Chapter Text
“Sam, you see anything?”
“Besides a whole lotta sand? Nope.”
Steve let out a frustrated sigh. The coordinates Fury had sent them were supposed to have lead to an active Hydra cell. They were in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in the middle east, miles away from civilization. Fury had insisted that his intel was good, and they’d been tracking this particular group for days; but from what Steve could see from where he and Natasha were crouched behind a sand dune, the only thing in the middle of this desert at the moment was them.
And a whole lotta sand.
Natasha nudged Steve’s arm, and when he glanced over at her, she grinned.
“Easy missions are boring,” she reminded him. He rolled his eyes, but his lips still curved upwards. “This is either a really good sign, or a really bad one.”
“Let’s assume it’s a bad one,” Steve replied. Natasha glanced over at him again. “Then if it’s not, we’ll be pleasantly surprised.”
“I hate surprises,” she muttered lowly, her eyes going back to scanning the dark desert in front of them. Steve huffed out a laugh. “Bring it in, Sam,” she added into the comm link on her wrist. “We’re gonna have to smoke ‘em out.”
“Sounds dramatic,” Sam quipped. “I’m gonna take one more lap and I’ll meet you at the jet.”
“Copy,” Steve replied, and when he glanced up he saw the glint of Sam’s wings in the moonlight as he glided through the air above them.
Natasha hopped up from their hiding spot, and Steve followed.
“You got a plan?”
“Not exactly,” she replied, glancing back at him over her shoulder with a smirk. “But I’ve got explosives.”
Steve gaped at her. “Are you sure it’s a good idea? That’ll attract a lot of attention.”
“Exactly.” She hopped up the ramp of the quinjet and headed towards the alcove that held her stash of weapons. She tapped the button on the wall to open one of the compartments. “If Fury gave us these coordinates, you know they’re good. They’ve gotta be underground.”
“So getting them to come out-“
“Will show us exactly how to get down there.” She spun back around, a flare gun in her hand, and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “How much fuel do we have?”
“Enough,” Steve replied with an exasperated sigh.
“Perfect.” She glanced up at him with an innocent grin. Steve rolled his eyes, but still smiled. Natasha inspected the flare gun in her hand, checking to make sure it was loaded. “So, I was thinking.”
“Yeah?”
Apparently deciding the flare gun was acceptable, she crossed over to set it down on the center console of the jet, then leaned back against it, crossing her arms. Steve raised an eyebrow at her, and when she smiled, he noticed the glint in her eyes even through the darkness.
“We should take some time off.”
“Should we?”
“Yes.” She shrugged, but the look in her eyes told him she was being anything but casual about this suggestion. “Might be nice to slow down for a couple weeks, stock up on supplies. Make sure our tracks are covered.”
“We have been making a lot of noise lately.”
“We have,” she agreed. She pushed herself upright again and took a few slow, calculating steps towards him. Then came to a stop in front of him, suddenly fascinated with one of the seams in his suit, running her fingers lightly across his chest. “Plus…might be nice to have some time to ourselves.”
Steve watched her, his throat suddenly very dry. She was deliberately avoiding his gaze, but he saw a ghost of a smirk flicker across her face. He knew damn well what she was doing, yet suddenly he couldn’t do anything but play right into her trap.
“Yeah.” he said finally. Her eyes flickered up to meet his and she flashed him a devilish grin.
“We just gotta get rid of Sam.”
“Still on comms, guys.”
Suddenly the spell was broken, and Natasha snorted out a laugh before turning away from him. Steve could feel his ears getting warm, but before she could get too far he reached up to turn off his earpiece and then wrapped his hand around her wrist, twisting her back around. He backed her into the center console and she gazed up at him with a raised eyebrow, daring him to make a move.
He just smirked at her and muted her earpiece too before pressing his lips hard against hers. She made a soft little surprised noise that died at the back of her throat when he slid his hand into her hair and tilted her head back, deepening the kiss. She slid her hands up his chest until they met around his neck, pulling him closer.
“First we go blow up a Hydra base,” she breathed, pulling back just enough to gaze up at him. “Then we can get rid of Sam.”
“Deal,” he muttered back, though the mission was the last thing on his mind. She grinned, then dropped one of her hands to pat him gently on the arm.
“Now please go use your big strong super soldier muscles to carry a barrel of jet fuel across the desert.”
Steve huffed out a laugh, leaning in for one more kiss before reluctantly letting her go, turning his comm link back on before heading to the back of the jet. There was a little compartment near the ramp that held a few extra barrels of fuel, and considering they were only for backup and the quinjet ran on repulsor engines, they’d been there for years. He pulled one out, and by the time he was rolling it down the ramp, Sam was landing just outside of the jet.
“What’s the plan?” he asked, glancing between Natasha and the barrel.
