Authors Note, another Eating Disorder/Body Dysmorphia trigger warning as well as abuse (sorry)
"B-Bruce," I stammered, immediately replaying my conversation with Clint and crossing my fingers I didn't say anything damning.
"What the hell was he talking about?" He seethed, he stalked forward to me and I pedaled my steps backwards. He grabbed me around the torso and kept pushing me back until we were at the door to his room. He held me against the wall with one hand and opened the door with the other, "get in," he ordered.
I was trying to process how my morning went so incredibly sideways when Bruce just grabbed my arm and threw me into the room. "What the hell?" He screamed as the door closed, I was stumbling for balance.
"Bruce, they've just noticed the weight I've lost, they're worried about it," which was true.
"And you locked your damned door, what did I tell you about that?!" He started to pace back and forth, all I could see was the green flesh spreading down the veins in his arms. "YOU DON'T GET TO LOCK ME OUT!" He bellowed as he turned fast, his fist connecting with my ribs and sending me flying back.
I slammed into the wall and then fell to the floor, I just sat there dazed and shocked. What had just happened? I was standing there one moment and on the floor in pain the next, Bruce hadn't actually just hit me, had he? I had to be making this up or this was a dream, I shook my head. "You're such a BITCH!"
"Bruce," I was trying to clear my head to get myself out of this and keep Steve and Clint protected in the process, "Clint knows me better than I know myself, he just gets worried when my weight drops."
"Why? You needed to lose the pounds anyways," Bruce stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I didn't have the mental energy to process this, I had to keep Clint safe given that Bruce seemed pretty targeted on him. "You're not his problem, you are my issue," Bruce raged on and continued to pace.
"He's going to be gone at the farm for a few weeks, we don't need to worry about him," I was praying Bruce would buy this, if he even looked at Clint's family I would find a way to kill him myself.
"You're right," he tried to calm himself down. I realized quickly that my breathing was hurting, I didn't know if I should try to get up or if it would make things worse. "But if he starts giving you shit about your weight when he gets back, I'll give him a piece of my mind and teach him to keep his nose in his own fucking business."
"That's fair, he's just paranoid because he's leaving," I kept defending him, "he won't make a fuss about it again."
"And what did he mean about you and Steve? What do you two have planned?" Bruce's target shifted right as I started to relax.
Shit, shit, shit. "Steve and I are just going over some new training techniques," I lied, excuses not popping into my mind fast enough. I hoped that worked.
"That reminds me," Bruce mused, "Steve and you went to that crepé place the other day."
My heart skipped a beat, "right, he just wanted to go try it out," I didn't think Bruce knew about that.
He stalked over to where I was on the ground and squatted down in front of me. I tensed so fast I was surprised I didn't pull a muscle, I felt like a deer in the headlights. He reached out and I flinched, but he didn't care, he pushed my shoulder so I rolled from my side onto my back. He patted my stomach and I felt physically ill, "it really shows, Natasha."
I didn't understand how this was all devolving so quickly, "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have."
He moved his hand on my stomach and I had to look away, I was so ashamed, "fat bitch." He spat on me. He stood up and placed his foot on my stomach, I knew what he was going to do and braced, "let's shove that back in." He slowly rolled his weight to the foot on top of me, the pain increasing and the fresh hit to my ribs started to burn in pain.
I turned my head away as tears started to fall, I was embarrassed about the weight that he was calling out. Some small part of me knew it was illogical with the weight I had dropped, but I suddenly felt overweight.
I lost track of how long he was stepping on me, he kept rolling the weight on and off, but then he got off and walked to the door, "I'm headed out now, I'll see you in two weeks. I expect some damned improvements." With that he left, slamming the door.
I just laid there in shock, I didn't have the strength nor motivation to get up. That couldn't really have just happened, right? Bruce wasn't capable of that, this had to be another dream. I tried desperately to wake up, desperately hoping to be in my room. I couldn't wake up... because I was already awake. What was going on?!
More time passed, and I was aware of the fact that Steve would be wondering where I was. That was what got me to get up, I couldn't tell if the pain in my ribs or abdomen was worse. Somehow they were both second to the shame I was feeling right now.
I opened the door and double checked the hall to make sure Steve wasn't around, and then I quickly padded over to my room. I hated that I was now dodging Steve, it made me feel that guilt again. I locked every single lock and shoved a chair underneath the handle. Once I was sure that was secure, not that Steve would barge in, I walked to the bathroom.
