(Much of Natasha Romanoff's life has been the stuff nightmares are made of. When she has them she has someone to help her now; a strong caring man who will hold her in his arms until they go away. But she isn't the only one haunted by the past and sometimes even super soldiers need to be held. Natasha/Steve.)
"No, no, no." Steve Rodgers flailed on the bed, gasping the sheets which tore in his hands. Only the bed's solid construction of hardwood over steel kept it from going the way of a couple of its predecessors; pulled into pieces. Sweat poured off his body and he fought with the pillows as though they were a physical adversary he could grapple with.
The adversaries were all in his mind and his memories and they crowded thick and fast around him. They rarely followed any particular order or pattern. The people he had lost; Bucky, Peggy, the men who had followed him all reproached him, Bucky even more so now that he knew what had happened to him. The enemies thronged around him, taunting him, everyone from the Red Skull to the unrecognized Winter Soldier. He saw Loki and his Chitauri allies triumph, destroying the rest of the Avengers and leaving first New York and then the world in ruins.
"It's your fault, your fault, YOUR fault," they chanted.
More and more often he saw a slender female figure with flowing red hair, wearing a brown leather boots and matching jacket with tight black slacks slumped against a car. He couldn't see her face but she clutched her shoulder. Blood seeped through her fingers.
He seemed so far away from her. He was running, running as hard as he ever had in his life but it seemed like he was getting no closer no matter how he tried. The Winter Soldier, his mask in place raised his assault rifle slowly, somehow knowing without looking that Steve would never reach him in time to stop him. He centered the muzzle on the woman. Steve tried harder, tried to throw his shield, throw himself in front of the gun; to do SOMETHING. But all he could do was watch helplessly as the finger tightened on the trigger and a hail of bullets slammed the red head back against the car. She toppled over. A vagrant breeze blew her hair away from her face and sightless green eyes stared at him.
"No, no NO! Natasha! Please! Oh God!"
Suddenly arms were around then. Before he could start to struggle free a voice broke the nightmare.
"Shhhhhhhh. Steve, it's alright. It's alright Steve. I've got you."
It wasn't unusual for Natasha Romanoff to wake up in the middle of the night. She slept very lightly anyway, conditioned from years of expecting to be find herself in danger at any moment night or day. She had been doing better lately, protected by the security of Stark Tower. And the nightmares that followed her from her past had subsided some.
She and Clint Barton had been friends for some time now. They had talked but in some ways they were too similar. They understood each other but she needed someone with a different point of view, day to her night but someone who wouldn't judge her. To her surprise that had turned out to be Steve Rogers.
Not that she didn't already like and respect Captain America especially after their adventure together against the Winter Soldier and Hydra's infiltration of SHIELD. The victim of more than one betrayal in her own life her heart had broken when she realized the deadly assassin after them was in fact his one time best friend Bucky Barnes, thought to have been killed in World War Two. Steve had been so stunned he had nearly let himself be killed. She couldn't allow that and it had nothing to do with the admitted fact that she would be next.
Then the Winter Soldier was gone. Steve had turned to her as she dropped the rifle/grenade launcher and for a moment the look on his face had thrown her. He was scared. No more than that he was terrified. Then she realized he was looking where she clutched her shoulder; that the fear was for her. Through the pain, because she HAD been shot and it damned well hurt, a warm feeling rushed over her. He was beside her and she rushed to reassure him.
"I'm okay Steve. Really. Okay, well, I'm not going to drop in the next few minutes." The sirens were getting closer which meant the black SUV's after them would be arriving soon. "We better get out of here."
Although sometimes Tony Stark drove her crazy, okay, drove both of them crazy he commanded a great deal of power and influence and eventually things settled down so at least the government wasn't after them anymore. Hydra was still out there but now they had the support and often presence of the rest of the Avengers. Even Hydra wasn't prepared to tackle all of them. This gave them time for her to recover from her wound. And time to get to know each other. Not that they hadn't talked during their travels together. Even kissed.
That moment always brought a grin to her face. He was really so sweet and well, innocent. More than once she had heard Tony describe him as a "boy scout".
That term fit but not in the way that Stark meant it she thought. He used it as though it somehow made Steve an object of ridicule. She thought the opposite. Exactly what was wrong with a man who was caring, polite, brave, trustworthy and all the other characteristics that that organization stood for? Who promised to "do my duty" and "help other people"? Maybe in someone less capable than Steve such characteristics might be self-defeating but not in her super soldier.
Her super soldier? Okay that was jumping the gun a little. Maybe. True they continued to get close. Steve listened when she talked and she talked more to him than she had to anyone else, even Clint about certain things. It helped that he refused to judge her no matter what. He always reminded her that the Natasha she was now was not the same person who had done terrible things. He would point out the good she had done and was doing and often would remind her that those deeds included saving his life more than once. And the grin that he gave her when he said that made her heart do interesting things she thought it had long forgot.
