but mostly, you’re my love

All Natasha can think about is how she should be practicing. She should be running drills, or continuing conditioning training, or scrimmaging, or perfecting her free throws. She should be doing something.

What she shouldn’t be is seated in an office during practice time.

Her spiraling thoughts are interrupted.

“Are you listening, Ms. Romanoff?”

“Hmm?” Natasha hums vaguely in question before forcing her eyes to refocus on the athletic academic advisor sitting in front of her now, her gaze no longer blatantly pointed on a random point outside of the window. “I’m listening,” she replies unconvincingly.

The woman sighs, letting out a deep breath. She’s used to overseeing athletes that don’t ever want to talk academics, but Natasha outshines them all. “Look, I’m trying to help you. If you don’t get your GPA up by the end of the semester, you will be declared academically ineligible to continue competing.”

That gets Natasha’s attention, her one-track mind an endless loop of just basketball, basketball, basketball. “Wait, you’re pulling me from the team?”

“That’s not what I just said,” the woman responds calmly.

Despite the denial, Natasha remains visibly alarmed, only having heard one thing during this conversation: she’s getting kicked off the team. Her team. She’s been team captain for two years. She built the team. And now…

“I didn’t say that it was a definite,” the academic advisor tries to reassure while remaining firm, “My job is to keep you on track to graduate and eligible to play. We simply need to get ahead of this before it becomes a bigger problem.”

“How?” Natasha asks bluntly, urgently, trying and failing to tamp down the panic she’s feeling.

“I’m going to connect you with some support resources. We have some great tutors here on campus that are provided at no charge through the university.”

“I have to go to tutoring?”

“It’s highly recommended. Look, Ms. Romanoff. This is just a courtesy warning. You have until the end of the year to raise your GPA to the minimum GPA requirement and remain in good academic standing. If you choose to accomplish that without a tutor, that’s up to you, but this isn’t something to take lightly. Your scholarship could be affected.”

“What?” Natasha asks, voice going up an octave in further alarm.

The woman sighs a second time at how Natasha is somehow taken off guard yet again. None of this should be news to her. The details of her scholarship, of her contract, of her seat on the basketball team were all outlined very clearly when she got accepted into the university, but here she is, acting as though the consequences of her actions have never been explained to her before.

“Your scholarship is up for non-renewal at the end of the year if your GPA doesn’t improve. If we don’t see you trying academically, you’ll lose your full ride here.”

Natasha is speechless, her jaw practically on the floor, and when she doesn’t respond, the academic advisor keeps going.

“The coaching staff has been made aware of-”

“You told my coach?” Natasha’s interrupts.

“It’s procedure.”

“Fuck,” she groans, the curse long and drawn out, her body slumping down into her seat.

“Ms. Romanoff,” the academic advisor chides her language.

“Sorry,” Natasha mumbles, but it’s halfhearted. She takes in a breath, eyes closed as she tries to settle her nerves and come to terms with everything that’s just transpired since she first stepped foot in this small office. “So… a tutor then?” she asks, finally acknowledging the reality of her situation.

“A tutor,” the woman confirms, and then she offers up a weak smile, “Try to think of your injury as a blessing in disguise. You were spending all your time training, but now, you have the next six weeks to devote to studying and raising your GPA. There could be a silver lining to all of this.”

Natasha can’t say that she agrees.

Natasha is late to her first tutoring session. She makes sure of it.

You’re waiting at the agreed upon table in the library, pencil tapping impatiently on the flat surface, wondering if perhaps your new student got lost? Or maybe something happened? Maybe she had an emergency?

But when the redhead comes casually strolling through the library doors, your irritation flares.

“You’re late,” you say flatly when she arrives.

“Am I?” she asks as if she’s not blatantly showing up a half hour after the scheduled time.

You purse your lips but decide not to push it. Your frustration is already at an all-time high. No need to make it worse. “Let’s just get started,” you mutter, “We’re already behind.”