The open wounds on the bottom of my feet burned on the tile, I had almost forgotten about how much my feet hurt due to the new injuries. I peeled up my shirt and looked at the fast forming bruises on my ribs and stomach. I wouldn't have believed what just took place was real if it wasn't for the black, blue, and purple marks as proof.
I didn't like to look at my stomach right now, Bruce's warning about the crepé and his words stung too much. I limped over to my closet and grabbed the baggiest sweater I could find and then a pair of matching sweat pants.
I had been looking forward to these two weeks so much, and in a matter of minutes all my joy was just gone. I hated the power he had over me, I hated how weak I was, and I hated that I was going to be letting Steve down. I washed my face in cold water until I felt like I looked enough like myself to go face Steve.
Why was I so terrified to see the man I loved?
I took a few more moments to make sure I had the mask in place, I would not let this ruin our two weeks, I wouldn't let it affect it at all. I would be myself and not let this get to me. I told myself the whole way down to Steve that what had just happened was a dream. None of what just happened was real.
Steve P.O.V.
Barton had flown off a while ago, and Bruce wasn't too far behind him. I had known Clint was waiting to leave until he talked to her (and keeping an eye out for her as well, guarding the door. Apparently Bruce had tried to go in once, but had left quickly when Barton asked what he was doing), and he had sent me a text that she had decided to stay at the tower with me. I couldn't tell if I was happy about that, selfishly I was thrilled to spend some alone time with her, but I had hoped if we went to the farm she could relax.
It had been almost an hour since Bruce had left, and I had been convincing myself to give Nat space the whole time since. She would come to me when she was ready, but I just had this feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. I told myself I could go find her after one hour, six more minutes until I could go check on her.
I was getting up when the elevator doors opened and I saw her, she was bundled up in a pair of very large sweats that basically swallowed her. The sleeves extended far past her hands, which I knew was one of the reasons she loved that sweatshirt, she loved to slap the long sleeves at me. "Hey you," I smiled and turned to face her.
"Hey," she smiled back, it was tight and forced.
"You sleep well?" I stood slowly while she walked over to the kitchen and grabbed herself a glass of ice and diet coke.
"Wonderfully," she turned to face me, I knew she was trying to stay relaxed, but everything in her was tense, "I started the b-roll on the cameras, so we're officially free to be ourselves a bit."
"Thank gosh," I smiled as I continued to close the distance between us, making sure she was okay with this. My original plan had been to fuck her the moment we were alone, but that plan was made long before the Bruce issue even started and was over as quickly as she started to get jumpy. I wasn't disappointed, I was just worried for her. I needed these two weeks to be perfect for us, mostly for her. If she relaxed, I could relax, we could have a break from this madness that we both needed.
"So, what do you have planned?"
"Natasha, we're going to sleep, for as long as we possibly can," that was important, getting her rest and then getting her food.
"Steve," she complained, "these two weeks are our chance to have fun and do stuff we never get to do at the tower, not sleep."
"Yes, but that was the plan before you went nearly five days without sleeping," I amended.
"So I ruined it?" She tensed and started to worry.
"No!" I was quick to stop her from thinking that, "not at all. We're just going to do a bit of damage control from Bruce," she cringed a bit at his name so I made a note not to say it again, "and then our mischievous plans can resume." She loved that word, mischievous, it always made her get this cute and devious smile. It didn't fail me this time, she had a conniving grin on her face.
"I've got a lot of sleep for the past few hours, can we go do one fun thing before you send me back to bed?" She argued, and I knew it wasn't because she was feeling rested but because she was trying not to 'ruin' the weeks.
I gave her a face to let her know I knew exactly what she was trying to do.
"Steve, come on," she threw her right hand up, "w-"
"Shit, I forgot about your feet, how are they?" I interrupted as I suddenly remembered how bloody her legs were last night.
"You are the worst," she pouted, "they're fine," she insisted. I looked down and saw they were conveniently in large, cozy socks. She had thought about this in advance.
"Fine, we can do one thing before it's back to bed with you," I gave her a cunning smile of my own.
"So help me Steven Rogers, if you say take care of my feet, I swear..." her threat stopped there.
"What are you going to do, Nat?" I teased, advancing closer to her. I figured I was about to get lightly slapped repeatedly by the long sleeves of her sweater.
That was the end of the playful banter as I saw her whole body tense and get ready to fight me off. I stepped back. "Easy Nat," I cooed, trying to calm her.
She shook her head, "sorry," she snapped out of the fear, "I didn't mean to."
