Summary: When Natalia returns home from a mission and goes straight to a Stark Industry dinner party, James can't help but be a little worried about potential injuries. Unfortunately, his worry is not without reason.

Despite the front he put on whenever Stark came up with a new reason to throw a dinner party, James could not honestly say he hated them. Yes, they reminded him often of past missions and no, he did not understand the stock market enough to spend an entire evening discussing it, but Stark Industries events and dinner parties were not the worst things James had to endure.

More often than not, Natalia was coerced into representing SI, or at the very least SHIELD, at the events which meant for one night, he could admire her from across the room and know that when they finally did leave, he could take off her dress without worrying about uncovering a bruise or―even worse―a bullet wound. Nights like these―even when Natalia would be coming late from a mission―were for them.

"Where's your better half?" Stark asked, sliding up to his side a mere five minutes after James stepped off the elevator. "She's the one I wanted running interference, no offense."

"Her mission ran late," James answered. He ignored Stark's teasing. "She'll be here in the next hour."

"Good, good," Stark murmured. He passed James a drink and clapped him on the shoulder before saying, "Try not to scare off my potential investors before then, yeah?"

"I'll do my best," James returned drily. He took the drink offered to him and watched Stark move across the floor smoothly.

If James hadn't seen the man crash through his own coffee table and burn holes in the floor of his lab, he would have easily thought Stark was as graceful as Natalia. The way he flitted from one investor to the next, laughing on cue, and strengthening what James assumed were business-only friendships was impressive. Stumbling around the penthouse with his faceplate stuck and then shattering his glass coffee table, however, was not. Stark could create a professional persona as well as Natalia could create twelve, though, and it deserved at least a little recognition.

While Stark was forced to masquerade through the crowd until Natalia could step up and play the role of Stark Industries representative, James holed himself up at the far end of the bar. He was here for Natalia (and the free drinks) so until she appeared, he'd make himself scarce.

He had not been watching the clock, but he knew that it was nearing the end of her self-set time limit when he finally spotted her in the crowd. He would admit to having watched the elevator as he waited, but somehow he had missed her. If this was a mission, he'd be impressed. Seeing as it had been three days since he'd last seen her, though, and she had slipped past him, he was more annoyed that he'd have to seek her out himself.

Handing his empty glass back to the bartender, James turned to where he'd last seen her only to discover she was no longer there. He frowned and, sliding off his bar stool, glanced around the party in search of her.

"I was always going to come see you, James," her voice hummed from behind him. When he turned, she'd taken his seat at the bar.

"I'm not first on your list tonight?" he teased, his lips twitching into a smile that he could just barely contain as he looked at her.

"You're always first on my list," she assured him. "Tony just needed the reassurance that I had, in fact, arrived."

She stood up from the stool, almost even with him in her heels, and reached up to gently pull his lips down to hers. James eagerly obliged. Three days was a long time to go without contact of any kind. He'd only gotten a text from her when she'd finally reached the quinjet and was on her way back to New York.

"I missed you," she breathed as she pulled away.

"Missed you too, doll." James pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her lips. "Mission go well?"

"Of course," she replied, glancing over his shoulder.

"No bruises?" James couldn't stop himself from checking. Even though he knew she wouldn't have worn anything that could reveal an injury, he still needed to reassure himself.

"No bruises," Natalia echoed. She patted his cheek and pressed a kiss to his lips very briefly. "I'm going to go mingle. You coming?"

James shook his head. As much as he enjoyed attending these events with Natalia, he couldn't mingle like she could. Natalia could flit as seamlessly as Stark amongst investors whereas James was often too busy admiring her to be bothered with carrying on a conversation.

"The view's better from here," he teased as his hand slipped over her hip. "I'll join you for a dance or two later, though, yeah?"

Natalia smiled. "I'll look forward to it."

She slipped away from him just as silently as she'd appeared despite the heels he knew she was wearing. Moving from his spot in the corner, James found a bar stool from where he could see the whole room. No matter where Natalia slipped away to, he'd be able to see her from his newly claimed lookout.

It wasn't until Natalia was pulled onto the dancefloor by a handsy, grey-haired man that James noticed something was wrong. It wasn't so much how the man's hand hovered too low on her back, but the way her lips pursed when she spun under his arm. As her arm raised, her lips thinned and James's eyes narrowed.

When the two eventually stepped off the dancefloor, it was almost as if James had imagined the way her face had twisted when she'd first spun around her partner. Her smile was back, as smooth as it had been before, and although her fingers flitted over her ribs, James couldn't see any other indication of her earlier pain.

Nonetheless, he watched her as she reached for a glass of champagne and drank it almost too quickly. She wouldn't get drunk―couldn't get drunk, not on champagne―but she drank it as if she was attempting to. A second later, as Stark slipped up to her side and said something that made both her and the other man laugh, James watched her elbow press firmly into her side. Almost as if it were holding something in place.