Natasha refuses to even look at the textbook in front of her. Every attempt at teaching her is met with an apathetic huff and an eye roll. She doesn’t try to hide the fact that she doesn’t care. If anything, she’s broadcasting it for everyone to see.

“Look, if you don’t care about-”

“I don’t,” Natasha cuts in.

“Your grades are shit, and you’re injured. You might as well study. You have nothing better to do.”

“I have everything better to do.”

“Isn’t there the possibility of you getting kicked off the team?”

“Who said that?”

“Academic advisors don’t actively ask me to tutor someone unless there’s risk involved.”

“They’re not kicking me off the team,” Natasha states firmly, scoffing in disbelief, “I’m their star player. They need me.”

“Whatever. Refocus,” you retort, pointing back to the problem at hand.

Natasha doesn’t listen.

You find yourself waiting on Natasha a second time, anger simmering beneath your skin as you know Natasha is doing it on purpose.

She’s once again disinterested, unmotivated, sulky, basically spending the hour whining about how she’s been wronged and doesn’t deserve this and shouldn’t be here right now, the ‘woe is me’ act on full display, much to your annoyance.

She’s the worst student you’ve had in your entire career as a college tutor, and if you weren’t getting paid for the time wasted with the redhead, you wouldn’t be showing up to sessions where you make no progress and only gain headaches.

When the third tutoring session begins the same way, Natasha’s disinterest more than obvious, you abruptly stand up from your chair.

She may be the absolute worst in your opinion, but you can tell her behavior is because she’s struggling at the root of it all. She’s lost basketball, the thing that drives her, her believed purpose. She doesn’t know who she is without the sport, and although you think that’s rather stupid, you can’t blame her for being adrift given the circumstances, when that’s all that she’s known since childhood, only ever practicing with the aim to perfect.

“Get up.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Get the fuck up.” You give her foot a kick for good measure and then start packing up the materials you had laid out in preparation on the library table.

“Why?”

“We’re not staying here.”

“What about tutoring?”

You scoff. “You have been purposely refusing to listen for the past two sessions… which is wild, considering your scholarship is on the line.”

Natasha grumbles at that, lips pursing in displeasure at being called out, but she stands anyway, following suit by putting away her own minimal number of supplies back in her backpack.

“Fine. Where are we going?”

You don’t answer, turning on your heel and walking away, expecting her to follow behind you.

It’s not a long walk, but you do cross campus to a more unpopulated area.

“Where are you taking me? What the fuck is this place?” Natasha asks, raising an eyebrow as she takes in the solitary tree at the top of a hill that you seem to be leading her to.

When you make it to the top, you stop, just gazing out at the campus below you. “I go here sometimes,” you say, voice softening unconsciously as you talk about the place, “When I need to think. When the world is just a little too loud. I thought it could benefit you too.”

For once, there’s no snarky comeback or quip, no belittling your words or efforts.

A comfortable silence falls over you two—the first one since meeting—and you both just stand there, watching as students walk to their next classes, listening to the birds chirping above in the tree, the breeze rustling through the leaves.

It’s peaceful.

And it’s only interrupted when loud cheers resound from the quad below you. You both glance over in that direction.

Natasha recognizes the player from her team, expression turning bored. You, on the other hand, look on curiously, wondering what all the commotion is about.

“They’re just giving their jersey away,” Natasha tells you flippantly.

“What?”

“It’s basketball team tradition,” she explains, “You give your jersey to someone special for the championship game. It’s supposed to be good luck.”

“Have you ever given yours away before?”

“Me? God, no.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not really my thing.”

You just hum, gaze still watching the scene below you.

Things change after you bring her to the tree, after you share a piece of yourself with her.

Natasha starts trying during tutoring sessions, starts giving you her full attention when you’re teaching, taking in what you’re saying and attempting to apply it to her schoolwork and assignments.

