Climbing up the Water Spot (CapWidow)

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

Steve was really too understanding for his own good. She was consistently surprised that some woman hadn’t figured that out yet and snatched him up.

…Wait. Where had that thought come from? Steve wouldn’t know the first thing to say to a woman who was interested in him, anyhow. She’d put money on that.

The thought, and the amusement it gave her, vanished as she took his hand to stand up. Everything hurt. She would be just fine, eventually, but damn if it wasn’t going to suck for a while. In an effort to keep her ego intact, she said nothing on the subject, her only concession being to hand onto Steve until her vision stopped spinning. There was no way she was driving home after this one. In fact, it would probably be smart for her to go see the medics on the Helicarrier. But that was the last thing she wanted. At this point, she’d kill for a cup of coffee and a day of sleep.

“Don’t suppose you’d want to give me a lift home?” She gave a tired chuckle, running a hand through her curls, subtly assessing the damage there. They’d need a good deep condition, but she’d expected worse, actually; they’d be fine.

“I’ll come pick up my Vespa tomorrow. Or next week, when I wake up.”

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

Steve could see the hurt all over Natasha's face. She was suffering from the shock, and he knew better than to let her try and stand on her own. Instead, his hands went to support her, keeping steady as she used his arm to keep herself standing. The Captain didn't mind at all, they were teammates and friends, how could he not go out of his way to help Natasha?

“Don’t suppose you’d want to give me a lift home?

He smiled warmly to the redhead before giving a nod,"Natasha, I'd be happy to. I was going to offer to do it anyway, you just beat me to the punch." He was glad they were back on track now, this even thing was working out well. Though, Steve was dealing with all sorts of thoughts about her and their relationship. In the two weeks, he'd wondered what made him so nervous around her. It was, sort of like when he'd first gotten to meet Peggy. He was so awkward in these situations.

He moved to walk a bit, but then realized how shaky Natasha was, so he slipped an arm around her waist and put her arm over his shoulder, "C'mon, Natasha, let's take you somewhere where you can get over the shock. He helped her out from there. Cap was willing to bet that going to the hospital was a big no no for her, so he didn't even bother to suggest it, and the Hellicarrier was far from New York at the moment. So, he'd made a decision.

Steve would take care of Natasha, until she got over the shock trauma.

Outside by his motorcycle, Steve looked to Widow and said, "You'll sit in front and I'll reach around you to steer. I don't want you to fall off the bike." He sounded insistent, not wanting to hear any arguments.

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

Honestly, Natasha just wanted her sofa. She’d prefer her bed, obviously, but the sofa was approximately 20 meters closer from her front door, so she’d happily settle for it. As they made their way to Steve’s cycle, he thankfully said nothing about the hospital, so she didn’t have to expend the energy vetoing the idea.

"You'll sit in front and I'll reach around you to steer. I don't want you to fall off the bike.”

Natasha arched an eyebrow at his tone of voice. Obviously it was the best course of action, it was just the way he insisted; he seemed so much more comfortable when he had a mission. Not unlike herself, she supposed, but she soon decided that train of thought was too heavy for her current state. Grasping the handlebars for support, she swung a leg over the seat, surprised that it felt like she had bricks tied to her ankle.

“Good, I prefer riding in front, anyhow.”

If she sounded a little grumpy, it’s because she was. It was easier than accepting how close she’d come to not walking away from this one. Not to mention that Natasha hated feeling susceptible, and right now she was too battered to even drive herself home. It grated on her nerves, but she knew better than to take it out on Steve.

“You can just drop me off. Really, Captain… I’ve been through worse than this.”

It was a fact meant to relax him, but she supposed it was testament to how many times she’d taken her concentration off the wrong thing and paid for it. Instead of mentally revisiting her past failures, she crossed her arms, mind fixated on the promise of sleep.

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

“Good, I prefer riding in front, anyhow.”

Steve couldn't help but turn a light tinge of pink as he slid onto the motorcycle, sitting behind Natasha and settling into his seat. The reason he was blushing? There wasn't a lot of space for two people on the front seat, so they were pressed up against each other rather tight as the bike roared to life. Cap tried to ignore it, however there really was nothing he could think about but the pounding in his chest .

When they reached a red light right by her home, Natasha spoke up again, “You can just drop me off. Really, Captain… I’ve been through worse than this.”

He didn't even take a second to come back with, "No way Natasha. You were seriously electrocuted today, and you've been shaking since I helped you stand up earlier. You're not going to do anything besides relax." Steve was going to take care of everything today. Smiling to her as they pulled in front of her apartment building, Steve spoke up once again, "I'm taking care of you until the trauma goes away and that shaking fit stops. And there's not a thing you could say that would make me go."

