Baby Captain Widow REWRITE

Chapter 2: The Unexpected

The next morning, Steve awoke to an empty bed, the sounds of Natasha vomiting again in the bathroom across the landing. Oh no, he thought concernedly, as he lifted the muted quilt off him and climbed out of the bed, groggily making his way over towards their shared bathroom. Softly, he knocked on the door, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he yawned. "'Tasha, do you need me to come in there?"

"I'm ok- "She responded, before violently throwing up again. Steve's hand instantly reached towards the door handle, and tried, finding the door unlocked. He opened the door, finding his teammate kneeling beside the toilet, her head over the open bowl. Each step on the hard, tile floor froze his bare feet, until he knelt down beside her, wearing nothing except his boxers and a shirt. Tenderly, he pulled her hair out of her face, and began to softly rub her back in circular motions.

"Sshhh." He hushed, as she shivered against his touch. "There you go, get it all out of you." He whispered faintly into her ear, as his hand drew circles at a steady rhythm. "Are you sure you still want to leave today, or...?"

"Yes, I'll be fine, Rogers." She muttered absentmindedly, avoiding breathing through her mouth as the stench of bile and stomach acid that coated her mouth would surely choke her. How could she be feeling so ill? The amount of numerous serums coursing through her veins normally prevented her from catching anything, even a cold, plus the exposure to various foreign diseases from her time in the Red Room would've built up her immune system from such an early age.

"We'll need to go out and grab some food for the trip, and the new safehouse; plus we'll want to go somewhere further afield... Are you sure you're gonna be up for that?" Steve contemplated, his voice lowering in volume as he listed what they needed to do, but rising again as he asked her the question. Natasha just merely scrunched up her face in annoyance and sighed.

"Rogers, I don't need you to baby me." She finally snapped; feeling his worriesome gaze on the back of her neck paired with the way her normally reliable and trusted body was turning on her just infuriated her further. Whipping around to face him, she instantly regretted very word as the expression of hurt painted over his face in invisible ink hit her like a ton of bricks. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way." She apologised, changing the tone of her voice to something far less aggressive and defensive. "What I meant to say is I'll be fine if we just packed up and left today, no matter what we have to do in preparation for it." Her friend stood up and moved towards the sink, and turned on the tap. The sound of running water only aggravated her relentless headache, although thankfully, it stopped almost immediately. Steve soon returned with a damp cloth in his hand, and knelt beside her again, dabbing soothingly at her forehead, and erasing the beads of sweat that stood there as he did so.

"You don't...have to do that." Natasha brushed aside, purposefully avoiding his eyes.

"Doesn't mean I don't want to." Steve countered, as he finished up. Standing back up again, he reached for her hand. Smiling wearily, she took it, hoisting herself from the ground. Their hands remained entwined as he lead her downstairs towards the kitchen. Dropping his hand from her grasp, Nat dropped down into one of the wooden, kitchen chairs, but Steve continued over to the kitchen countertops. He didn't even have to reach to pull out a glass from the cupboards above, moving it under the silver faucet, and filled it most of the way before stopping the flow of water. "Here." He said, placing it down in front of her as he took the seat opposite her at the table. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" She replied, lifting the glass and shuddering as the cool water washed bile down her throat.

"What's going on with you." Natasha just shook her head again as she lowered the glass back onto the table, created a ring of moisture underneath its base.