Hi Everyone, this is the beginning of a (hopefully) decently long series! Will update with the next installment as soon as possible. I am also aware that Natasha is a bit OC in this chapter. Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Steve had been asleep when he heard the nearly silent knock at his door. Well, 'asleep' was a loose term. Sleep was rare lately, and when he did manage to drift off, nightmares from that fateful day on the helicarrier with Bucky almost always accompanied it. Often after a nightmare, Steve would wake shivering so hard that the metal of his bedframe would be rattling.
Steve had been deep in thought when he first heard the knock, staring at the plain white ceiling above his bed in his new DC apartment. SHIELD had gone down before they could clean up the damage done to his old quarters, so he picked up what little he had and settled into a new space. He could have cleaned up himself, but there were too many memories. Too much blood.
His new place was spare, as he hadn't been able to bring himself to buy much furniture yet. Too many things to sort through in his head first.
When he first heard the knock, he thought he had imagined it. It was raining awfully hard outside, after all. But there it was again. Cautiously, Steve grabbed his shield from where he kept it stashed under the bed, just in case. Silently, he crept out to the front door and braced himself before looking through the peephole.
A figure with a shock of red hair appeared in front of him, dripping wet and shivering. He stared for a moment in utter confusion before he realized that the figure was Natasha. It had been months since he had last seen her, after the file dump, she had completely dropped off the grid. He had admittedly missed her presence, as she had quickly become more than just his partner, but understood why she needed to run. It was in her nature.
Quickly dropping his shield and opening the door, he was met with her familiar piercing green gaze. Accompanying that came a face covered in bruises and smeared blood.
"You just going to stand there and stare, Rogers?" a forced half-smile accompanied her teasing tone.
Even though she was battered, extremely thin, and covered in blood, Steve felt his heart warm at the soft sound of her voice. He let himself relish in the feeling for a fleeting second before snapping out of it and practically dragging her, albeit gently, inside the apartment.
"What are you doing here Natasha? What happened to you?" Suddenly he was blinded by worry, as he took in the full extent of her appearance. Soaked to the bone, eyes glued to the floor, clad in a pair of dark skinny jeans that stuck to her tiny frame. An oversized navy sweatshirt made her nearly-emaciated figure seem even smaller. He was once again met with a raw stare, her usually bright eyes empty.
Looking down again at the small puddle she was making on the floor, Natasha shrugged, and wrapped her arms around her tiny, shivering frame. This worried Steve more, he almost couldn't believe that this was the powerful Black Widow standing in front of him.
"Let's get you into something warm, and clean up those injuries, okay?" She nodded in response, not looking up from the floor.
Steve gently took her hand, something she'd never let anyone do in a normal situation, and led her into the bathroom.
"You can take a shower, it'll warm you right up, and I'll grab some clothes for you to wear." As Steve was about to leave the bathroom to grab some clean towels and clothes, she reached out and grabbed his arm, hissing in pain as she did so.
"Stay.. please? I can't do this on my own.." Steve gave her a sad smile, before nodding his answer. Almost everyone seemed to think that the Captain was a prude, but it was truly just a popular rumor. He had definitely realized that this wasn't the 1940s anymore.
Even if he had been, he would do anything for a teammate, especially Natasha, and the state she was in was making him anxious. Steve started the shower running, as Natasha started to undress. Hearing even more whimpers of pain coming from behind him, Steve reluctantly turned to face her, not wanting to invade her privacy even more.
She was struggling to remove her sweatshirt, unable to lift her arms over her head. Slowly, he stood and walked over, before beginning to gently take each arm out of the sweater, and eventually peeling it off her soaked skin completely. What he saw underneath was not a pretty sight. Natasha's once muscular and voluptuous figure had faded away into protruding hipbones and exposed ribs. A massive gash covered the left side of her body, running from underneath her breast to just above her leg.
Swallowing a gasp, he helped her out of her bra as she turned around until her back was facing him. She gingerly stepped out of her panties before carefully stepping into the warm spray of the showerhead, wincing as the water ran over her exposed cuts.
Once she had settled into the water, Natasha once again stared numb, frozen, at the tile floor. Quickly realizing that she wasn't going to be able to clean herself, Steve sighed internally and started to undress. He knew this is what she needed, and he forced himself to leave his inhibitions behind so he could help his friend.
Once naked, he stepped into the shower with her, towering over her tiny frame. She leaned into his chest as he gently began to shampoo her hair and clean her cuts. She really had lost weight, at least 30 pounds off her already slim figure, and it was a scary sight. He lightly soaped up her grimy body, and made sure all of her bruises and cuts were accounted for and taken care of.
30 minutes later, he shut off the water, grabbing his towel and wrapping it around himself, and then wrapping Natasha's body in a clean bathrobe that he had found in the linen closet. It completely swallowed her tiny frame, making her somewhat of a funny sight.
Padding into his bedroom across the hall, he handed her the clothes that he had found deep in his wardrobe. They were a pair of her old panties, left after a post-mission crash, and a soft, old t-shirt of his. It hung like a dress on her, and he figured that would be enough to get her through tonight.
"You want some tea?" Steve attempted to give her a reassuring smile as he asked her the one question he always knew the answer to. "That would be lovely." Natasha spoke in a nearly silent, hoarse voice, returning the kind smile with a rare genuine grin of her own.
Steve stepped out of the bedroom and walked into the kitchen, rummaging through cupboards to dig out the kettle, and a box of her favorite tea.
Once he had prepared the steaming mug, he carried it back into the bedroom to find Natasha asleep in the bed. He sighed, but his stomach fluttered at the sight of her delicate frame in his bed, her chest rising and falling at a steady cadence.
Setting the mug of tea down on the nightstand next to her slumbering figure, he climbed into bed with her. Shutting off the light and returning to his former position, gazing at the ceiling, he attempted to gather his thoughts about the events that had just unfolded. Quickly finding his eyelids drooping, Steve turned over to face Natasha, her peaceful expression the last thing he saw before he drifted off into the first good night's sleep in months.