“If I’m right, as soon as that thing explodes they’ll come crawling out of their hole,” Natasha said. “You two keep them busy, and I’ll figure out how to get down there. When it’s clear, come find me.” She pulled out a flash drive from a pocket in her combat vest. “Once I plug this in, Fury will have access to their systems and be able to send in a tip to the authorities for cleanup. All we need to do is clear this place out and destroy as much stolen Chitauri tech as we can.”
With a plan set, Natasha returned to their previous hiding spot and Sam took off again, leaving Steve to hoist the barrel of fuel up over his shoulder and pick a spot in the middle of the clearing to place it. He wasn’t sure it particularly mattered where; if Natasha was right and there was a bunker underneath them, there was no way they wouldn’t hear the explosion regardless of where it was.
“Ready, Sam?” Natasha asked into her comm link once Steve had met back up with her.
“Ready,” came his reply in their ears. She glanced over at Steve for confirmation, and he nodded.
“Be careful.”
The corner of her lips curved upwards. “I’m always careful.”
“If you two are done having a moment,” Sam said drily.
Natasha just grinned in response and switched the flare gun into her left hand. She raised it towards the barrel and closed one eye to aim, letting out a slow breath before pulling the trigger.
The flare soared through the air in a beam of bright red. Her shot was perfect and it hit the center of the barrel, which exploded on impact. Steve pulled Natasha down beneath the cover of the sand dune, shielding her from the blast.
The explosion had been deafeningly loud in the silence of the desert, and shook the ground enough that even if they hadn’t heard it, there was no way they wouldn’t have felt it. Sure enough, after only a few minutes of waiting, Steve noticed the sand shifting in a spot not far from where the barrel had exploded. Suddenly the desert was being flooded with Hydra soldiers, seemingly appearing from out of nowhere.
“You’re up, boys,” Natasha said lowly, and with that she was sprinting away, using the cover of darkness to make her way towards the hidden entrance of the bunker.
Sam engaged first, swooping down from the air and getting their attention, giving Steve an opening to leap over the sand dune and attack from the ground. There were at least ten or twelve of them, but he was sure more would come.
The first soldier he met didn’t see him coming until the last second and he went down quickly with a punch to the face. As was typical with all of the Hydra cells they’d taken out over the years, these men were strong but not very well trained. They had encountered Hydra less and less since Strucker and Malick had been taken out, so most of the groups they came across were only remnants, last-ditch efforts to regain power. It seemed most of their highly trained members were either dead or in prison, and without any solid leadership, their numbers were dwindling fast.
“I’m in,” came Natasha’s low voice in his ear, as he engaged a few other soldiers who had spotted him. “I marked the spot with the entrance. It’s pressure sensitive so it’ll open when you stand on it.”
“Copy that, we’ll be there soon,” Steve panted back in between hits. One of the men grabbed him from behind and attempted to pull him into a choke hold, but Steve elbowed him in the gut and the guy stumbled backwards with a cry.
“Not too soon. You’ve got more heading for you.”
Steve spun around and landed a kick in the same spot he’d just elbowed the guy, and he fell to his knees, gasping for breath.
“Great,” Sam replied bitterly.
Steve kneed the guy in the face and he slumped over. Sam was taking care of the remaining soldiers, but as soon as Steve glanced up, he saw the backup Natasha had mentioned. He let out a deep breath before sprinting at them, dodging blasts from their advanced Chitauri weapons as he went.
“I’m in.” Natasha paused, slipping around a corner that led off of what looked to be a main hallway. “I marked the spot with the entrance. It’s pressure sensitive so it’ll open when you stand on it.”
“Copy that,” Steve breathed back. “We’ll be there soon.”
The sound of boots against the concrete caught Natasha’s ears, and she flattened herself against the wall, concealed in the shadows. As soon as she did another group of Hydra thugs came barreling out of a door at the end of the hall, heading for the stairs she’d come down on her way into the bunker.
“Not too soon,” she muttered lowly, lifting her wrist close to her lips to speak directly into her comm link. “You’ve got more heading for you.”
“Great,” came Sam’s reply. Natasha peeked her head out from the corner to see the soldiers had disappeared up the stairs, so she stepped back into the hallway and took off in the direction they’d come.
“This place is a labyrinth,” she said, keeping her voice down just in case they decided to send more backup. “I’m going straight down the main hall, looks like that’s where they’re all coming from.”
Steve and Sam, probably busy with the newcomers, didn’t reply. Natasha headed for the door they’d just come through and, noticing they’d left it cracked open, peeked through to the other side.
Nick was right. Nick was very right.
They’d gotten ahold of Chitauri tech, and a lot of it. This main room seemed to be a small hangar, which housed an aircraft not much larger than a quinjet. It didn’t look completely finished yet, but based on the explosives being loaded onto it, she had a feeling it would be soon. There were also crates and storage units lining the walls, all filled with what looked like updated versions of Chitauri-inspired weaponry. A lot of it.
