Hey, lovely readers! Welcome to a brand new ThisVioletofMine (me :P) and VanillaAshes collab fic! So far, all of the writing we've done together has been posted on her page, so this series of oneshots is super special, as it's, well, on mine! Please be sure to check out our other Marvel stories on her page!

This is, as aforementioned, a series of oneshots about the lovely pairing that is Romanogers! Each chapter is a nice little oneshot which we'll base off of writing prompts (either one-word or more detailed) given to us by YOU lovelies! So please don't be shy about dropping us a prompt either through PM or through a review! We'll try to write every prompt we get (unless the prompt is a little too M-rated).

We hope you enjoy!

Prompt: Independently Clingy

It was clearly and blatantly obvious from the moment Steve first saw her that Natasha was, in fact, horribly, grievously ill. What had tipped him off? Well, for starters, she was lying on the couch, wrapped in her comforter. Natasha was one to recline casually, not so much to curl up in the fetal position. As he approached her, another big hint bashed him over the head- she was reaching for a glass of water on the ground beside the sofa, the ice inside long since melted, leaving a thick layer of dewy condensation on the outside of the cup, and even though she could clearly see it, her hand touched the ground several inches too far to the left, then to the right, and then she almost knocked the glass over in a frustrated third attempt to grasp it.

"Nat, you okay?" He asked, moving closer, knowing full well that A, she wasn't okay, and B, she would say she felt fine.

"I'm fine. Just thirsty." Natasha replied, finally grasping the glass and bringing it to her lips.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Nat, it took you several tries to get that drink." He pointed out. "How long have you been sick for?"

Natasha glared at him, that apparently not being affected by her illness. "I am not sick. Don't you think I would know if I were sick?" She questioned, rhetorically.

He frowned. "Natasha, I think you know you're sick. You're just not admitting it for some dumb reason. Now, let me ask again: how long have you been sick for?"

"I'm not." Natasha repeated, placing her drink back on the floor and standing up stubbornly.

Steve watched as she made her way to what he assumed was the door. Except… "Nat, stop walking." He ordered, not bothering to physically stop her, as that would make her more likely to hurt herself in her clumsy attempts to escape his grip. When she just glared and kept walking, he said again, more firmly, "Nat, stop! Your balance is all outta whack." She kept swaying and stumbling, which was unnerving.

Natasha threw up her middle finger as she bumped into the wall and then carried on walking. "I can take care of myself."

"Nat, don't make me put you under couch arrest." He threatened, resigning himself to letting her stumble around drunkenly as he headed into the kitchenette to see if she had any cans of soup. He wasn't worried about her leaving- the door was locked, and he didn't see her finding the coordination to unlock it anytime soon. True to his prediction, he heard a loud thud from the main room and a string of foul curses just as he located the soup.

He exited the kitchen just in time to see her lean over and throw up all over the clean carpet.

"Aw, dammit, Nat!" He exclaimed, rushing forward and putting a hand on her back, not quite sure to help. After she was done, he forcefully walked her over to the couch and sat her down, pointedly putting a small trash can right next to her. Then he went over and began the lengthy process of cleaning up his girlfriend's vomit.

"Okay, maybe I could sit down for just a few minutes to let the dizziness stop…" Natasha admitted, leaning against the couch heavily. "But don't tell anybody I'm sick, because it's super embarrassing."

Steve rolled his eyes. "You've proudly discussed more embarrassing things, Nat. In front of a crowd of five hundred people." She opened her mouth to retort, but he knew exactly what her reply would be and interrupted. "It being a diversion for a mission doesn't make it count any less. You still discussed your sex life at the podium of a charity benefit in front of a giant crowd of the social elite."

Natasha scoffed. "It's not like I spoke about your sex life, too! I left yours out!" She defended. "Besides, I don't get sick! Never! It's the biggest weakness- apart from love, and you've already practically forced those feelings onto me. So if you tell anybody, then I will talk about your sexual activities to everybody!"

"You're despicable." He said with mock horror as he threw away the last paper towel and plopped onto the couch beside her. "How do you sleep at night?" Even as he asked this, he slung a fond arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him.

Without missing a beat, she replied, "Naked, next to you." She leaned into him, her head drooping onto his shoulder.

He smiled and leaned his head on top of hers, letting out a content sigh. Maybe a sick Nat wasn't so bad after all.

"Oh- God-" Natasha muttered, pushing him away before literally throwing up all over his lap and the couch.

"Eugh!" Steve couldn't help but exclaim, trying not to throw up himself. "Really?"

Natasha bent over. "Steve… I really don't feel well." She admitted, her face losing all the color she had in her cheeks.

Steve winced sympathetically and started rubbing her back, pointedly ignoring the hot mess all over his lap. "You'll be okay, Nat. I'll take super-soldier-special care of you." He promised lightly.

"I prefer Steve." Natasha spluttered. She brought a hand to her forehead. "You know- I think I feel better."

"Uh-huh. Because it's totally physically possible to feel your own temperature." Steve said sarcastically. He softened a little when she made a miserable sound.

Natasha pulled away from him slightly. "Okay, seriously, you stink of puke and it's making me wanna throw up again."

Steve frowned. "Fine, fine. I'll go make myself presentable." He stood and made his way to the door. "I'll be back in five. Please don't do anything dangerous while I'm gone."

"Wait…" Natasha said, drifting off slightly, as if she wasn't about to finish her sentence. "Don't go."

His expression softened at the downright pitiful quality of her voice. How could he say no to that? "Alright, I'm not going anywhere." He assured, thinking of how to fix the stench problem without leaving.

"You can just use my shower; you left a pair of jeans here a few days ago, which I washed- they're in my drawer." Natasha informed him, standing up and looking down at herself. "You can grab me some clean clothes, too."

Steve sighed and nodded. "Alright- why don't you go make yourself some soup while I'm doing that, then?" He suggested, making his way to her dresser and grabbing both his jeans and a new set of clothes for Natasha.

She nodded. "Alright."

After Steve was done cleansing himself of the putrid smell of vomit, he quickly pulled on his clothes and went to check on Nat- alarm settling in his gut when he didn't find her on the couch. "Nat?" He called as he began searching the small living quarters, but he received no answer. Then he finally located her, curled up in her bed like an ill burrito. From the looks of it, she was wearing one of his shirts. Where'd she get that, anyway? It had been missing for a month, and he'd specifically asked Nat if she knew where it was- and she'd said no! "Natasha, you okay?" He asked, approaching and sitting on the edge of the bed. "Have my shirt's awesome powers healed you?"

Natasha opened her eyes at his teasing joke and smiled slightly, her hands reaching out for him. "Lay down with me for a moment." She requested, gently tugging him down to the bed as she moved over to make room for him.

He complied easily and laid beside her, wrapping her in his arms. He didn't complain when she made him join her in the blanket burrito, although her heightened temperature combined with the thickness of the blanket made him uncomfortably hot within the first thirty seconds. "Feel better now?" He asked, resting his chin on top of her head.

Natasha snuggled up with him more as she nodded slightly. She made a sound of content but didn't offer any other reply.

Steve chuckled and let himself drift off too. After an hour, though, he needed to get up to supervise daily training with the new recruits. However, he quickly found that he was physically unable to leave- Natasha had wrapped herself completely around him, trapping him in place. Steve let out an exasperated-yet-fond sigh and settled back into his spot, making himself comfortable and deciding to play hooky- just for today.