Hello all!

Hope everyone has had a nice week :) The feedback on this story always makes my weeks better, so thank you so much! And if your weeks have not been going well, I hope I can make them a little better with this update :)

Just as a reminder, this chapter picks up right after the previous one.

I don't own Captain America.

Enjoy!

-:-

Natasha gritted her teeth as the nurse working on her finally managed to get a hold of the bullet in her leg and pull it out, dropping it with a metallic clank onto a tray. A few minutes later, just as the nurse was taping the bandage off, Rogers appeared in the doorway.

"Try and stay off this leg as much as you can for the next couple of days, Ms. Romanoff," the nurse recommended politely.

Natasha nodded, not sure how well she could follow the nurse's directions. Sitting around doing nothing wasn't exactly her forte. The nurse gave her a smile and then headed for the door, giving the Captain a polite nod as she headed out.

"How are you feeling?" Rogers asked once they were alone.

"Like I said earlier, I've had worse," she told him as he pulled a chair up in front of the hospital bed she was on. "Trust me, this is nothing."

He looked like he didn't believe her, but that's because he didn't know all that she'd had to go through to earn the status of assassin, much less status of Black Widow. She'd been shot before, and from all her experiences, they were mild compared to some. They were quick. Sure, they hurt like hell as the bullet burned through flesh and sometimes bone. And they hurt afterwards too, but a few stiches and some bandages patched that up just fine. She'd suffered through pain that lasted for days.

If only Rogers could see the scars that mapped her body. If only he could see farther in and look at all the bones that had been broken and re-broken. See the scars that went deeper than flesh and bone. Scars that twisted their way through her subconscious, the kind of scars that made her wake up at night covered in her own sweat as the remnants of her nightmares danced behind her eyes.

If he could see all of that, maybe then he would understand that she meant it when she said a bullet wound was nothing more than a scratch to her.

"Well, I talked to the Colonel," Rogers started. "The next mission will take a few days, if not a week, to put together. Shouldn't be too hard to get that bed rest you need."

"Right," she scoffed. "It won't take as much as a mission to make me want out of bed. I'll get bored long before then."

"Guess I'll just have to keep an eye on you, then." He gave her a small smile.

"Good luck with that," she retorted.

He cast his eyes down then, his hands fidgeting. He had changed out of his uniform and was now wearing a tan button-down and dark brown trousers. He wasn't even wearing a tie. Natasha supposed this was about as casual as he got.

"Okay," she sighed. "You clearly have something on your mind. What is it? And I swear to God, if it's about me getting shot—"

"It's not," he interrupted her. "It's…um…I actually wanted to apologize."

She looked at him, confused. Natasha prided herself on being able to read people, to know what they were thinking. She excelled at interrogation during her Red Room training, and to do so, she had needed to learn exactly how people ticked, all in a matter of minutes, if not seconds. But Rogers…well, he threw her completely off. Sure, she had picked up that he wasn't a very good liar—terrible, actually—and he wore his heart on his sleeve, but he also managed to take her by surprise, all the damn time. He could say one thing and she would get completely knocked off her feet, her opinion of him changing by the second.

"Apologize for what?" she asked, trying not to show how surprised she was.

"For judging you so harshly after that first mission," he said with barely a pause. "In all the years this war had been going on now…well, the Allies have had their fair share of questionable acts. We've all made decisions that were questionable, done things that were questionable. What you did…it's not like it hasn't been done before. You took me by surprise, is all. And I think that got us off on the wrong foot. I would like to change that."

He looked up at her from under her lashes, and Natasha was so stunned by his apology, that she had to sit there for a moment. She couldn't think of a time that anyone had actually cared about her this much, cared about starting off on the wrong foot. Hell, she couldn't think of a time that someone had actually apologized to her. Sincerely, at least. Any apology thrown her way while in the Red Room had been a mocking 'sorry' after she'd been beaten to the ground or thrown into a wall or had a bone snap in a sparring match.