One unforeseen result of her lowering some of her barriers to Steve was that she seemed to have weakened the walls she had erected in her mind to hold those memories at bay. Her nightmares started coming back. One particularly bad night she had found herself as a child again in the early and extremely brutal stages of her training to be an assassin. It had been a long time since she had waked up screaming but she had. And she had awakened with a pair of strong arms around her and had fought wildly at first before the words penetrated and brought her back to reality.
"Nat, Nat it's okay. You're alright. I've got you. Nothing can hurt you now."
Finally realizing that Steve was holding her she tried to relax. Later she would find out that Steve had come racing down the hall yelling at Jarvis to open the door. How he had known even he couldn't tell her.
"I just knew something was wrong."
He had held her until she fell asleep. Once sure that she was in deep REM sleep and not having a nightmare again he had slipped out, making sure the door was relocked behind him. That avoided letting her see just how much she had punched, clawed and kicked him before she had come back to reality. At least until the next day when she saw the bruises. And the teeth marks.
Steve had brushed off her apologies but listened to her explanations
"It wasn't you Natasha. It was that long ago terrified girl, who by the way had every right to hit out like what happened last night."
It was the first time but not the last. There were times that she was caught up in some of the terrible things she had done long ago. As he always did, Steve refused to let her dwell on them once she had waked.
"That's not you now Nat. Whatever you did then you are atoning for now and the balance sheet is way in your favor as far as I'm concerned."
Strangely once she had relived a scenario in her dreams and come out of it with Steve to hold her and talk to her that particular memory rarely returned. Slowly but surely her mind seemed to be releasing her pain and her guilt. And each time Steve stayed longer with her although, a smile crossed her face that was half amusement and half frustration, he wouldn't actually get IN bed with her rather remaining on top of the covers.
Tonight when she woke she wasn't having nightmares. Or dreams of any kind. She was just hungry. She climbed out of bed. Since she had been sleeping in a tank top and panties she pulled on a pair of running shorts just in case she met someone in the hallways. Steve would blush and turn his head if he saw her in panties and Tony would make some remark with a leer that now-a-days she would take in stride. But she didn't want either one, so the shorts. Barefoot she padded to the door of her room.
"Is there something you need Miss Romanoff?" The voice of Jarvis sprang out.
"No thank you. Just in the mood for a midnight snack."
"Is there anything in particular you desire Miss?"
"No I'm just going to rummage until I find something," she replied.
"Very well. Have a good night."
Steve's room wasn't exactly out of the way but it wasn't on the most direct line to the kitchen area either but she went that way, still thinking. Steve had asked her once if they could be friends, something she wasn't sure of. She still wasn't sure of that but now it was because she wondered if there might be something deeper there, something beyond friends. She had always avoided that and even Clint wasn't an exception, there always being a line they never crossed.
She reached Steve's room and slowed. Did she hear something? Was that a moan?
For no more than an instant she wondered if Steve had finally given in to, well, something sexual. With whom? Those thoughts vanished as quickly as they had appeared when she realized she had heard those same kinds of moans before, from her when she was waking up from a particularly bad nightmare. She grabbed the doorknob.
Locked.
"Jarvis!"
"Yes Miss Romanoff?"
"Open this door. Quickly!" Not waiting she hurled her body against it. The first try was futile. On the second the door popped open as the AI released the lock.
Pale illumination from the bathroom touched the figure writhing on the bed. Natasha sprinted for it even as she sorted out the sounds coming from Steve.
"No, no, NO! Natasha! Please. Oh GOD no!"
She flung herself on the bed, grabbing the much taller and heavier man in an unbreakable grip.
"Shhhhhhhh. Steve, it's alright. It's alright Steve. I've got you."
He thrashed wildly but she didn't let go. He never had and she wouldn't either. Finally his eyes popped open and he gasped wildly for breath and then realized where he was and who was holding him.
"Nat?" he whispered.
His rigid muscles began to relax, enough so that she could spare on hand to touch his face.
"Yes it's me."
"Oh God thank you. I thought, I thought..."
"What Steve? What did you think?"
"I was back at the fight with Bucky. I couldn't seem to reach you no matter how hard I tried. I saw him shoot you, again and again and you fell and I..." His voice broke for a moment. "I thought I had lost you."
"Never Steve. You'll never lose me. It was a nightmare. Go back to sleep. I'm right here with you."
"Okay," his voice still shook.
His proper behavior be damned. She slipped under the covers with him and rested his head on her shoulder, her arm around him. He moved against her and started to relax.
"Oh crap, the door," she thought. She wasn't about to let go of him to go close it. Maybe after he had fallen asleep. Then she saw it swing shut and heard the lock click. She made a mental note to thank Jarvis in the morning. While she could care less in most ways if anyone passed and saw her in bed with Steve she knew he would be embarrassed, especially if the circumstances came out.
That was okay. For right now. She stroked his hair and they snuggled together and it was her turn now to give back to the man who had held her so much. Her super soldier.
His breathing became slow and regular. She felt herself relaxing now and knew she would be joining him shortly. One more thought though.
God this felt so good. Embarrassed or not, Steve Rogers was going to have to get used to sleeping with her.
At least.
(The End)
(Thanks to ozhawk whose wonderful story "Through A Glass Darkly" gave me the idea and motivation to write this.)