Ironically, after the glitter incident—Natasha refuses to stop calling it that no matter what Bucky says—the tiniest blond ever, whose name is actually Steve, keeps bringing her food. First it was cookies, then brownies, and now a chocolate cake. Natasha is beginning to see a trend.
She can't really say she minds, not when she's getting free dessert out of it.
It's kind of funny, Natasha thinks with absolutely no humor at all, how she can't seem to escape the two of them. Steve and Clint, she has to remind herself. Steve she sees everywhere on campus and if it's not him it's Clint. As it turns out she has dance class with him.
The day after the glitter incident she had just walked into the room when he's just there, not ten feet away, talking to some tall black guy who looks like he could kick all their asses. She's just turning around when she sees him, her ex-boyfriend who shouldn't be in the same college, let alone the same room.
Feeling a tightness in her chest, it takes everything she has to just turn around and walk right back out of the class, pulling her phone out as she does. Hands shaking with panic, it takes her three tries to call Bucky.
"Tasha? Hey. Shouldn't you be in class?" He sounds distracted, probably too busy to help her, she thinks.
She promptly hangs up and turns her phone off, speed walking away from the classroom. Things hadn't ended well between them and she knew as soon as he saw her it would be all over. There is no doubt in her mind that he's there solely for her. It was why she had a restraining order.
She's outside the building before she realizes it, heart pounding and breaths coming far more quickly than they should. She's bent over, arms wrapped around her stomach as she tries to calm down.
She may help abused women learn to protect themselves, but she had never been able to help herself.
"Natasha?" There's a quiet voice, someone standing too close to be comfortable, even though she knows it shouldn't bother her. "What's wrong?"
She's not sure how, but she straightens up, more than a little surprised to see Steve standing there. Realizing how terrible she must look, she tries to put on her poker face, but doesn't quite manage it if the concerned look on Steve's face is any indication.
"It's nothing. I'm fine." Her voice is steady, but she knows it won't be long until she loses it.
Steve doesn't move closer, doesn't touch her, but the way he's looking at her – so concerned, so gentle – that's what makes her want to run. She's not used to concern, even though she should be, dating Bucky. He's almost always worried about her.
Clearly Steve's not going anywhere until he's sure she's okay, but that's fine. Natasha's pretty sure he won't call Bucky and - oh god. Is that Brock coming up behind smol defenseless Steve?
Natasha straightens, eyes hardening as she meets his glare head on. She knows he won't do anything now, not with so many people around, but her anxiety is still urging her to get the fuck out of there. As Brock stops a few feet away, but still way too close, Steve steps closer to her. Maybe he senses her tension or maybe he can just read situations all too well, but either way she's grateful for his presence.
Ignoring Brock, she turns back to Steve, hoping he will play along. "We should probably get going. Those coffees aren't going to make themselves."
Steve grins, blue eyes lighting up. "You sure about that? They could've become sentient."
Natasha fakes a laugh as she follows him, trying not to let her panic show as they walk right by Brock. It takes everything she has not to scream when he grabs her arm, bringing her to an abrupt halt. Steve stops, glances at the two of them, a look of determination settling in his eyes. "Hey, buddy, you wanna let go of her?"
Brock laughs, expression telling them just what he thinks of Steve trying to protect Natasha.
It's that laugh, the condescending look aimed at Steve, that does it.
She jerks her arm out of his grip, knowing there will definitely be a bruise there later, and slams her palm into his nose. Cursing, he stumbles back, holding his face. Natasha grabs Steve's hand and takes off, keeping her pace slow enough that he can keep up.
It isn't until they're in Natasha and Bucky's apartment that she can really breathe again. She wishes Bucky was there, but wearing one of his worn out army shirts is a pretty good substitute. Steve walks back into the living room, holding two mugs full of hot chocolate, a sad smile pulling at his lips.
Before she can say anything, he hands her a mug and takes a seat in the armchair opposite her. "It's okay." It's not. They both know it. "You don't have to tell me anything."