"I—" Natasha broke off, not even sure where to begin. She'd never been rendered speechless by anyone either. "I should be the one apologizing, Rogers, not you. You…you shouldn't have to do that. You had every right to judge me for what I did. If anyone made a bad first impression, it was me. And for that matter, a bad second impression as well."

"Right," he smiled. "I almost forgot that the first impression I got of you was when you were trying to kill me in a building that was about to explode."

Natasha could only offer him half a smile. "Yeah, you probably should have just let that bomb take me out. Or have sent me back to Russia, at the very least. I should not be here, that's for sure. Would've saved yourself a whole lot of trouble if you hadn't decided to give a shit about me."

"Well, where's the fun in that?" he joked, but Natasha was being serious.

"I mean it, Rogers," she said shortly. "I get that you're trying to give me a second chance here, but maybe you shouldn't be. I'm a killer, okay? I didn't need to torture that guy. I easily could have gotten answers from Abel using less extreme measures. I was…I don't know. Trying to prove a point. It frustrated me so much that you didn't seem to understand what I was—what I am—when you offered me that deal. I was trying to get you to see me for the killer I am when I did that. Clearly it didn't work."

"I don't give up easily," he insisted.

"I can tell," she muttered.

"You're the one who agreed to stick around," Rogers pointed out. "The least you can do—both of us can do—is make it a little easier. I know you're not the trusting type, but I'm willing to put my trust in you if you try and do the same."

Natasha looked at him, then down at her lap. She stared for a moment at the fresh bandages on her leg. Rogers had warned her, in that building, to get down. She'd known the guy was behind her and she'd been preparing to duck anyway, but the fact that he still bothered to call out her name in the heat of battle, to make sure she didn't get seriously injured or killed…along with the apologizing, it wasn't something she was used to. She couldn't say it was a bad thing, though. It was nice, to have somebody watching her back. And that's what she was here to do for the Captain. She supposed she could extend a little bit of trust his way in the time that she was here.

She met his gaze again. "Can't say I completely trust you. Can't say I ever will. But…while we're working together, know that you can trust me. I wouldn't mind getting off on the right foot this time."

"Guess that's all I can really ask for." he gave her half a smile before he stood. "Rest up. I'll stop by later."

"I already have one nurse, Rogers," she quipped. "I don't need another. Though, I'm sure you'd look absolutely adorable in one of their uniforms."

"Ha ha," he muttered.

"I'll be fine," she assured him. "Go do whatever it is Captain America does in his free time."

He gave a little laugh and headed for the door. When he was half-way out of the room, he angled his body to look at her. "Draw."

"What?" she asked.

"In my free time," he said. "I like to draw."

When he left, Natasha was left alone, surprised yet again by him.

-:-

"You're thinking too much again," Peggy said.

"Am not," Steve grumbled in response.

"Are too," Peggy argued. "Your forehead creases up when you think. You can continue to argue with me, but you know I'm right, so really there's no point. So? What is it? What are you thinking about?"

Steve exhaled. Of course Peggy was right. She usually was. They'd known each other since the beginning of '43, nearly a year now. During that past year they'd formed a strong friendship. Perhaps even something a little more, but neither of them had acted on it. When Steve worked up the courage to ask her about those feelings—not long before finding Natasha—Peggy had told him that while she maybe loved him at one point—perhaps loved him still, if she was being honest with herself—she wasn't looking for love right now. Steve was comfortable with that. And who knew what the future held? They could change their minds at some point down the line. But right now, instead of anything romantic, he now considered her one of his best friends. Someone he knew would support him through anything, someone he could confide in. And, of course, someone other than Bucky to call him out when he was being stubborn or an idiot or both.

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing?" Steve finally asked. "With Natasha, I mean."

"Ah," Peggy said, giving him a look and trying hard not to smile as she sat down beside him in the empty mess hall.

"What?" Steve questioned, clueless as usual.

