A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…

Thanks everyone for the reviews and follows! It's always easier to keep going with a story if I know people are reading. :)

~Natasha~

Natasha stayed away for a few days after that. More out of a need to prove a point to herself rather than any lack of worry on her part. She'd gone three days without seeing him and it was business as usual. No crying into her Wheaties, or gorging on ice cream, or whatever it was women were supposed to do when they were hung up on a man. And if she was a little more on edge lately, she could chalk that up to the enforced inactivity from Nick asking her to lay low for a while. It had nothing to do with missing his dopey smile or the way he brushed his hair away from his forehead.

On the day he was to be released from the hospital she'd called Sam to let him know she was available to give Steve a ride. It was the polite thing to do. After all, Sam had a day job, hers was on hiatus. For half a second she considered waiting in the car for him to come out, but impatience had her leaving the Corvette parked in the loading zone to search him out and light a fire under someone's ass if that's what it took to spring him.

She found him standing in front of the window, gazing down at the street below. The stitches were gone, his bruises all but faded, though she knew it'd be a while before he was back up to full strength, serum or no serum. For long seconds she watched him – the way he could stand there, completely at ease, wholly absorbed in his thoughts. She was much too twitchy of for that. Hyperaware of her surroundings, her file said.

"What's the matter, you don't say hi anymore?" Steve asked, and she realized he'd been aware of her presence all along.

"Sorry, I thought maybe you were having a senior moment and I didn't want to interrupt," she smirked.

He cracked a self deprecating smile at that, acknowledging the dig but not returning one. "You playing taxi service?"

"That's what they pay me for these days. You ready to get out of here?"

"I'm supposed to wait for the nurse with my release papers."

"Because you always do what you're told, right?" She arched a single brow with a wry twist of the lips.

He was spared from replying by the arrival of the nurse, clipboard resting on the seat of the wheelchair she pushed. "Here we are, Mr. Rogers. If you'll just sign here we can get you processed in no time."

"Ah, thank you, ma'am," he replied automatically, scratching his upper lip with his thumb before signing the sheaf of papers and handing them back over. "I don't need the wheelchair though, thanks."

"I'm afraid hospital regulations require it."

"Loosen up, big guy, I'll drive." Natasha stepped in and grasped the handles. "Let's go, I'm parked in a white zone."

With a sigh, he folded his large frame into the chair, frowning over the fuss as the nurse settled his feet in. No sooner was he secured then Natasha propelled him forward, eager to escape the room she'd come to associate with his pain.

"Hey, I'm as ready to get out of here as the next guy, but not at the risk of crashing into something and winding right back again," he joked when she took the turn too quickly, nearly clipping a gurney left unattended in the hallway.

"Relax, I've steered my way out of tighter corners than this." Natasha slowed down though, taking him safely out the main entrance to where her flashy car waited undisturbed. "Careful now," she murmured, helping to ease him into the low car, taking the brunt of his weight when his breath came in a painful hitch.

"I'm fine," he said, taking deep breaths before he attempted the seat belt.

"I'll get it." Tasha snatched it out of his hand and leaned across him to buckle him in, her lips quirking into a smile as she clicked it into place. "Take it easy, Grandpa, I've got you covered."

"Yep, I'm old and slow, I get it," Steve said with a tight smile. "You get to joke about it for exactly one day and then you're done, okay?"

"That all depends on how long it takes you to stop walking like a septuagenarian," she teased, easing herself out of his lap and going around to the driver's seat. "So, straight to your place, or do you need to stop at the pharmacy or anything?"

Steve let out a long breath. "I don't really want to go back there. Actually, I have no idea if it's even in decent shape for me to go back to."

"The damage has all been repaired," she assured him, pulling smoothly into traffic.

"Still…"

Darting a glance in his direction, she could feel the unease coming off of him in waves, and it made her more uncomfortable than she would've thought. "Where to then?"

"Surprise me."

Natasha surprised herself when she took him to her own apartment building. It was a converted loft apartment with high ceilings and a utilitarian kitchen. Nothing fancy, but it suited her purposes just fine. Most of the living room was wide open space, a pile of mats stacked up in the corner for when she had a partner to spar with. The bedroom was tucked behind an open bookcase room divider, partially visible to the rest of the apartment. Her one splurge was a deep, soaker tub with therapeutic jets, absolutely necessary after a long day getting thrown off of bridges and hanging out of helicopters.

Steve made a slow circuit of the space while she tossed his bag into the closet and hung up her jacket. "Jesus, Nat. How long have you lived here?"

"Two years, why?"

"Because I've seen hotel rooms with more personality than this place."

It was a little spartan. Funny how she'd never noticed it before. Barton hadn't seemed to mind. "I don't attach myself to material things."

"You don't attach yourself much to food either, do you?" he griped, pulling open the fridge.

"Relax, I'll run out and get some groceries in a bit. What kind of Jello do you like, Grandpa? Lime or cherry?" she couldn't help but tease.

"I happen to like Jello."

"Of course you do."

"Lime please," he requested with a polite smile and hers stretched wider.

"I'll splurge just this once in honor of your homecoming and get you both. Anything else you need, just make a list." She patted the notepad stuck to the side of the refrigerator.

Steve settled himself onto the couch, and she could tell he was biting back a groan at the movement. "I guess I'll take the couch tonight," he said, giving the cushions a pat.

"No, you're recovering from multiple surgeries, you'll sleep in the bed. Don't worry, it has excellent lumbar support."

A deep furrow appeared on his brow. "I'm not putting you out of your own bed."

"Fine, then don't. We'll share."

"Share the same bed?" he blinked.

"Don't be such a baby. It's not that big of a deal. Or do I have to worry about your intentions." She quirked a brow at him, and he held his hands up in his own defense.

"No, ma'am. I can handle it if you can."

"I'll try and restrain myself," she smirked, heading into the bathroom. With the door locked and the water running, Natasha gripped the counter, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "What are you doing?" she whispered.

No answer came.

~Feedback is Love~