, reaching for his coffee cup where it sat on the table in front of him so he wasn't turned full body to stare at Natasha. There was a chair opposite the couch placed in the actual corner, which left it's occupant free to look out over the entire lab. That was where she usually sat when she visited, just enjoying Bruce's company, or occasionally acting as a sounding board, whether it was intentional on his part or not.
The time he had gotten stuck and spoke his thoughts aloud, forgetting she was there only for her to respond was one of the most entertaining yet terrifying moments she could remember.
It had jolted him out of his thoughts enough that he figured out how to get past his block, at least. It still made her smile any time he mentioned it, and she still maintained that any work from that point on was in part due to her contribution.
She didn't really think that at all, but Bruce was so adorable when he got flustered like he did when she said it. It just became one of their things.
Approaching his corner quickly, she completely bypassed her self claimed chair, and instead nestled in on the couch, tucking herself between Bruce and the arm. There was plenty of space between her body and Bruce's, but the couch was still warm from his body heat where he had been sitting before she came in.
Bruce was visibly shocked by her choice, always having known her to keep her distance unless someone else was the one in need of closeness. He bit his tongue and watched her as she made herself comfortable, curling one leg up under herself, other knee bent up in front of her, foot on the cushion, arms folded across the top of her knee, allowing her head to rest on her hands and fall to the side to watch Bruce right back.
Once she was entirely settled, she gave him a small smile. He returned it, saying, "It's good to have you back." He settled back into his own spot, not attempting to keep any distance between them, arms just barely touching, and drank his coffee.
She allowed herself to stay for a good twenty minutes if her ability to gauge the passage of time was back to normal.
Moving to get up, she thanked Bruce for being such a gracious host. "I just needed a bit of… calm before dealing with anything else."
Bruce chuckled. "And you thought you'd come see me to get that?"
"Of course. Where else would I go?" She had meant it as a joke, but it came out sounding much too sincere.
Standing with her, Bruce drew her in for a hug. It should be awkward, given who Bruce was and how hesitant he always was to touch anyone. "You're always welcome in here, Natasha."
Then he squeezed her again and let go, grabbing his now empty coffee mug and turning to head for the sink he used for kitchen purposes.
"Good luck out there!" She heard him shout as she walked through the door. Eyes rolling, she smiled. Yeah, she had needed to see Bruce first. She felt stronger, more prepared, like she was braced for whatever she was walking into.
The next several hours passed quickly. Clint was unhappy with her, as was expected, but he had calmed down significantly from the tizzy she was certain he had worked himself into before she had woken up.
It was awkward, but she managed to dodge his questions, followed by his and Tony's questions, followed by the questions Tony had for her alone. The last part happened after he and Clint had mutually irritated one another to the point where Clint had been forced to leave. But not before extending an invitation for her to join him in his room any time that evening after she shook her interrogator.
Most of it she could answer. Anything about what had happened while she was stuck on the inside was fair game. Anything that happened between when they showed up to complete the rescue mission and the time she had walked out of Bruce's lab (when she deemed herself truly recovered) was off limits. Only a few stray inquiries had landed in that territory and they were easily redirected.
Natasha decided not to go to see Clint that evening. It was after 9pm when Tony finally tired of poking and prodding her for information. She decided she needed a good scrubbing and to sleep for another twelve hours, this time actually sleeping. Clint could wait for the morning.
She got into the shower and scrubbed herself off. It felt so good to get clean. She heard her phone chime and reached out to see who it was.
It was Steve.
And he was asking to talk.
Pausing, she sent a short message saying she was tired and would let him know when she was ready to talk in the morning. He responded a minute later, disappointment clear even through the screen.
Putting her phone back down, she drew the curtain closed again and turned the heat of the water up a bit. She was feeling a bit shivery still, so she stoppered the drain and let the water run until the tub was full. Sitting down, she let the nearly scalding water soak into her skin, easing an ache she hadn't realized was there.
The water started going cold and she dreaded getting out. The clothes she had grabbed were warm, but didn't quite ward off the chill, even when she upped the thermostat by three degrees from where she normally kept it.
After almost two hours of laying in bed in a sort of trance, with not even the energy to toss and turn, she gave in. Reaching under her bed for her drop pillow, she situated it carefully. By the time she was tucked back in under her blankets, wrapped in her pillow, she was shivering again.
When she was still unable to sleep after another forty-five minutes, she found the sleeping pills in her bedside table and took two, drinking from the bottle of water that happened to be sitting there. She had a sneaking suspicion it was leftover from the night before, which meant it was Steve's doing. Or… Well, she had the suspect list narrowed down to two anyway.
She felt a bit better after that. Less shivery and shaky, a little warmer, a little more settled in her own skin. She tried valiantly not to acknowledge that the change was likely caused by the water bottle that had been left for her. That was not the kind of thing that should make her feel warm and fuzzy, and yet, here she was, feeling exactly that.
She reasoned that she didn't know what had happened last night. The bottle could've been there from before the mission even.
Except that she knew it wasn't.
In an effort to get out some of her frustration at her own weakness, she fluffed her pillow back up, hitting it once or twice specifically in the bend where a groin had been when she woke up that morning. It calmed her some, but a bit of the shaking was back.
Not that it mattered, because the sleeping pills were finally starting to take effect. As it often was, her last thought as she drifted off to sleep was how much better it felt when her head was pillowed on something warm.
The next day, she woke up and was a little off kilter. She managed to get dressed like normal, went about her day. She spoke to Clint a couple of times. He told her he understood that she needed some time to herself after everything and no hard feelings, but to please come to him when she was ready. That conversation ended with a hug, one she accepted because she was certain it was for his benefit and not hers. Not that he wouldn't hug her to benefit her, just because he was still under the impression she didn't need it like he needed it.
She spoke to Tony some. That didn't end in a hug, thankfully. Though she got the feeling it was because he thought she was fragile and he didn't know how a kind touch would affect her.
She shook it off as ridiculous, but deep down she wondered if he wasn't right.
When she walked past the kitchen and saw Steve sitting at the bar, she hightailed it down to Bruce's lab again. It still only took one ring, telling her things still weren't quite right, but the answer wasn't as immediate, and Bruce himself looked more with the program than he had the day before.
They sat mostly in silence, Bruce working away, and Natasha taking comfort in the familiarity of watching him. She had intentionally left her phone in her room, not wanting anyone (Steve) to contact her to try and talk.
Eating a quick salad for lunch, with Tony there for the first half and alone for the second, she revelled in the silence. She found Clint again and he told her about his plans the next time he went to the farm, while she listened, zoning out for most of the details. His voice was so… soothing. She wondered if it was entirely due to familiarity or if there was just something inherently relaxing about it.
Natasha made a microwaveable meal for supper and ate in her room. Or tried to. She managed a little over half before the act of chewing made her gag. Giving up on it and instead going to shower, even though she hadn't done much of anything that day, she laid out the warmest pajamas she had and turned the temperature up again, hoping that, if she didn't have the chance to get cold, she wouldn't have a repeat of the previous night.
Steve had texted her again when she looked at her phone after drying off and getting dressed, just before crawling into bed. Her battery was low, having not charged it the entire day or the night before. Laying in bed, she watched as the battery blinked from five percent all the way down to one before finally dying.
She hadn't responded.
Each percent had felt like a degree of body temperature, lost. Her drop pillow was still out, she hadn't even tried to put it away. It was too comforting and an extra heat source, soaking up her warmth and reflecting it back to her. But even then it was still too cold against her cheek.