"This is about Natasha?"

"Yeah, I guess…" Steve trailed off, scanning Peggy's face, trying to decipher what she was thinking. "I mean…are-are you—?"

"If you're about to ask if I'm jealous," Peggy cut him off. "I would've thought you knew me better than that. Of course I'm not jealous, Steve. In fact, I quite like Natasha. It's nice to have another woman of action around here. I can't quite say she feels the same way about me yet, but I doubt I'm the only one she hasn't quite warmed up to yet."

"Right." Steve bowed his head slightly. "Sorry for implying that you might be jealous."

Peggy laid a hand over his comfortingly. "It's quite all right, Steve. I don't think that's your real concern though. You asked if you thought you were doing the right thing, bringing her on. Well, what do you think about it?"

"I don't know," Steve admitted. "That's why I'm asking you."

Peggy smiled, her brown eyes, like dark whiskey, were bright. "Well, in my oh-so professional opinion, I would say just give it time. You saw something in her that urged you to save her from that bomb. And she's stayed this long, so she must see something in you as well. I know that most everyone else around here is questioning your decision, but I personally think you made the right one."

"Thanks," Steve mumbled, giving Peggy half a smile.

She leaned in and pressed her lips to his cheek. She gave his hand a squeeze as she pulled back, her full lips curved into a smile. "See you in the morning, Steve."

-:-

Late January, 1944

Bucky clenched his jaw, trying to find some patience within himself. Steve had told him to be nice. Bucky had simply grumbled out an agreement, but he'd made no promises. Not when it came to Natasha Romanoff. Because it seemed like one second, he was fine around her, and the next, she would flash her green eyes at him, a corner of her mouth would quirk up, and any politeness he had in him went out the window. And he ignored the skipping of his heart that happened either way, because it definitely didn't mean anything.

He knocked on the door to her room.

"Come in," was the responding call.

Bucky twisted the knob and pushed the door open. Natasha wasn't even looking up. She pushed her hands through the sleeves of her jacket and stood slowly from her bed. He noticed her grimace just slightly as she put weight on her left leg. It only having been almost a week since she'd been shot, he had no doubts that the wound was still tender and sore. Even professional assassins felt some level of pain after getting shot.

"How's the leg?" he asked, trying out the 'nice' thing on her.

Natasha looked up at the sound of his voice, a momentary flash of surprise crossing her pretty features. Then the surprise—and even the hint of pain—disappeared and her face returned to its normal, unreadable state.

"Do you really care?" she shot back at him.

"Well, now that you ask, no, not really," he retorted.

Natasha scoffed, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Of all the people Rogers could have sent to come get me, it had to be you?"

"Trust me, the feeling is mutual," he muttered. "But apparently everybody else was busy."

"Yeah, I bet," she said, eyes dancing with amusement. Then she turned serious again. "Look, I get you don't like me. Can't say I like you much either. But if we're going to be teammates, if we're both going to have Rogers' back, maybe we should try and be a little more civil."

"Are you…apologizing?" Bucky stepped further into the room, keeping his eyes on her face, trying to find the trick, the answer, in her features.

"I guess I am, if that's what you want to call it." She shrugged.

Bucky laughed dryly. "That's rich, coming from you."

"From me?" Natasha narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm trying to be polite here. And if I'm remembering correctly—oh, but of course, feel free to correct me if I'm not—you're the one who decided that you hated me the moment Rogers pulled me from the fire."

"Yeah, with good reason," Bucky argued, his voice raising a notch. "We knew going in that anyone on that base of yours was a killer. And yet he rescued you anyway. Kept pulling you from the fire even after we'd gotten all that we needed out of you. I don't know what Steve sees in you. All I know is that when I look at you, all I see is death."

