AN: So this takes place at some point before (but in my head pretty near to) the events of Winter Soldier. I originally meant for this to be way darker than it ended up, because I started writing fluff instead of angst at one point and then couldn't stop. I hope you enjoy!

"Nat?"

It wasn't often that Natasha called Steve, especially late at night when he knew they were both off work. So this caught him off guard slightly. Sure, they regularly hung out, but it was usually that she would show up at his apartment with takeout and make herself comfortable on his couch. And she only ever called him when they had a mission, and he knew they wouldn't have one right now.

"Steve, hey." Her voice was cheery and upbeat, so unlike Natasha that his mind instantly went to all the cues she'd taught him for when she'd been kidnapped. But nothing was springing to mind right now, leaving him all together confused.

"Hey, everything alright?" He furrowed his eyebrows as he asked, still trying to figure out why she'd be calling him. And it's not that he minded, he could talk to Natasha all day if he wanted to, but this was so out of character it worried him.

"Has anyone ever told you how sexy you look in your Captain America outfit?" Her voice slurred ever so slightly, and he would've thought nothing of it, except it was Natasha, and he was fairly certain she just hit on him. And whilst that wasn't entirely uncommon, it was usually a lot subtler than this.

"Are you drunk?" He asked, halfway amused. He was worried, he knew Natasha wasn't a light weight, not by any means. If she was drunk, it meant she was actively trying to get drunk.

"Nooooo. I just think you have a pretty face." He laughed at that, choosing to ignore the little flutter in his heart at her words. Because she was so obviously not herself right now. "Yeah, you're drunk."

"I'm not. There's a fine line between tipsy and drunk Rogers." Her defence was weak, because she clearly wouldn't be saying half these things if she was only tipsy. "You will be the death of me Natasha."

"If you're going to sass me I'm gonna hang up." Steve could practically feel her eye roll through the phone, and he could imagine the little smirk on her face that he knew she had right now.

"You called me remember?" He pointed out, letting out a small chuckle. He quite liked drunk Natasha.

"I..." Her thought was cut off by a large crash and what he thought was a scream. Immediately his heart started pounding, his mind running through everything that could've happened. He had no doubt she could defend herself, even drunk, but what if she'd been knocked out before that could even happen. He got up, making towards his door. "Nat? Natasha? What's going on? Are you okay?"

"Relax will you? I'm fine." He voice was eerily calm, although slightly breathy. Enough so to make him worry even more. "What happened?"

"I tripped. Just calm down."

"Sorry," he blushed slightly, sitting back down. "Oh." Natasha's voice was quiet, like her phone had been set down and she'd walked away from it.

"What?" He didn't like her tone of voice, he didn't like much about this phone call. The entire time he'd felt on edge, and it wasn't just because talking to Natasha did that to him.

"I'm bleeding." Her voice was so distant and null of any emotion that it scared him.

"I'm coming over." He said, getting back up and actually pulling on his jacket. "It's just a small cut, I'm fine."

He couldn't but laugh a little. Of course she would think that's what he was worried about, when really this whole situation was so unlike her it was scaring him. Natasha didn't just do this, as far as he was aware. "It's not the blood I'm worried about Nat."

"Nat? Natasha! Open up."

There was a pounding in her front door, and she just about had enough brain power to associate the voice to Steve. She cursed herself, she'd forgotten he was coming over. She hadn't even realised how much time had passed, or that any time had passed at all. She reached for the bottle of vodka on the floor next to her, coming to the realisation that she was also on the floor. "I'm coming. Relax."

She pried her body out of its little ball, cringing as her joints popped and she struggled to get to her feet. She'd drunk more than she thought she had, each step towards the door slightly unsteady. She swung the door open, leaning against the frame and almost falling into Steve's body. His firm, warm, gorgeous body.

"Yeah, come on." He tugged her arm, pulling her back into her apartment and sitting her down on the couch. It was soft and comfortable, so she curled up into the cushions, laying her head on the arm rest. He disappeared, leaving her all alone with her thoughts. Mainly the thought that she couldn't remember where she put down her bottle of vodka on the trip to open the door. She just wanted to feel nothing instead of everything. Was that too much to ask?

Steve reappeared with a glass of water and a first aid kit, rubbing her shoulder lightly to get her attention. "Go away," she mumbled whilst swatting his hand away weakly.

"No," he said firmly, pulling her so she was sat up on the couch. He looked her over until he found what he was looking for. Drips of blood were going down her left arm, and he could see that her hand was in a tightly balled fist, presumably the source of the blood.

"Why not?" She asked sharply, and he pulled her hand away from her body, prying her fingers open so he could see the gash running across her palm. It wasn't deep enough to require stitches, but he did need to clean it out and bandage it.

"Because I don't think you actually wanna be alone right now."

