Black Widow: An Origin Story

A Promise

A/N: Happy Easter guys! It's been a little bit again, but here is the next chapter! This one is short, but important. And a little fluffy.

Hope you enjoy!

Pain lanced through my body as I came to, groaning softly as I managed to pull myself to a sitting position. It was silent in the room and I noticed I was alone.

It hurt more than it should've, seeing that, but I swallowed the hurt, swinging my legs over the bed.

Standing hurt like hell, but I had to go to the bathroom and I wasn't waiting for someone to help. Each step burned, but I pushed through. It took fifteen minutes to get where I needed to go and to get back in bed.

I was sweating and panting, the exertion more than my body could handle at this point.

The door opens moments later and I quickly school my features, feigning calm and relaxed.

"You're awake," Steve gasps, quickly moving to my side.

His expression turns concerned as he takes in my sweat-covered face and troubled breathing.

"Are you alright?" He asks anxiously.

"I'm okay," I reply, pushing myself back to a sitting position.

"Easy, you really shouldn't be moving much yet. Your body needs time to heal."

"Yeah, well, I can manage."

He raises an eyebrow in question, before his eyes widen in realization, "You've been out of the bed."

I shrug, "It was either that or piss myself, so I chose the preferred option."

"Natasha," he says exasperatedly, "why didn't you wait?"

"Did you want me to piss myself?" I question, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. "Who would clean it up? You? I have some dignity left."

"I didn't mean it like that, Nat, I just didn't want you to hurt yourself worse," he admits, blushing softly. "I still think it's my fault."

"Steve, listen," I tell him, unconsciously taking one of his hands in mine, "I was the one who got you out. No one told me to, in fact, I wasn't supposed to leave, but I figure you know that now. They weren't getting anywhere so I took it upon myself to take the risk. I knew what could happen, but I had to get you out. If I'm being honest, it didn't go as badly as I thought it might."

"So, essentially getting run over by a motorcycle was easy?" He inquires with an amused smirk.

"It was preferable to some of the things I've been through," I answer, quickly releasing his hand as I realize what I'd done, finding I missed the warmth.

His eyebrows furrow in concern, but he doesn't ask, waiting to see if I'd continue.

"My parents were killed in a fire when I was three. Russia is cold in winter. This one was particularly brutal, but the heat from the blaze could be felt from blocks down the street." I swallow thickly, forcing myself to continue. "I don't really remember them, and it's not for the lack of trying. Where I was trained—"

"The Red Room?"

"Yes," I confirm, "I was only taught to know and understand what they taught us. Weakness was not something they condoned. They enjoyed tearing us apart from the inside and forcing us to continue training. If you couldn't, they'd kill you, or make one of us do it instead. One of their favorite punishments for me was cuffing me to the old radiator. It didn't always work, but it was the knowledge of what it could do to me that was the worst."

He gently pulls me against his chest, his hand running through my, thankfully, tangle free hair.

"Who brushed my hair?"

"No question about who changed your clothes?" he chuckles, tugging on my shirt.

I push against his chest playfully and look into his eyes, "I know you would've murdered a man if he attempted to do it, so I figure you had Peggy do that. You trust her. But my hair is softer than it normally is, and though I know she's female, she has other things to do than my hair. And James would not have come close to me considering how angry you are with him. So, that leaves one alternative."

"What if I told you Phillips did it?" he smiles, "And complained the entire time."

"Then I would tell you you're full of shit."

He laughs heartily this time, "Fine, fine. I did it."

"Really?" I ask, brows furrowing, unsure if I believed him.

"Well, it was just me and mom for years and she enjoyed having someone brush her hair on occasion, so..." His hand scratched through the hair on the back of his neck.

"Thank you," I tell him, smiling softly. "It's softer than it's ever been, except for the occasional mission when it called for it. I always hated those, but my targets enjoyed them."

"We can take them down when this is all over," he says, cupping my chin in his large hand. "When we take down Hydra and win the war, we can stop the Red Room. I promise you, Natasha. I will help you. We can face them together."

"Promise?"

"I promise," he replies, placing a chaste kiss on my lips. "Always."