Natasha swore under her breath and lifted her wrist up again.
“Gentlemen, I’m going to need your assistance down here,” she said lowly into her comms. She backed away from the door and turned to retreat back into the hall, but when she turned around, it was just in time for three men to appear from the hallway she’d just hidden in moments before. “Uh…sooner rather than later,” she added, then reached over her shoulder and whipped out one of her batons.
She had the element of surprise on her side, so when she lunged at one of them, he couldn’t do much to stop her from leaping up, wrapping her thighs around his neck, and dropping him to the floor. One of the others yelped and drew his weapon, but she landed in a summersault and smacked it out of his hand with her baton before he had the chance to aim. She jabbed the end of it into his side and charged it, and he cried out before crumpling to the ground, out cold. The third came at her from behind but she hopped back up to her feet and elbowed him in the stomach; he stumbled backwards, giving her an opening to lunge at him, shove him backwards into the wall, and smash his head against the concrete.
Natasha barely had time to catch her breath before the door to the hangar banged open. She sighed and activated her batons again as a handful of Hydra soldiers came charging at her.
This group was definitely not expecting them or anyone even remotely skilled to come after them. They were sloppy, fully relying on the firepower of the stolen tech and not so much on ability to fight. Natasha was able to take down the next wave with relative ease, but by the time she made it into the hangar, the entire bunker knew she was there. They were ready for her, and she had to duck behind a stack of crates that barely survived the barrage of cosmic blasts that was shot in her direction the second she came into view.
She pushed herself behind a giant support beam, hoping they’d at least be smart enough not to let the whole damn hangar come down in an attempt to vaporize her. She was never going to be able to get away and find a computer to insert the drive into with every single gun pointed at her.
She needed backup.
A blast hit something up on a storage shelf, and Natasha ducked to avoid a giant piece of flying debris. She let out a frustrated huff and lifted her wrist to her lips.
“Rogers, what’s your status?”
“Almost done out here,” he answered breathlessly. He paused and grunted in effort as he presumably threw a punch. “You alright?”
“I’ve got every single weapon firing at me right now, but…yeah, I’m fine,” she quipped back. A Hydra soldier braved a more direct approach, but Natasha twisted herself around and smacked him with her charged baton before he had time to fire. “I could really use a super soldier and some wings right now though,” she added.
“You go, I’ll finish up,” Sam said.
“Copy that. I’m on my way,” Steve replied.
With the promise of help on the way, Natasha dropped her wrist and shoved her batons back into their holster her back in favor of sliding her pistols out of their holsters. She whipped around the side of the support beam and started firing, aiming for anything that moved while ducking from the bright blue blasts being shot at her. She was able to take out a handful of them before needing to reload, so she twisted back around the corner of the beam to slide a new magazine out of a pocket on her vest.
The second she snapped it into place and prepared to fire again, there was a deafening crack above her. She glanced up in the direction of the noise to realize one of them had hit the top of the support beam with some kind of rocket launcher and the whole thing was falling apart.
She bolted out from behind the beam, but a giant chunk of concrete landed in front of her, causing her to skid to a stop and spin around. A group of Hydra soldiers had taken advantage of the situation, effectively cornering her. She dodged a few more blasts being aimed at her - much too close for comfort, one of them almost close enough to singe the ends of her hair - but it was nearly impossible to avoid both them and the falling concrete while also trying to aim and take out as many as she could.
There was another crack and Natasha glanced up in time to see another piece of concrete about to break off. The top of the hangar thankfully wasn’t caving in, but the ceiling around the beam was beginning to crumble. She backed up, but she had nowhere to go.
“Shit,” she breathed, her heart racing in her chest. A giant chunk of debris landed next to her and she twisted out of its way, but when she looked up there was a rifle pointing right at her face.
She only had a split second to realize this was probably not going to end well when a shadow flew over her. Steve’s boots rammed into the face of the guy pointing the gun at her and he crumpled to the ground. Steve then twisted around and reached for her, wrapping his arm securely around her waist and practically hauling her over the giant piece of concrete behind them, just before another landed in the spot they’d just been.
“About damn time you showed up,” she panted, pushing herself to her feet and raising one of her pistols to take out the three Hydra agents closest to them with three successive shots. Steve just smirked at her before spinning around and punching a fourth in the face.
The soldiers who’d tried to corner her had finally realized she’d disappeared and were changing course, turning their attention to the other side of the hangar. They were too exposed like this…they needed cover. Natasha spun around and grabbed Steve by the wrist, tugging him in the direction of the jet. She ducked a bullet that whizzed by her ear, rolling into a summersault behind one of the giant wheel, finally able to let out a long breath.
“You alright?” Steve panted, once he’d crouched down next to her. They seemed safe for at least a few seconds, as they seemed reluctant to fire towards their jet. Considering they they’d been loading explosives onto it earlier, Natasha was grateful for that.
