Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers, and anything Marvel related.


Natasha Romanoff expected to wake up at exactly 6:00 am refreshed and on the top pf her toes. She had, after all, went straight to her bed (after a quick shower, of course) after a grueling two-week mission in Dubai. She had definitely slept her fill seeing as she had come back to the Avengers tower at about 4 in the afternoon. What she did not expect was waking up with the digital clock on her nightstand blaring the numbers 12:13, feeling cold and with an aching head.

Groaning, Natasha pushed herself up on her bed only to hear the door of her floor in the Avengers Tower being opened. The spy automatically reached for the gun under her pillow as a reflex, albeit a little slower than she would have preferred and pointed it at the still closed door of her bedroom.

"I know you've got your gun up but it's only me, Nat," a rather amused voice of Steve Rogers told her.

Natasha considerably relaxed but pointed her gun again at the closed door of her room. "Well, how do you know that I still won't shoot you, Rogers? You didn't knock."

"I did knock! Maybe you just didn't hear it. We were all worried when you didn't appear for breakfast, gym, and now lunch." Steve still did not appear on the doorway and Natasha's arms were getting tired for some reason so she put her gun down.

"You sure that they were all worried or you just missed me? And what's taking you so long Cap, are you suddenly lost in my floor?"

"Maybe I did miss you," Steve replied. Natasha could not help the warm feeling she felt in her chest. Stop it, she chided herself. "And I'm not lost, I'm just carrying something," he continued.

The door to her room finally opened, showing Steve who had his hands full - literally. He was carrying what she can identify as a basket with food inside (from what she could smell anyway), a foldable table, a pitcher of water, and a couple of plates and glasses. But why are there two Steves? She shook her head, trying to shake off the dizziness that was threatening to overwhelm her.

"I brought you lunch. Well, for the two of us, really. It's been weeks since we last talked, what with our crazy mission schedules and all," her partner sheepishly explained while setting up the table.

Natasha couldn't help the small smile that appeared on her face. "I knew it! You missed me. I'm really growing on you, Rogers, eh?" Steve looked up from what he was doing to answer Natasha's teasing. "Well I - Natasha, you're sick!"

Steve immediately went to Natasha's side. How did he know that I'm not feeling well? She wanted to tell him that she's on her top condition but decided to tell him the truth anyway. "Steve, I just have a headache. No need to fuss. Let's eat?"

Her partner, however, refused to change the subject. "Nat, have you seen yourself on a mirror lately?"

"Yeah, yeah, I look terrible. I just woke up though, stop rubbing it in."

"You have chicken pox."

"You sure do - I have a what?!"

"Chicken pox. You have little red pustules on your face, and that definitely is a sign of having chicken pox." Steve gingerly held her arm and pushed her sweater sleeve up. She saw the pustules he just described and nearly cursed. He then put his hand over her forehead. "You're burning up too. Definitely chicken pox," he sighed.

The soldier stood up from kneeling on her bedside and turned to leave.

Well, that hurt. Natasha knew what she had was contagious, but she didn't expect Steve to leave her side that easily. So much for missing me.

Natasha decided to dwell with her (forbidden and unallowed) feelings later and focus on filling her complaining stomach first. At least the amount of food that Cap brought will be able to fill me for both lunch and dinner, she thought.

She piled the food on her plate, realizing just how famished she was. Just when the redhead was about to take her first bite, the door to her room opened again.

It was Steve, this time carrying medicine and ointment.

"Just leave it there, then go," she told him, pointing to her nightstand.

Steve was confused at the coldness of her voice. "What? You don't actually think that I'll just leave you here alone right? And scoot over, I'm hungry too."

"Just get your plate then leave."

Steve, being the annoying guy he was (that's what Natasha says, anyway), ignored the command and sat beside her, filling his plate.

"Steve get out! You'll just get sick too!" Honestly, just what should she need to do to get his stubborn (and annoying) ass to leave?

"Super soldier, remember?" Definitely annoying.

"I was injected with a variant of your serum and I still got infected with the damn chicken pox. Just get out," she glared at him.

"Natasha, if you're worried that I'll get sick, I won't. Once you had it, you won't get infected with chicken pox again. I was a thin, sickly man before the serum. Do you actually think that it was not one of the long list of illnesses that I had the opportunity to encounter before?" Steve's blue eyes searched for her green ones as he spoke. "Let me take care of you."

Natasha can tell Steve's sincerity. After all, everything about the Captain is genuine. But she couldn't let herself fall more deeply towards the man that was her complete opposite. It was better to suffer alone than let herself (and Steve, she knows deep in her heart) to be compromised.

She steeled her gaze. "I don't need your damn care, Steve Rogers. Just leave."

"Drop your act for once, Nat," he sighed.

"Fine. You won't leave? Then I will." Natasha turned to stand up and leave with her half-finished plate of food on her hands when Steve stopped her by the shoulder.

"Just what the hell is your prob -" Her protest was cut off by the feeling of Steve's lips on hers. It was a simple, chaste, and short peck on the lips, and Natasha found herself out of words.

"Natasha. Just let me take care of you. Please." The said lady was an expert in reading the emotions of a person with his or her eyes. And in that moment, with Steve's eyes locked on hers, she could read that they were full of concern, care, and dare she say it?, love.

Natasha knew that Steve won their argument from the moment he first walked on her doorway, carrying the medicine and ointment. Love is for children, she once said. But maybe she deserves to be childish for once in a while, right? Besides, being sick brings out the childness of a person, she mused.

Steve looked on, never breaking his gaze. He decidedly relaxed when he saw the soft yet playful gaze that Natasha always reserves for him.

"Fine," she conceded, crossed her arms, and glared at him jokingly. "But no telling Stark and Barton."

The soldier saluted at her.

"Yes ma'am."


This is my first Romanogers fic, so please excuse me for any inconsistencies. Just write a review on what I have done wrong, and I will try to correct that mistake. (just write 'em respectfully please, heh)

Anyway, this will be a collection of (majorly) Romanogers one-shots, and I would appreciate it if you would leave prompts for me to work on. Just a warning that I'm not that great at angsty fics, but I would strive to complete your requests.

Until then, see you! :)