After another two hours of gazing off in a trance, she reached out and found the bottle of sleeping pills again. Taking two, she drank a good portion of the water in the bottle. It soothed her, which only proved to frustrate her even more. Eventually capping the bottle, she slammed it down on the nightstand and flipped over, onto her not-sleeping side, just to avoid staring at it like she had been for hours.
She fell asleep soon after, despite the general discomfort of facing the wrong direction.
The morning dawned too soon for Natasha's liking, but she knew she didn't stand a chance at getting back to sleep. Not even trying, she got up and got dressed, digging out clothes she normally reserved for when she had injuries healing and needed something gentle on her skin.
She couldn't describe why, didn't even realize until she had already dragged them on, just knew that everything else felt wrong. Not that anything felt right.
She pushed through eating a granola bar for breakfast, though it tasted awful to her for some reason. Even the coffee tasted off, much too bitter no matter how much sugar and creamer she added. Giving up and pouring the remainder down the drain, she decided to go find a book and wait for everyone else to wake up and file into any of the various shared areas.
About 8 pages into her book, she heard people start moving around. Her heart fluttered at the prospect of being with people soon, her team, then made a conscious effort to refocus on the words in front of her.
But suddenly she couldn't sit still.
As she heard the first door creak open, she got up and walked back to her room. Confused by her actions, she sat on her bed for a moment. When she stood up, placing her book on her bedside table, she wandered over to the door intending to leave, but found herself leaning against it, listening.
It went on this way for the rest of the morning. She couldn't interact with anyone. The moment she heard someone coming, she started panicking and had to leave the room, not even waiting to see who it was.
The only person she felt okay being around was Bruce.
He didn't seem too surprised when she entered his lab for the third time in as many days. They sat in silence again, Natasha pretending to read a magazine that had been left on the coffee table in front of the couch while he worked.
When it was time for lunch, she got up silently and left, coming back with a tray holding several chunks of bread and two bowls of leftover soup to dip it in. She had grabbed two bottles of water from the mini fridge in the little kitchenette area, which consisted of the fridge, a microwave, and the sink he used for his coffee mugs.
They spoke very little while they ate, though Bruce thanked her for getting lunch and then tried to figure out what or who she was hiding from. Which lasted for all of three questions.
"What brings you down here again today?"
"Isn't the pleasure of your company enough?" She had asked, looking down at her bowl as she took another bite.
"Not three days in a row. What's got you on the run?" He tore of a chunk of bread and let it soak, waiting for her answer.
"Come on now, Bruce. Have you ever known me to run from anyone?" SHe smiled at him in a way anyone else would have found disarming.
"No, I haven't. That's what makes it so perplexing. So who is it?" He asked as he scraped the last of his soup up with his last bit of bread.
"What makes you think it's a who?" She raised an intimidating eyebrow at him, not at all interested in allowing the current conversation to continue, despite Bruce providing her temporary safe house.
"You, when you said any
one
, not any
thing
. But if you don't wanna tell me, you don't have to. My lab is open for you as long as you need it. This has always been my safe place from… all of that." He gestured towards the hallway and everything else in the world beyond the four walls that were shielding them from it. "Might as well be useful to someone else for a change."
He smiled and took the tray over to the sink to rinse out the bowls, then went right back to work.
Natasha stayed for most of the afternoon. In fact, she would have stayed longer had Bruce not gotten a call from Tony requesting 'the honor of his presence,' as well as that of his 'beautiful brain' in Stark's personal lab.
When she stood to leave Bruce assured her she was welcome to stay, but Natasha had a bad feeling that if she did, Bruce would have company when he came back. So she declined politely. "Thank you, but I really should stop hiding out down here." Her lips even attempted a smile, though it felt brittle to her and she dropped it quickly lest she scare the one person she felt comfortable around still.
Bruce touched her arm on their way out of the lab and she felt goosebumps rise in the wake of his warmth. "Whatever you feel like you need to do."
And then she was alone again. She went directly to her room, not even chancing a trip to the kitchen. It didn't matter, she wasn't hungry anyway. Eating her whole meal with Bruce had been a lot compared to what she had been eating.
It was late enough she could reasonably retire for the night, so she did. She decided to run a bath, not wanting to bother with a shower. Sitting in the steam of the hot water, she stared at the surface without seeing, without thinking. The next thought she had was that the water was cold and she was starting to shiver again.
The thermostat was still where she had set it the night before, so she didn't touch it. She got dressed, pulling on the discarded pajamas from the night before. Crawling under the blankets on her bed, she formed her pillow into the right shape and didn't even bother resisting, just grabbing for the sleeping pills right away like they would solve all her problems.
Natasha swallowed the pills and finished the bottle of water, rolling over and burying her face in the pillow, allowing sleep to claim her.
The next day was no improvement. She set out to see people, wanting to share a meal with her team, but had no success. Clint found her before she could retreat back to her room and questioned where she had been the last two days.
She had experience avoiding these questions when she was recovering from dropping alone. Avoiding questions wasn't so easy when you had just gotten back from a mission gone wrong/sort of being held hostage but not really.
Her answer was, of course, that she had been spending time with Bruce. Clint was the only one who knew why she spent time with Bruce. The others thought it was just an effort to keep him company and occasionally pester him enough that she got a reaction from him, which she did enjoy.
Clint knew it was for the sense of calm and comfort she got from being around him. He accepted her answer and pulled her in for a quick hug before anyone else came, shooing her from the room so she wouldn't be faced with whoever the approaching footsteps belonged to.
She had managed to steal an apple from the kitchen along with an individually packaged, cheap cheese danish, the kind that you bought in bulk. Who lived with Stark and still bought that kind of thing, she had no idea, but they were her personal hero for allowing her to make a clean getaway.
She ate the apple first. It was very slow progress, but she blamed that on trying to read and eat at the same time. Distracted from the food by the action on the page, she gave up after eating half of it and put it in her mini fridge.
Laying down, Natasha decided she should try taking a nap. She had never had this kind of funk last so long after a drop, and it didn't seem to be getting better yet. In fact, if she thought about it, it seemed to be getting worse.
She resolutely decided not to think about it.
Getting under the covers, she got out one sleeping pill instead of two, knowing she shouldn't take any during the day, but also knowing she needed something to snap her out of whatever this was and knowing a little extra sleep couldn't hurt. She swallowed it dry, and flopped over onto her stomach on the bed. She passed out before she could wonder how long it would take to fall asleep.
Waking up two hours later was not surprising. The sound of knocking on her door, however, was.
"Natasha." It was Steve, because of course it was. He sounded like he knew she was there, but he didn't push. She was thankful.
His sigh was loud enough she heard it clearly through the door. Heavy footsteps took him away from her room. She knew making noise when he walked was a choice he made when he was home, because there had been plenty of times on missions that, despite his size, he moved as silently as she did.
She was thankful he let her hear his retreat as well.
Her nap had taken her past lunchtime, but she dutifully went to grab the rest of her apple from the fridge and the cheese danish she hadn't touched that morning. She managed to finish the apple, but picked at the danish, managing a few bites at best. Tucking it away she decided she would at least make herself finish it before she went to bed.
She passed some more time reading. Normally she would have more to do, either training of some sort, or cleaning and maintenance on her weapons. For obvious reasons, she didn't have the energy for the former, but she had no idea why she felt no inclination towards the latter.