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

It felt so good not to have to hold herself up. In fact, Tasha barely noticed the ride to her house; she’d seen it all before, anyhow, why not lean back and enjoy the ride? It wasn’t exactly cuddling – she didn’t have the energy for that, and besides, ex-spies did not cuddle – but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t glad for the bulk of Steve’s frame behind her. She hadn’t even noticed the shaking, but she knew it couldn’t have made his end of the ride easy.

So in return, she didn’t argue with him further. How exciting could it be watching her sleep, anyhow?

“Right, Captain. Knock yourself out, then.”

She heard the engine cut, sighing as she realised she was going to have to move again. Gingerly, while at the same time trying to pretend she wasn’t hurting, she slipped off the cycle. It wasn’t as graceful as it normally would have been, but it went without major incident. Turning, she wasted no time swearing in Russian at the flight of steps leading up to her apartment, and proceeded to walk herself up them, refusing Steve’s arm again in favour of the steel handrail.

Two more, one more… home free.

Unlocking the door, Natasha immediately made a beeline for her couch. It was plain, and comfortable, and it did in fact roll out into a bed but there was no point in that now. She waved an arm in the general direction of the spotless kitchen, her aches finally winning out over her desire to be left alone.

“Tylenol… drawer all the way to the right.”

It was probably underkill in this situation, but anything helped.

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

Glad that she agreed to rest and let him take care of whatever she needed, Steve was happy to help her up to her apartment. Of course, she didn't accept that, instead using the steel beam to help herself up. Really, Steve supposed that was more admirable than it was stubborn. Natasha was an independent woman, and Steve had no problem with that, he just wanted to make sure she'd be okay with him looking after her while he could.

Cap watched as Natasha headed right for her couch, cracking a smile as she fell down. It was so, normal, he never really got to see much of this side of the former assassin, he rather liked it. Of course, she was a beautiful woman, and that always made watching her do things very intriguing. Steve took off his mask after the door was shut behind him, now that they were in private. He waited a moment before she asked him to do something for her.

“Tylenol… drawer all the way to the right.”

Nodding, the Captain smiled, "Coming right up Nat, tasha." He'd attempted to call her Nat again, but it just felt awkward, so he'd given up on it as quickly as he could. There had to be a better nickname to call her, he'd figure it out eventually.

Taking his gloves and placing them on the table, Steve headed into her kitchen and to the drawer that she asked. Spotting the bottle of medicine she'd asked for, Steve took a few moments fighting with the childproof cap. After finally winning the battle, he hunted down a glass and filled it with water. Steve plucked out two pills and brought the glass to Natasha, flashing a confident grin, proud of himself for finding his way through a modern kitchen so well.

"Here you go."

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

Natasha was sure she was imagining the chipper undertone in his voice. They were soaked, she was battered, and now he’d decided to spend the rest of the afternoon looking over her. Which was (a) not strictly necessary, she was convinced, and (b) boring as hell.

While Steve rummaged around in the kitchen, she thought about how fortunate it was that she hadn’t done much with the apartment yet. Most people would say that it didn’t give away much about her, but that’s where they were wrong; it gave away plenty, even in its undecorated state. If he knew what to look for, it would tell Steve what brand of coffee she preferred, which side of the bed she tended to sleep on, even her relaxation habits. If he looked very hard, he would even find her mother’s wedding ring; it was hidden in the innermost matryoshka doll that sat on the counter of her breakfast nook.

But she knew he wouldn’t look. That’s why she mostly didn’t mind he’d insisted on sticking around.

“Only two?” she joked, weariness evident in her voice. Gratefully, she took the pills, swallowing them dry and shaking her head at the glass. “I’ve had enough water for one afternoon, thanks.”

She unclipped her utility bracelets, wondering if she had the energy to wiggle out of a wet catsuit. Deciding she probably should, she sat up with a groan and trudged off toward her bedroom, hand braced against the wall.

“Fair warning: this way lies nakedness.” She ducked into her bathroom, grumbling; she would really rather be napping. But it wouldn't do to wake up with a cold, either.

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

Appreciated for his help or not, Steve didn't really care, he just wanted to help Natasha. When she headed to clean herself off, Steve nodded, that was probably the best thing she could do right now. Trying to fix his awful case of mask hair, Cap looked up to her and said, "Appreciate the warning, I'd never intrude on a lady though. You don't need to worry about that Natasha."

