The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and the soft hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead in the med room of the Avengers compound. You and Natasha had just returned from a grueling mission, bruised and battered but victorious.

You sat on the edge of a metal bed, your hand fumbling with a roll of gauze, trying to bandage a gash on your forearm. The mission had been rough, and the adrenaline was finally wearing off, leaving you with shaking hands and a slightly foggy mind. Natasha, already tending to a cut on her cheek with practiced ease, noticed your struggle.

“Here, let me help,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. She moved closer, her movements precise and efficient, the way she always was on and off the battlefield.

“I got it,” you protested weakly, but you both knew it wasn’t true. The bandage was a mess, a tangled knot that wasn’t doing much good.

Natasha gave you a small, knowing smile. “You’re good at a lot of things, but bandaging isn’t one of them.”

Reluctantly, you handed over the gauze, and she carefully unwound the botched bandage. Her fingers were cool and steady against your skin, and you found it oddly soothing.

“You did great out there,” she said quietly as she worked, her eyes focused on your wound. “Quick thinking with that last ambush.”

“Thanks,” you replied, wincing slightly as she cleaned the gash. “You too. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

She glanced up at you, her green eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. “We make a good team.”

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the mission or the med room’s heat. Natasha finished wrapping your arm, securing the bandage with a neatness that put your attempt to shame.

“There,” she said, leaning back to admire her work. “Good as new. Well, almost.”