But she wants to. And that terrifies her. Bucky is the only person who knows and he doesn't even know all of it.
Pulling her legs up and resting the mug on one knee, she gives him a small smile. "It's okay, Steve. I trust you." She takes a deep breath and fiddles with a lock of red hair. "He was my boyfriend, before Bucky. It was... Well, not good is an understatement, but I know it could have been way worse. Technically he shouldn't have even been there. I have a restraining order." She pauses, huffing out a small breath of laughter. "Well, Bucky put out the restraining order for me."
Steve smiles gently, eyes focused solely on her.
Natasha sighs. "You don't have to stay, you know? I'll be fine."
Steve shrugs. "I've got nowhere to be."
She can't help but feel grateful, even as she knows he has to hate having to babysit her.
They sit in a comfortable silence for a while, just sipping on their hot chocolate while her kpop playlist plays somewhat quietly in the background. It calms her down when Bucky isn't there to.
It isn't until there's a knock on the door that Natasha realizes she was half asleep, dozing comfortably on the couch.
Steve goes to open the door and it isn't long before he comes back with his boyfriend in tow. Clint grins and practically jumps on top of Natasha, leaving her wondering if he really is a puppy. Sitting up, she gives him a half-hearted glare, but she's still shaken from what happened earlier and someone being so close is making it all come back.
Not wanting to be rude, she shifts her weight, hoping he'll get the hint. When he doesn't – come on, it's Clint, why would he? – she gives him a pointed look. "Either move or I'm going to pee on you."
He doesn't look phased, but he does move.
She stays in the bathroom longer than she probably should‚ standing in front of the mirror, eyes locked on her reflection. Her breathing is steady, but her heart is racing. She is the farthest from okay she's ever been since she got away from Brock.
Just thinking his name is enough to make her fingers curl around the edge of the sink, grip hard enough to make her knuckles turn white. And maybe she doesn't really know Steve or Clint, but if Bucky's not there that's who she wants to be with.
When she finally does step out of the bathroom, palms sore and maybe a little bruised, she barely makes it two steps before her legs give out. Wrapping her arms around herself she doesn't make any move to get up.
It isn't long before Clint is at her side, his hand hesitantly hovering next to her shoulder, blue eyes filled with concern. Maybe he had noticed how uncomfortable she had been earlier.
She glances over at him and gives a small nod. She wasn't okay with being touched before, but now she just wants someone to hold her. As soon as his arms come around her, she buries her face into his shoulder, trying desperately not to cry. Everything that happened today was too much, too overwhelming.
She doesn't know how long they stay like that, but eventually she hears the front door open and Steve taking quietly. She can't make out the other voice, but she's pretty sure it's Bucky. She finds herself holding onto Clint as if he'll be ripped away any minute, her grip tight enough it has to hurt.
“It's okay, Nat,” he says softly, almost as if he's afraid to startle her. “I'm not going anywhere, I promise.”
It's the tone of his voice that startles her out of her at least halfway comatose state. She looks at him and somehow manages a smile. “No, it's okay. You don't...have to stay.”
He still looks worried, but helps her to her feet without another word. Before she can walk past him, even though she's still not sure she wants to, he pulls her into a tight hug. “I am here, Natasha. If you need anything, call.”
When they finally pull back, she can't help but lean over and press a kiss to his cheek. “I will, Clint, I promise.”
The kiss says more than she ever could, and Clint seems to get that. He shoots her a grin as he backs away, “Knew you had a thing for blondes, babe.”
She can't help but roll her eyes and then laugh outright as he turns around and walks straight into a wall.
Steve is at his side within moments, although the fondly exasperated look he shoots Natasha tells her this is far from the first time it's ever happened. That doesn't surprise her, considering the glitter incident.
It takes a few minutes for Clint to actually stand up and stumble towards the door. She's not sure he could have managed it without his boyfriend's help. Steve shoots her a knowing smile before he closes the door behind them. She can't help but find herself thinking that her neighbors are growing on her.
