New beginnings (Natasha/you age regression)

11

It felt like Natasha had only been asleep for minutes before something in her subconscious seems to wake her up. She pries her heavy lids open, shifting slowly to her elbow and looking around the pitch black room. It was unnervingly quiet, so much so you could hear a pin drop.

Immediately getting the sense that something was wrong, she climbs out of bed, slips into a hoodie she'd hung over the footboard of her bed earlier before making her way out of the room.

The door to your room was partially open, just as she'd left it earlier, and as Natasha peeks her head in, she was met with the sight of you still fast asleep. Sensing no immediate danger, she allows herself to let go of the anxious breath she'd been holding as she steps fully into the room.

She sits herself down onto the end of the bed, reaching a hand out and brushing the backs of her fingers over your cheek. It was only then does she realise what could have been the issue. Your skin was clammy and scolding to the touch, telling Natasha that you were more than likely sick.

With a small frown of concern, she momentarily leaves your side and grabs a thermometer from the bathroom down the hall. When she returns, she see's that you were now curled up on your stomach as opposed to your back, and your diapered butt was stuck up in the air.

Despite her concern, Natasha couldn't help but smile at the sight. You were definitely adorable.

Stepping over to you and easing herself back down onto the bed, she gingerly slips her hands beneath your armpits and adjusts you slightly so she had access to your forehead. It wasn't the most accurate thermometer, but it would do until she had the chance to head out a buy a new one.

You let out a disgruntled whine at being moved, and Natasha quietly shushes you with a gentle hand on your leg as she swipes the device over the skin of your forehead. It beeps just seconds later.

102.4. The tiny screen read, and Natasha's frown deepens as she slips the thermometer into her hoodie pocket and scoops you up into her arms. She couldn't leave you by yourself when you were sick. She refused too.

She carries you out of the room with one of your legs hanging limply either side of her hips, her arm remaining beneath your padded behind for support. It was obvious you needed changing too if the warmness against her arm was anything to go by, but she'd do that once she'd gotten some medicine into your system.

You let out a quiet whine when Natasha places her hand on the back of your head before easing you down onto the mattress. You were warm, and now you were cold again. You don't seem to be able to open your eyes or mouth to voice your dislike towards the situation, so you make up for it by softly kicking your legs with an unhappy grunt.

"Shh, it's okay." You hear that familiar voice murmur into your ear, and you let out another grunt, this time, one of acknowledgment before allowing yourself to slip back into unconsciousness. You were so tired.

With a sigh of relief, the woman presses a soothing kiss to your warm cheek before grabbing the liquid Tylenol from the bathroom. Lucky for you, she'd never been a big fan of taking pills. She pours the right dosage into a syringe before regretfully easing your pacifier out of your mouth, watching as you suckle on air for a moment before placing the syringe to your lips. Your mouth opens immediately, telling Natasha that you were obviously under the assumption it was your bottle, and she couldn't help but let out a slight sigh of regret as she squirts the medication to the back of your throat.

Your swallow reflex kicks in immediately, and thankfully, other than scrunching up your face up in slight disgust, you have no outward reaction to the medicine which allows Natasha to breath a breath of relief.