Work Text:
“Black Widow? Widow come in.” Her comm went dark half a minute ago and it was enough to make Steve’s blood go cold, even as he stared at the building he was so sure she was still in. His confidence, his composure, went out the window as soon after the building exploded. He shouted, screaming at the top of his lungs as Clint tried to hold him back, keep him from going into the wreckage but the archer was just as shaken up as Steve, the pair watching in horror as the flames set off further explosions down in the basement until the old HYDRA building was nothing but a pile of ash. Her suit, body, comm, nothing was recovered and Steve couldn’t bear to stay in the country any longer, flying back on his own, his heart heavy and eyes as dry as the desert; he’d cried more than he had in decades and his tear ducts seem to have run out.
As the time passed Steve slept less and less, working on taking down those responsible for the death of the Black Widow. Each Avenger mourned in private, though none as much as Steve. It was a rare day when he came out of his room, so two months later, when Fury insisted on him coming to a debriefing meeting between the two of them he rejected it at first. Refused. He didn’t need to waste his time with pretending to pay attention.
That didn’t do anything to Fury’s determination, and in ten minutes Steve found himself sitting across the desk from the Director, tapping his fingers incessantly. When was he going to be done droning on and on about Steve needing to take a break? It wasn’t ever going to happen.
“It’s not that we don’t appreciate all of your work, Captain. It’s that even you can’t do this forever.”
Steve’s jaw clenched, a tick in his cheek twitching. How dare he say that? With what had happened to Nat, what should’ve been prevented if he’d just done more? The edges of the table cracked where Steve had moved his hand, clenching hard as Fury spoke. He wasn’t about to give up then and undo all the hard work he’d put into finding Natasha, not when they still had no idea where to start.
“Will all due respect, sir, I’m not giving up till I find her, or find out what happened.” Steve’s eyes were hard as they looked up to Fury, who had narrowed his gaze at the soldier. “I don’t give a damn about anything else but getting her back.”
“You should.”
The voice started them both, though for different reasons. Fury’s face contorted in surprise while Steve grew white, terrified that his memories and thoughts of her, that the dreams and hallucinations he’d seen at night when he did grab a minute or two of shut eye, had started manifesting into a new form of torment. But how could Fury hear it? Unless . . .
He whipped around and there stood Natasha, in all her glory, hair pulled back and a small cut on her bottom lip healing over, but other than that looking almost perfectly fine.
“Romanov where the fuck have you been?”
“Cabo, sir. Had to fake my death to go undercover.” She gave a small wince as she took a step forward. Steve was at her side in an instant, his eyes searching hers. She looked over and gave a small smile, kissing his cheek, a promise there would be time for more later. The hell there would be. “But you need to go see Coulson. I already gave him my full report. You won’t believe what AIM has been up to.”
With a whirl Fury stood, nodding. “Good work, Agent. Glad to have you back. Rogers get her to the med room stat.”
Steve just nodded, waiting until Fury was out the door before pulling her tight into his arms. She gave a quiet hiss of pain, but smiled against his skin. He was having a hard enough time reigning it in, keeping from breaking down in her arms all together.
“A message, or something, would’ve been nice,” he choked out, pulling away to cup either side of her face with his hands, brushing a stray red curl out of her hair. He smiled in spite of himself, just glad to have her back in his arms again, and she returned it before leaning up to kiss him.
“Too late to say honey I’m home?” She teased when she pulled away, her eyes hopeful when she looked up at him. He allowed himself a laugh before moving in to kiss her again, sure he could never get enough of her mouth, or her. Just having her in his arms was good enough for him, warm and alive and pressed up against him. God, he didn’t know what he’d do if he lost her, and he murmured that to her hair when she pulled away to breathe, her hips pushing a little closer to his.
“Natasha, you need to be taken care of,” he murmured when one of her hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, pulling them apart almost absently.
“Steve I don’t know anyone better than you to take care of me.” She looked up at him, eyes set. Resolute. He’d seen that look a dozen or so times in her face before she did something he might consider stupid or reckless, though she always had a plan. Obviously, he needed to learn to trust her more, her instincts far sharper than his own. And he didn’t want to fight, not then. “Please, Steve. You remember what happened when you were gone for a week? It’s been two months.”
“You’re hurt.”
“I’ve dealt with worse.”
“Fury could come back in at any moment.”
“This coming from the same man that fingered me in front of him, in this very room?” She quirked a brow, unable to stop herself from smirking. The familiarity of it, the realization that she was in fact there with him hit him like a brick to the gut, winding him. With careful hands he moved her up onto the table, shucking off the ratty jeans he didn’t want to think about how she’d gotten, careful to avoid the left thigh where she seemed to be sporting a minor gash.
“Don’t ask. Not now,” she murmured, biting her bottom lip as he looked up at her, concerned, but slipped off the last leg of her pants anyway, dropping them on the ground. Her panties soon followed, but she kept her shirt on when he went to tug it off.
