Professor Romanoff's Angel

57

Y/N's POV

I wake up to a pounding head and blurry eyes. The room is dark, only a small yellow lamp to light it. There's a consistent ringing too.
"Angel?" Natasha groans, I can feel her weight shift beside me. I slowly sit up and my eyes starts to focus. We're on the couch, wrapped in blankets and both naked.
"What?" I finally respond, realising she had talked to me.
"How many did you have?" She looks at the coffee table, empty beer bottles all over it.

I try to recall, but nothing rings a bell.
"I had... eleventy, I think." I say. Natasha nods and is about to get up when she stops herself, she turns back to me.
"Did you say eleventy?" She asks,
"I don't think so." I respond, watching as she stands up. The ringing is still present, nothing silences it.

Natasha leans over and picks up my phone from the coffee table,
"Your mom is calling." She says, "Are you going to answer?"
"Gimme it." I say, she hands me my phone and I press the answer button... oh, the ringing is gone!

"Whazz'sup?" I slur, she instantly responds with a laugh.
"Do you want to try that again?" She says,
"No, I'm good."
"I've been calling you all day." She explains, "I got told you went back to school today?"
"I left." I state, she hums.
"I know, but I went to your apartment and you weren't there. Have you been out drinking?" She asks.
"No." I say, "I've been in drinking."
"In where?" She asks,
"Natasha!" I respond happily, barely even able to focus on what she said to me.

"I uh- I think you're missing a word. You mean Natasha's house, right?" She says, sounding confused.
"Probably." I look over to Natasha, who's offering me a glass of water. She's still naked and her body is gleaming in the lamplight. I take the water from her and slowly sip it.

"Did we fuck?" She asks me quietly,
"I don't- maybe?" I respond. My mother chips in down the phone,
"You didn't have a drunk hookup with your ex, did you?"
"We're still together." I respond, knocking some of the beer bottles from the table so I can put my glass down. All I really heard was 'hookup' and 'ex'.

"So when do I get to meet this Natasha?"
"When... time?" I stutter, she said too many words too fast. I could barely keep up with the last question.
"Do you need me to come pick you up? What's Natasha's address?" She says.
"Oh, I'd love Natasha to pick me up!" I say, Natasha smiles and wraps her arms around my waist, picking me up and leading me to our bedroom. Our naked bodies press against each other, she's cold. She gently placed my head on the pillow and wraps me in the bedsheets.

"That's not what I said, Y/N. Just, Natasha's address, please." She groans, something must be annoying her.
"Oh, Tasha's house!" I roll over, hugging into the pillow next to me. My mom sighs and Natasha laughs,
"Don't worry, Miss Y/L/N, I'll take care of her."
"No, I'd quite like to see her, thank you." My mom says down the phone. Natasha gently touches my arm,
"What did she say, Angel?"
"Oh, she said 'thank you'." I grab Natasha's hand and pull her into the bed with me. She smiles and continues to softly rub my arm.
"That's not what I said, Y/N!"
"Bye, mom!" I say as I launch my phone in a random direction.

My phone hits into the mirror against the wardrobe. The mirror slowly starts to fall down, Natasha bursts up and barely catches it. It was a close call. She pushes it back up and picks up my phone, she hangs up and puts the phone down on the bedside cabinet.
"I'm sorry, Tasha." I groan,
"Just be more careful, okay?" She climbs back into bed with me.

"Ugh, Nat?" I say, turning to look at her,
"What?"
"Can we have sex?" I ask, reaching for her waist. She moves back slightly,
"As much as I'd love that, you're still drunk and I don't want to do that to you."
"I knew you'd say something like that." I turn away from her, crossing my arms. "You're such a princess."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, it's just that, I'm pretty sure I know if want sex or not, even if I am drunk."
"Do it yourself, then. You have hands, and it's not like you need my permission." She teases, standing up.

Romanoff's POV

She nods and her hand quickly goes under the bedsheets, I didn't think she'd actually do it.
As she starts moaning, I can't keep my eyes off her. I bite down on my lip and force myself towards the en-suite.
"Fuck, Tasha." She moans and I stop dead in my tracks. It hurts me to reject her but I know that she's not sober and I can't do that to her...and something tells me that we had sex when we were both drunk too. It's just the way we were holding each other, how hot it was under that blanket and the fact that we were both fully naked.

I force myself into the bathroom and start preparing towels, once she finishes, I'm going to help her get washed and hopefully get her some food. She hasn't ate all day, she wouldn't even have breakfast.
I turn the bathroom sink on, trying to drown out her moans. This is the first time I've seen her drunk, I had no clue she'd be like this. I wait until I hear her finish and then I turn the sink off and open the door.

"Are you done?" I ask, slowly walking over to her. She's sweating and glowing.
"Yes, it would've better if y'helped." She slurs, she didn't even say all the words in the sentence.
"Baby, do me a favour and walk over to me." I say, she slowly stands up and starts walking towards me. She's actually walking fairly well until she stands on one of her shoes that had been randomly left on the floor. She stumbles around but I manage to grab her before she falls.

"Let's get you washed." I say softly and start leading her to the shower, I sit her on the bench and turn the shower on. I spray the water on her and she lets out a little squeal.
"Fuck, that's cold!"
"I know, Angel. We're gonna get you feeling better, and then we're going to eat and then we're going to bed, okay?"
"Fine." She groans.

I get her all wrapped up in warm towels and I make her some food, just a few sandwiches. I've put on some sleepwear and given her some to put on too when she's ready. There's a knock at the door and instantly Y/N speaks up,
"Can you make that noise stop?"
"Of course." I say, walking over to the door. I mean, I suppose it's just an odd way of asking me to answer the door.

I open it up and on the other side stands a middle aged woman, 40-ish, with her hair pulled back into a messy bun and her arms crossed.
"Is Y/N here?"

Oh, it's her mother, isn't it?