You two make a new habit of going to get food after sessions together, sharing a basket of fries, talking about more than just school, and, after two or three outings, Natasha even begins paying, pulling the check away from you before you can see the price and refusing your offers of your debit card.

Everything feels different. You notice how she always tips more than 20% even when she’s just ordering a coffee, you notice how her eyes light up whenever she discusses basketball, her passion for the sport clear, you notice how, even though she acts nonchalant about it, she’s genuinely proud of herself and the progress she’s making in her classes. You’re growing to like her; she’s always on your mind.

You wonder if she feels it too.

You walk out of the lecture hall, stressed, cortisol levels probably slightly higher than healthy, and close your eyes as you let out a shaky exhale. That was the hardest midterm you’ve taken in a while. You spent the whole semester keeping up with the material, studying for hours after class, and yet, you still don’t feel good about over half the tested questions.

You immediately make a beeline to the tree, needing distance from the school, from people, needing to take a moment to yourself and just breathe and decompress.

But when you arrive, you find Natasha already there, sitting on the ground, leaning back against the trunk.

She offers you a small smile when she sees you. “Sorry,” she murmurs, “It seems I commandeered your space today.”

You shrug, and for some reason, you’re not particularly bothered by the fact that you’re not going to be alone… because it’s Natasha.

You take a seat next to her, and, after a few seconds, you lean your head on her shoulder.

She doesn’t push you away.

She has to feel it too.

It’s one of Natasha’s first practices back from her injury. You’re seated in the bleachers, waiting for it to finish, you two having plans to grab a bite together afterward.

You’re attempting to actually watch the practice, to watch all of the players and the drills, to watch the free throws and three-pointers and whatever other things basketball players do that you have minimal knowledge about, but your gaze keeps getting drawn to Natasha.

The way she dribbles, the way she pivots, the way she moves. The way she’s just… her. In her element on the court.

You barely notice when the team is wrapping up, too focused on Natasha’s form, Natasha’s hair falling out of her ponytail and clinging to her sweaty forehead, Natasha’s body in her jersey and shorts, to fully realize.

“Hey, teach,” Natahsa calls out softly as she begins walking your way, “How’d you like seeing me practice?”

You smile up at her. “I knew you were good, but I didn’t know you were that good,” you compliment, standing up from your seat to meet her in the middle.

An arm is immediately thrown around your waist when you two make contact, Natasha pulling you in close. She only barely resists placing a kiss to the top of your head. It would be a first.

“Natasha! Is this the girl you’ve been absolutely gushing about?” one of her teammates questions loudly from her position on the court. A few of the others around laugh, and they all begin to make their way toward where the two of you are currently standing by the bleachers, intending on embarrassing the redhead.

Natasha’s cheeks go pink at the question. “Shut up,” she replies, glaring playfully, but there’s no heat in her words. They’re not a lie; she has been gushing about you almost nonstop to her team.

She’s met with more laughter, and then her team immediately starts shooting off questions and comments regarding you and her.

“Oh, you were right. She is cute.”

“Come on, Natasha, introduce us! We’re all dying to meet her.”

“We all just want to know who the girl is that has had you in a tizzy for the past few weeks.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at their rowdy behavior, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she murmurs, trying to ignore the fact that she’s still blushing furiously. She introduces you easily, smiling fondly as she does, eyes on your face as she gives your name to her team before… “She’s my…” she trails off, catching herself, suddenly unsure what to call you. Technically, you’re not a couple yet—not really, not officially—so what labels are allowed right now?

Your glance over at Natasha’s hesitation, your expression one of curiosity. One of your eyebrows is raised as you wait for her to complete her sentence. You’re aware that nothing has been truly established, but it’s always felt established, so you’re definitely interested in hearing just what Natasha is going to say.

“She’s my… tutor,” Natahsa finishes lamely, struggling to find an appropriate title. She knows she’s fucked up the moment the words come out of her mouth.

