Soldier

CHAPTER FOUR

NATASHA'S POV

In the month since mine and James almost failed first date, we've been on a couple more that have been much better. But I've also been going on more missions but thankfully none undercover. I used to love those ones but now I don't. I'm becoming comfortable in my own skin despite popular belief.

On this particular morning, I'm too tired to care whether I've made it to my own bed or James'. But it's answered when I hear a throaty chuckle and a hand rubbing my back when I collapse face first onto the bed.

"That gear can't be comfortable to sleep in, come on." James tries to get me up. Keyword: tries. But I'm so tired I whine and refuse to move. "At least roll over."

With an unhappy grunt, I flop onto my back and let him take off my tight stealth gear. But before he can help me into sweats or any sort of pyjama's, I crawl up the bed and climb under the blankets, falling asleep within seconds.

When I do finally wake up, the time reads that it's past one o'clock in the afternoon. I let out a long yawn and push myself up onto my knees and wipe my hair from my face.

I'm the only person in the room, meaning James is probably doing something else. The door is shut, so I take off my underwear and bra and go to the attached bathroom for a relaxing shower.

After soothing my aching muscles and changing into James' boxer briefs, jeans and a singlet, I head down to the kitchen, smiling when I see our whole group, including the newbies, laughing and joking around. And, though I'm sure no one catches it, James normal brooding look has a twinge of a smile. I steal a sandwich from Clint's plate as I walk by and poke my tongue out at him, knowing he wouldn't try get it back from me.

After sitting down, Steve goes through a debrief from my mission last night that had gone as planned, and as he does, I feel a hand on my knee. I look down to see it's James' metal arm. He never uses it for anything unless he's fighting but I don't see anything hostile about this move, so I slip my hand under it and wrap my fingers around his hand.
Until this moment, I never wondered whether or not he can actually be feel anything with his hand. Throughout the debrief that's front and centre in my mind.

Everything suddenly stops. Steve stops talking, Tony stops making stupid faces to get Steve to crack. Even Bruce looks up from his notebook. I quickly realise why. Clint stole one of Thor's pop tarts. Not even Thor's brother, Loki, nor Tony, would do such a thing because Thor loves his damn pop tarts.

"Clint," I warn very slowly, watching his eyebrows raise and his hand is still going to his mouth like a fucking idiot. "You should run."

"Got that." And with that, Clint trips over his chair, right as Thor launches himself over the table.

I get up and follow them to make sure Thor doesn't kill anyone. Clint escapes via a vent in the hallway ceiling that Thor's big shoulders can't squeeze through but that doesn't stop him from trying to punch through the plaster.

"You can't hide up there forever!" Thor shouts down the vent but I know that Clint is already out in another room.

"How long has he been taking your pop tarts?" James asks. His voice causes the massive six foot three inch tall guy with biceps the size of Tony's ego to stop in his tracks.

"A month." Thor says when he's finally recovered from the shock of James saying more than one word.

James and I nod in understanding over why the guy was so angry.

"Thor," I place a hand on the big blond guy's arm. "I know Clint is being a shit head but trust me, let me handle it and he will pay back the pop tarts he owes."

"Strawberry." Thor grunts before walking off back to the kitchen.

"I've never seen someone so aggressive about pop tarts before." James mutters quietly. I look up into those blue eyes of his to find try find amusement but he doesn't seem to be amused by it, more mildly concerned.

"Come on." I take his hand. I've decided it's time I should show him my favourite spot on this property.

"Where are we going?" He asks a little worriedly. I simply squeeze his hand, still unsure if he can feel it but he comes along anyway.

"My favourite place." I finally say after going up a few floors to the door that goes out to the roof.

James looks puzzled until we go outside, and he stops dead. His hand squeezes a little hard but once he realises, he pulls it away and stumbles back. I've never seen him like this before. He was pale when we got him back but this is a whole other level of pale.

"James," I say slowly, piecing things together. "Are you afraid of heights?"

When he just nods and collapses to his knees, I kneel next to him and push my fingers through his long locks.

"Hey, you're okay." I tell him as softly as I can manage. "Let's get you back inside, yeah?"

Even though I say that, he refuses to move, so I sit with him by the door and wait for him to be ready. After all these years, I can't believe I never knew he was so terrified of heights.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper in his ear, lightly moving his hair behind his ears. "I didn't know. I'm sorry, James."

"It's not something I'm proud of." He mutters after maybe ten minutes of me repeatedly saying sorry. "I'm this big bad dude but I'm shit scared of heights."

"Everyone is scared of something. It's not a bad thing, it means you're not a machine." I tell him, kissing the top of his head softly. I take his hand and manage to get him to stand up on his shaky legs. "Lets go watch a movie."