Bucky didn't mean that. Not really. He just wanted to hurt her, if only to stop his heart from jumping every time her pretty eyes met his. Natasha clenched her jaw, glared at him, and Bucky knew that, if she could without consequence, she could kill him right where he stood. He probably wouldn't feel it. Her nimble hands would be slicing his throat before he could register that there was a blade to his neck in the first place. But he stood his ground, kept her gaze level with hers. And, despite the air crackling with tension, he couldn't help but think about how pretty she was. Beautiful, even. It was really annoying to have those kinds of thoughts when she was staring him down, but he understood the reason for giving her the name of Black Widow. Her beauty drew you in, that bright flame of hair just as tantalizing as the scarlet hourglass painted on the black spider's body.

"I get it," Natasha spoke, her voice calm, cool. Deadly as the spider's web. "Rogers is your best friend. You want to protect him."

She took a step forward, and Bucky thought for a moment that she really was just trying to be polite. She was trying to turn over a new leaf with him. Then the corners of her full mouth curved up and he knew he had just fallen into her trap.

"But are you sure that's all that this is?" she continued. "Or are you a little jealous, too, Barnes?"

"Shut up!" Bucky's vision went bright red just long enough to fist his hands in her jacket and spin her around until her back hit the wall, hard. A small gasp escaped past her lips from the force, her head falling back against the wall, eyes locked on his, almost daring him to do worse. Now his heart beat with the anger in his veins, the adrenaline. He was practically disgusted at himself for thinking she was pretty a minute ago. Bucky's hands tightened in the fabric of her jacket, his teeth grinding together as he glared at her. Their faces were inches apart as he pushed her harder against the wall.

"You don't know a damn thing," Bucky ground out. "You don't get to show up here and act like you own the place just because Steve decided to give you a second chance. One that you certainly don't deserve."

"You're right," she whispered. "I don't deserve it. But I'm going to take it anyway."

Bucky gave her an angry smile. "Yeah. Yeah, you do that. But don't get too cocky. Remember, your stay is anything but permanent. And let me tell you, the second you pay that debt of yours, the moment that second chance is up, I will personally see to it that your ass is shipped off this base to someplace where we don't have to see your lying, manipulative face again."

They continued to glare at each other, Bucky counting the seconds by the beat of his own heart. Natasha's features didn't twitch once, her gaze steadily boring into his own. She hadn't even tensed up in his grip. He knew, though, that she didn't need to tense up in order to be ready to fight. To kill.

"Let go of me," Natasha said finally. Her voice was smooth, calm. Bucky was smart enough to hear the warming underneath. He forced the muscles in his hands to loosen, letting his arms drop back down to her sides when he'd let her go. He took the needed steps back, watching her as he walked out through the open door.

-:-

So, just a couple notes on this chapter.

First, the Steve/Peggy scene, I will definitely elaborate on their relationship in this story in future chapters. I can actually tell you that I have already written a scene where Peggy and Natasha talk, and you're going to get Peggy's view on her relationship with Steve. I just love Peggy and Steve so much, and they have such a beautiful, but tragic relationship that they didn't fully get explore and ugh. Steggy feels. But alas, this is a Romanogers story, so they're really good friends in this story, that at one point, were almost something more.

Second, Bucky and Natasha's relationship, I'm definitely trying to portray that as a very much love/hate relationship. They are a lot alike, I think, and I think that because of that, they would disagree, bicker, fight, etc. a lot. But I'm also trying to portray that Bucky's being drawn to her, just like everyone else is. As for future chapters, there will be a bit more Bucky/Nat, but this is still a Romanogers story, so Romanogers is endgame. (Yay for happy endgame, but there's much pain and angst for them to go through before they get there :))

I think that's it….but any questions or comments you have, let me know! I would love to hear your thoughts!

Oh, also. I have midterms next week, a couple big papers I need to write, so I won't be updating next week. But I will the week after! I had a lot of work this weeks, and because of next week, I've fallen a little behind again. So, sorry about that, but in two weeks, there will be another chapter!

Thank you for reading! I owe so much to you guys for all your support!

-DaughterOfPoseidon333