Anytime she even considered picking up a weapon, her body rebelled.
So, reading it was. She didn't even bother trying to visit Bruce that day. Just hung around in her room.
Several times she thought she heard movement outside her room, but it always passed with no attempt to enter, so she opted to ignore it. She didn't have the energy to deal with it if it wasn't directly inconveniencing her.
Showering that night, she took extra long getting clean. She wasted time under the water, paying extra attention to detail when shaving, using the special face wash she had whose directions said to use once a week, even using a hair mask on her hair, just to pass the time. Her desire to avoid going to bed winning out against the haze she was barely existing in.
Transitioning to a bath, she sat in the water until it started cooling down, then she unwrapped her arms from around her knees and stood up, toweling off quickly with the scratchy towel. She pulled on the pair of pajamas from her first night back and retrieved her danish, forcing herself to finish it even though chewing made her gag after just a few bites.
After throwing away the wrapper and brushing her teeth, she got back into bed. Her room was warmer than she had ever kept it before and she still felt cold, so she buried herself under her blankets. Grabbing blindly for her sleeping pills, she poured two out then grabbed for the bottle of water.
When she saw it was empty, she placed it back on the night stand and started shaking. She decided it didn't matter how recently she had dropped, something had to give. She placed the sleeping pills back on the nightstand and dug out the medication she used to induce a drop.
Desperate, she swallowed the pill dry and shoved her face into the drop pillow she had become so dependent on. She could feel the medication working quickly, but her body was trying to fight it for some reason.
Where normally she could talk herself down mentally, now she was struggling. The voice in her head wasn't enough. No, now that she had had more, her body was demanding it. But it was too late. She had taken the medication already and this was as good as it was going to get. She clenched her jaw and braced for what she was sure was going to be one of her worst drops yet.
Her only rational thoughts as she went under were,
I can't wait for this to be over already
, and
He was right outside earlier. Why didn't he just come in? Why didn't you just let him in? Why?
running on a loop, slowing as she succumbed to the wave pulling her under.
Waking up the next morning was a struggle, as it always was. There was no warmth, no coziness, no peacefully refreshed feeling like she had gotten from waking up with Steve in her bed.
But she felt more in control. She felt more like she could fight her way back from this.
There had been no feeling of being able to push through for the last few days. That had felt like she needed someone else to fix it. This, though. This was familiar and she knew it was up to her to make it through.
First, she made herself get out of bed. Then she plugged her phone in to charge. It had been dead for two days if she was remembering correctly when it had died. She was sure there would be plenty of messages waiting for her.
She dressed herself in normal clothes, not allowing herself to search for more soft clothes, opting instead for jeans and a simple baby tee. The only allowance she made was a pair of plush, fuzzy socks on her feet. Then she brushed her teeth, brushed her hair, grabbed her book, and thought about going to check her phone, but decided against it. It had only been ten minutes since she plugged it in. It still needed plenty of time to charge and she needed some more time to reacclimate before dealing with whatever was waiting for her there.
Natasha left her room, head held high, fully expecting everyone to pounce after spending the entire day in her room yesterday.
It was later than she usually emerged, so Tony was already off doing things either with the company or in his lab. Steve was nowhere to be seen when she entered the kitchen and neither was his friend so she assumed they were somewhere together.
Clint entered the kitchen just as she was sitting down with another cheese danish, a bowl of grapes and cup of coffee making it at least seem like a meal. The grapes were really what sounded good, but she needed to prove she could make it through a whole danish in one sitting, that yesterday had been a fluke and she was better than that.
"Wow. You sticking around today?" Clint asked as she scooted her chair in at the table. He grabbed an apple from the fridge and what looked like the last glass worth of apple juice in the jug and came to join her at the table. He took a bite of the apple and set the jug down.
"Yeah. Are you actually eating an apple and drinking apple juice with it?" He didn't answer, but from the way he unscrewed the lid and took a swig, she got her answer anyway.
"That's disgusting." But when he grinned at her, she smiled back.
"At least I'm not pulling apart a pastry like it personally offended me." He pointed out. Taking note of what her hands were doing finally, she realized that was an accurate description. She dropped the pieces and brushed the crumbs off her fingers, taking a sip of coffee. It tasted more like it was supposed to today, thankfully.
"What happened to your obsession with coffee?" she asked, used to seeing Clint wandering around with some sort of coffee mug, especially in the morning.
"Ah. I've been limited to one a day." He grimaced, clearly unhappy about it. "And I've been up for hours already, so it's long gone."
"One a day?" She questioned, watching him take another bite of apple, wondering when and why that had happened.
"Yep. Too keyed up while you were gone, apparently. Stark took my coffee privileges away. Claimed my 'rights' only afforded me one a day, the rest were 'privileges' and they were being abused."
Natasha wanted to laugh, but the casual mention of her time away kept her pretty sober. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she glanced at him while taking a bite of her danish. "You are an adult, you know. You could just make your own."
"Oh, if only it were that simple. He's got all the electronics patched through the damn AI. And he's got me locked out from anything related to coffee."
Mentally going through the list, that meant the coffee pot, french press, keurig, and probably the vending machine down in the lobby that sold the little bottles of iced coffee, since he hadn't specified just the ones that brew coffee.
"You could always leave and buy your own." She pointed out. He looked less than impressed by her suggestion. "Okay, fine. But then you can't complain about not having coffee if you aren't going to try and solve the problem."
Clint shrugged. "You're back now. Hopefully, he'll realize the error of his ways and let me have it back. Since I have no reason to be worked up anymore."
"Right." They sat in silence after that, eating their respective food, Natasha sipping her coffee while Clint watched with a jealous look in his eyes. He finished his apple and stood to throw the core away, finishing off the jug of juice and disposing of it as well.
"I gotta go. SHIELD, something about a mission." He waved a hand dismissively. "I'll see you later though." He came over, kissed her forehead, and left the room, waving back over his shoulder at her.
"Right." She said again, stunned. That was not what she had been expecting at all from her first day back among the rest of her team. There had been no relief, no awkward references to her experience, no mentions of what had happened afterwards, nothing. The only mention of the whole thing had been perfectly casual, and while she thought she would prefer that, from Clint it felt an awful lot like the whole thing was being brushed off.
Maybe from the others, that would be preferable. But from Clint, it felt like a snub.
Finishing her breakfast was a blur. She knew she didn't finish the danish, although she comforts herself with the fact she could have if she had wanted to. Much easier than she had the day before. Grabbing a water from the fridge, she took her bowl of grapes and her book to the living area and set up in a corner of the big couch.
About fifteen or twenty minutes later, she had made very little progress on her book when Tony walked in. He saw her sitting in the corner of the couch, smiled, and sat down in the armchair closest to her. The tablet he was working on sat in his lap as he sipped on his coffee, stealing glances at her every once in a while.
It was getting on her nerves, but she chose to just let it happen. Finally, he set his coffee down and leaned forward over the tablet in his lap. "So. Struggling to rejoin society?"
Tilting her book down to see him better over the pages, she shrugged. "I just worked for a week straight. Figured I deserved a few days off to spend how I like."
Tony nodded, "Uh huh, that makes sense. Now, which part of hiding out in your room was your choice though? Or was it the running away from any potential human interaction? Don't get me wrong, I know most of the people here are an acquired taste, but hightailing it out of a room just 'cause you hear footsteps heading in your general direction? Seems a little extreme to be calling that a day off."
