I Can Take You Home (A Romanogers Fanfic) COMPLETED

Natasha

Steve brought Natasha to his friend's house. She had insisted on going to Clint's, because he's the only friend she trusted, but Steve said that if Clint was found helping the both of us, the other Black Widows would hunt him down and kill him alongside with them. Natasha had known that he had a family, so she just said nothing.

  Natasha's stomach hurt more and more as they waited outside at the doorstep. She had tried to keep the blood from spilling out, but her bandage was soaked, and blood had started leaking down her pants.

  "Sam! Quick!" Steve rang the doorbell aggressively and pounded on the door. "I need your help!" His shield shone on his back.

  The door opened and a dark-skinned man peered outside. He had a machine strapped onto his back. "What is it, Cap?" His eyes went to Natasha, and he looked startled to see the blood ruining his rug. "Is she okay?"

  "No, she's not," Steve answered at the same time as Natasha said, "Yes, I am."

  "Come on in." Sam guided Natasha inside his house and shut the door. "I suppose you are on the run." He nodded at Natasha. "What's your name?"

  "Natasha Romanoff."

  "Okay. Natasha, there's some medical supplies up in my room. I'm pretty sure old man Steve here has some experience with bandaging wounds since he was a soldier way back in World War 2."

  Natasha nearly tripped and fell when she limped up the stairs. She fell down, hard, and her stomach screamed.

  "Yeah, you're fine," Steve said sarcastically as he helped Natasha to stand up. "Come on, lean onto me."

  Natasha hated the feeling of vulnerability when she awkwardly leaned against the captain. His arm immediately wrapped around her waist tightly, and his steady grip held her up. She could feel his hard muscles against her body, and that made her feel weirdly hot.

  As he gently set her down onto the bed, Sam poked his head into the room.

  "If you, um, need any help with stuff, I'll be right downstairs. Call me if you need anything." Sam disappeared quietly out the door, clicking it shut on the way out.

  Natasha blinked back tears as she lifted the hem of her wet shirt up. She peeled back the bandages to reveal the gruesome wound underneath. She should've known one of the Widows had a knife. She's so stupid. She looked at the stained bed and rubbed her face. "Oh God, I'm so sorry."

  "It's okay. Let me help you." Steve returned from rummaging around in the bedside drawer. He had a white box underneath an arm. His hands softly pushed her down onto the bed so she was lying on her back. After a while, Natasha could feel a painful prick near her wound, and she bit her lip to keep from making any sound.

  "It's gonna hurt. I'm stitching it up," Steve warned in a gentle tone.

  "Of course I know it hurts, doofus," Natasha groaned.

  After Steve was done with stitching the wound up, Natasha watched as he took out a roll of bandages and wrapped her up with it.

  "Come, sit up." His hands moved to her back and helped her sit up. He stuffed a few pillows behind her and pulled the blanket up to her shoulders.

  Natasha was foreign to this type of warmth and tender touch. She squirmed when his hand touched her forehead. She had this strong urge to push his hand away, push him away, but another part of her wanted him to stay. She wanted to slap herself. She thought Steve was going to walk away after he was done helping her, but he sat down beside her instead.

  "What...What are you doing?" she asked uncertainly.

  "Keeping you company." Steve took her fists and smoothed them out. His hands were warm. "Relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

  No one told Natasha to relax before. It was new. Everything was new. She was half-terrified, of course, but she was the Black Widow, meaning she was a master of hiding how she felt. Her fingers curled in instinctively, and she could feel Steve's fingers prying hers loose again. She sighed and pulled her hands away. "Stop doing that."

  "I'm sorry." Steve rubbed his palms together.

  A long moment of silence issued, and it was Steve who broke it. "That...That girl...and the woman...are they your family?"

  Natasha looked down. Melina. Yelena. "They are my family. But...just not in blood. Melina is a good woman. She ordered to not put...nevermind."

  "What is it, Natasha?" Steve asked. He looked at her with his soft blue orbs, and they were worried and cautious.

  "Just...The Red Room, they...they handcuffed children to their beds at night so they couldn't escape." Natasha flipped her wrists over. The permanent chafed mark of the handcuffs were still there. She remembered pulling hard against it when she was small, part of the reason was she wanted to escape. Part of the reason was she felt really uncomfortable. "Melina ordered to not put it on me anymore when I got older." She laughed. "Yelena was so jealous." That part she remembered.

  "I-I'm so sorry, Natasha. I...I didn't know." Steve looked down at his palms where Melina's blood had stained them not that long ago.

  Natasha knew she should feel angry. She should shout at him, scream at him, refuse his help, and run away. Part of her was angry, but deep down she knew that Steve didn't know. He was just doing what he should do. Take down the bad guys.

  Aren't you a bad guy too, Natalia?

  Natasha shook the thought away. "Yelena...she's my sister. I-I don't know whether we're true sisters or Melina's our real mother, but what I do know is that Yelena isn't like this. She's been brainwashed. She doesn't remember me." That line always hurt her deep inside, but she had gotten used to it, for when she got older, her brainwashing routine had ceased, and she remembered the countless times Yelena had been wiped clean of her memories that the Red Room had considered as 'making her weak' or 'useless' and the countless times she was forced to fight Yelena as part of her training.

  Steve said nothing for a while, and the guilt on his face was real. "Will you...Will you tell me your memories of Melina and Yelena?"

  "I don't remember much," Natasha lied. She didn't trust anyone with her past, not Steve, not even Clint. She had told a portion of it to Clint, but never the whole truth. She was afraid that they would see her a certain way. Her newfound friend. Maybe Steve.

  "It's okay." Steve reached out and touched her shoulder.

  Natasha looked at his sympathetic blue eyes and felt angry at herself. She hated people feeling sympathy or pity toward her. She was the Black Widow, and no one would feel anything about her. Not fear. Not intimidation. Not pity. Nothing. "I've got red in my ledger," she said. "I'd like to wipe it out."

  Steve looked at her closely. "You can join the Avengers. We could use some help with a master assassin like you." He flashed her a hesitant, shy smile.

  Natasha studied his face and realized how handsome he was. He was good-looking when she first saw him, but now, up-close, she could see every inch of his weirdly adorable smile. Everything was weird. This feeling. There was something in the way he studied her. The warmth in his eyes. He cared about her.

  Natasha folded her hand over his still on her shoulder. He looked surprised. She allowed the smallest of smiles to cross her face. "I'll think about it."