“Yeah.” She unloaded the pistol that was empty, taking advantage of the second of reprieve to reload again. Then she peeked out from behind the wheel, her eyes scanning for some kind of exit. “I have to find a computer. Can you cover me?”
“Yeah.” Steve nodded towards a wall of windows on the opposite side of the Hangar. “That looks like a control room. Can you get there?”
“Yeah.” Natasha raised her wrist to her mouth again. “Sam, how are you doing?”
“On my way!” he replied. “We’ll distract them so you get to that control room.”
“Copy that,” Natasha replied. She turned to Steve, offering him a crooked grin. “Don’t die, Rogers.”
The smile he gave her in return was a bit too soft considering the situation they were currently in, and it made her heart flutter. For a split second she forgot where they were, momentarily distracted by the look in his eyes and the way they sparkled bright blue even under the shitty fluorescent lights.
“You either.”
Sam just groaned irritably in their ears.
Suddenly there was an explosion from across the hangar, snapping them back into reality. Natasha peeked out from behind the wheel again to see Sam flying overhead, firing a few missiles towards the empty space in the middle of the hangar. Her immediate thought was that the missiles were a bit excessive, but the hangar - which wasn’t very large to begin with - was suddenly filled with smoke and chaos. All of the soldiers on the other side of the jet were now trying to either find cover or locate Sam, and had seemingly completely forgotten about her and Steve.
“Thanks Sam!” she said into her wrist, and then she was running, ducking behind whatever she could and using the smoke from a fresh round of missiles to make her way over to the control room.
There weren’t many agents to take out once she’d broken through the door and made her way inside. They all seemed to be techs, not soldiers, and though they drew their weapons, they looked almost intimidated by her. Rightfully so, because less than a minute later she had them all either tied up or unconscious on the floor.
There was a row of computers that faced away from the giant wall of windows, so she picked the one on the end closest to the door and plugged in the flash drive. It held a program that was originally developed by SHIELD, but that she’d made her own adjustments to over the last couple years. It would pick through their system at lightning speed, copy intel that she’d specifically coded it to recognize onto a secure server only she, Fury, and Maria had access to, and then completely fry the entire original server. Then, considering their current status with the government, she’d programmed it to send in a delayed, completely untraceable anonymous tip to the CIA, who could then send in local law enforcement to arrest whoever was left.
Part of her was a bit bitter that the CIA got all the credit for effectively wiping Hydra off the map, but she was also pretty sure they knew exactly who was responsible for all of the anonymous tips.
Another explosion rocked the bunker, and Natasha glanced up over the computer console to peer out into the hangar. She could still see Sam soaring above, and when she scanned the ground, she caught a glimpse of Steve, twisting in and out of cover and taking out as many agents as he could.
Even after two years it still made her anxious to think about him out there without his shield, but on their off time she’d been trying to help him get used to fighting without it, to use his surroundings as a shield like she did. He’d already had some pretty extensive modern fight training while they worked for SHIELD, but he’d asked her for the help and she wasn’t going to say no. It had taken him a long time to get used to fighting without it - in all honesty she still didn’t think he had - but at least it had been a good distraction.
The computer chimed, signaling the program’s completion. Natasha’s eyes dropped back down to the monitor and she pulled the flash drive out, tucking it safely back into a pocket on the inside of her vest.
“Ready when you are,” she said into her comms, pulling out one of her pistols before heading for the door of the control room.
“Sam, can you target that jet on our way out?”
“Abso-lutely I can,” Sam replied, and Natasha chuckled at the excitement in his voice at prospect of blowing up a jet full of explosives. They usually had to be a lot quieter than this, but since they were in the middle of nowhere and had to get rid of the stolen tech before it fell into the wrong hands again, it was really their best option this time.
Natasha snuck out of the control room, ducking behind debris and stacks of crates on her way across the hangar.
“Let’s get going, we only have about fifteen minutes before the CIA gets our-“
“Nat, watch out!”
She trailed off at the panic in Steve’s voice, whipping her pistol up as she spun around. A stray Hydra soldier had spotted her and turned his rifle on her. Her eyes fell on him and she aimed her pistol at him, but suddenly he shifted his attention to a spot behind her. She glanced over to see Steve sprinting straight at him, and before Natasha had time to take the guy down, two shots rang out and Steve collapsed.
Natasha’s blood turned to ice in her veins, and without thinking she emptied the rest of her magazine, dropped her pistol before the soldier had even hit the ground, and was sprinting towards Steve, several bullets and cosmic blasts barely missing her as she ran. She fell to her knees next to him, her kneepads scraping harshly against the cement, and grabbed his arm to roll him onto his back. Her stomach lurched when she saw the two splotches of red on his uniform: one on his abdomen and another right above his heart.
“Steve!” He gasped and his eyes flew open, glassy and unfocused. Natasha leaned over him, covering the wound on his chest with one hand and taking his face in the other, forcing him to look at her. “Come on, Rogers. Stay awake.”
