A/N: This isn't a Romanogers fanfic, because I ship Clintasha and Steggy. However, it's probably pretty easy to read it that away, so go ahead.
This is just a fluffy little one-shot I came up with a few days ago, so my apologies if Steve and/or Natasha are a little too out of character.
Natasha sat in the chair beside Steve's hospital bed. Steve had fallen asleep again after first waking up a few hours ago, and Sam had taken the opportunity to step out to visit the restroom and a vending machine. Unlike Sam, she didn't fall asleep. Instead, every sense was rigidly awaiting HYDRA agents to burst in and attempt to eliminate Steve while he was at his weakest. She was well aware of the guards pacing outside of the room, certified and provided – secretly, of course – by Nick Fury.
She was also hyperaware of the reassuring, if irritating, beeping of Steve's heart rate monitors. She never stopped monitoring the steady rise and fall of Steve's chest.
Nearly losing him had shaken Natasha more than she cared to admit. Because of her dark past, there were very few people in this life she could call a friend. Clint, of course, was one. In a strange way, she supposed Fury counted, too. And Steve… Their relationship was possibly the most uncomplicated one she had ever had. Natasha trusted him, maybe even more than she trusted Clint – how could someone not trust Captain America? And he trusted her. Hearing him say that had meant more to Natasha than she would probably ever let on.
It wasn't love. No, she shared her strongest bond with Clint. But Steve was definitely special to her.
"Her name is Peggy."
Natasha nearly jumped. So much for a spy's hyper senses. Steve had turned his head and opened his eyes to look at her. At the too-fast turn of her head, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a smile. Then he winced when it tugged on the stitches.
"What?" Natasha muttered.
"The woman in the picture beside Howard's," Steve murmured. "Her name is Peggy."
Natasha suddenly remembered what he was talking about. That tiny moment had been forgotten – by her, anyway – in the wake of discovering Dr. Zola and nearly being murdered by a HYDRA-condoned domestic missile strike. She now clearly recalled the way he had instantly told her Tony's father's name was Howard after she called him Stark's father, and the way his eyes had lingered on the picture for a moment before he turned away, not answering her query of "Who's the girl?"
"Who was she?" Natasha murmured.
Steve looked down, suddenly very interested in picking at a thread on his blanket. "She was the first woman to see past the 90-pound asthmatic exterior," he whispered. "The first person besides Bucky, really. And Dr. Erskine, but he saw past it for the serum, so it's different, I guess…" He trailed off, his eyes focused on memories of time long gone. Natasha's heart broke at the weakness he was finally letting someone see, despite the walls of her own.
On impulse, Natasha picked up his hand, separating it from the thread he was still absently picking at. Steve's hand closed around hers.
"Where is she now?" Natasha asked, silently pleading Don't say dead don't say dead don't say dead.
"A nursing home not far from here," Steve replied. Natasha let out a silent breath of relief. Steve sighed. "I visited her the day Fury was shot. I hope she's ok…" He trailed off again. Natasha wished she knew how to ease the emotional agony she heard in his voice.
"I'm sure she's fine," Natasha reassured him awkwardly.
"She's a bed-ridden 95-year-old," Steve sighed. "If HYDRA figures out what she meant – means – to me…"
"We can get Stark to figure something out," Natasha promised him. Steve nodded, already falling asleep again. "Just get some sleep." Steve nodded again, almost imperceptibly; he was asleep moments later. Natasha replaced his hand and gently finger-combed his blond hair into a semblance of neatness.
Natasha sat back, surprised to find herself reluctant to pull away from Steve. He slept peacefully, though their conversation made him appear twice as vulnerable as he had before.
Sam returned a few minutes later to find Natasha fast asleep, half-leaning against Steve's bed with his hand in hers.