Her teammates instantly snicker at her answer, not even trying to hide their reactions, and you deflate, both disappointment and hurt reflecting themselves on your face for a few seconds before you school your features into neutrality, tamping down your emotions as your gaze drifts away from the redhead in front of you back to her team, unable to look at her at the moment. You offer up a slightly strained smile to her teammates.

“Yep, that’s me. I’m her tutor.”

Natasha’s eyes have been on your face this entire time, watching the array of emotions play out.

One of her teammates speaks up again. “Damn, just your ‘tutor’? Nothing else?” she asks, poking and prodding at the already precarious situation.

Natasha is about to respond, to correct herself, to try and fix the disaster she’s made, but before she can, you interject.

“Nope, that’s it,” you reply quickly, and then you’re gently removing Natasha’s arm from around your waist. “I’m really sorry, but I have to run. It was nice to meet you all. Natasha, I’ll see you at your next tutoring session, yeah?” You’re already walking away; the last question is called out over your shoulder.

Panic flashes on Natasha’s face as she sees you approaching the exit. “Wait-” she tries, but your back is to her, and you make no move to turn around to listen to what she has to say. “Uh, okay, yeah, yeah! Next tutoring session then. See you!” she tries to shout toward you as you exit the gym. She’s certain that she was unsuccessful at hiding the note of desperation in her voice.

There’s an awkward silence between her and her teammates now as she just stands there for a long moment, frozen, wondering if she just screwed everything up for good.

“‘Tutor’?” someone echoes, rubbing salt into the wound, “Good luck recovering from that one.”

Natasha groans, putting her face into her hands. “I can’t believe I just said that,” she mutters through her fingers, “Fuck.”

Her teammates just look at her with a mixture of pity and sympathy.

“Did I just fuck everything up?” she asks.

“It wasn’t your smoothest moment,” one of them confirms.

“I didn’t know what else to call her. We haven’t exactly…”

“You couldn’t have just said ‘friend’?”

“I just- I panicked, okay? We’re not together, but we’re not not together.”

“You should probably go talk to her… sooner rather than later.”

Natasha nods, and then she’s promptly rushing out of the gym, bursting through the doors in an attempt to find you, but you’re already gone.

Natasha texts you nonstop, calls you nonstop, over the next few days, desperate to remedy the situation.

‘I don’t know why I said that.’

‘You have to know you’re not just a tutor to me.’

‘Please, can we just talk?’

‘Look, I’m fucking stupid. I promise I didn’t mean what I said.’

“I just panicked. We never talked about what we were. I didn’t know what to say.’

Despite her pleas, her apologies, her imploring, you never reply, and the texts and calls eventually dwindle to a stop when she realizes that maybe you aren’t ever going to.

Eight days after receiving her last text, the day of the championship game, your phone lights up one more time.

‘The championship is tonight… I don’t expect you to be there, but I’d really appreciate if it you were.’

You still don’t respond.

It’s game day. It’s game time.

Halftime should have already passed… not that you’re keeping track.

You want to go to support her—you really do—and Natasha’s constant texts only further that feeling. She said that she’s sorry, that she wants you there, that you’re more to her than just a way to help her raise her grades. But you remind yourself that she couldn’t say it out loud, that you’re just her tutor when in front of others. Nothing more.

You sigh and continue your walk to the tree, the currently and seemingly endless feeling of dejection still present.

Your squint your eyes, brows furrowing in confusion, as you approach, seeing something sitting at the base of the trunk.

A jersey. Her jersey.

There’s no note, no explanation, nothing to tell you what it’s doing there. It’s just her jersey, neatly folded with her number—number seven—facing up, waiting for you.

You pick it up, holding it delicately in your hands, turning it over and feeling the soft mesh on your fingertips, and then you’re running, sprinting across campus.

There’s somewhere you need to be, and you have to make it in time.

You slam on your brakes in front of the gym, feet screeching to a halt, breathing hard, and you just look at the doors for a few moments, your anxiety skyrocketing. What if she doesn’t want to see you?