“I’m awake,” he gasped, and Natasha let out a breath of relief. At least he was responsive.
“Get him back to the jet!” she Sam said in her ear. Natasha tore her eyes away from Steve to find him, dealing with another small group that had come from a door on the other side of the room. “I’ll hold them off and meet you there!”
Natasha shifted her focus back to Steve, desperately trying to stop her hands from shaking. He’d closed his eyes, so she lightly tapped his temple to get his attention. They flickered back open, and he blinked a few times while he tried to focus on her.
“I’m gonna help you up, okay?”
“M’kay.”
Natasha pulled her trembling hand away from the bullet wound on his chest, trying not to notice how much blood had soaked through her gloves. She took a deep breath - focus - and slid her hands under his shoulders to help him sit up.
Steve let out a low groan when she lifted him off of the ground, but squeezed his eyes shut and pushed through it. He didn’t seem to have any range of motion in his left shoulder - the bullet was probably still stuck in there - so Natasha adjusted herself around to his other side. She slid her arm around his waist and draped his over her shoulders, giving him some leverage, and slowly helped him to his feet. He stumbled a bit, causing her knees to buckle under his weight, but she was able to steady him before they toppled over again.
It was a slow process, but Natasha managed to get him across the room while Sam ran interference and kept the remaining soldiers busy. When the door to the hallway shut behind her it threw them into silence, and Steve’s labored breaths in Natasha’s ear seemed even louder. He wobbled a bit and tilted towards the wall, unable to steady himself with his useless shoulder. Natasha had to let him lean against it before she lost her grip on him.
“Nat, j-just go,” he panted, his eyes squeezing shut again. He twisted so his back was against the wall, and it took all of Natasha’s strength to prevent him from sliding down it to the floor.
“No. Come on.”
“Y-you hafta get…get out of here,” he breathed. He took a few sharp breaths before continuing, forcing eyes open to find hers. “Bef-before they g-get here-“
“Shut it, Rogers. I’m not leaving without you.”
Steve sighed, letting his eyes slip shut again.
“N...N’tasha-“
“Hey. Look at me.” He didn’t respond. “Steve.” Natasha sacrificed her hold on him in favor of lifting one of her hands to rest against the side of his face. Finally his eyes fluttered open again, and he gazed blearily down at her. “I am not leaving you. You hear me?”
“Y-yes ma’am,” he muttered finally, and despite his condition she still saw a ghost of a smirk on his lips.
“Good. You ready?”
Steve sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, but nodded. Natasha dropped her hand to his side again, helping him shift his balance back to her. He was a bit shaky on his feet but was able to keep himself upright and take a few more steps forward.
Somehow he’d managed to find the strength to help her get him up the steps, but once they were back outside, he struggled with the shifting sand under their feet. He was losing a lot of blood and Natasha knew he was fading fast - his steps were sloppy and the longer they walked, the more he leaned on her - but she couldn’t panic yet. Instead she focused on one step at a time, tightening her grip on him and keeping him steady as they made their way back to the jet.
Getting up the ramp seemed to have taken the rest of his energy, because as soon as they were back inside the jet, he stumbled and his knees hit the floor, taking Natasha with him. She practically dragged him across the floor and adjusted him so that he was sitting upright, his back against the center console, before shifting her attention to his wounds.
He’d lost a lot of blood already, and if his rapid heartbeat and pale, clammy skin was any indication, he was already going into hypovolemic shock. She got to work on his suit, unclasping the harness that he still wore despite not having his shield. When she pulled him forward to slide it off of his shoulders he fell into her, his head falling against her shoulder.
“Hey…none of that, okay?” She helped him sit upright again, bringing her hands to cup each side of his face, trying to keep them from shaking. He was struggling to keep his eyes open. “I need you to stay awake.”
It took him a second, but he bobbed his head up and down twice. Natasha quickly finished removing the top half of his suit, leaving him in just his undershirt. At one point it had been grey; now it was almost completely soaked red.
Natasha sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of it, tightening her jaw and forcing herself to focus. She couldn’t panic now, not when Steve needed immediate medical attention and Sam was still fighting his way out of that bunker. She’d panic later, when they were safe and far away from here. So she took a deep breath and pulled his t-shirt off, wadding it up and pressing it hard against the wound on his chest.
She hadn’t seen any exit wounds, which meant the bullet to his abdomen was probably still in there too. She covered that one with a trembling hand, silently begging Sam to hurry. Steve’s eyes were still closed, his head leaning back against the console. His breaths were still shallow, but they were slowing down.
“Steve.” His eyes fluttered, but they didn’t open. “Rogers.”
Natasha lifted her hand from his abdomen, wiping it on her thigh to get as much of his blood off of it as she could before letting it rest on the side of his face again, tilting his head upright towards her. He sucked in a sharp breath as if she’d woken him up, his eyes fluttering again and finally blinking open. He gazed at her with glassy eyes that she could tell he was struggling to keep open.