"I know, it's habit right now, that's okay," I felt so sad for her that this was her default in stress.
"You're not mad? I'm flinching at you and you've never done anything to hurt me, doesn't that make you upset?" She cocked her head, genuinely not understanding how I couldn't be mad.
"Natasha, I am in no way mad at you. This is your survival instinct, it's what has kept you safe all your life, I can't be mad at it," I gave her a genuine look so she would believe me, but tried not to show any pity. She hated my pity face.
She looked down, I could tell she wanted to trust my words but it just wasn't happening.
"Now, getting back to where we were, can I please make sure you're okay," I just needed to tend to the wounds. I knew she would think they weren't bad enough to be taken care of, but they were.
"Steve, I-"
"Nat, please do this, if not for you, for me?" I knew I could always get her with that line.
"Fine," she rolled her eyes and made her displeasure about it obvious.
I gestured for her to hop up on the counter, but she walked by me, "Nat," I frowned, not that she could see.
"If we're doing this, I'm laying on the couch," she didn't look back as she kept walking over to the couch. I huffed a quick laugh, grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink, and followed after her. She was laying down now and giving me an incredulous look.
"What?" I asked, but knew the answer.
"You're making a mountain out of a molehill," she used her feet to kick the socks off herself and I looked. They honestly weren't as bad as I thought they were going to be, they had just been bleeding so much last night that I figured the wounds would be deeper. "See, not that bad," she read the thoughts off my expression.
"Not as bad as I thought they were going to be, but not great," I corrected. I also realized that there wasn't a lot I could do, the bruises would have to heal on their own and the few cuts were all over her toes, putting a bandaid on would be pointless. "Not a lot I can do to help," I bit my lip. I hated not being able to help, it made me feel so useless.
"Steve, it's fine," she sat up slowly and started to put her socks back on.
"I just want to help you, and there isn't much I can really do," I shook my head, we both knew I wasn't just talking about her injuries from last night.
Guilt flicked across both our faces, we also both knew that there wasn't much to be done right now.
"Steve," she asked softly.
"Ya?" I inquired.
"You're doing everything right, you are helping me more than you know," she got up from the couch and came over to me.
"It doesn't feel like that, not when you're hurting so much all the time, and I'm just standing on the sidelines or pacing in my room, that doesn't help you," I countered. She had to just be saying this to try and make me feel better.
"Steve, listen to me," her voice that was once full of pity for me changed quickly to a tone that would force me to listen, "you are not doing nothing. You are the only reason I am still standing here, you take care of me more than I deserve, and not just right now. You have gotten me through several shit shows, and we are going to make it through this one together. You are doing everything right," she was now flush with my chest, "I love you."
I carefully wrapped my arms around her, keeping the movements slow and predictable, "I love you so fucking much."
"Language," she scrunched her face at me, it was so cute.
I reached my head down and our foreheads touched, "I told you that certain words are okay in certain situations, that was needed."
She laughed and just shook her head. "I hate to admit this, but I am tired."
"Come here," I wouldn't give her crap for being tired, I was shocked that she would admit it right now. She was already in my arms so I just picked her up, she tensed. "Shit, sorry, you okay?"
Her eyes were squeezed shut, "ya, ya," she hummed.
I tilted my head, this seemed more like a pain response than one to being startled. "Nat, what hurts?"
"Nothing," her answer was clipped, I was convinced something I had just done had caused her pain, "let's just go to bed."
"Natasha," I scolded, "what hurts?"
"Steve," she challenged right back, "please, can we just go to bed?"
I didn't know what to do. My first instinct was to figure out why she was in pain because I couldn't stand the thought of her in more pain. It went against my every desire to know she was in pain and just pretend like it wasn't there. On the other hand, she had Bruce shoving her around and disregarding all her wishes, I didn't want to do that to her either.
"Tell me you're safe," it was a question, I needed to make sure this pain wasn't life threatening.
"I'm not in any danger," she held my stare and I knew she wasn't lying.
"Okay, we can go to bed and deal with that later," I relented. I kept letting her talk me into dealing with all of these massive problems 'later,' and I was confused as to where I should let her and where I needed to take control. I hated that I might have to, she didn't need that, but I knew she would push herself too far. I had to stop that.
I looked her over one more time to try and see what the issue was, but I couldn't due to her thick sweats. I placed a quick kiss on her forehead and hoped she realized how desperately in love I was with her. I walked us over the elevator and bent down a bit so she could hit the button.
"I don't like that you're in pain," I broke the silence while we waited.
