His hair was shorter, that had been the first thing Natalia noticed about her zvyozdochka upon seeing him barge into her hospital room a few weeks back. But she hadn’t been brave enough to really touch it until now, when he was asleep, his head on her lap. They had been watching a movie as a way to pass the time, and he had nodded off, clearly exhausted from whatever assignment had he been directed to deal with today. Natalia was trying to be more like the woman he missed, his fiancee, but she honestly couldn’t remember who she used to be — or was it who she was now? God, she was lost. Yet she had allowed James (the name didn’t sound right yet; she refused to use it until it did) to rest against her in an attempt to return to their normal routine. Her slender fingers ran through the disheveled strands as she listened to his long, deep breaths. It felt softer than she remembered, cleaned and cared for. However, it was a reminder that they had made it out, that they were living better lives. The thought caused the corners of her lips to curl upwards. If nothing else, she knew she was proud of them.
They had been partners for over a year now, and Natalia Romanova was no longer — in her place was a young woman named Natasha Romanoff. She was colder, unwelcoming of physical contact and crude humor. That was probably why she disliked Clint Barton so much. She kept to herself outside of work. She didn’t trust anyone enough to make friends. Yet, he spoke to her as though they were familiar. At some point, he had even started to call her Tasha. He had meant it as a joke, she believed, but he continued to call her that. She wanted to be unsettled by his sudden closeness. Instead, she found herself easing into it. It was comforting, somehow, in this strange place, and her walls began to fall, bit by bit. That was how they ended up falling asleep together while on a mission. They were supposed to scoping out a target. However, it was late. They had drifted off, her head going limp against his shoulder. The two would be in big trouble later, when they missed their chance after the man had left his apartment, causing them to chase him and make quite the scene doing so, but the experience, even ignored, had forged a bond between them. In no time, they would best friends.
It had been a stressful day, to say the least. Their mission had gone wrong — oh so wrong — and they had been swarmed by enemies. What had originally been an easy assignment had quickly escalated into a full-blown firefight. Natasha had done her best to keep up, but she couldn’t let the information they needed slip through their fingers, so she had been forced to let Steve bear the brunt of the attacks as she retrieved it. Needless to say, even the super soldier was a bit bloodied and bruised. The two had come back, cleaned up, yet he was still sitting there on the sofa, looking worse for wear. She had a feeling he blamed himself for what had happened. He wasn’t used to undercover work, though. Mistakes were inevitable. “Hey,” she greeted softly, coming up behind him. She placed a small palm on his shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Her hand squeezed. The absentminded gesture gave her the idea to knead the tension away. The two had slowly gotten more physical as time went on, but it continued to surprise her, the way Steve didn’t evade her touch anymore. “I mean, we made it out alive, didn’t we? Both of us.” A soft, reassuring smile spread across her lips. “And even Captain America’s bound to have a couple bad days.”
I found this on Pinterest and felt that EVERYONE needed to see it ❤️ (Obviously, credit to owner and all that jazz)
He wasn’t ready…
I’VE WATCHED THIS 18 FUCKIN TIMES AND I HAVE TEARS STREAMING DOWN MY FACE I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S BETTER THE NOISE OR THE FUCKING LOOK HE GIVES
The Headmasters Office
What is wrong with you???
James had been stationed on the couch for hours. His shaggy hair and scruff on his chin made him look all the more ragged with the dark circles that had settled under his eyes. Nightmares weren’t anything new for James, but the most recent one had him up out of bed in fright. Blood and screams were always present in his dreams, but this time they didn’t belong to strangers. They were Steve’s. He’d let the blond down and the man that people had thought of as a national treasure for decades was dead. The scene replayed over and over in his mind, and James couldn’t ever move quickly enough to help. It wasn’t his fault, but somehow the man had crafted it in his mind that if somehow he’d known…
A soft breath startled him from his thoughts. His gaze fell to the weight on his lap and he blinked at the familiar figure there, almost instantly softening. Natasha, how long had she been there? James had been so lost in his own mind, in his own brooding, that he hadn’t noticed her arrival or the way she’d curled up with her head in his lap until her breathing had already slowed. In the near silence he counted her breaths, long and slow, a part of him anxious that she might give out on him too, but she never did. Not afer he’d counted two dozen or so breaths. His skilled fingers brushed gently though her hair and slowly he felt himself coming out of the fog, if only briefly. “I’ll keep you safe,” he muttered, pledging more to himself than to her, because James simply couldn’t afford to lose Natasha too.