The sounds of the game coming from inside are loud as you stand there, the squeak of sneakers, the cheers and applause from the crowd, the blow of the referee’s whistle.

You take in a steadying breath and steel your nerves, carefully putting on the jersey over your shirt before forcing yourself to walk inside and face the girl you’ve been avoiding.

It’s chaos within, the bleachers packed to the brim, the smell of sweat and rubber invading your nose, both teams clearly pushing themselves to their limits. You glance at the scoreboard. It’s neck and neck, the timer relentlessly counting down the seconds, Natasha’s team only two points behind the opposition.

You can tangibly feel the stress, the determination, the heightened emotions from the players as the game continues. Natasha’s teammate has possession of the ball, and you watch with bated breath as she passes it off to Natasha with only a few seconds left on the clock.

Natasha immediately begins dribbling down the side of the court, her movements urgent, every moment now crucial, dodging oncoming defenders before finding an opening. She pivots… aims… takes the shot from the three-point line.

The basketball flies through the air, the gym falling deadly silent as everyone watches with overwhelming anticipation.

She scores.

The crowd explodes with cheers, exclamations of joy and excitement echoing throughout. Natasha’s teammates run to her, clapping her on the back, pulling her in for a hug, praising and congratulating her, but she’s distracted. Her gaze is scanning through all the spectators, scanning the gym. She doesn’t think you’re here, but she has to search just in case anyway.

And then… she finds you, still standing by the doors, your eyes wide and your expression a mix of happiness at the win and uncertainty over what’s to come.

She instantly takes off toward you, gently pushing people and other players trying to surround her out of the way, needing to get to you and confirm that you’re really here.

When she makes it in front of you, neither of you speak.

“I… I think I was a little late,” you finally say, awkwardly breaking the silence.

“No, no, you’re here,” she says back, an overjoyed smile appearing on her face, “You’re actually here.” The adrenaline from the game is still pumping through her veins, and it only feels amplified by the sight of you, by the fact that you actually came to her game to watch and support her after everything.

You just stare, not sure what else to say. You want to apologize, you want to ask about the jersey, you want to confirm what happens now, but you just remain in place, stiff and unable to look away.

“You’re wearing my jersey,” Natasha comments happily.

“You left it for me.”

Natasha nods emphatically. “There’s no one else I’d want to be wearing it,” she murmurs, and then she’s picking you up, hoisting you into her arms as she begins to walk back onto the court to show you off, to join the ongoing celebration that is still occurring in the background.

“How much does she remember?” Natasha asks. “She can’t have forgotten everything.”

“According to Dr Cho, they forgot their own name,” Maria says in that calm, soothing voice. “They panicked and had to be sedated. They’re awake now and calm but obviously quite confused and upset.”

“So they don’t remember us?” Wanda asks in a disbelieving voice.

Maria shakes her head, “They don’t even remember themselves.”

Natasha can’t pretend she isn’t angry but she knows her focus needs to be on your recovery right now. She tries to match Maria’s even tone, “And do we know if they’ll get their memory back?”

“It’s not clear. Anything could trigger a memory; a sound, a smell, but it’ll become clearer with time I guess.”

You’d been sent on your first solo mission and this was how it had ended. Natasha and Wanda had received word that you’d been rushed to an intensive care unit after hitting your head. Your mission had mostly been over; you’d just been helping the last few civilians out of the crumbling building when it had collapsed. As you’d runaway you’d been hit by some debris, knocking you unconscious. The rescued civilians had managed to remove the wreckage from on top of you until medics could arrive on the scene. There had been a few sleepless nights whilst Natasha and Wanda worried about your fate until they’d finally received the news they’d been waiting for – you were awake.

