Summary: Natasha has nightmares and Steve is brutally aware of them even if he never goes to her room to help her through them. After a particularly rough night, he decides to finally check on Natasha only to discover she hadn't truly left everything from the Red Room behind.
Steve hated this. He hated lying wide awake in his bed with no hope of sleeping again. The Compound was silent, but he could hear soft whimpers coming from Natasha's room right beside him thanks to his super hearing. The worst part about the routine nightmares is that every time he woke up in the middle of the night, he had fifteen minutes of silence before he started hearing Natasha. No one else seemed to notice, but that was probably because Natasha was always quiet enough he could only hear her if nothing else was going on in the Compound.
He never went to her. He knew when she woke up that she would cry for a while then either give up on sleeping entirely or fall back to sleep a couple hours later. It probably depended on how bad her nightmare was, but again, Steve never went to check on her. Tonight, however, he couldn't help himself.
Throwing his blankets off, Steve walked to his dresser to grab a shirt before slipping out his door and moving next door to Natasha's room. He was her only neighbour as she was at the end of the hall, but he knew she'd probably requested that from Tony herself.
Steve knew their rooms were all very well soundproofed, but he hadn't realised just how well it was until he walked into Natasha's room to her crying loudly and what sounded like metal clinking. He couldn't tell what was making the metal sound, but he could see Natasha writhing on her bed, visibly trying to disappear from whatever was haunting her mind. She was muttering something he couldn't understand and whether it was in a different language or just too jumbled for him to make out, he didn't know. Instead, he hurried to the side of the bed and gently put a hand on her shoulder to wake her up.
While Natasha usually woke up to even the slightest change around her, nothing happened when he touched her. She flinched hard, pulling away from him entirely, but she didn't wake up. Beside her, the metal sound was louder, but he was more concerned about her than the sound at the moment.
"Natasha, wake up," he said, reaching for her again.
She gasped and tried to pull away, but couldn't. Steve frowned, wondering why she had stopped so abruptly. A second later, she curled in on herself and whimpered again, clawing at her arm hidden under her pillow.
When Steve reached for her again, she cried out as if she were in pain. She continued to claw mercilessly at her arm, so Steve tried to prevent her from hurting herself. When he gently grabbed her arm under her pillow, he felt cool metal latched around her wrist as well as sticky, hot flesh. Just as he expected, she tried to claw at her arm again only to rake her nails down his arm instead of her own.
"Come on, Nat, wake up," Steve demanded, putting his free hand on her shoulder and shaking her harshly.
With a sharp intake of breath, Natasha's eyes flew open and she pushed Steve away hard enough he actually fell back. He righted himself to see her sitting up in bed, one hand still tucked under her pillow as she frantically looked around the room. She seemed to subconsciously relax at the sight of him. He took that as a sign he was okay to return to her side and promptly did so.
"Hey, you're okay," he said softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She melted against him but still didn't move her hand from underneath the pillow.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice uneven as she wiped at her face with her free hand.
"I heard you," Steve admitted, hugging her tighter. "I figured tonight I could at least try to help."
Natasha didn't reply. She just sat on her bed in silence, not pulling away from Steve but not hugging him back either. After a while, she did pull away and reached for something in her nightstand. Steve couldn't see what she grabbed, but a second later, she was messing with something under her pillow. He heard a quiet click and soon she pulled both hands out from under the pillow.
Even in the dark, Steve could see something was wrong with her wrist. Before she could stop him, he turned on her lamp to see her right wrist covered in blood and scratches.
"Nat, what the hell is that?" Steve asked, reaching for her wrist.
She didn't fight him as she stood up to go to her bathroom. He let her go, watching as she walked just inside the doors and pulled out a first aid kit. She flicked on the bathroom light before pulling some things out of the kit.
