Baby Captain Widow (a Romanogers pregnancy fanfic)

Chapter 1: On the run

Nat heaved, head just above the porcelain toilet bowl, the putrid taste of acid spilling over her tongue. Burning remnants from last night's dinner projected from her mouth, cascading messily in front of her. She eased herself upright, wiping the spillages from the corners of her mouth and stared at the bathroom around her. The walls were a neat egg white, juxtaposing the mess in front of her, her knees aching on the hard tile floor.

"Natasha? Everything alright in there?" Steve called from the other room, a note of concern subtly evident, buried in his tone of voice.

"Yeah, everything's f- " Nat began, her unfinished sentenced punctuated by another bout of vomit, just missing the toilet in front of her. She reached over to her side to her glass of water, and gulped some of it down, in any attempt to ease her stomach. "'Tasha, do you need me to come in?" Steve knocked gently on the locked door.

"I told you, I'm fine." Nat replied, hastily flushing the loo, and cleaning up her vomit with an old rag, which she then tossed aside into the laundry basket, proceeding to unlock the door. Steve stood apprehensively in the doorway, muscles bulging from the sleeves of his scarlet t-shirt as his arms crossed over his chest. His blue eyes pensively studied her, then met her green ones, as if staring into her soul. The slightest electric charge blitzed its way down her spine, before tearing her eyes away, moving towards the hall behind him. Steve sighed, shifting his position to allow her access towards the bedroom across the landing, his eyes never leaving her.

15 months had they been in hiding, never staying in one place for too long, in case of any unwanted companions of Stark. They had had to discard their suits, for they had no idea whether Tony had implanted secret trackers in them. The Sokovia Accords had caused them to live in constant fear, leaving them with very few people to trust.

They were virtually alone.

Nat entered the bedroom and made her way over to the dresser, her bare feet causing the wooden floorboards to creak slightly.  She opened the drawer, and began rummaging through the shirts that they had brought. "I know you're staring at me, Rogers." She purred, glancing over at his direction. He made his way over to her, and sat on the bed, the mattress springing marginally underneath him. "How long do you think we will be in this situation for?" He said, staring at her red hair, flowing gently down her back.
"Until Stark loses his ego."
"Nat, c'mon, I'm serious." She picked out a black top, and undressed the one she was already wearing, the stench of puke stifling her as she lifted it above her head. "Steve, I honestly don't know. I've known Tony for at least 6 years, and yet I don't have an answer for you." I'm sorry, she thought. They both sat there in silence, as Nat dressed herself again.
"What happened in the bathroom?"
"I dunno, probably caught a stomach bug, or something."
"Hm, well we need to get some breakfast, I'm not sure we should stay here much longer."

Steve moved towards the door, and stopped, turning towards the black widow. "I'll be down in a sec." She responded, turning her face away from him and towards the dresser. She studied herself in the mirror above it, noticing that her complexion was paler than usually, and that she had begun to break out. Her hand moved towards the hairbrush next to the mirror in order to try and fix her startlingly bright hair.

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She stepped into the small kitchen and towards the table, pulling out a chair and sitting down. She still felt slightly woozy, but she brushed it off, thinking that she was just hungry. Rogers placed a mug of coffee down in front of her. "Drink." He said, giving her a small, reassuring smile. She returned it and reached out towards the mug, lifting it up to her mouth. Taking a sip, a strong wave of nausea overcame her; she dropped the mug back down and raced to the sink. She retched, Cap rubbing her back supportively. She moaned softly, his soothing touch easing her aching body. He reached out with his spare hand towards the washing up bowl, and diverted her towards the living room and towards the couch. She felt her knees give way, and gently fell onto it. "Natasha, if you're ill, then maybe we shouldn't leave, maybe we should just stay here and risk it." Nat shook her head.
"I'll be alright. I've dealt with much worse, believe you me."
"I understand that, but I don't want you to get any worse." A surge of warmth met Natasha's heart as she looked up at him, his forehead engraved with worry-lines, his eyes full of concern.
"Let's forget about it for now, and talk it over tomorrow," She answered, a faint smile creeping its way onto her face. "We can still pack up today, and leave only a few items of clothing for tomorrow so that if we do decide to go, we can do so in a hurry."

Steve sat still for a moment, and then slowly nodded his head. "Alright. If that's what you want."

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Hey folks, hope you're enjoying the beginning of this fanfic. If you could comment on parts that you like, that would be much appreciated so that I know where you guys like the direction of the story to go in.
I wonder what's brought Natasha's stomach problems on...

By the way, if you guys are a bit confused with the timeline, then this takes place after the events of Black Widow, and Steve and Natasha have been on the run with each other for three months.

I hope that you guys enjoy the next chapters, and I do hope to write a sequel to this story if you guys are interested!