It had come at a cost though and Natasha feels stupid now for thinking otherwise. Everything comes with a cost. You were awake but were you still you if you couldn’t even remember who you were? This shouldn’t have been allowed to happen, someone should have been sent with you. Natasha silently seethes. Maria sees the look on her face and sighs, “They’re alive. That’s the main thing.”

After being prepped by Maria they’re finally allowed through to the medbay to see you – you’d been transferred from the intensive care unit back onto a regular ward, and you smile self-consciously as your girlfriends’ walk in. Natasha takes a seat at your bedside, reaching out to take your hand, “Hey… How are you doing?”

“I’m okay,” You reply quietly.

Your hand feels awkward in Natasha’s but she doesn’t let go. Wanda stands behind her, smiling bravely at you. “Do you… Do you remember who we are?”

You hesitate and then shake your head with another self-conscious smile, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Natasha reassures you, stroking her thumb over your knuckles. “Maria told us you’re having trouble remembering things right now.”

You nod, not entirely sure who Maria is. You’ve met too many people in quick succession and you’re struggling to figure out who’s meant to mean something to you, and who you’re just meeting whilst you’re in hospital. Given the way Natasha is holding your hand, and Wanda’s soft expression as she gazes at you, you figure that these two are important. They’re the first people who haven’t come in to talk specifically about your condition, but rather just to see you. “Who are you?”

“I’m Natasha, and this is Wanda.” Natasha glances up at Wanda, not sure how much information to give you right now. She doesn’t want to overwhelm you or make you feel uncomfortable. “If you have any questions, you can ask us. We know you better than anyone.”

“It’ll be interesting to see if your opinions have changed without your memories,” Wanda says, trying to keep things light for your sake. “Like how you hate tomatoes but don’t mind tomato sauce.”

“Or how you hate wearing socks in bed but you have to wear your slippers everywhere because you don’t like your bare feet against the carpet.”

“Or how you can’t go anywhere without your headphones, even though we’ve warned you it’s dangerous to walk around listening to loud music.”

Both of them watch your expression carefully, hoping for a glimmer of recognition. When there’s none, Natasha just smiles, squeezing your hand, “It’s okay. We’ll help you, we promise.”

“I do have a few questions,” You say. “Where are my family?”

“We’re your family,” Wanda says, wondering how much to tell you. “We’re… Your girlfriends, we have been for about two years now.”

You’d been an Avenger for three years, getting together with them after one year into your work. As a child, your parents had been killed by Kingpin and his gang. Growing up in the system had made you angry and bitter, and you’d sworn revenge. After a failed attempt to take Kingpin down, you’d been taken in by the Avengers, based on Natasha’s personal recommendation. She’d recognised that anger and need for justice, it was something she’d felt her entire life.

“Everyone here in the Avengers is your family too,” Natasha says. “We’re like one big extended family.”

Having a found family had done wonders for you. As had having a permanent place to call home. One night you’d confided to Natasha and Wanda that you’d been moved twelve times as a kid, “Which doesn’t sound like a lot when I say it like that,” You’d said in the dark as you’d lain in between them, your voice catching. “But it felt like I got used to one place and then was whisked away to the next with no warning. Then I had to get used to the next set of parents and potentially siblings. Sometimes there was even a new school to get used to. It felt never ending.”

“No one’s gonna whisk you away ever again,” Wanda had said, her arm wrapping around your waist as she kissed your cheek. “We’re your family now, and this is your home. Forever.”

“You share a room with me and Wanda,” Natasha says now. “But if you’re not comfortable with that we could always set up the spare room or something.”

“We’ll figure it out as we go,” Wanda says. “There’s no pressure. Just go at your own pace. No rush.”