He answered her question whilst he pressed gauze over the cut to stop it bleeding. She cocked her head at him, and she looked just a little bit more sober. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't. Why do you care?"

"Because I'm your friend Nat. And I can't stand to see you like this," he admitted because he had this need to protect her, and he wasn't ashamed to admit that. And even if he didn't, Natasha never just called him for no reason. So it was either a plea for help, or she genuinely had no control over herself anymore. Either way, he wasn't going to let her be alone.

"Like what?" She asked, pulling her hand away from him before he could finish bandaging her hand, suddenly getting up to walk into her kitchen. How she was so steady on her feet he didn't know, but she managed to bend down and pick up the vodka bottle sitting on the floor, taking a swig before opening the freezer and getting out another bottle. He followed her in, taking the new bottle out of her hands and putting it straight back in the freezer before she could open it. "So self-destructive. Talk to me Nat."

"There's not much to say." She waved away his concerns, sitting down on one of her bar stools, only wobbling slightly as she settled. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she sighed. "Sometimes, I just need to be calm."

Her answer was vague, and not entirely useful, but Steve was determined to make her talk. He knew she had the tendency to bottle up her emotions, and Steve knew better than anyone how alone and miserable that could make you feel. "I'm here if you wanna talk about it Nat."

She sighed, taking another long gulp of vodka before looking at him intently. "I know it's not healthy. Okay? I know that. But sometimes I just need to shut myself up. Getting like this is the only way I can stop thinking." She didn't know why she was telling him this, but now she'd started she couldn't stop. It felt like all her bad habits were on display and she just couldn't bring herself to care, because for once in her life, there was someone sitting in front of her who genuinely wanted to know what she was going to say.

"All day, everyday, I see what they did to me. Certain words, certain movements, all I see is the Red Room. The trainers who beat me, who hurt me. And it just gets too much that I just need it all to shut up."

She wasn't even aware she was crying until Steve moved to cup her cheek, wiping them away tenderly. He seemed to realise his actions, pulling away from her sharply, and she found herself wishing he hadn't.

"I'm sorry," he said awkwardly, trying to figure out what to do with his hands. She took them gently, giving him a small smile. "It's okay."

She pulled away from him, keeping an eye on him as she drained the bottle of vodka, the liquid burning as it slid down her throat. "I'd offer you some, but you put my other bottle away," she snarked, and he just laughed at her.
"I wonder why that is?" He smirked, and she rolled her eyes at him, getting up off the stool. She stumbled slightly, grabbing onto the counter to steady herself as her vision cleared, but before she could even register it, a strong pair of arms wrapped around her middle and pulled her somewhere, she wasn't sure. The world was too busy spinning on its axis for her to concentrate on anything. But she knew she was safe, somehow completely and inexplicably,

"Nat? Can you look at me?" Steve asked softly, sitting her down on the couch and sitting next to her, and taking her hand again to finish bandaging it. More than anything, he was worried about her getting an infection, because he knew she wouldn't deal with it until at least tomorrow morning, maybe ever knowing her.

Her eyes were open, but they were glassy and unfocused, not really looking at him as she blinked slowly. "Hey, Natasha, come back to me."

He could tell the moment she came out of her stupor, blinking rapidly and staring down at his hands wrapping around hers with the bandage. She took a sharp intake of breath, and he paused, looking at her softly, seeing the tears in her eyes. "Is it too tight?" He asked, and she shook her head no.

"It's good. I'm fine," she gestured for him to continue, leaning back against the cushions as her thoughts swirled and tumbled and crashed around in her head. She could barely feel Steve wrapping the bandage around her hand, could barely feel the pressure, and yeah, this was the reason she didn't like being drunk. It stopped her rational thought, and despite the fact that was her original intention, she didn't like the woozy feeling that went with it.

"All done." Steve's soft voice drew her back to real life, and she sighed contently despite herself as he brushed his lips over her knuckles. And fuck, she didn't mean to do that. Didn't want to do that. But she'd felt so out of control the entire week that this small bit of comfort had her weak at the knees. Just knowing that someone, anyone cared about her enough to go out of their way to take care of her, and that person happened to be Steve.

Because he was perfect, perfect in every way she could never be, in every way she wanted to be. And she wanted him. She wanted to be the person he came home to, she wanted to curl up around him on the couch, she wanted to be the person he loved. But she knew that he could never want her, especially not after tonight. Not after he'd seen the way she could self-destruct so easily, because why would he want someone like that? Someone like her.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn't even realised he'd shifted so he was lent back against the cushions, his arm lying across the back of the sofa just behind her head. And she definitely hadn't realised that she'd rested her head against his shoulder whilst her drunken thoughts got the better of her.

She lifted her head off his shoulder when she realised, her face far too close to his, their lips practically brushing. "I…ummm…sorry," she whispered, and despite the fact her brain was screaming at her to pull away from him, she couldn't bring herself to, relishing in the closeness.