That's when some odd feelings started to bubble up. He said he'd never do such a thing, but that didn't mean that he didn't really, really want to. Steve took a deep breath, considering his current options. Natasha was probably going to finish showering and take a nap. That would give him time to go back to the tower, change out of his uniform and come back. That was the perfect plan in his mind. Maybe when he came back, he'd bring food as well, that seemed like the right thing to do.

Steve felt good about this, looking after his friend after she'd had an accident, it felt so normal, even if the circumstances weren't exactly common. That said, it was just nice to feel like he fit in for once, like he wasn't some primitive time traveler who was so obviously out of place and over his head. He smiled before settling into his chair. Once Natasha went down for a nap, he'd head off to change and bring food back here, so pleased with his current plan.

For now, he was just looking around the apartment a bit. Whatever was out for the naked eye to see had to be fair game, otherwise, Natasha would have hidden it better. Things like her coffee and some other assorted items. Steve absentmindedly drank the glass of water, relaxing into his seat.

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

Natasha didn’t have the energy to take a shower. Not by far. One hand, the hot water night feel fantastic after half an hour in a sodden catsuit, but her energy gauge was almost on empty. Maybe when she woke up…

Instead, she peeled herself out of the Widow suit, her limbs aching as she stretched. Piling her damp hair on top of her head in a haphazard ponytail, she slipped into her trusty robe – the soft cotton one she used in the summer – and knotted it twice around her waist. A glance in the mirror confirmed her suspicions: she looked horrible. It was arguably worse than that time she’d caught the flu a few years back.

And she felt even worse than she looked. She’d stopped shaking, mercifully, but felt almost like she had a sunburn, plagued by an odd residual heat that didn’t warm her.

Tasha wasn’t the type for slippers; she hated the lack of traction and the way they never stayed on. So she slipped into her standard thin pair of socks and stepped out of the bathroom, into the expanse of the sparsely decorated bedroom.

At the sight of her bed, she promptly forgot Steve was even there. The weariness that encompassed her was something she’d experienced on a few occasions, for various reasons, and each time it happened she told herself this was definitely the worst. Except this time, she thought she was probably right; electrocution wasn’t exactly a walk in the park.

She swallowed thickly as she fell into bed, thinking to herself that she deserved a medal for buying these pillows; they were so soft. Every other thought slipped from her mind as she sprawled atop her duvet, smiling to herself despite her aches as sleep rushed up to meet her..

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

When Steve heard Natasha make her way from the bathroom to her bedroom, he slipped out to change. He pulled his mask back on before going down to his bike and driving off toward Avengers Tower. He wouldn't take too horribly long, Steve just needed to unwind himself. When he reached his home, Steve went and took a quick shower to wash whatever Hydro-Man had left behind off and then found his way to his room to put on civilian clothing. He packed a spare uniform into the big trunk of his bike just in case they were called again, but Steve seemed to remember that Doctor Banner was on city duty and Agent Barton would be on 'Make sure The Hulk doesn't break anything' duty tonight.

Clean and feeling a bit better, Steve headed back out with his thoughts jumbling around. Two weeks ago, dealing with Peggy's death had weighed in heavy on his mind. Now Steve had taken some time to sort that out. He'd read into her life, and it was a relief to learn that she had been happy. That alone had taken a huge weight off of Steve's shoulders. Watching the road pass by as he turned onto Bleeker Street, Steve's mind reached a topic he'd avoided for some time now.

'What's the deal with you and Natasha?"

Steve's mind was sounding oddly Tony-like, what a gossip.

Honestly, he didn't know. They were only starting to get to know each other, Steve had nothing else to go on. But, watching her when they were on missions, those moments when they were off together, the fact that he shared details about himself with her that the other Avengers didn't know, that meant something. At least it did to Steve. While he pulled in front of a pizza place to get food to bring to Natasha's, making himself an uninvited dinner guest, Steve shrugged it all off for now. If there was something there, it was only just starting to bud, and he had no idea what Natasha could possibly be thinking about him, the old timer in a young man's body.

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

Natasha woke up too early. She had no idea what time it actually was, but by the way her limbs complained, she knew she hadn’t been asleep nearly long enough.

But apparently her mind wasn’t going to let her slip back to dreamland anytime soon, so she cautiously rolled out of bed, taking careful inventory of all the new aches that seemed to have developed. Her vision was clearer, though, and the shakes seemed to have disappeared. That was progress, as far as she concerned.

Finally remembering Steve, she opened her bedroom door, peering down the short hall. No sign of him. Drawing her robe tightly closed, she stepped into the sitting room, peering over the breakfast nook and into the kitchen. No Steve. She smiled to herself; he must have gone home after he realised exactly how boring it was watching her sleep. Well, he probably hadn’t watched her sleep.

Probably.

