Tiny little Tasha

Chapter 1:

Most people would KILL to live with the Avengers. They embodied everything everyone else wanted to be or do or have. Agent Natasha Romanoff failed to see the appeal though, and she DID live with the Avengers. However the reasons for her assessment were mostly based on her tiny (albeit humiliating) secret: she was a bedwetter. 

It wasn't that hard for her to figure out why: the Red Room, so many missions BEFORE Clint was sent to eliminate her, the whole process AFTER Clint decided against that, and then everything with the Avengers themselves. She wasn't surprised at her body, but that didn't mean she wasn't frustrated as hell with it. She was losing sleep on top of it all to try and keep it from everyone. Which perfectly explained Monday.

The three coffee makers in the kitchen were all finished brewing. Two were community and one was solely for Tony, who tended to hoard the beverage as if it were liquid gold. Natasha stumbled into the kitchen, as she was going on over twenty-four hours of no sleep. Something Steve and Clint both picked up on.

"You okay Tash?" Clint asked gently. Natasha shot him a death glare, and he raised his hands in defense. He had an assumption as to why she was like this, but didn't voice it. Steve, on the other hand, had been chewed out by her three times the day before and decided enough was enough.

"Team meeting after Breakfast," he informed the two. "JARVIS sent the memo around, but I told him I'd tell you two personally."

Natasha growled. "What is this about?" She snapped.

Steve took a deep breath. "I'm not supposed to tell you until the others are present," he said firmly. "And don't even think about trying to get out of it. The tower will be on lockdown."

Natasha huffed and stomped to her room. She looked longingly at her bed before shaking her head. She sighed and tried to pull herself together. She went to shower for the day, doing what she could with her hair (curly hair like hers was hard to deal with), and finally sat on her bed. She figured Steve or Clint would come for her when it was time, right? It was probably a stray mission or the Fantastic Four needed help (again!) with Doctor Doom. She sighed and laid back. A few minutes of sleep wouldn't hurt, right? Her eyes closed, and before she could help it, she was sound asleep.

MEANWHILE, IN THE KITCHEN:

"I've been watching her at night through the vents but I can't figure out why she's not sleeping," Clint sighed in frustration.

"Hey, we'll figure it out," Bruce assured him. "I'm sure it's probably nothing more than nightmares."

"I hope," Clint huffed in frustration, chewing roughly at the omelette Steve had made. Steve and Bruce usually cooked, alternating every couple of days. Steve knew how to make an omelette. What was strange was that as soon as Natasha smelled hers cooking, she usually came running. This had Steve worried. 

"You guys stay here, I'm gonna go check on her," he said. 

Clint frowned. "No way are you going up there alone," he said firmly.

"Oooooh, I wanna see the cat fight," Tony said eagerly. 

Steve shook his head. "Guess we're gonna have this meeting now then," he said, leading the gang upstairs.