“Come on, babe. Stay with me,” she said softly, unable to hide how much her voice shook. She brushed her thumb across his cheek, trying to get his attention.
“‘M awake,” he muttered finally, forcing his eyes open.
Natasha dropped her hand to cover the wound on his abdomen again, busying herself with checking the other one under the wadded up t-shirt. The bleeding seemed to be slowing down a bit, but not enough to offer her any kind of relief. Her jaw tightened, and she twisted the t-shirt around, trying to find a clean spot to wipe away some of the blood. She hadn’t noticed how quick her breaths had become or the wetness in her eyes until Steve lifted a shaking hand to rest his palm against her knee.
“Nat.” Natasha pressed the t-shirt against his chest again before letting her eyes flit upwards to meet his bleary gaze. He blinked slowly, his brows furrowing as he tried to concentrate. But he did, his eyes never leaving hers. “I love you.”
Despite everything, Natasha let out a huff, her lips twitching upwards into what could almost be considered a smile despite the way her bottom lip was trembling. He somehow managed to offer her a sideways smile, even if it was only just an uptick of his lips.
“I know,” she breathed back, and his grip on her knee tightened just enough for her to feel it. “I love you too.”
Steve only blinked, a crease forming between his brows again. He opened his mouth but seemed to only be able to gape at her.
Suddenly there was a thud behind her, and Natasha whipped her head around only to let out a sigh of relief when she saw it was Sam. He immediately drew in his wings and slammed his hand against the button to close the ramp before hurrying across the jet towards them.
“We’ve gotta hurry,” he panted as he met up with them. He went to Steve’s other side, dropping to his knees beside them and taking the t-shirt from her. “I’m picking up signals from local law enforcement, they’ve already dispatched units to this area in response to the explosions.”
“Shit,” Natasha breathed.
“How’s he doing?”
“Hanging in there,” she answered.
“Good. Get us out of here.”
Natasha nodded, letting Sam take over. Once both of her hands were free she went to back away, but hesitated. Instead she leaned in and pressed her lips against the clammy skin of Steve’s forehead, only slightly caring that Sam was right there.
“No dying today, you hear me?”
Steve’s eyes had fluttered shut again, but his lips ticked upwards and he managed a small nod.
“P-promise,” he breathed.
“Natasha.” She glanced over to Sam, who nodded towards the cockpit. He looked just as worried and panicked as she felt. “We have to go. Now.”
Natasha swallowed thickly, reluctant to leave Steve’s side, but nodded. Sam was the one with medical training, which meant she was in charge of getting them the hell out of here before the authorities arrived and arrested them. So she took a deep breath and ignored Steve’s pained cries as Sam maneuvered him onto his back to get to work removing the bullets, and made her way to the cockpit.
At first she wasn’t sure where to go. She supposed Wakanda was an option, that Shuri definitely had the resources to provide medical care if needed. But Steve didn’t like to intrude. The two of them had visited a few times over the last year, ever since James had woken up, but every time he’d cleared it with T’Challa first. The king insisted they were always welcome, but she knew Steve didn’t want to take advantage of that.
An idea suddenly popped into her head, and she quickly typed in the coordinates for her safehouse outside of Volgograd. It wasn’t a long-term solution by any means, but it had medical supplies and a bed, which she knew would be much more comfortable than the pile of blankets in the alcove that they normally slept on. She winced as she heard Steve cry out again behind her, then pulled the jet up into the air, willing it to go faster.
By the time they arrived in Volgograd, Steve had fallen asleep. After ensuring he was stable Sam had taken over flying the jet, allowing Natasha to keep an eye on Steve for the rest of the flight. She knew he probably wouldn’t wake for a while; Sam had used up the rest of their morphine in an attempt to make it actually affective, which would mean risking another supply run before they headed out again, but Natasha was just grateful he wasn’t in as much pain.
Sam landed behind the garage, keeping the jet in stealth mode and packing up whatever medical supplies he’d need for the next couple days while Natasha did a quick sweep of the property. It looked pretty untouched since the last time she’d been there two years ago, but she couldn’t be sure no one noticed Steve and James leaving for the Raft until she checked everything over.
After several minutes of Natasha attempting to wake Steve, it took both her and Sam to get him into the house. They moved him to one of the bedrooms, his large frame taking up most of the tiny twin bed. He ended up passing out again - Sam must have absolutely flooded his system with morphine for it to affect him so much - leaving Natasha to crawl in next to him, sitting sideways with her legs crossed and her back against the wall.
She knew there were things she should be doing; the place could probably use a good cleaning, especially if they were going to be there for the next few days. They hadn’t been able to properly wash their clothing or bedding in weeks, and she’d invested in a decent washing machine for this place years ago for exactly that reason. She also couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten, and Steve would no doubt be starving when he woke up again, especially considering how hard the serum was working to heal his injuries.