The cool metal of Bucky's touch shocks her out of her thoughts as he slips his hand into hers. She's too afraid to turn around and face him, every muscle tense as she fights not to pull away. His other arm slips around her waist as he presses soft kisses against her cheek until she smiles.
“I'm not mad, Tasha,” he says eventually, voice carefully neutral. “Not at you.”
She slumps against him, exhausted after everything. “I didn't know what to do.” Her voice breaks, Bucky's grip tightening as he does what he can to comfort her. “It was…” Her mind blanks out with panic as she tries to find the words to explain.
When she comes back to herself she has no idea how much time has passed, but Bucky is standing in front of her now, touch gentle as he cups her face. She blinks slowly, almost afraid of her own thoughts. She tries to apologize, but he cuts her off with a kiss.
“Don't.” His voice breaks on the word, but he doesn't seem to care. “Natasha Romanov, you are my best friend and I love you as much as I'm able to, but if this asshole comes within five feet of you I'll break every bone in his goddamn body.”
Every breath feels like a chore, her fear leaking into everything she does. “He's not worth it.” She leans into his touch, letting it soothe her. “But I wouldn't say no to letting you walk me to class tomorrow.”
Bucky smiles, presses another kiss to her forehead. “You couldn't get rid of me if you tried, baby girl.”
Neither of them sleep very well that night, but they do manage to get a few hours of sleep before they have to get up for classes. Natasha's sitting on their bed, wearing a bra and a pair of jeans when her phone vibrates with a text.
Bucky's still in the shower, but she glances at the door anyway, terrified Brock might somehow have gotten her number. Fear freezes her as there's a knock on the front door. Her phone buzzes with another text and she looks down, not at all surprised to see she doesn't recognize the number.
She forces herself to her feet and snags a tank top off the couch as she makes her way to the door. Terrified that it'll be Brock, she stands there for a long moment with her hand hovering next to the lock.
“C'mon, Nat, it's us!” Clint yells, his voice somehow calming her down. “Open the damn door.”
She hears Steve say something, but can't quite make it out. Shaking her head, she opens the door and steps out. “What, couldn't wait ten minutes to see me, numbnuts?”
Clint grins, “Nah, Princess. Wouldn't be much of a morning without…” He trails off, but doesn't leave her in suspense for long before he practically tackles her.
Steve laughs, but Natasha's too busy trying to shove the big blonde idiot off of her to join in. He refuses to be moved, instead wrapping his arms around her and doing a pretty good octopus impression.
Natasha shoots Steve a pleading look. “C’mon, get your boyfriend off me.”
She can't help but laugh, even as she wonders when this became her life. Somehow, she can't find it in her to be upset about it. She's been smiling a lot more since she met the two of them and she can tell Bucky likes them, too.
It's definitely strange, but she can't say she minds it.
Bucky laughs as he walks up behind her and she just knows he's enjoying every minute of this. Somehow she thinks his opinion would change if their roles were switched. She gives him an unamused look over her shoulder, but it only makes him laugh harder.
She just sighs and shakes her head while Steve gives her a “what can you do look”. She tried to squirm out of Clint's death grip, but it doesn't seem like he plans on letting go anytime soon. She wonders if reminding him they have classes to get to would get him to let go, but she really doubts it.
Steve does eventually take pity on her and manages to pry Clint off, although he doesn't look happy about it. Even though she acts annoyed, she's happy the two of them are there. If she does run into Brock again, and she's almost certain she will, she wants one or both of them to be with her. Really, she wishes Bucky could stay with her all day, but she knows he can't.
As if he can sense where her thoughts are headed, Bucky slips his hand into hers and squeezes her fingers. She smiles and twists around to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“It'll be okay, Tasha,” Bucky says as they walk towards his motorcycle. “If you need me today, call. I'm serious, okay? Don't pull that crap you did yesterday.”