While her back was turned, Steve moved her pillow to see what was underneath. He stopped short when he saw handcuffs, one end latched to the bedpost and the other bloodied and open under her pillow. She'd chained herself to her bed, Steve realised. That's why she hadn't been able to pull further away from Steve when she'd tried.
"Handcuffs, Nat?" he asked, walking into the bathroom. She was sitting on the countertop rubbing something on her wrist. At the sound of his voice, she looked up. "Why would you handcuff yourself to your bed?" Steve asked, watching how she worked on her wrist as if she did this every night. For a horrible moment, Steve wondered if she did.
"Red Room," she said shortly, clearly not wanting to talk about it.
Steve knew enough about her though to know if it had something to do with the Red Room, he probably wouldn't like it. He had never asked in-depth questions but based on what Clint had told him previously, he knew if he ever met someone from that godforsaken place, he wouldn't hesitate to kill them (Clint had been kind enough not to comment on the motivation behind that).
Instead of furthering the conversation Steve knew Natasha didn't want to have, he moved forward to help her wrap the cuts on her wrist. He tried to ignore the old and fading cuts that he hadn't noticed before and when he was done wrapping it, he helped her off the counter and put the first aid kit away.
"Thanks," Natasha mumbled, going back to sitting on her bed. Steve hesitated before leaving, making a comment about how he'd probably be up if she needed or wanted him. Natasha just nodded, so he left, making a mental note to ask Clint about the handcuff thing.
* * * * *
"I thought she'd dropped that habit," Clint muttered over the phone.
Steve had waited until about noon to call Clint so it wasn't too early in Ohio. After the Ultron debacle, Clint had been a lot more open about staying with his family, not having to feign long-term missions. He made sure the team would call him if necessary, but for the most part, he claimed to be retired and only wanted to be called in for dire situations.
"It looked like she'd been doing it for a while," Steve said, looking across the Compound yard. He wasn't sure where Natasha was now as he hadn't seen her since late last night, but he figured that was the point.
"I bet Ultron triggered something," Clint replied. Steve could tell Clint was upset with himself, but how Clint expected to know what Natasha was doing while he was in Ohio was unknown to Steve.
"How did she stop last time?" Steve asked. Maybe if Clint knew how she'd gotten over the habit in the past, he could help her stop it again this time.
"I stayed with her every night," Clint told him. Steve pursed his lips. He felt like Clint was closer to her than he was, so it was easy to believe Natasha would let Clint stay. "Every night after she cuffed herself, I'd slip in and uncuff her wrist. She caught me, of course, but I managed to convince her nothing bad would happen. I held her wrist like the cuffs so she had a bit of the familiarity. Eventually, she just stopped grabbing at the cuffs."
"I doubt she'll let me do that," Steve muttered. There was a pause and Steve figured Clint was about to reluctantly agree with him, but he didn't.
"What?" he asked. Steve repeated what he'd said, but Clint interrupted. "No, no, I heard that. Steve, if she let me do it, she'll let you. She'll fight you off, of course, but if you don't leave, she'll let you."
"She'll hate me."
"Maybe on the outside," Clint admitted, "But she won't really hate you. Just try it, alright?"
"Alright."
* * * * *
Natasha couldn't breathe. He was staring at her again. She could see him in the distance, staring at her from the other end of the hall. Lights flickered and suddenly he was closer, the voices whispering harshly in her ears as he stared blankly.
"You'll never escape."
She tried to back up, to run, but she couldn't move. The lights flickered again and the man was closer, within arm's reach. Natasha held her breath, closing her eyes when the lights flickered again and the man was pressed against her.
"You will never be free," he whispered. Natasha's eyes opened and looked up at the face she could never pin a name to but always recognised. He leaned forward, his mouth opening so his tongue could move toward her cheek. Natasha didn't move as he licked up her cheek slowly, stopping right by her eye.
"Weak," the voices wailed in her ear when she flinched. Suddenly, she was falling and hands were grabbing her everywhere. She continued to fall, but the man stayed above her, watching disapprovingly as she tried to grab onto something, anything that could stop her from falling.
