This was going to be something else but my brain turned it into a not so happy explanation as a background for why Steve was leading support group meetings instead of missions.

Title comes from Sleeping at Last song 'Six'

Cup of tepid tea in one hand, Natasha engaged the video feed in a vicious stare down. An orange blurb popped up in the center of the screen, notifying her of the team's return. A moment passed. Jet engines rumbled outside. A single swipe of her hand cleared the air in front of her, videos and notifications vanishing to reveal the empty room around her. She waited.

Laughter drifted up the hallway as the heroes entered the complex. Natasha rolled her chair away from the desk just far enough to give her enough space to move, standing at a leisurely pace before rounding the desk and leaning against it, arms crossed.

"Oh man. Did you see that guy's face?"

"Which guy, Rocket? There were a lot of guys." Rhodey and Rocket were at the front, leading the small group forward.

"You know, the one standing at the gate when Miss I'm Going to Break That Door Down With my Bare Hands showed up."

"I did not use my hands. I kicked it down. There is a difference," Nebula defended herself, speeding her strides until she was equal with the two in front.

"His face though," Rocket snickered. "It was priceless!"

As they came into the room, Natasha nodded to each of them in turn, though her attention was focused on Steve. He lagged behind the others, expression indifferent in spite of the banter. In the blink of an eye, Natasha was off the desk and across the room, stopping directly in front of Steve. Her abrupt movements, coupled with the stormy look on her face, effectively killed the light mood. The others instantly shut their mouths and exchanged nervous glances.

"What the hell was that?" Natasha's quiet voice held the power of a thunderclap.

Sensing the tension and wanting no part of the impending fight, Rhodey and Nebula edged toward the door, dragging the reluctant Rocket with them.

"Ah, come on, guys. Some popcorn and soda and we would have been all set," he complained.

"Trust me, man. You do not want to be anywhere near what's about to go down." Rhodey's advice faded as the group disappeared to another part of the compound.

When even that awkward departure failed to thaw Natasha's glower, Steve rolled his eyes. "Good to see you too, Nat."

"What the hell was that?" Natasha asked again, slower and more forcefully, without any trace of humor.

Steve stepped around her, taking his gear bag off his shoulder and slinging it onto a nearby armchair. "I believe it's called a successful mission."

"And that's called a load of crap," Natasha said, spinning on her heel to face him. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Steve shrugged, impassive.

"That was a pipe bomb in that subway station," Natasha said.

"I know. I saw it." He took a seat on the sofa, propping his boots on the coffee table and dabbing at an already scabbing gash at his temple.

"Oh, really. Is that why you ran straight toward it?" She arched an eyebrow at him challengingly.

Steve sighed as if bored. "It was going to destroy-"

Natasha wouldn't let him finish. "Don't give me that. No." She held up a hand. "Don't give me that crap."

Pulling his feet off the table, Steve stamped them on the floor and leaned forward. "Nat, I had to. If I hadn't done something-"

She interrupted him again. "You could have called in Rhodes. Not only was he closer but his suit's actually designed to deal with that kind of stuff. Or hell, you could have put the raccoon on it. I don't know if you've noticed, but explosives are kind of his specialty."

Steve spread his hands. "I didn't know-"

"Don't bullshit me, Rogers."

He stiffened, face closing off.

"You knew damn well what would happen. You knew and you did it anyway. Why?" Natasha crossed her arms over her chest.

"I was trying to protect people." His tone was borderline hostile. "Last I checked, that's our job, isn't it?"

"And how many people are you going to protect if you're dead, huh?" Natasha shot back. "That's what you were going for, right? That's why you didn't call in Rhodes or try to evacuate the station or a hundred other options besides walking right up to a bomb."

Steve leaped to his feet. "Okay, fine. I made a mistake. There. Are you happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?" He stood in front of her, using his height advantage to its full potential as he stared down at her with flashing eyes.

"No. No, it's not." She was unaffected by his intimidating posture. "Because I am getting sick and tired of these 'mistakes'. They keep happening so either you're getting sloppy or you just don't care anymore. I don't know which is worse but I know both of them are dangerous and I won't stand for it."

"What are you going to do about it?" His lip curled in an expression dangerously close to a sneer.

"I'm benching you, Rogers," she asserted cooly.

He scoffed. "Come on, Nat. You're not serious." But when he scanned her face for signs of weakness or hesitation, there were none.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" she said lowly through clenched teeth.

For the first time during their argument, something besides dismissal showed on his face. "You're really think you can bench me?" he asked.

"Damn straight." She held his gaze, keeping her jaw tight and ignoring how her fingers were digging into her arms where she had crossed them.

After a tense moment, he huffed a humorless chuckle and dropped his head to his chest before raising it defiantly. "Why?"

"Because I don't like where your head is at," Natasha told him.

"Just where do you think my head is?" he challenged.

"Not here, that's for damn sure." She dropped her arms to her sides. "And I can't let you go back out there. Not like this. Not when you're putting the others in danger."

Steve raised a critical eyebrow. "And you're going to be the one to protect them."

"Someone has to. And it sure as hell ain't you." Her words stung him, she could see it in the tightening of his eyes and the furrow of his brow. She softened her voice and added, "Not right now."

Steve pursed his lips but said nothing, swallowing down the hurt and any argument he wanted to make.

Natasha deflated, suddenly worn and tired. "Look. I don't care what you have to do to get yourself back in the game. Take a nature walk. Go fishing. Take up knitting. I don't care. But you need to do something, Steve. I'm not going to watch you get yourself killed."

Steve didn't respond, just stood there stiff and unhappy before abruptly snatching his gear bag and walking to the door. Natasha watched him go. He stopped in the doorway to look over his shoulder, opening his mouth. Then seemingly changed his mind as he shut it and stalked away without even a goodbye. It was only after she could no longer see his form down the hall that she allowed herself to return to the desk and slump in her chair. Her unfinished cup of tea caught her eye. She snatched it and flung it at the opposite wall, watching the liquid trail stains on the paint.