She smiles sheepishly and avoids his gaze. “I don't want to bother you at work.”
“Don't worry, Steve and I are gonna be watching out for her all day.”
Before she can level a glare at either of her self-appointed bodyguards, Bucky pulls her into a tight hug and murmurs his thanks. She would fight it, but there's nothing she wants less than to be left alone today. Not that she would ever admit it.
The drive to campus doesn't take long, but Natasha almost wishes it took longer. Really, she wishes she had never gotten out of bed. There's too much she doesn't want to face and none of it she wants to face without Bucky.
She's ready to leave without a word, emotions still too raw to deal with, but she freezes almost as soon as she turns around. Clint and Steve are parked next to Bucky, but they haven't gotten out of their car and Natasha is pretty sure Bucky hasn't seen Brock yet. He does notice when she stops moving, though.
Instead of looking to see what has her so freaked out, he moves to stand in front of her, effectively blocking her view. A gentle touch on her chin brings her gaze up to lock with his. He looks concerned, but doesn't say anything. He's giving her time to process while still making sure she knows he is there. Sometimes, it's all he can do to calm her and most of the time it's all she needs.
She's trying to focus on Bucky and not the asshole behind him when she feels Clint wrap his arms around her from behind and Steve slip one of his hands into hers. It's strange, she thinks, how that instantly helps her feel grounded.
She can't really make out anything they're saying, but she feels all of them tense up as Brock approaches. She can almost hear him calling her a slut even though he hasn't opened his mouth yet. It won't matter that she's not actually involved with all three of the men standing with her. She almost wants to tell them to go, to spare them from Brock and the horrible things she knows he'll say, but knows they never would.
Bucky moves to stand on her right, slipping his cool metal hand into hers. She's glad for the contact, the shock of it keeping her focused. Steve's fingers tangle with hers, squeezing briefly as Brock stops a few feet away, but still far too close in Natasha's opinion. Clint rests his chin on her shoulder, his weight resting against her a comforting presence.
Before Brock can say anything that will get him punched by any of her three bodyguards, Natasha glares at him and hopes it's more convincing than she thinks it is. “What do you want?”
He smirks, lips twisting in a way that makes her feel sick to her stomach. It takes all of her self-control not to back away from him when she sees it. “You.”
That one word is almost enough to break her. If she wasn't being caged in she knows she would have run. Suddenly, she's glad all three of her boys - and when did she start to think of Steve and Clint as hers? She's not sure, but somehow it just feels right - are there with her.
A sudden spike of bravery has her speaking before she can stop herself. “Well, you can't have me and if you recall I have a restraining order against you.”
He laughs, like he can't believe she'd have the audacity to talk to him like that. Suddenly, she's not so scared as she is angry. She wants to wipe that goddamn smirk off his face.
She doesn't give him a chance to speak before she's somehow managed to break out of Clint's death grip and let go of Steve and Bucky’s hands and is striding towards him like a predator. She briefly wonders if he sees it coming as she punches him in the jaw, bringing a knee up into his groin. He doubles over, groaning, but she's not done.
Everything after that is kind of a blur, but she doesn't stop until he's on the ground, holding his ribs and groaning.
She had half expected Bucky to stop her, but he walks over to her and gives her a smile, deftly kicking Brock in his definitely bruised ribs. She huffs out a small laugh and presses a kiss to his cheek. They don't have to say anything, not when she can see how proud he is with that smile.
“Man, that was hot,” She hears Clint say from behind her and wonders why she isn't more surprised.
She twists around to smile at him and Steve. She's glad they're here and that they don't seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. “This is totally irresponsible and I'm definitely going to regret it, but who wants to skip class and go back to our apartment for a movie day? I can guarantee popcorn and if we're lucky we can get Bucky to call in to work and cuddle with all of us.”
Steve starts laughing but Clint looks like he won the jackpot. Natasha can't say she disagrees. Even Bucky looks like it won't take much persuasion for him to make that call.