The Infamous Hacker (Natasha Romanoff x OC)

Chapter 3- Natasha Romanoff

"I'd sit this one out, Cap," Agent Romanoff told Captain America as he swiped up a parachute and pulled it on.

"I don't see how I can," he replied.

"Then guys come from legend," she informed him, "They're basically gods."

"There's only one god, ma'am," Captain America said, approaching the tail. "And I'm sure he doesn't dress like that!"

With this, he leaped from the quinjet.

Agent Romanoff sighed. "Boys and their exits."

I chuckled, closing up the tail. 

"You aren't jumping as well?" she asked, getting up from her seat and opening an overhead cabinet, searching around for something.

"No, no, I can't fight. I can cyber-fight, but the most I can do to defend myself is shoot," I said dismissively. 

"Ah." 

She pulled a few things out of the cabinet and instructed me to sit down. 

"What?" I asked.

"In case you didn't know," she sat down next to me, showing me what was in her hands (which was a roll of bandages, a cloth towel, a bit of ointment, some medical tape, and cleansing solution), "Your entire left temple is bleeding."

"Yeah, Captain America told me," I responded, allowing her to squirt some cleaning solution onto the towel and starting to wipe my temple with it. Though she was being gentle, it still stung like crazy. I winced when she started to clean the gash in my head.

"Oooh, sorry," she apologized.

"No, no, you're fine," I muttered stiffly, squeezing my eyes shut. 

"Don't worry, I'm almost done... Disloyal..? Is that what you want me to call you?"

"You can call me that, or you can call me Bryce Russell. Either work, Agent Romanoff."

"You can just call me Natasha if you'd like."

"Alright, good to know."

There was a small pause as she dotted the middle of the gash. At one point, the solution dripped into the wound. I gasped sharply and threw my head back, scrunching up my face from the pain.

"Sorry! Sorry," she repeated, slowly guiding my head back to where it was with her free hand.

She quickly finished up the cleaning stage, keeping her hand in my midnight black hair to keep my head still, and moved on to the ointment stage. This hurt a bit less. As she gingerly traced the gash with her finger, I couldn't help but feel relaxed. If she was as dangerous as she claimed to be(I mean, you have to be a serious threat to be on SHIELD's most wanted), she was definitely not acting the part.

When she was finished, she asked, "How does that feel?"

"Good," I replied. "Thank you."

"Oh, I'm not done yet," she said with a grin, unraveling the bandages. She ripped them into square-shaped pieces and pressed them against my head. Then, she ripped off a piece of medical tape and also pressed it to my forehead, presumably to keep the bandages in place.

"Are you done now?" I asked, glancing at her. It was then when I really, truly saw her best features- her short, wavy red hair, her emerald green eyes, her muscular body. My findings piqued my interest in a way I'd never thought I'd feel again.

I was considered heteroflexible. This meant that I usually had opposite-gender love interests, but I also had same-gender love interests, only very seldom. I never knew that I was like this until I met my friend's sister when I was a sophomore in High School. My friend's name was Nico Mullins, and he wasn't at all fazed when I accidentally told him that I was 94.85% sure that I had a crush on his sister. In fact, he seemed pretty okay with it and influenced our relationship a lot.