She woke with a sharp jolt, tugging sharply away from what had woken her. When she was met with no resistance, she almost toppled off her bed. She barely managed to catch herself. Someone tried to grab her, probably to keep her from falling, but she panicked and kicked them harshly. She heard a groan and blinked to see Steve turning on her nightstand lamp.
"Steve?" she asked, scrambling to the other end of her bed where Steve was rubbing his jaw. "Oh god, I'm so sorry."
"I probably deserved that," Steve admitted.
Natasha was suddenly aware of how her wrist was free of the cuff and frowned, looking under her pillow. She looked at Steve then down to her wrist. It was hardly bleeding, only deep imprints that were already disappearing. It took only a second for her to connect the dots.
"You don't have to tell Clint everything," she grumbled, rubbing her wrist to get rid of the last few imprints. She had figured Clint would find out somehow, but she still didn't like knowing he'd be worrying about her while he was supposed to be enjoying time at home.
"I was worried, Nat," Steve explained, sitting beside her on the bed. "No one handcuffs themselves to a bed because they want to."
"I told you it was from the Red Room, you should have left it at that."
"Yeah, but I didn't," Steve snapped. Natasha took a deep breath but didn't look up at him. She didn't need a babysitter and she knew both Clint and Steve knew that, but she also knew they cared and just wanted her to be alright, so she tried not to be too upset.
"Since you're here," Natasha said quietly, "Would you mind staying?"
Steve seemed shocked she would ask after they'd had a spat, but he quickly nodded. If neither of them were going to sleep the rest of the night, they might as well keep each other company. Steve argued it was just to keep Natasha company as he laid on the bed beside her, waiting until she'd motioned for him to do so before moving. She laid beside him and flicked off the lamp, leaving them both in the darkness.
"I just want to help," Steve whispered, his voice much too loud in the quiet room. Natasha's hand found his between them and she gave it a gentle squeeze.
"I know."
* * * * *
If Steve had known spending that one night in Natasha's room would have led to a regular routine, well, he probably wouldn't have left anyway. That's not to say he would have done so sooner, he just wouldn't have felt guilty invading her room before. Now, he would wander into her room around eleven o'clock to find her either reading or just coming out of the shower. It never took long before Natasha was climbing into bed beside him and flicking off the light. Tonight was no different.
He walked into the room to see Natasha braiding her wet hair in the bathroom. She smiled at him and Steve smiled back before moving toward what had become his side of the bed. It had been a couple of days since he'd slept there. He'd taken Sam and Wanda on a short, three-day mission to Berlin to gather some intel for Maria, but Natasha had stayed behind because Clint had been stopping by for two days to see how everyone was doing.
As he laid down in the familiar bed, he realised his pillow had been swapped out. He frowned and patted Natasha's pillow, immediately realising it was his. He swapped the pillows back and buried his face in it, smiling to himself when he noticed it smelled like Natasha.
"You look pretty happy for someone with bruises all over his body," Natasha commented, climbing on the bed beside him. She burrowed under her covers and reached to turn off the lamp beside the bed. As soon as she was settled, Steve reached over her and grabbed her wrist.
"You switched our pillows," he commented, burying his face in her neck and trying not to be obvious as he took in her scent. He'd missed her even if the mission had been short.
"It smells like you," she muttered, clearly a little embarrassed to admit it. "Helps keep nightmares away."
"Well, if you like my scent so much, hopefully you like the life-sized version too," he teased. Even if he couldn't see her, he knew she was rolling her eyes and she lightly elbowed him in the chest.
"I do," Natasha admitted, throwing Steve a little off guard. She wiggled closer to him so her back was pressed against his chest and he was practically laying on top of her. "Goodnight, Steve."
"Goodnight," he replied, softly kissing her temple before settling back down and closing his eyes. This was much better than staring at the ceiling alone for sure.