Rolling her eyes, she tipped her book back up. "If that's what you think I've been doing, I might be inclined to agree. But you don't really have any proof of that, do you?"
She knew it would drive him nuts, not being able to prove that it was exactly what she had been doing. Her heart was beating too fast for her to keep the blood from rushing to her cheeks though. And that was as good as an admission of guilt from her.
"Well, there's the fact that nobody saw you yesterday. Or the day before, really. But you weren't in your room the day before. So, where have you been hiding? Holed up with Steve again? They must have really done a number on you back there, to put up with his star spangled ass for that long."
Natasha knew what Tony was doing. He was fishing because he couldn't stand not knowing things. He was relying on her still being off kilter enough to let something slip.
Much as it had frustrated her coming from Clint, she wished Tony would just act like nothing had happened.
"What are you saying about my ass, Tony?" Steve asked from the hallway leading to the living room. When he entered and saw Natasha, he paused, Bucky almost running into him at the sudden lack of forward motion. "Oh, Natasha. Hi."
Natasha froze. She had spent all day yesterday wanting human interaction with these people, but now that she had it, she wanted nothing more than to escape it.
Steve looked around, trying to decide where to sit, carefully avoiding looking at Natasha. He chose the armchair placed opposite Tony's, farthest away from her.
Bucky hadn't moved, still staring at Natasha. She was doing her best to hide behind her book, but she could still feel his eyes on her, almost a physical presence just as much as Steve's effort not to look at her. Bucky went in the opposite direction and lowered himself onto the loveseat next to Tony's chair.
"Ha! See, even Barnes needs space from you." Tony smirked, not overly kind, but still leaps and bounds from where they had been months ago. They were all in the same room and there was no screaming or silent treatment glaring going on.
"What?" Steve asked. He looked between Tony and Natasha a couple of times, not following how the conversation had gotten there. "I'm sorry, what were you talking about when we came in? I get the feeling we missed something."
"Oh, nothing major. Just trying to figure out where Little Red over here has been hiding out. Figured, based on the jet ride back home, she may have holed up with you."
Steve still looked confused. "The jet ride…" Natasha shot Steve a look and he immediately backed off. "No, Natasha. I didn't tell him anything about it."
"Oh, but there is something to tell, is there?" Tony asked, leaning his chin on his palm, gesturing to 'go ahead' with the other.
"
No
." Steve looked at Natasha, clearly picking up on her distress no matter how well she managed to hide it. "I'll only tell what you let me tell, and only to the people you want me to tell it to. I swear, Natasha."
He looked so earnest saying it. She could tell Bucky was watching them intensely from the corner of her eye, but she refused to look at him. She nodded slowly and stood, closing her book as she went. Grabbing her water and now empty bowl, she gave Steve a small smile and returned to the kitchen, depositing the bowl in the dishwasher and getting ready to return to her room.
She could hear the bickering going on in the living room, so the sound of footsteps right outside the kitchen doorway surprised her.
Expecting to see Clint, or maybe even Bruce braving the land of the living for the first time since she got back, she was startled to see Bucky in the doorway, the fist of his metal arm clenching and unclenching like he wasn't sure what he was doing there.
Bucky spoke first. "Hi."
Raising her chin, Natasha stared him down, responding with a cold, "Hello," of her own.
Bucky came into the kitchen slowly, leaning on the first counter inside the doorway and leaving plenty of space between them. "I'm… I wanted to apologize. For… the other night."
He grimaced like he knew how awkward that sounded and didn't approve of his own attempt at all.
"What about it?" She refused to let his awkwardness about it let him off the hook. There was a whole litany of things he should be apologizing for, he could manage to narrow it down.
She watched his jaw clench before he spoke again. "You came in and you looked… You were stumbling around like you couldn't see straight and you asked for help and I couldn't…" He stopped, took a breath, and restarted. "You asked for help and I know you probably thought I was someone else, but I couldn't just leave you and find someone better."
"Find someone better?" What was he talking about?
"I know you shouldn't help someone through a drop when you don't have their consent. But you came right to me, so, in your mind, I must have been someone else, someone you knew and trusted. So I got you up to your room and settled, then I called Steve so he'd be there with me."
"Steve?" Why did he need Steve there?
Bucky seemed in a hurry to get this conversation over with. "Yeah. He came up and told me some of what was going on, as much as he knew at least, then went to clean up and get some rest. He warned me it might be a long night."
Steve had told him… So Steve hadn't quite been telling the truth just now in the living room. Though, she supposed she would rather have Bucky know
something
as far as why she had done it, rather than just thinking she was an unstable sub who ran up to him in the hallway halfway to her second drop in less than 12 hours.
"But you left…" Natasha was having a hell of a time wrapping her head around what he was trying to tell her. Maybe she should have had this conversation with Steve.
Bucky looked guilty at that. She hadn't meant it accusingly, but he obviously took it that way. "Yeah, he, uh, he came up to see how you were doing and I told him it was over, that you were just sleeping. But we didn't want to leave you on your own, to wake up alone. He sent me to freshen up some and take a breather and he stayed with you while I was gone."
"You were coming back," she said. That part fit at least. Shaking her head, she focused on the important part. "But why did you call him?"
Bucky looked at her like the question was ridiculous. He answered slowly, like maybe because of the sensitive subject matter, she wasn't following. Which might be more true than she wanted it to be. "You couldn't wake up with a complete stranger as the only person around. You might not be involved with Steve that way, but at least you had met him before collapsing in his arms."
Complete stranger.
Stranger
.
He didn't remember her.
He had no idea the history they shared, the reason she had trusted him on instinct.
Numb, she nodded and turned, taking off down the hallway, heading for her room.
"I'm sorry!" Bucky called after her like he didn't know what else to say to her retreating figure, clearly thrown by her abrupt departure. Natasha just knew she needed to get away and fast.
When she got to her room, she closed the door gently then leaned against it, the support welcome since she was feeling shaky again. Not anything drop related, just generic, earth-shattering, belief-crumbling revelations shaking the very foundations of what she thought she knew.
Not only was Bucky alive, the one person who knew she was a sub, but he had no recollection of it whatsoever. The tiny spark of painful hope she had been harboring since seeing him in her bedroom doorway flickered out so fast she felt the hole it left in her chest.