But despite all of that, she couldn’t bring herself to leave his side. This was all too familiar, and while she knew he’d be fine - Sam had assured her - she needed to make sure for herself, needed to keep an eye on him to make sure things didn’t take a turn for the worst.
Plus, she was exhausted. They’d spent the last few days in the middle of the desert narrowing down the location of that bunker, and before that they’d almost had a run in with local authorities in a small town outside of London while tracking a ring of black market arms dealers, which resulted in about two weeks of narrowly avoiding arrest.
But now that they were here - somewhere safe, and familiar - all she wanted to do was sleep. She resisted for a couple hours, reminding herself that Sam was asleep himself in the other room and someone needed to keep watch, but as the hours went by, it became harder and harder to keep her eyes open. Finally she gave in and let them fall shut…only for a few minutes, of course. She could feel herself drifting and was almost asleep when Steve suddenly groaned softly, cutting through the sleepy haze.
Natasha’s eyes flew open, just in time for Steve to shift uncomfortably and try to push himself upright.
“What the hell are you doing?” Natasha said, forcing her muscles to start working again so she could attempt to hold him still.
“Sitting up,” he breathed, his voice raspy with sleep. He tried again, his brows creasing against the pain. Natasha huffed irritably and leaned over to help him before he hurt himself. He winced, but she finally got him upright, his back up against the wall with a pillow supporting it.
Natasha inched closer to him and pulled her legs underneath her, leaning back against the wall again, still sideways on the bed. She reached up to brush his hair out of his face for him, and he offered her a sleepy crooked smile in response.
“How do you feel?”
“Like I got shot,” he replied drily. Natasha just rolled her eyes.
“Why the hell did you do that?”
She hadn’t planned on bringing it up this soon after he woke up, but now that she knew he as okay, suddenly everything she’d been forcing herself to hold back since the second he was shot came crashing down on top of her.
Steve sighed. “Nat-“
“That was so stupid,” she hissed, cutting him off. She could feel her voice shaking, just a little, but she masked her blinding fear from earlier with anger. “We don’t have adequate medical supplies, and we can’t take you to a hospital. If Sam wasn’t able to get those bullets out of you…you could have died.”
“Yeah, and you would have,” he replied before she could continue. She just glared at him. “My serum is stronger than yours. I’ll recover, but you wouldn’t have.”
“You’re not invincible!” Natasha let out a frustrated sigh and averted her gaze, but her eyes got distracted by the gauze wrapped around his torso. It was stained with little pinpricks of dark red, even though the wound itself had probably already started to heal. Then her gaze traveled upwards, to the white patches over his shoulder. Just above his heart. “Just because you heal quickly doesn’t mean you can just let yourself get shot. If that one had been just an inch lower-“
“It wasn’t.”
Natasha rolled her eyes again. “That’s not the point.”
“What am I supposed to do? Let you get shot instead?”
“Yes.”
“Natasha-“
“I can handle myself.”
“I know you can.”
“I don’t need you to rescue me. And-”
“Natasha.“ Steve squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, and Natasha let out a huff. When he met her gaze again she stared back at him, fighting to keep a straight face, blinking furiously against the wetness in her eyes. “I know you can handle yourself. I know you don’t need me to protect you. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to just…watch you get killed.”
“So I have to watch you get killed instead?” She didn’t let her expression budge, but her voice still cracked. Suddenly it all felt so real, how close she’d gotten to losing him. Again. “This is the second time I’ve had to sit there helplessly while you bled out in front of me. Both times you were lucky. How many more is it going to take? For it to hit your heart, or…or your head? I can’t-“
Her voice cracked again, loudly despite her hushed tone, and she paused to suck in a shaky breath. She’d been avoiding the memory all day, but it had lingered there since she saw him fall to the ground. All she could see was him lying on the bank of the Potomac: blood everywhere, choking on water, riddled with bullet holes and barely breathing. That empty, glassy look in his eyes had haunted her for years, and she’d hoped never to have to see it again.
Steve didn’t argue, and Natasha didn’t look him in the eyes, but she could feel the look he was giving her: that sad, puppy-eyed one overflowing with guilt and regret.
“I won’t let you trade your life for mine, Steve,” she said finally, once she was able to form words again.
“Who said anything about trading?” Natasha just sighed, so Steve reached for her. He winced as he did, but still managed to slide his hand over to hers and pull it into his lap. “If anything ever happened to you…especially if I knew I could have prevented it…I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”
“A lot of people rely on you, Steve,” she argued weakly. “If it’s between your life, and mine? You can’t-“
“Do not finish that sentence.” Natasha tried to glare at him again, but wasn’t convinced that was the look he received. Her bottom lip trembled when she met his gaze again. “I don’t want to hear it. We don’t trade lives, got it?”