She's hurt, he realized, and it's bad.

He was on his feet before he'd fully processed the thought, but Natalia was excusing herself already. Leaving Stark with the man, she dropped her wine glass onto the nearest platter as her fingers crossed over her ribs again. Only a few steps away from her, James didn't miss the way she discreetly checked her hand and seemed relieved to see nothing.

"James―" Her eyes widened at the sight of him, but James shook his head.

"Come with me," he murmured. He pulled her to him gently and, with a scowl that he was sure Stark would berate him for later, led them away from the party.

As soon as they were out of sight from prying eyes, Natalia let out a pained gasp and slumped against him. She stumbled, but James held firmly and pulled her into the nearest empty room. He hadn't even locked the door behind them before Natalia's hand found her side again. This time, her fingers came away bloodied.

"Goddammit, Natalia," he muttered.

She leaned against the wall, one hand against her ribs and the other reaching for his shoulder.

"We gotta go upstairs," she gasped. Her eyes closed tightly and when she gripped his shoulder, he was thankful it was his left one. "I'm gonna―gonna bleed all over."

"How bad?" His hand wrapped around hers at her side. She gasped at the pressure, but James didn't let go. Switching to Russian, he repeated, "Natalia, how bad is it?"

All Natalia did was shake her head and so, with an apology already falling from his lips, he lifted her into his arms and headed in the direction of the stairs. The elevator, although closer, would mean they had to wade back through the partygoers. As worried as James was getting, he didn't want to face them with blood seeping through the red velvet of her dress.

He took the stairs two at a time, but only for one floor.

"FRIDAY, elevator," he grunted, hurrying through the empty floor.

The doors opened with a soft ding and closed without James having to tell FRIDAY where to go. When the doors reopened on the medical floor, a doctor was already waiting for them.

James followed her instructions blindly, setting Natalia on a nearby gurney and asking FRIDAY for a scan before Natalia could recite what had happened herself. It wasn't until Natalia had been wheeled away, with FRIDAY's report echoing through his head, that he realized her blood had stained his suit.

* * * * *

He changed in the time it took them to repair Natalia's spleen and stitch her up. With a hoodie and sweatpants in hand for her, he returned to the medical ward where the skeletal crew was working on bringing Natalia back to a stable condition. It had been lucky that the medical ward was staffed, as it was usually empty in the evenings unless the team was expected back from a mission. While protocol would have allowed them to leave shortly after Natalia denied needing medical attention during her debrief, the team had stayed.

"Just in case," the doctor told him. "We know Miss Romanov has the tendency to wait when seeking medical attention," she explained, "so we thought it would be best to wait until after she left the SI event."

"Yeah," James murmured, watching as a nurse helped Natalia down from her bed. "She does do that, doesn't she?"

"She'll be fine, now," the doctor said. "We've cleaned and repaired the wound and while we will be forwarding an injury report to SHIELD headquarters, she won't need to be on bed rest. No missions for a while, though."

After receiving a full rundown on the state of Natalia's injury and what to expect during her recovery, James nodded his thanks and stepped into her room with her clothes in hand.

"Thank you," she murmured. She didn't meet his eyes, but she did allow him to help her pull the hoodie over her head.

With one last thank you to the medical team, they stepped into the elevator to return to their floor.

"You didn't tell me," James muttered, watching as Natalia obediently took her prescribed pain medication. "You said no bruises."

"I didn't lie," Natalia defended weakly. "You never asked about stab wounds."

James fixed her with a look and she sighed. She closed the small space between them, laying her head on his chest as her arms came up to wrap around his waist. On instinct, James folded his arms around her in return and for a long moment, they just stood there.

"Why didn't you go to medical?" he asked softly. "The doctor said you denied needing attention during your debrief."

"I was pressed for time," she explained just as quietly. "I was running late and knew I'd miss this evening if I stopped. I debriefed on the plane, stitched up what I could, and went straight to the dinner."

"Natalia," James sighed. Her arms around him tightened and he knew what she was trying to say. "You can't keep doing this."

"I didn't think it was bad."

"Look me in the eyes and say that again," James said. She didn't and when she pressed her face harder into his chest, he couldn't help but press a firm kiss to her head. "You could have died, doll. I thought we'd been over this."

"I know," Natalia breathed. When she pulled away to look at him, he could see the apology written across her face. "I know, lyubov moi, and I am truly sorry."

"Then stop doing this," he whispered. As his hand found her cheek, she leaned into his touch, and he whispered, "This isn't the Red Room."

"I know that," Natalia said, "I do."

"Tell me you'll try."

Natalia nodded, murmuring a promise before dropping her head back to his chest and breathing deeply. "I'm sorry I worried you."

"I only worry because I love you," James replied.

"I know," Natalia murmured. Pressing a kiss to his chest, she relaxed against him. "I love you too."