New beginnings (Natasha/you age regression)

2

You tremble almost violently as the woman named Natasha leads you inside her home. You felt pathetic for clinging to her hand so desperately, but you knew if you let go you would tumble to the ground. You felt more vulnerable than you ever had in your life, and Natasha, despite being a stranger, felt like a life line. You couldn't let go of her even if you tried.

"This is the living room," she speaks, startling you slightly. The flinch you emanate was so violent you almost lose your footing, and it made you feel even more pathetic. Natasha says nothing, but she does squeeze your hand apologetically as she leads you over to the couch.

"Wait here okay? I'll go get the drinks." She gestures to the end seat, and you hesitate before easing yourself down onto the very end of it. You were wet, and dirty in more ways than you could count and you didn't want to ruin her nice furniture after she'd been kind enough to let you sit.

She lets go of your hand and makes her way through to what you could only assume was the kitchen, and you try not to whimper as you clutch your damp sweater in your hands in an attempt to replicate the feeling. It brings you little comfort, but you don't complain. You've learnt to keep your mouth shut no matter how you were feeling, and that wasn't going to change now.

As you wait, you find yourself taking in your surroundings. Her home was small, but warm, with a large tv opposite the couch and a fire place beneath that. The floor was wooden, but there was a, grey fluffy run beneath your feet. You feel guilty for walking on it with your shoes, and you wonder whether or not she'd want you to take them off.

Before you could even consider it, Natasha makes an appearance again. You flinch slightly at the suddenness of it, and the pathetic feeling that had slowly begun to fade was suddenly amplified by a thousand. She sets the cup down onto the coffee table in front of you with a soft smile, and you eye the beverage with hope. Would she really let you have it?

"It's hot, so I'd leave it for a while so you don't burn your mouth." Natasha explains as she sits down on the seat next to you, and you nod in understanding. Her close proximity has you feeling more than a little anxious, but you don't complain. This was her home, and she could sit wherever she liked. If you complain, she might kick you out, and you'd just gotten warm.

"So," she softly clears her throat as she sits back on the couch and crosses one leg over the other, "You wanna tell me your name? Your age?" You could hear the hope in her voice, and the last thing you wanted was to disappoint her.

Your mouth parts instinctively, but no words actually escape. You end up just shrugging like the pathetic human you were as your eyes burn with the familiar sensation of tears.

You flinch when a steady hand comes to rest on your back, but that doesn't deter Natasha. Her hand remains, and you eventually manage to relax under her touch. "Okay, are you over eighteen?"

You nod. Well, you were eighteen exactly. But you figured that was close enough.

"Okay," Natasha murmurs thoughtfully as her hand begins to trail up and down your back. You shudder at the feeling, but find yourself slightly leaning into it. It was nice. You couldn't remember the last time someone had touched you without the intention of injury. "You can stay here for a while. Until you figure things out."

You hesitantly turn to face her only to see her already staring at you with a kind smile on her face.  She seems genuine enough, but you knew it was simply a front she'd put on. No one would want some dirty, incapable stranger in their home for an unforeseen amount of time. Despite that fact, and despite the fact you knew you weren't wanted, you didn't think you had it in you to turn her down.  

You just wanted somewhere safe. Someone safe, even.

Natasha was still staring at you, and when you nod slightly, her smile widens. "Okay. Good. It's late, so lets finish our drinks before we get you in the shower and get something to eat, right?"