This wasn’t a battle she was going to win. Natasha stared at him for a few seconds, her brows furrowed, before she let out a long breath and let her fingers curl tightly around his.
“Do not do that again.” She lowered her voice in an attempt to steady it. It didn’t work very well. “If you’d have died...”
“I know,” he replied softly. His lips curved upwards into a soft, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry.”
“You better be.”
“I am.”
Natasha just let out a long, exhausted breath, closing her eyes and letting her head lean back against the wall as Steve rubbed the pad of his thumb across her knuckles. Regardless of how upset she was and the circumstances of retreating to a safe house, it was still kind of nice finally having some time to themselves. Sam tried to give them space just as they tried to give him his, but between tiny motel rooms and the jet, these quiet moments were few and far between.
Suddenly Steve let out a soft chuckle, and Natasha forced her eyes open. He was watching her, a smile playing on the corner of his lips.
“What?”
The smile curved into her favorite dopey, sideways grin, and she swore she felt her heart flutter in her chest at the sight of it.
“You told me you loved me.” Natasha frowned, too exhausted to comprehend what he meant, but her heart rate skyrocketing nonetheless. “On the jet. You told me you loved me.” He paused, his hand squeezing hers lightly. “You’ve never said it in English before.”
Natasha’s brows furrowed, and she let herself think back to when they were on the jet. She had said it. She’d been internalizing her fear and panic so much, hadn’t even realized.
She’d been so terrified to say it at first. He did, though she could tell it wasn’t as much as he wanted to. He tried so hard to respect that she wasn’t there yet, and she loved him even more for it. He knew how she felt, and it didn’t seem to matter if she didn’t say it out loud.
But as more time went on, she stopped thinking about it. She’d let it slip out in Russian every once in a while, which was still terrifying at first, but she got used to it. Somehow it was easier knowing - well, thinking - he didn’t know what it meant. She thought it might help herself ease into saying it in English, but it had become enough of a habit that she never put any thought into it before.
She was trying to come up with some sort of reply, but her mind went blank. Instead she glanced up at him, narrowing her eyes.
“Since when do you know Russian?”
Steve huffed defensively. “Hey, I know how to Google things.”
Natasha averted her gaze again, her heart pounding in her chest. She was suddenly back in his hotel room two years ago, hearing him finally tell her how he felt and trying to do the same. She hadn’t been able to, even though she had no doubt he knew. That was one of the reasons they worked. She wasn’t good with feelings, with putting to words to the things she felt. But with Steve, it never seemed to matter. He’d always seemed to understand her, even back before SHIELD fell, before they even started to trust each other as partners.
“I do, you know,” she whispered finally, after a few long seconds of silence. She lifted her gaze to meet his again. “I do…love you.”
“I know,” he replied softly, mirroring her words to him two years ago, which she’d been repeating ever since. The corner of Natasha’s lips curved upwards into a soft smile, which he returned. Now that she’d said it - out loud, in English, to him - it hadn’t been that scary at all. It was quite the opposite, actually.
“I don’t think I’ve ever said that out loud to anyone before,” she added, more to herself than to Steve, her smile fading. “Not even Clint.”
“Why not?”
She lifted her gaze to meet his again. He had that look on his face, wide eyes and that soft, kind expression with the hint of a crease between his brows, the one that always made her feel so vulnerable.
“I don’t know,” she replied, letting out a long breath. “Admitting how much I cared about someone, even if they already knew…it always seemed so terrifying.”
Steve watched her for a few more seconds, then tightened his grip around her hand.
“Come here.”
She didn’t want to aggravate his injuries, even though he seemed to be doing okay…but that look he was giving her was too overwhelming, and suddenly the small distance between them still felt like too much. She adjusted herself around so she was sitting next to him, and he let go of her hand to slide it behind her back instead. She curled into him, letting her head fall to rest on his shoulder. Then she pulled the blanket up over them and carefully wrapped her arm around his waist, avoiding the wound on his lower abdomen.
“I am sorry,” he said again, ducking his head as far as he was able to so he could brush his lips against her temple. “But I would do it again if it meant saving your life.”
Natasha couldn’t come up with a response. She knew that. Of course she did, and he knew she’d do the same for him. She didn’t really have a right to be angry, especially knowing he’d have had a similar reaction if the roles were reversed.
But the thought of him sacrificing his life for hers, of him getting himself killed? It scared the absolute shit out of her.
“Well, have them aim for somewhere less fatal next time,” she came up with finally, her voice no louder than a breath. Steve huffed out a soft laugh.
“Yes ma’am,” he mumbled against her hair.
“Don’t you ma’am me, Rogers. I’m still mad at you.”
Steve let out a low chuckle that vibrated through his chest despite the slight wince of pain that followed, and Natasha nuzzled into his neck, curling her hand around the blanket. She could never admit it out loud - she could barely even admit it to herself - but she didn’t know what she’d do without him.