Equally torn between irritation and high alert, Steve rolls out of the bed and to his feet, hands loose and by his sides. He's wearing a white t-shirt and loose pants. His feet are bare.

The room's basically bare, too. All the decor's in pastels and neutrals. Very bland. Very boring.

The one splash of color is the hair of the person sleeping in the other bed -

"No," he whispers to himself, utterly blown away. "Natasha?"