"It's not that bad," she tried to ease my mind, but it didn't.
"I don't care if it's not bad, you're in pain and that scares me," the elevator came and I walked in while she hit the button again.
"I'm sorry it scares you," she dropped her head a bit in shame, and I didn't like that either.
"You remember the papercut incident?" I questioned, trying to make her smile.
It worked as she gave a laugh, it was a tight laugh, but one nonetheless, "you're so overdramatic," she let her head fall against my shoulder and relaxed just a bit.
The incident in question involved Natasha getting a papercut, and we both overreacted. Natasha always had larger reactions to small amounts of pain (I believe I already explained that) and I always had large reactions to Natasha being in any form of discomfort. She started to cry, I spent a long time bandaging it and finding numbing cream for it. It wasn't until the next morning that we realized how absolutely ridiculous we had both been.
"So, your room or mine?" I stepped out onto the floor and waited for her to make the choice.
"You choose," she sighed.
"Nope," I held my ground, she should pick.
"Steve," she whined.
"Fine," and she grinned at her victory, "I choose that you choose."
Her head shot up with a playful rage, "you shit," she tried to sound angry, but she was smiling too much to do so. I was quickly met with a sweater sleeve across the face, and now I was laughing too.
I made a face to tell her I would just wait here until she made a choice.
"Fine, my room," she relented.
"Thank you," I lifted my chin at my triumph.
"You're insufferable," she grumbled under her breath.
"I know, it's a point of pride for me," then I leaned in and whispered, "but you are the one who keeps hanging out with me."
She threw her head back in exasperation. I felt her tense again and ball up, something she did caused that pain to flare.
"Nat," I was startled and froze, "what the hell is hurting?"
"You said we would talk about it later," she spoke through gritted teeth.
"Yes, but you're in a lot of pain right now, so I don't think we should wait," I was trying to figure this out. What had happened since I had last seen her? She had simply been asleep, she couldn't have snuck in a training session, I was wracking my brain to figure out what had hurt her.
"Steve! Please," something about her tone made me pause.
"Okay, I'm sorry," I wasn't sorry about being so protective, but I was sorry that this was even happening.
"I'm sorry too, I didn't mean to snap like that," she immediately regretted the words she had spoken.
"You don't need to apologize, I was pushing you," I started to walk over to her room, careful not to jostle her in any way. She was quiet, I knew her mind was puzzling and thinking through several large thoughts.
I walked right over to the bed and gently set her down in the absolute heap of pillows and blankets. I worked hard to shove the scary thoughts from my mind and be present and happy for her right now, "I don't think I'll be able to find you in all the blankets, Nat."
She laughed, "too bad," she started to carefully adjust the blankets and pillows around her while I walked over to the door. I knew she was watching as I locked every single lock, and then walked over to grab a chair from her desk and lodge it in the door. Every measure of security to make her feel safe. When I turned around to face her, she was so swallowed in the blankets that she was hard to find, but I saw a small tear coming from her eyes.
"Nat, what is it?" I immediately questioned as I came over to her, fighting the instinct to run up fast and grab her, I kept my pace even and movements slow.
"I feel safe, you make me feel safe," she started to cry a bit, then winced.
I bit my tongue till I tasted blood, I wasn't going to push her on it right now. I couldn't.
"I'm honored that you feel safe," honored didn't even come close to how I felt, my whole chest blossomed.
"Are you going to sleep now too?" She asked, it was around noon, but I honestly did feel sleepy. I was so much more relaxed with Bruce gone that the stress leaving my body left an adrenaline crash, I was tired as well.
"If you don't mind, I could use some sleep too," I waited. She had had someone forcing themselves into her space and her sleep schedule, I was ready in case she wanted me to sleep somewhere else.
"Can you stay?" Her words were so soft, like she was worried I would say no, "but not touch me?"
"Of course," I was honestly surprised she would be so okay with me sleeping in her bed. I walked around and gently got onto the bed and under the covers, several less than her, but it seemed to provide a nice barrier between us. I knew that the space between us was giving her comfort, so I would be okay with it.
I heard the clink as she cuffed herself and sighed with relief after. It wasn't ten minutes after that her breathing even out and I knew she was asleep. She looked so peaceful in sleep, it was such a contrast to how she had been for the last few weeks, a very welcomed one.
I didn't let myself fall asleep for another hour, just to make sure she was okay. Then, it was a matter of quieting all the thoughts running rampant around my mind, trying to calm them till I could actually deal with them. When I was finally ready, I crashed and fell asleep.