“It’ll only make you mad,” she murmured as she flicked the button of his jeans, sliding them down his waist so she could palm his already half hard cock to life. He twitched beneath her grip, fixing her with a hard stare that she all but ignored in favor of slipping his boxers off and hooking him closer with her ankles. “Steve. Please.” Her eyes were wide and pleading when she looked up at him, making his heart want to burst as he pressed his lips to hers once more, the kiss searing his soul with how badly he needed her--not just in a physical sense, but emotionally. He didn’t know what he’d do if he couldn’t have her by his side. Slowly, he nudged his cock inside her, glad she was wet enough to let him in with minor difficulties, and the shuddering gasp that ran through her body made him moan into her mouth. She felt like heaven, tight and inviting and keeping him close to her as she started to rock her hips. He shook his head, moving his hands to them and pulling away.
“Don’t. Let me.” He urged her. She was hurt enough as it was, and the smile that spread across her lips nearly broke his heart at how tender it was.
“I love you so much, Steve, but you’re always afraid I’m going to break.”
“Natasha.” His voice took a little deeper of a tone, and he didn’t miss the way she shivered under it. “Let me take care of you. That’s an order.” It seemed to be the only way to make her listen, and sure enough she nodded. Slowly he laid her back against the desk, hands careful to stay on her hips, not wanting to aggravate the injuries he could see peeking out from the bottom of her shirt, but his thrusts grew a little more powerful, stronger as she moaned and her body twisted beneath him. His eyes never left her face, even as one of his fingers pressed to her clit, taking in every twitch of her expression to gauge just how much she could take, how much she could handle. He didn’t want to overbear her, nor was he about to go easy on her if she didn’t want it that way. He’d give her whatever she wanted so long as it was in his power to give.
Her legs tightened around his waist, drawing him closer, and at the insistence of her he sped up just a little more. Her voice calling his name was intoxicating, and the pleasure that spiked his blood was causing his pulse to race and his head to grow cloudy. The first time she came she closed her eyes, but he lunged forward to grip her chin gently.
“Look at me darling. Eyes on me,” he whispered the order, watched as her eyelids fluttered open and her cheeks flushed with her arousal, eyes glazed as she stared up at him. He whispered how much he loved her, a cadence fitting perfectly with the rhythm of their hips and as her body clenched and seized around him he felt himself being drawn closer to the edge himself. Not quite there yet, though, not yet. He owed her more than that. As he helped her ride out her first orgasm her voice went hoarse, begging for him to go harder. Faster. He grabbed one of her wrists and held it tight, just enough to capture her attention but not enough to bruise.
“Pet. Don’t tell me I have to teach you a lesson about ordering me about,” he said, voice a low growl. He noticed the way her body tensed, breath hitched at the words, and he couldn’t help but grin. Two months away must’ve been hell indeed if she was reacting like this.
But he acquiesced. Carefully, he removed himself from her and turned her over, giving her a better purchase on the desk as he sank to the hilt back into her. She murmured something, a curse in Russian or another Eastern European language he couldn’t understand, her hands scrambling for a grip on the edge of the desk as he pushed harder and harder into her, giving her exactly what she wanted if the low keen in her throat was anything to go off of.
“Is that how you like it, babe?” He asked, voice stuttering as he felt his own climax approaching. Hers, too, if the shaking of her body was any indication. “God I missed you so much, and you’re so inviting. So perfect for me, Natasha.”
“God--Steve, please,” she begged, forehead pressed against the desk as she quivered, standing on her tiptoes to afford him a better angle. He grinned and dipped his hips slightly so that the tip of his cock battered against her g-spot with every stroke. In no time she was coming around him, tight as a vice and so hot he couldn’t stop himself from following her lead and letting go, groaning and grabbing one of her hands so he could thread his fingers in hers. They barely had time to breathe before there were footsteps from the other side of the door. Cursing quickly, Steve removed himself from Nat and helped her pull on her pants before hiking his own up. They’d just stood upright when Fury walked back in. He stiffened, expression turning a mixture of exhaasperated and shocked.
“Are you two kidding me?” He demanded. “Romanov--to the med bay! Rogers, you better get your ass back here and clean up your mess. Damn it you two, I’m gonna have to buy a new desk. You think those come cheap?”
Steve couldn’t help but grin as he and Nat stepped around him to exit, hands finding one another, fingers lacing, as they headed out, a litany of curses from the Director following them.
“Don’t think I’ll be able to look him in the eye ever again,” Steve muttered.
“Good thing he’s only got one to avoid,” Nat couldn’t help but grin. He squeezed her hand and leaned over to press a kiss to the top of her head.
“Hey Nat?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t ever do that again.”
Her grin was enough to stop his heart as she looked up at him, stopping to bring a hand up to the side of his face, stroking the skin of his cheek gently. “Yes, sir.”