A/N: I don't own Cap or any of the characters, but I do like to take them for a spin every now and again…

I'm sorry I've been MIA for so long, I've really missed writing fan fics! I've finally gotten through the last bits for my latest book, and I've got a little time to myself to post something that's long overdue! It starts off a little melodramaculous, but it'll get going once Steve wakes up and they start interacting.

This is set at the end of Winter Soldier, while Steve is recovering from his injuries. What happens when Natasha invites Steve to crash at her place when he gets out of the hospital? They become so much more than friends.

~Natasha~

Every day she came. Every day she watched and waited for him to open those steadfast blue eyes and return to the land of the living. Sam got the seat of honor beside him and the gift of his first words. But she didn't mind. She didn't like to sit with her worry exposed to the world. That, she kept for the nights alone when she could bend but not break. She was used to being alone. Preferred it even.

Or at least she had.

Instead, she satisfied her need with the occasional press of hands or light touch at his brow in the stillness of the early morning hours, when the rest of the world lay sleeping the sleep of the innocent. Those hours had been lost to her for long years now.

She'd been the one to find him like a broken doll at the water's edge. Her tears that had fallen to mingle salty with sweet on his cheeks when she found him cold and unresponsive. And her lips to press against his in relief when she'd found the throb of his pulse, faint but steady.

Natasha had been the one to roll him onto his stomach to force the rest of the water from his lungs, and she'd dragged him across the tall grass to flag down the chopper. But once the trauma team swarmed like bees to gather him to the hive, she'd fallen back, still too much in shock to follow. If she saw him on the operating table she might see him die, like Nick. And while Nick hadn't actually died, that hadn't spared her the pain of thinking he had. She wasn't sure she could take another loss like that again, especially not with Steve.

And so she'd watched from afar, hovering just out of sight. Hyperaware of his every breath, his every sigh of pain, and those dreadful moments when his body twitched, fighting battles again and again in his mind.

It was such a moment that brought her to his side, covering his hand with hers when his head whipped against the pillow, the stitches standing out starkly against his pale skin. It was only concern for a fellow teammate that led her to gently stroke his hand and murmur soothing words in her mother tongue – words she'd never dare speak to another human being in English. Except maybe Barton, but he knew more of her secrets than most.

It was only common concern. If she said it enough times it might even be true. Natasha needed it to be true.

She needed to divorce herself of this weakness before it consumed her, and she ended up in worse shape than him. Pushing herself up to her feet, she turned to leave, but not before she noticed how he'd quieted under her touch, and how peacefully he slept now. How strange that a simple thing as touch could bring him such serenity and render her a complete bundle of nerves.

~Steve~

Oblivious to her watchful eye, Steve never felt the press of her hand against his battered face in the early hours of the day. He never heard the whispered prayer of thanks his "on your left" produced in the hallway when he swam his way to consciousness. He never heard the soothing words spoken to keep the devils at bay.

But there was a sense of loss when he woke to find himself alone, the sense of her presence so strong, he'd been sure of finding her hand in his. He flexed his fingers, wondering why one hand felt warmer than the other.

A flash of red hair caught his eye, his reflexes still too slow to catch more than a glimpse of a woman's back at the end of the hall. But it was enough. She'd been there after all. That knowledge curved his lips into a smile that became a wince as the stitches pulled at the movement. Steve took that comfort with him as he slipped back into dark oblivion.

A/N: Remember - Feedback is Love!