Imagines and more

Bad solo mission ♥️ Natasha

Natasha has a bad solo mission, and it's up to you to fix up her injuries and make her feel better.

**

It was a little past four on a subdued, rainy afternoon when you hear the familiar sound of the apartment front door opening and closing.

With the knowledge that it must be your girlfriend, Natasha, returning from her two day solo mission, you turn down the heat on the stove before leaving the kitchen to go see her. It wasn't often she went on solo missions anymore, especially not after messing up her leg a little over a year ago after a particularly bad fall, but director Fury was adamant no one else could get the job done as well as her.

It was a mission to retrieve a disc drive containing information on a critical government matter, and it required stealth and skill due to the amount of government officials involved. There were plenty of people capable for the job, as least that's what you thought, but maybe you were just salty because you'd missed her more than normal.

You frown in slight concern when you see her still clad in her black widow suit, awkwardly kicking off her boots as she stumbles unsteadily in a futile effort to remain upright.

"Baby?" You question, stepping closer and placing a gentle hand on the small of her back. The red head startles at the sudden touch, whipping her up to face you. You couldn't help but gasp slightly at the sight of the bloody, busted lip that greets you, reaching out to lightly graze the tip of your finger over the least painful looking part of it.

She gives you a pained smile as she finally manages to pull off her boots, stumbling forward into your arms. You were quick to catch her, a single arm around her waist as the other rises to cup the back of her head. Natasha's hands seem to desperately clutch the back of your shirt, her trembling breath hitting the bare skin of your neck.

"It's okay," you murmur instinctively, craning your head down to press a soft kiss to her cheek, "you're okay. Let's go clean up, alright?" You murmur, and Natasha just barely nods, allowing you to bend at the knees before scooping her tired frame up into your arms.

Normally, Natasha would at least attempt to fight you. She'd go rigid whilst simultaneously voicing hostile words of disagreement. Stop that. I don't need to be babied. I'm fine, and you'd roll your eyes fondly whilst telling her to just relax, and she'd comply, although she'd still curse in Russian beneath bated breath.

So when non of that happens and she instead falls limp in your arms, you knew tonight would be one of those nights. Where she'd leave everything up to you. Where she'd let you take full control.

*

No more than ten minutes later, you had Natasha sat on the closed toilet seat clad in nothing but a sports bra and underwear. Her body was littered with both bruises and scrapes, but those don't seem to be bother her as much as her leg. The scar from her surgery stood out prominently against the pale skin of her thigh, and you lightly trace the pad of your thumb of the thick, raised line before leaning down to place a gentle kiss to it.

"Does it hurt?" You ask, looking up at her.

Natasha nods slightly.

"Bad?" You reaffirm, reaching for the warm, wet wash cloth you'd placed over the side of the tub before rising to your feet and gently cupping her chin.

She nods again as you begin to carefully wash the dried blood off of her face, and you notice her eyes become shiny with tears. Your heart tugs at the sight, because it was oh so rare your girlfriend allows herself to become this vulnerable with you. To show her pain and not hide behind a lie.