She didn't even have the energy to sink down the door, frozen in place by the realization that whatever small possibility there was of her secret being discovered no longer existed. And instead of relief, all she felt was numb and overwhelming loneliness.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Natasha spent the next two days avoiding everyone. She spent some time in her room, she spent some time going into SHIELD to deal with the paperwork and anything else they needed from her in regards to her week long absence, and she spent most of the rest of her time anywhere the other Avengers weren't.FRIDAY became her greatest ally. She made sure to phrase her questions so they would seem innocent enough, simply requesting the locations of the various residents she knew would be around at whatever time she was trying to leave her room.After all, there were a lot of things Natasha could be, but desperate was not one of them.As she altered her route to take her to the gym after being notified that Clint had taken the elevator to the library floor, her original destination, she amended that thought. She may be desperate, but not desperate enough to be careless about it. There were too many people on the team that either knew everybody's business, or felt like they needed to know everybody's business, for her to not be exceedingly careful.Either Steve or Tony was sure to think of checking with FRIDAY about her movements, at least within the building. Steve out of misplaced concern for his teammate, Tony out of sheer nosiness. She winced internally and admitted there was maybe a little concern... Either way, she made sure FRIDAY had as little to report back as possible. They would find nothing blatantly off about her behavior, no premeditated plans to be antisocial, just an unfortunate lack of desire to join anyone in… whichever room they were occupying or whatever activity they were participating in."Thanks for the heads up, FRIDAY. I actually need to hit the gym instead. Completely forgot I was supposed to start adding my training workouts back in today." "Should I ask Agent Barton to join you?"Natasha paused. He was her usual partner, but- "Was he going to the library to look for me? Did he ask about my location at all?"Maybe she was being paranoid, but there was something off about Clint going to the library when it was deserted."No, Agent Romanoff. No one has inquired as to your whereabouts."Natasha felt a fist of tension release in her gut at the unintentional reassurance. "Good. Then I wouldn't bother him with it. If he's actually going to the library, I'm sure it's for something important. Better let him do it, otherwise it'll be a year before he goes near the place again."She tried laughing at her own joke, but it was a bit hollow to her ears. Hopefully it was natural enough to continue 'fooling' the AI.Spending her evening in the gym was surprisingly peaceful. She really had missed the training aspect in her plot to avoid her teammates. Not that she would have been allowed to join even if she had tried. She was sure they would have been quick to use her recovery from her recent 'traumatic experience' as an excuse to send her away. Nobody came in to join her, which was as much as she could hope for. She really missed sparring and doing things with the team, but as she worked on getting her muscles (and head) back into the game, she allowed herself to admit how unprepared she was to handle interacting with any of them.Steve was going to want some explanation, or to try and figure out what was wrong with her. And now it would be about more than just what had happened on the jet. There was a whole extra layer he was going to want to dissect and she had no answers to give.None that she had prepared, at least.On a normal day, having a conversation or two with Tony might have given her some ideas. He had an overly active imagination and was used to spewing made up details to fill in the cracks. What an unfortunate time for that to come in handy, after the one mission that left her barely able to stand being around anyone, let alone Tony with his overly curious, genius brain that had a real shot at figuring things out if he was ever given all the pieces to the puzzle.If anyone could do it, it was Tony. Though, to be honest, she wasn't sure why Steve hadn't figured it out yet. The only explanation she could come up with was that he was just too close to the puzzle to figure out how all the pieces fit together. Natasha told herself that, whatever the reason, she was thankful for the chance to cover it up.Her biggest concern at the moment was Bucky. She had been forcing herself to think about him as often as she could stomach, trying to reconcile the version of him that she knew, with that of Steve's oldest friend. It had gotten easier, but it still took effort not to see her old instructor any time she caught a glimpse of him. On the video monitor, of course, as she had been fortunate so far and hadn't even glimpsed him in passing.Natasha allowed herself to get lost in the monotony of her routine. Eventually, she realized she was physically exhausted. She had pushed herself a bit too hard for a first day back. No big surprise considering she had gone full steam ahead on one of her standard workout routines, albeit one of the lighter ones.Finally calling it quits even if she hadn't quite reached the end, Natasha made herself head back up to her room. She was exhausted enough that her mind was finally quiet. Unfortunately, that meant she completely forgot to check with FRIDAY to see if there was anyone between the gym and her room.Almost immediately after exiting the elevator so she could stop by the kitchen on her way to locking herself in her room, she ran into Steve. It seemed her luck had run out.He was seated at the table, a book in one hand and either a fork or a spoon in the other, one end obscured by the edge of the bowl it was hovering in. He wasn't looking at either thing. Instead, his eyes were fixed on Natasha, even though she had barely rounded the corner. He said nothing, but he looked like he was waiting for her to bolt back out of the room.Everything in Natasha's brain said she should do exactly that, but the part of her that had been craving human interaction, team interaction, maybe even this interaction, froze her to the spot. The internal debate that followed was miserable, but at least kept itself relatively short. The conclusion of which was that since running was what Steve expected, it was no longer an option. Natasha had managed to keep the upper hand (and her privacy) this far by never being too predictable, she wasn't about to stop now.Squaring her shoulders and quirking an eyebrow in question (and with more confident energy than she had felt since well before the Mission Gone Wrong), and waited for Steve to comment. He just shook his head, and looked away momentarily, but he didn't even try to stop himself from going right back to staring. Ignoring it and figuring she had probably earned at least that much, she moved further into the kitchen, heading over to the fridge and grabbing the first container she found with no name on it. No name meant free game, those were the rules.Cracking the container open, she couldn't quite identify the food, but it was some sort of noodles with tomatoes which seemed harmless enough. Not that she could go back to the fridge to find something else with Steve staring at her like that. That would be too close to admitting a weakness.Putting the food in the microwave was a mindless task, and she spent the entire time her food was heating up cursing the fact that she was so stubborn. The plan had been to find something to take back to her room, something that didn't require dishes, or eating at the table, or company. But if she managed to get Steve off the trail of 'what's wrong with Natasha,' then maybe it would be worth it.The microwave beeped and she got a plate out to dump the pasta onto, grabbing a fork from one of the drawers and bracing herself to go sit by Steve. It's what she would have done a month ago, so it's what she forced herself to do then. Once seated, Natasha found that it didn't feel as wrong as she had thought it might. She didn't feel the urge to crawl out of her own skin, she didn't feel unstable like she had the last time she had talked to Steve, she didn't even feel pressured to talk to him like she had expected. In fact, the only thing that made it awkward at all was Steve's refusal to look away from her, like he might be imagining the whole thing and expected her to disappear the second he turned away.So Natasha stared back, then cleared her throat pointedly. Steve twitched backwards a bit, but didn't act like he had done anything wrong. Really, he hadn't, Natasha reminded herself. She was the one that had been gone for a week, then practically gone MIA again as soon as she had come back, even if she was safe inside her own home that she shared with the other Avengers.Cutting her food provided a temporary distraction, but she could still feel whatever weird mood Steve was in, even without looking at him. In an attempt to break the silence and get Steve's eyes off of her, she asked, "Can you hand me a napkin?"That seemed to jerk him out of it. His eyes went wide for a second upon hearing her voice, but he must have realized the whole situation was actually happening because he was quick to comply after that. He reached out, got a napkin from the holder in front of him and passed it to Natasha, although it took him a moment to release it when she went to take it from him.After he let her take it a half a beat too late, he looked back down at his bowl, though it seemed to take a lot of effort. His gaze still flicked up to her face every few seconds.Feeling like another attempt at conversation was the normal thing to do, she tried again. "Whatcha got there?" She nodded at his bowl when he gave her a blank look."Oh!" He looked down, eyeing the contents of the bowl in