"Don't be. I don't want you to be," he curled his arm around her, his fingers brushing her shoulder lightly as he waited for her to move. Waiting for her to do something, anything that told him she wanted him too.

She slowly brought her hand up to his neck, letting her fingers ghost over his skin before resting there lightly. "Steve." Her words were barely more than a whisper before she closed the gap between them, her lips brushing against his, and it was all he could do to kiss her properly, his lips chasing hers as they moved so perfectly against each other.

But he could taste the salt on her lips from her tears, a reminder of the situation, and wrapped his arms around her tightly, keeping her as close as possible. He wanted to protect her, wanted to keep her safe, he wanted to chase away her demons, even though he knew a few kisses wouldn't fix everything.

She pushed him so he was laying down on the sofa, her lips never once straying from his, dragging her teeth along his lower lip ever so slightly as he deepened the kiss. In return, he pulled her on top of him, letting her settle before trailing his hands down her waist. Her lips pulled away from his to trail a path down his jaw and neck, kissing and biting ever so slightly at his neck.

Then her lips fell still, still pressed to his skin but without the fervent behaviour that preceded it. He looked down, smiling when he saw that she'd fallen asleep on top of him, already snoring quietly into his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head, manoeuvring himself so he could pick her up without waking her, scooping her into his arms. She was snoring lightly, smushing her face into his chest as he walked into her bedroom, pulling back the sheets before setting her down lightly. She curled into herself as he tucked her in, and he couldn't help but smile as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Sleep tight Nat."

Natasha woke up to a searing migraine, all her bones tired and aching as she winced against the early morning light. It felt like her brain was trying to burst out of her skull, pulsing and throbbing as she tried to bring herself to consciousness.

What the hell happened last night?

She got drunk, she knew that much. She'd given into her thoughts, let herself go and…fuck…she'd called Steve. She didn't even know what she'd been thinking, why did she do that? She squinted open her eyes, rolling over to face the nightstand, seeing a glass of water that definitely wasn't there last night.

Groaning, she prised herself out of her little ball, reaching out blindly to take a sip to see a note left just by it. She blinked quickly, trying to clear her vision as she read it.

Nat,

Had to leave, Fury called for a mission. I left some pastries for you to eat in the kitchen. Call me when you wake up.

Steve x

So she definitely hadn't imagined Steve coming over last night, which was just perfect. He didn't need to see her like that, no one did. And then more fuzzy memories came back to her and…fuck. Fuck. She didn't…did she? She hadn't even realised she'd picked up the phone to call him until it was pressed against her ear.

"Please tell me I didn't make out with you then fall asleep on you last night." Was the first thing she said, and he couldn't help but laugh. More than anything, he was just happy she'd called him instead of leaving him to wonder whether she actually wanted him or she was just drunk.

"You might have done," he chuckled, smiling brightly. He hadn't left the Triskelion yet, he'd just ducked into an empty office as soon as he'd seen her call.

"I'm so sorry Steve," she apologised, and he could hear the guilt in her voice.

He knew he had to take a leap of faith, because he knew she never would again. "I'm not. Sorry that is. I've wanted to kiss you for a while now."

He could hear her sharp intake of breath, and he wished he could see her just so he could have some kind of sign to what she was thinking. "Really?"

"Yeah. I ummm…I really like you Nat," he admitted, and he couldn't stop himself from starting to pace as he waited for her to respond. His heart was racing, beating wilding in his chest as he prayed that she felt the same.

"I like you too Rogers. A lot," she practically whispered, and he felt his heart soar, so much so he had to stop and lean against the wall.

"Rogers, we gotta go. Quit talking to your girlfriend." Rollins opened the door, an impatient glare on his face. "Yeah, just give me a minute."

Rollins grunted, leaving just as quickly as he came, and Steve just sighed, directing his attention back to his phone.

"I've got to go Nat," he told her softly, even though he was pretty sure she'd heard them talking. "I know. Stay safe yeah?"

He wasn't sure if he was imagining it, but he thought he could hear worry in her voice, and he couldn't help but smile. They'd been on plenty of missions, both together and apart, but this was the first time she'd ever expressed any concern over him.

"Yeah. I'll…I'll see you when I get back?" He wasn't sure what their relationship was anymore, and he wasn't sure what to expect. He hoped they were more than just friends, he thought they were more than just friends, and he knew that if they weren't having this conversation over the phone, he would've kissed her by now.

"You better," she laughed out. "When do you get back?"

"Uhh, Thursday I think."

"I'll see you then Soldier." She hung up, and he couldn't keep the grin off his face. Because Natasha had just admitted back to him that she liked him, and that she wanted to see him and spend time with him after he came back from this mission. And he'd never had more motivation to come back alive than he did right now.