A/N: this isn't edited at all but I needed to get something out. Enjoy y'all.
"Why do you always have to come to my room when you're bleeding out?" You bit your tongue to keep the snide remark bubbling in your throat at bay. Instead, you allowed a grunt of discomfort to escape you instead.
"I don't see you kicking us out, Lord Stark." Bucky replied for you. His hands were steady as he weaved the needle through your skin. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you found it entertaining."
Tony laughed low in his chest, "While I do find you two stumbling in here with tales of your newest crusade, the last time you were here you ruined one of my favorite rugs."
"God, this man." You thought to yourself. He was more worried about pretty wool than you possibly bleeding to death in his quarters.
"Everyday we grow closer to learning how much Lord Stark would sell us for. So far it's less than a rug but more than an apple." You remarked, earning a chuckle from Bucky.
Tony raised his glass to his lips and offered you a shrug. "It was a very expensive rug." He took a sip of his drink before continuing. "Also, this isn't a very good hiding spot from the Princess. Without fail she always finds you in here."
Bucky had finished stitching your side back up and moved to grab the bandages "Who says I'm hiding?" You raised your arms above your head to allow him easier access. "Think of it more as delaying the inevitable."
"Do you have to "delay the inevitable" on my chaise? I just had it imported." Tony asked flippantly.
"Well that narrows it down a bit more, wouldn't you say Y/N?" Bucky hummed as he finished wrapping the bandage around your torso. "More than an apple but less than a rug and a chaise."
You lowered your arms and gave a thoughtful hum. "Now for the real question, my dear Sir Barnes. Which is more valuable, the rug or the chaise?"
Tony rolled his eyes at your antics. "I'll make it easy for both of you. I'd sell the pair of you two for a decent bottle of wine."
Bucky sat himself on the edge of Tony's bed with a heavy sigh, his armor clanking loudly as he did so. "Not even fine wine? I'm insulted."
Tony made to say his remark but fell short as his eyes moved to the door. He was the first to his feet, his smirk never leaving his lips. "Your highness."
Slowly, you turned your body just enough to see her there. Your eyes met instantly. The look you received made you wish to shy away from her, yet you stood strong.
Natasha didn't spare the two men a single glance. "Leave us." The command came out gentle, but firm. The Duke and knight knew better than to argue with their Princess and quickly took their leave of the room.
She was silent even after the door closed. She was angry, you could see it in her eyes. She approached you, head held high, eyes stony.
Suddenly you felt an overwhelming sense of shame as if you were a child about to be shamed for breaking a window while at play. You averted your eyes, preferring to stare at the floorboards than meet her overbearing gaze.
Natasha came to stop in front of you. Her touch on your shoulder made you tense. She sighed and moved her hand to your chin. She lifted your gaze to once again meet hers. The anger wasn't as present as before; it was instead replaced with sadness.
Her eyes were the first to break the gaze. They trailed along your face and upper body, taking inventory of each small cut and bruise. She stopped once she got to your side.
"I see James was able to dress the wound nicely." Her voice came out shakier than you know she would have liked it to.
You gave her a nod. "We were attacked by bandits while on patrol. We were able to fend them off but one of the bastards made sure to give me a parting gift."
You could see she was itching to touch it; to reach out and run her fingers along the fresh bandages. To assure herself that you were okay.
Instead, her hand came to rest delicately on your cheek. She stepped closer, placing herself between your legs and picked up a small rag.
Your hands naturally made their way to her hips. Your thumbs rubbed small circles into them, trying to silently comfort her.
Gently, she used the rag to dab at your split lip. She was trembling. You couldn't tell if it was out of anger or fear, maybe both. Your heart ached to know you put her through this stress.
"Natasha, darling, I am okay. They're flesh wounds, they will heal." You tried to assure her but it only seemed to make it worse.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she shook her head vigorously; her red curls bouncing as she did. "I'm having Father promote you to my head guard." Her voice was but a whisper. "I cannot stand having to come find you only to see you have yet again encountered death."
Your hand moved up to cover the one she had placed on your cheek. "It pains me to think of the day when I will seek you out only to find that the injury was more than just flesh deep."
"I am bound to get a few scrapes and bruises, Princess, it comes with the job." She did not like that answer.
Shaking her head, she placed the rag down so that she could hold your head with both hands. "And what of the day when it is not a scrap or a bruise and instead you are in here dying?" The panic in her voice alarmed you. Never once had Natasha been so openly scared at the prospect of your death.
"I cannot lose you." She said after a few moments. "And as it stands, the safest place for either of us to be is by each other's side." Her emerald eyes once again met yours. "So that's where you will be. By my side."
You nodded, knowing there was no arguing with her. Turning your head, you pressed a gentle kiss to her palm and allowed your eyes to slip shut.
"By your side."