With a shake of her head as if to clear her thoughts, she decided a shower was finally in order. After she cleaned up and felt a bit more human, then she could work on figuring out what day it was.

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

Sometime during the middle of her shower was when Steve returned to Natasha's apartment, two pizza boxes in his arms. He could hear the shower from where he was and figured Natasha had gotten up and decided to clean up, just as he had before. Cap smiled, she knew he had been coming back, right? He certainly wasn't just going to abandon Natasha on a day like today, that wasn't how he did things.

Whistling a bit, Steve set the pizzas down on Widow's kitchen table and spied the toaster over from where he stood. It was one of those ones where you put the food in it and closed the little glass door, not one of the pop up ones that Steve remembered from his time, Tony liked to constantly remind him that he was in the 21st Century, not the dark ages anymore, much to Steve's annoyance. However, that toaster was perfect, if the pizzas got cold before Natasha came back out, he could toast them, brilliance.

Finding his way to Natasha's couch, Steve plopped down for a few moments. Just now he was realizing that besides his shower back at the tower, he hadn't done a single relaxing thing, and even the shower had been rushed so that he could get back here.

Steve closed his eyes, just a few minutes would be okay, he wouldn't even sleep. He'd just, rest his eyes.

Light snores escaped the Super Soldier after that.

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

In the middle of washing her hair, Natasha unmistakably heard the front door open. Normally, she’d have gone to see who it was – no one besides Steve had ever been in this flat. Unless she counted Clint, years back. She wasn’t even sure he still remembered where this place was, so she didn’t count him. So it was either Steve in her living room, or really slow robbers.

Seeing as she was naked and ailing, she stayed where she was. The sounds that followed didn’t seem all that rushed, so she knew it had to be Steve. And if perchance it wasn’t Steve, there was no way they’d get the drop on her. So she finished her shower, slipping into a pair of sweatpants and a tight capsleeve tshirt. She grabbed a fresh pair of socks, too, and slid a stretchy headband into her wet hair.

Unconcernedly, she padded into the front room, surprised to see Steve propped up on her couch. And asleep, as it turned out. Despite herself, she grinned; the man was stubborn, but almost in a good way. It was still about as necessary for him to be here as it was to run an air conditioner in Siberia, but she could admire his persistence. And his choice in dinner fare.

Quietly – and Natasha knew how to do quiet – she went about reheating the pizzas, swallowing two more pills while she was at it. Once they were warm, she meandered back over to the couch, pleased that the Tylenol was keeping some of the stiffness in her joints away, and after a moment’s debate, nudged Steve in the shoulder.

“Dinner, Sleeping Beauty.”

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

Steve had been out like a light. He hadn't expected to be so tired. Then again, Cap supposed that between a hard workout, a fight at GNB, and then making up with Natasha just conked him out. It happened, sometimes one could become tired so quickly, sleep just would happen.

Speaking of Natasha.

"Dinner, Sleeping Beauty.”

Steve's eyes creaked open, "Mmh," his first attempt at an answer only came out as a mumble. He blinked a few times before his eyes settled on Natasha. A smile crossed his profile, still in that momentary state of being awake and being asleep, "Wuh, oh."

He sat up a bit and rubbed his eyes, "I must've gone out pretty quick. All I did was sit down after I got back." He could smell the pizza, still rather fresh from Bleecker Street, Steve's grin returned, "I guess you found the food. Hope you like pizza."

Really, Steve was trying to take the attention that he'd come back into Natasha's apartment, when he was supposed to be looking after her, and all he ended up doing was falling asleep on her couch.

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

Pizza was something she liked. Pasta was her favourite, actually, but there was something to be said for the most efficient meal she could think of. And it was perfect after the sort of day they’d had; what else would you want after a near death experience?

“Pizza’s great.” Her smile was short but genuine. “Thoughtful of you.”

But then, she supposed that was Steve in a word. Thoughtful. Of everything. Of how the times had changed, of his own place in the world, of her. She didn’t know what he was thinking, of course – she was a spy, not a psychic – but she knew when he was contemplating on something about her. It wasn’t the look she got from most men, either. That she could read, but this was something else entirely.

“If you’re tired, you know, I don’t have to be babysat.”

The smile returned, this time to let him know she wasn’t mad about it, but Natasha of all people didn’t need to be looked after. Not in her own home, at least. What she didn’t say was that she was glad for the company. Steve was a comfortable person to be around – when she wasn’t trying to puzzle out what he was thinking. But then that was her problem, not his. If she could forget herself for ten minutes, she might actually enjoy it.

But that’s what made Natasha so effective; she could never forget herself.

* * *