The Mimic (HE/HIM VERSION)

174

"Sorry if it's a bit cold. I didn't want to burn you." Natasha murmured with a slight smile.

Y/n was sat on the bathroom counter in just a pair of shorts. He was completely detached, simply staring at the wall in front of him. From the red build up in his hair to the heavy grass stains on his ankles, he was completely caked in blood and muck. Despite his straight face, his eyes depicted ones of pure shock and torture. Those code words had really messed him up.

The sound of running water from the sink beside him filled his ears, creating a nice contrast to the pained noises and the crying that he'd been hearing on the quinjet just moments before. The smell of a nice vanilla soap begun to creep into his nose, trying its hardest to fight against the metallic smell of blood that dominated his senses.

Natasha had decided to clean y/n up. A bath or a shower would've been far easier, but he knew that the poor guy wasn't in a good enough mental state to be near any body of water by himself. So, she had opted for a sink filled with soapy water and a sponge.

Nat was pretty messed up herself, especially with the big gash on her forehead from being hit on the head with Steve's shield so hard, but she didn't care. Y/n was her priority. Every other person on the team didn't even care to check on y/n when they stumbled off of the quinjet to tend to their wounds, and Natasha was so, so angry about that. After Bucky, y/n was the most affected person. It didn't matter if he didn't look injured, the mental damage of almost killing his own lover was scarring enough.

Natasha let out a quiet sigh as she dipped the sponge into the lukewarm water, carefully wringing out the excess before she begun to clean y/n up. She started with the face, making sure to be as gentle as possible. She wasn't sure if there were any cuts or bruises underneath all of the mess, so it was better to go soft.

The feeling of the sponge against his skin was actually quite grounding and calming for y/n. It hurt to watch the sponge wash away Bucky's blood from his hands, but he knew it had to be done. It would just torture him more if it stayed. So, he let Natasha continue to dab the sponge at his skin in a soft manner, trying to ignore the fact that the once-yellow sponge was now a murky-reddish colour.

"Let me know if it hurts, okay?" Natasha cooed, not expecting any response from y/n. She was simply narrating everything that she did, trying her hardest to keep y/n out of his head. "I even picked out my 'nice soap' for you y'know.. It's the one that you always try to steal from me."

It wasn't the same without Natasha there.

Y/n remembered that night so clearly. Of course there were many reasons why that night stuck in his mind - like the fact that he almost murdered the whole team whilst under Zemo's control - but that was also the night when y/n and Natasha were really able to bond.

Nat took care of him. She took care of him even when the rest of the team didn't. She made sure that he sat at the front of the quinjet so he didn't have to see how hurt everyone else was. She took his shoes off and wrapped a warm jacket around him. She cleaned all the blood off of him. She dressed his wounds. She told stories until he fell asleep. She made sure that he ate even if he didn't want to. Natasha was always there for him, and now she was gone.

Y/n was stood in the same bathroom. The sink was filled up with soapy water, and a similar-looking yellow sponge was floating in the centre of it. He had stripped down to just a pair of shorts, and the same vanilla scent fought for dominance with the metallic smell of blood in his nose. Everything felt so similar, except this time he was alone.

He wasn't sat up on the bathroom counter, and Natasha wasn't there to quietly talk to him and clear him up. The water was cold. Cold enough to cause y/n to flinch every time it came in contact with his skin. The last of the vanilla soap had been used to mix with the water, and even then it had been a struggle to get any out.

It wasn't the same.

Y/n stared at himself in the mirror as he slowly begun to dab at his skin with the sponge. He started with his face, just like Natasha did. He was desperately trying to replicate the memory, his mind practically begging for any sort of interaction with Natasha again. But it was impossible. He couldn't process it. He couldn't process the fact that she was gone for good. It wasn't fair. Y/n could still imagine the look on Nat's face when she discovered that he'd used the last of the vanilla soap.

God, she would've stood there with her hands on her hips, and her eyebrows would've been raised that typical big sister way. She probably would've challenged y/n to a sparring session to decide who was going to pay for a new bottle.

Y/n quickly stopped himself from imagining anything else, looking up at himself in the mirror to notice the tears in his eyes. They were red, puffy, and raw. He'd tried her hardest to put on a brave face after he snapped with Tony, but he couldn't hold it any longer. Losing Natasha was soul crushing, and the fact that he was stood alone just made everything even worse. The only person that he wanted right now (except for Bucky) was Natasha. He wanted to hug her and never let go.

Hell, if they were even able to say goodbye, it would've felt a little better. But everything had ended on a broken promise. She'd promised that they'd have a full-out training session, and now y/n would have to wait until he could join her to fulfil that promise.

It hurt too much.