front of him. "I'm not sure. It's chicken and it's Tex-Mex flavored though. Could probably use a little more cheese. But it's good. And it was unlabeled in the fridge, so… minimal effort."He shrugged and Natasha nodded. Steve didn't usually mind cooking, but never when it was just for himself. He preferred to cook big meals for when the team was getting together to share a meal. Any other time, like most of the team, leftovers and microwaveable meals tended to win out."And you?" He asked, peering over at her plate of pasta curiously.She frowned at it, then took a bite. It was surprisingly spicy and she must have made a face because Steve had to choke back a laugh before he could ask, "Not what you were expecting, I take it?"Natasha grimaces, realizing she never grabbed a drink. She had been planning on drinking whatever was left in her room and hadn't thought this far ahead when she'd been trapped by Steve's presence. Damn him, always throwing a wrench in her plans. She hoped it wasn't becoming a habit."Not exactly," she coughed, trying to subtly regain her composure. She was still working on getting her balance back with the team, this ridiculous episode was not working in her favor. A month ago, tasting poison wouldn't have shaken her. Now, all it took was a bite of some unexpected spice? Might as well resign her title now.Steve actually did laugh for a second, but he stood and started walking backwards as he did so. "How about I get you a drink? Then would you be able to answer?" Natasha glared at him, but didn't respond. Partially because she didn't know how to respond, partially because a drink sounded like exactly what she needed, but she'd be damned if she asked him for one.Not that she needed to ask, because he was already halfway to the fridge when he grinned at her and turned around to finish the walk. She was pacified to a degree when he bent down to get some extra cheese out for himself along with the two bottles of water he grabbed, presumably one for each of them. By the time he reached the table again, Natasha had made peace with the fact he had gotten the water for her instead of letting her get it herself. Maybe he knew she wouldn't have out of sheer stubbornness, since they were relatively similar in that respect. Then again, would he have gotten up to get the cheese and water for himself if he had still been eating alone? Or was the entire trip just for her benefit, and grabbing the second water and the cheese for himself were just to appease Natasha's (presently fragile) sense of independence?When Steve slid back into his seat after depositing one of the water bottles on the table in front of her plate, she was left staring at him suspiciously. He met her eye and smiled back, innocence painted on his face like a mask as he opened the cheese and poured an unhealthy amount into his bowl. When he had finished, his hand immediately went for the water bottle, opening it pointedly. Natasha was tracking his movements closely, but he paused and waited for her to make eye contact again before downing half the bottle in one shot.It was far from the first time she had thought the team might know her too well.She managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes, but it was a near thing. "Thanks," she managed instead. Steve just nodded his head in acknowledgement, grin returning much too wide, and went back to his food.The water was perfectly cold when she opened it and it did the trick on setting her tastebuds back to baseline. On her next bite, now that she was prepared for it, she found that the flavor was quite pleasant, if a little stronger than she would normally have preferred. Probably one of Bruce's dishes then. He had a tolerance for spice that reached well above anyone else on the team. This had probably been downright mild to him.There was a joke in there somewhere about spice and the big, green, rage monster, but that was definitely Clint or Tony's territory, so she steered clear.They finished eating in silence. It wasn't quite companionable the way it always had been before, but it wasn't uncomfortable either. It just… was.The only time they came close to communicating again was when Steve cleared his throat and reached for his water again. Natasha looked up and watched as he gulped down the rest, giving an exaggerated sigh of content when it was gone.Resisting rolling her eyes the first time had been a miracle; she didn't even try to stop it the second time. Steve saw it and let out a laugh. It felt almost normal and the corner of Natasha's lip even ticked up into a small smile at the sound. It wasn't terribly familiar as Steve, like the rest of the team, often struggled with the concept of being happy, but it sounded very Steve and it set something Natasha rarely acknowledged within herself at ease.When he recovered, he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, arms crossed. He looked down at his lap for a moment and sighed. She felt the knot reform in her gut because she knew what was coming. She should have known she wasn't going to get away that easy. When Steve looked up again, his eyes held an unspoken apology, and his posture was casual, but his face was set in that kind but firm 'Captain' look that said not to even bother arguing."Look. I know this is the last conversation you want to be having right now. Or ever." His hands flexed, raised from where they lay on his arms. It was a clear waving of a white flag, conceding that he understood where she was coming from even if he didn't agree. "But I have to ask. You know I do."Natasha closed her eyes for a moment. She opened them again to push her plate away. The food was only half eaten, but her appetite was magically gone. Then she intentionally mirrored his position and faced him head on. She debated trying to cover up her feelings with indifference, but that would only make Steve push all the harder. Natasha had been trained to deal with people on an expert level. She knew when to hide, but she also knew sometimes it was just as strategic to let yourself be found. As long as she could control just what it was that he found. Hopefully, she could avoid being caught if he just thought she wasn't hiding anymore."What's been going on the last few days?" Then he stopped and frowned like that wasn't really what he meant to say. "I mean, how've you been? Since we got you back, it's almost like… ""Like?" Natasha had a feeling she knew where he was going with it, but she had to let him say it first. And that might give her a bit more time to figure out what she could use as an answer."Like you've still been gone." Steve finished finally. He sounded sad. It wasn't what Natasha had been expecting from this conversation, but it didn't really change anything either. Distract and evade."I'm right here." Natasha shrugged. "I'm not going to lie and say I haven't been a bit off since… well, since you came to get me. But I'm just working through it. Getting some distance from all the stares and questions and Nosey Nellie's always hanging around." And that was true. True enough that Steve wouldn't even think to question whether she was lying or not. The question was if he would believe that was all it was and leave the rest alone."And have you been checked out?" He pressed. "Has anyone figured out what happened, or why you-"A blaring alarm, not overpowering, but plenty distracting and obnoxious rang through FRIDAY's speakers three times before FRIDAY's voice chimed in, muting the alarm. "Captain Rogers, the Avenger's must be assembled immediately, on direct orders from Director Fury."Steve swore under his breath and dropped his head into his hands, scrubbing them over his face and up into his hair in frustration as he leaned back in his seat. Natasha let out a little huff of laughter, because of course the world would choose to be ending now, right when Steve finally managed to get a minute with her. Secretly, she was relieved, though Steve might be able to tell that despite her efforts to mislead him. "FRIDAY, is there any way I can sit this one out?" Steve was refusing to look away from Natasha, probably scared to lose the hesitant communication he was finally achieving with her."'Fraid not, Captain Rogers. Your knowledge of the case makes your involvement mandatory."And it can't wait another twenty minutes? Hell, another five?" It was amazing how such a commanding presence, always so calm and in control, could have so much in common with a child bargaining for five more minutes of playtime."No can do. Avengers presence requested at SHIELD base immediately."Steve crossed his arms over his chest, muscles standing out with the tension in his frame. "Natasha, I-""No worries, Cap. Duty calls. Let's go." Natasha pushed back from the table and moved to take her plate to the sink, but Steve had stood without her even realizing. He stopped her with a hand to her bicep.She looked down at the hand with confusion on her face and a sinking feeling in her gut. Glancing up at Steve's face, she stiffened. "I'm not joining you, am I?"Her voice was hard and accusing, even though she knew it wasn't fair. She had just started getting back into her routine, there was no way anyone on the team would let her on the jet. Hell, if it were anyone else, Natasha herself wouldn't have let them join. There was no way Steve, who had dealt with the majority of the fallout from the last disastrous mission she was involved in, was going to bend on this."Not this time, Widow." He kept his tone soft but firm, and reverted back to titles, trying to ease some of the sting by keeping it professional, not personal. It did little to cushion the blow, however, and only served to remind her of the fact she had no idea how long it would be before they let her back in the field. If ever. If they found out, it could still all be over for her.There was movement in the doorway and she saw Barnes peek his head around the corner. He spotted Steve and Natasha, his eyes landing on Steve's hand still wrapped around her arm, and he paused.Natasha yanked her arm from Steve's grasp while he was distracted by the sudden appearance of his friend and made it halfway to the doorway from the kitchen into the living area, throwing a "Best of luck, Captain," over her shoulder.There was no reply.Throwing herself into an armchair and tucking her feet up under her, she fought to stay rational. She wasn't fit to be in the field yet, but she would get there. Nobody knew anything. She just had to get herself back under control and everything would be back to normal.Just as she was getting her breathing back under control, Barnes stepped through the doorway, hesitating just a step onto the carpet. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he was uncertain."What." It came across as extremely unwelcoming when she spoke, but she didn't know how else to get him to say his piece and leave."You seem upset," he said very abruptly."I am. It's my team and they're going out without me." Not the whole truth, but definitely part of it. She was a master when it came to dealing in half truths. "You might know what that feels like."It was an unnecessary barb, but she wanted him to leave already and he wasn't leaving.He grimaced and looked down at his hands, gloves covering both, skin and metal. Looking back up at her, he took in a breath. "I'm going out with them. I know it doesn't mean much, but I'll do what I can to make up for your absence."Natasha paused.The way he had said it, 'to make up for your absence,' didn't feel quite the same as if he'd said, 'I'll keep them safe for you,' or, 'I'll do my best to fill your shoes,' or whatever other version of 'take your place' he could've come up with.Great, so he's replacing me and trying to be nice about it…"Right." She crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down. She wondered if she managed to look even the least bit threatening from where she was seated. "If any of them die, I'm holding you personally responsible."Barnes bit his lip then gave a sort of half smile and nodded. "Deal." Then he tipped his head at her like it was still the 1940's, and turned to head back through the door.She was all alone by the time she realized that, given his history, that may not have been the best way to send him off.---------------------------
---------------------------Natasha had stayed there, frozen in her seat until Bruce came and found her. She had a sneaking suspicion that FRIDAY had been a factor in his decision to do so, but she didn't have the energy to be upset about it. In fact, she found she might actually be grateful for the distraction.Bruce had always been good for her that way. Hopefully he had found some benefit to her presence, given how dependent she had become on him, particularly since she came home.Even though she had no issue hanging out with Bruce, his presence still startled her. This current call to assemble had an 'all hands on deck' kinda feel to it, the way FRIDAY had been so insistent with Steve. Then again, maybe it really was just because he had familiarity with the case.The entire couch beside Natasha was open, but Bruce perched himself on the arm of the chair she had sat in, hands folded awkwardly in his lap. He was careful not to touch her, but Bruce had always been very careful about touching people. There was no way for her to know if it had anything to do with her personal issues or if it was just Bruce being Bruce.Natasha had been very careful during those first days when she had used his lab to hide out in. Of everyone on the team, Bruce was the least likely to try and initiate physical contact. Well, either Bruce or Steve, but since Steve had been at the crux of the matter, and Natasha had a feeling they had crossed a line between them as far as the no touching thing went, Bruce was by far her safest option to steer clear of any accidentally-on-purpose comfort touches.Still, she had gone out of her way to keep a lab table between them, or a coffee table, or the arms of both of their chairs. Just a general, no-clear-path between his body and hers, really. It wasn't hard to do, and it certainly wasn't hard to disguise as basic lab safety, in which Natasha was a firm believer.She did, after all, know the people working in the labs.But the more time that passed since the whole thing with Steve on the jet, the more paranoid she became that he was going to talk to someone about it. Or Barnes would use the team's concern for her and the related knowledge he just happened to possess (if he ever managed to access it) as a way in. As if being Steve's long-lost best friend wasn't way in enough.When she was being more rational about things, she knew the chances of either of those things happening were slim to none. But the possibility still plagued her anytime the less rational part of her brain took over."So, no need for big green today?" Natasha asked, trying to sound like she would any other time. If only she had any way of gauging how successful she was.Bruce cringed. "Not today. They've got enough damage to deal with; the other guy getting smash happy is the last thing they need."That didn't sound like most of the Avenger missions Natasha had been a part of. There was always something that could benefit them by being smashed to pieces.Puzzled and intrigued enough that she didn't have to feign interest, she questioned him further. "Someone else beat you to it? Was it at least the good guys?" She knew the joking tone didn't reach her eyes, but Bruce either didn't notice or knew better than to comment."Not exactly." He hedged a moment before meeting Natasha's eyes and sighing. "It's them again, Nat. From however long ago. The ones that were experimenting on people."Natasha's stomach clenched. That could mean anything. It could even be something she wasn't involved in herself. They dealt with those kinds all the time. You heard about it constantly. When there were enhanced individuals around, someone was always trying to make the next Captain America, or the next Hulk.The way he said it though, she knew that wasn't the case."All the papers you and Steve and Clint found, the research, the plans… there was more to it than just that one building. More news came in on it while you were gone. They found more."She stopped herself from gaping at him in horror, but only just. They had been right. Whoever's decision it was to bench her, Steve or Fury or whoever, had been spot on. She wasn't stable enough for this yet."How many this time?" She managed to voice the question, but Bruce just shook his head."They don't know. Or they didn't when they left. They're probably just getting there now. We should hear more soon." That was when Natasha noticed the comm unit in his ear. It was tucked away under his mess of dark hair, but it still proved how out of it she was that she hadn't clocked it immediately.Natasha was confused. "If you're still on comms, why didn't you just go with them?" She didn't want to sound accusatory, but if he was linked in with them, why hadn't he just hitched a ride and hung back on the jet? They'd all done that a time or two when their particular skill set wasn't of immediate use. Bruce did so on a regular basis.Bruce just shook his head slowly. Eventually he clarified, choosing his words very carefully, "I've been having some issues with stress lately. And that, combined with how delicate the situation is and, frankly, the uh, personal aspect of it… it just wasn't a good idea for me to be there. Bit of a loose cannon, you know?"His smile was self-deprecating in a way Natasha was very familiar with seeing on his face. His words gave her pause though. Nerves bundled together in her stomach as she dissected what he had said. The personal aspect? He couldn't possibly be talking about her, could he? If anybody on the team had even the slightest suspicion that what they were dealing with in the field reached that close to home there was no way she wouldn't have heard about it.Hell, Steve had tried to skip out on a mission just to have a conversation with her to check in and see if she had any idea what had happened to her on the jet on their way home. If he had even an inkling…Natasha shut that thought down right where it started. She was NOT going to sit there and daydream about someone finding out her deep, dark secret and saving her from a life of loneliness just by accepting her for what she was. That's not how life worked and wasn't even something she wanted.Bruce, while not the best at picking up on and understanding social cues, took note of Natasha's body language, suddenly fraught with tension next to him. He let out a little laugh and looked down at his hands, picking at a nail with his other fingers as he assured her, "Don't worry, I'm good now. I just couldn't guarantee I would be if I had to actually be there, in the thick of it with them."In true Bruce fashion, he had completely misunderstood her discomfort. Of course he would interpret someone tensing up immediately after mentioning not being in control as fear of his alter ego making a surprise appearance. Who wouldn't?Doing her best to shrug off any outward reaction that remained and placed a hand on his arm without allowing herself to hesitate. If she wouldn't have hesitated before, she wasn't going to let herself start now. That was not how she was going to convince anyone the whole thing was in the past. She had to be unshakeable again. "Of course. I was never worried about that, Bruce."She could just leave it at that, not question what he had meant and, in doing so, leave behind any more conversation about 'the personal aspect' of the Avenger mission. But she couldn't do it. She needed to know what he was talking about, if he knew, or if her secret was still intact and she was just being paranoid. Natasha was willing to count it as a win that she could be objective enough to recognize the likelihood of that last option. If she were truly unstable, she wouldn't even entertain the possibility. Right?So she allowed herself to ask, "Just to make sure we're still on the same page, the 'personal aspect...'"The sentence trailed off, as Natasha didn't want to commit to too much by giving it an ending. She wasn't sure how she was going to play this off if he did know her secret, but she was sure that keeping her options open was the best choice she could make."Oh. No, it was nothing like that for me. You already know the whole story there. Losing my designation was a side effect of, well, the other guy." Natasha cringed and hoped it would pass as pain for her friend. In reality, it had been relief turning to immediate shame at the reminder that people had other things going on that didn't have anything to do with her. She was being selfish, wallowing in her own trauma, even as she was prepared to condemn her teammates for treating her like she had experienced one.And what was worse, the only trauma she had experienced was years ago now. It wasn't even anything new. She silently thanked Bruce for unknowingly giving her the kick in the ass she needed. If she expected people to treat her like she was fine, she was going to have to start acting like it. Starting now.Natasha's split second realization behind her, she dutifully tuned back in as he continued, saying, "No, mine was nothing as dramatic as all that. But it still hits a little close to home. Losing that part of yourself, having no say in it, having to completely relearn how to view yourself in a society that places so much importance on something that has so little to do with who you really are…"Bruce's expression had gone dark, but Natasha knew him well enough to understand where his mind had gone. He was right, she realized. He had gone through much the same thing those victims were dealing with. His had been an accident, but did that make the adjustment any easier?In the grand scheme of things, Natasha was at least fortunate in one regard. She had never been allowed to live as a sub before her reassignment had begun. She was only a child, after all.At least she didn't know what she was missing.Neither of them really had anything to say after that. Natasha had never been one for comforting words and Bruce seemed to take comfort in just being in the company of those he trusted. She wondered if that was another 'side effect' or if that was just Bruce. Relocating to the loveseat facing the tv, they put on a show, just for background noise. They were both too tense to watch it, but too unfocused to sit in silence.They stayed together like that for a while, at opposite ends of the loveseat, inching towards each other as the tension of waiting to hear from the team grew. Eventually, they were sitting side by side, Natasha with her legs curled up beside her, ignoring the fact that she was leaning into Bruce, while Bruce pretended he didn't have his arm hovering over the back of the seat like he wanted to drape it over her.When the comm went live telling them the team was ready to go, Bruce had FRIDAY pull up everything they knew about the location on the tv screen. Bruce had a tablet he was flipping through, and Natasha recognized the Chitauri tech pieces they were dealing with, if not much else. The rest of the information seemed to pass through her brain like a language she'd never even heard of. She had a feeling her lack of understanding had more to do with not wanting to understand than any actual comprehension problem.There were no big issues they needed help with, there were no major breakdowns for Natasha or Bruce to field. They just listened as their team did what they do best and tore apart the operation, although not literally this time. True to his word, Barnes seemed to be doing everything he could to make sure things went smoothly: waiting for commands, no chattering on the comm, and following orders like their lives depended on it.Natasha tried not to consider the reasons for that. There was guilt hovering in the back of her mind that she just couldn't deal with at the moment, but she swore she would fix it when they got back.It went smoothly right up until they found the morgue. There had been a few casualties from the last center they had broken up, victims that had fought too hard, that the captors had decided hadn't been worth the effort in the end. But it was nothing like this. Casualties nearly doubled the number of living victims, and from what the team could tell, they hadn't been killed by choice. They just hadn't made it through the process.The team, minus Cap and Iron Man, packed it up and headed back home to update SHIELD as best they could. Tony stayed to tear apart the mechanics of the Chitauri/human hybrid tech while trying to help Cap and the rest of the local team try to establish the difference between this facility and the last. Something was different and it was killing the victims instead of changing them.When Clint got back, Natasha hugged him tight and apologized for being distant with him, promising she was better now, acknowledging for the first time that no, she hadn't been fine, but she was getting there.Clint squeezed her back extra hard, being a little clingier than just the mission would have caused. She felt awful, even if she hadn't really treated him any differently. She had expected him to somehow understand what she needed from him simply because he knew her best, and that was wildly unfair of her. She tried to use the hug to communicate her promise to be better.For him. For the others. For herself. All of it.She knew she could be. She just had to figure out how.By the time they broke apart, Barnes had entered the room and was standing awkwardly in the doorway. Natasha froze for a fraction of a second, but forced herself to recover just as quickly. Bruce was leaving the room, talking with Clint about something, probably relating to the mission they just got back from and all the horrors that came with it. She was pleased to see Bruce had a hand on Clint's shoulder as they rounded the corner out of sight.Something in that small show of support between her teammates strengthened her resolve to be better. She approached Barnes slowly, but she still watched him track her movements apprehensively. It wasn't in a way that seemed like he was afraid of her. She was just an unknown to him.As far as he knew. It both stung and reassured her.Coming to a stop in front of him, she placed a hand gently on his left forearm. She didn't allow herself to think about that arm and why she felt comfortable touching him there.He was visibly shocked by it, which seemed only natural. That arm was a physical reminder that this man had been a weapon for more of his existence than not. She knew some of his feelings on the matter, and she couldn't imagine things had gotten better since they had parted ways.Natasha ignored the wary expression that took the place of shock on his face and smiled up at him. It was small, a bit more timid than she had intended, and it might come across a little shaky even, but it was genuine. Still, she hoped his surprise was enough to cover up her uncertainty.Squeezing his arm just enough that he should register the change in pressure, she thanked him. When he frowned in confusion, she released his arm and started for the door. "Well, you managed to keep them from killing themselves. Or each other. That's no easy feat."It wasn't quite an apology, but she thought it might have done the job. She wanted to let him know she wasn't going to continue being hostile. Her behavior towards him, though mostly avoidant until that afternoon, had been less than welcoming. And considering he had helped her when she literally fell into his arms without even knowing why or how, she knew she owed him at least trying.What Natasha didn't see, as she exited the room without looking back, was the look on Bucky's face as a memory took hold of him.He's shaking, obviously triggered into one of the episodes that allows him to come back to himself, to escape the conditioning he's been put through.A small redhead, maybe twelve years old, sitting next to him, one hand reaching out to touch his arm. His left arm. The metal one. The one nobody touches unless it's to fix the metal plates after combat. People don't touch him much anyway, but never there. He's a weapon. Nobody wants to accidentally pull the trigger.But this girl, she doesn't hesitate. He is tensed in a way that has all the tiny individual pieces of metal drawn close together. He can't feel it exactly, when her fingers make contact, but it registers in his brain, and since he watches it happen, he knows what it is. He waits for the pain, the awful sharp sensation that his brain has learned to interpret as agony that usually accompanies a touch to his arm, fixing the damage it has incurred. But it doesn't come.He looked up from his arm towards Natasha's retreating figure and the doorway she had just disappeared through, and even though she's no longer standing in front of him, all he can see is her face. But it isn't the filled out, fully grown face that had filled his vision moments ago. No. It was her face from years ago, when she first showed him that she didn't see his arm as something to be feared. Didn't see him as something to be feared.It was Natasha. He was startled by the realization, but he was used to being surprised by his own past by that point. Natasha had been the first person to touch his arm like it was merely another appendage, even as a child, braver and more rebellious of other's expectations than anyone he'd ever encountered. Apart from maybe Steve.Which makes it all the more alarming how uncomfortable she seems to be in his presence now, when she's an adult and he's actually in control of his faculties. Glancing down at his arm and rubbing at the spot she had touched, he decided that might be something he needed to get to the bottom of. Maybe that had something to do with all the other ways she'd been acting off that had Steve and everyone so concerned.Maybe he could actually be helpful to his new team.