It’s a further two days before you’re finally discharged from the medbay. During that time all of the other Avengers come through to check how you’re doing, reintroducing themselves. Natasha and Wanda watch carefully, making sure that nobody lies to you or makes fun of you, but everyone seems to take your amnesia seriously, greeting you with sincerity. Kate and Yelena spend a couple of hours with you, reteaching you a board game that you always loved playing with them. Wanda joins in whilst Natasha watches, not the biggest fan of board games. Sam brings through his speakers so that Wanda and Natasha can play you some of your favourite songs, to see if those spark any recognition. Steve has the sense to bring through a photo album, letting you flip through the photos that had been taken of the team. Most of them were posed photos, from parties or ‘team building’ days. You’d had a lot of questions and Steve, Natasha and Wanda had been happy to answer them all.

You step into the bedroom you share with the two of them, looking around. You and Natasha had never really been sure how to decorate the space, whilst Wanda had been the absolute expert. There were photos, posters, art prints all hung up along the walls with warm, white fairy lights. You run your fingers over a photo of the three of you taken at the last Halloween party. Wanda wraps her arms around your waist, “Halloween is your favourite holiday.”

“You always insist that we have to dress up for training,” Natasha says with a smile. “And when we protested, you were like ‘well if you can kick ass dressed as a gingerbread man, you can kick ass any time.’”

“None of us ever did dress as a gingerbread man, so I’m not sure why you used that as an example but you got your point across.”

Wanda sees that you look a little uncomfortable so she takes a step back, running an awkward hand through her hair. You and Wanda have always been quite touchy, always wanting to hold hands or wrap your arms around each other. Natasha would too but not as often, whereas you and Wanda were always reaching out for each other. It wasn’t unusual to find you both cuddled up whenever you had to sit down – on the couch, in bed, even on the bus sometimes much to Natasha’s playful annoyance.

Natasha sees Wanda’s expression and smiles encouragingly, “I have an idea. Let’s go on a first date.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, turning to look at them both.

“Well, you don’t remember us. And maybe you’ve changed since the accident so let’s get to know each other again. We can fall in love with each other all over again.”

“That sounds like fun,” You say. “Okay. Let’s go on a first date.”

Two years ago your first date had been a picnic so Natasha and Wanda decide to recreate that. After all, it had worked the first time. It was actually you who’d asked them both out the first time, something Natasha had found hilarious. “You can’t ask us both out,” She’d said. “You’ll have to pick.”

“Says who?” You’d retorted. “I like you both. Maybe I’ll have chemistry with just one of you, or maybe both of you, or even none of you. Why don’t we find out?”

So they’d gone along with you and had been surprised to find that the three of you did have good chemistry. After six months of dating you’d all made it official, and moved all your things into the same room in the compound. You’d had to badger Tony for a week straight to give you all the biggest bedroom the compound had. It also had the best view, looking out over the grounds.

For the past week you’d slept in the guest room, a decision that Natasha and Wanda understood even if it did break their hearts. They were spending most of the day with you, slowly reintroducing you back into training and the hobbies that you’d previously enjoyed. You’re struggling to remember your way around the compound, something that keeps making you a bit tearful. You’d gotten lost heading from the gym to the kitchen to fetch yourself a glass of water. You’d let Wanda hug you as you cried into her shoulder, hating that you couldn’t remember somewhere that felt like home.

Wanda and Natasha felt familiar too but you were still self-conscious around them. It was difficult being surrounded by people who knew you so well, but who were effectively strangers to you. Everyone was kind but all that shared history was just… Gone for you.

They take you to central park, and Natasha lays out the picnic blanket whilst Wanda weighs down each corner, setting the picnic basket down in the middle. Wanda had prepared all of the food, not trusting Natasha with any of it. When you’d asked to get involved, she’d spent the morning making cookies with you, and now you were excited for both women to sample them. They both laugh when you try a tomato, ‘just to see’, and then immediately scrunch your nose up.

“You’re still you then,” Natasha says fondly. “I saw you wearing your slippers last night.”

“Yeah, you guys were right about the carpet, I don’t like it.”

They both laugh and the date continues easily. Natasha and Wanda are sure you must feel the chemistry too – they’re relieved to find it hasn’t gone even though you’ve lost your memory. You smile proudly when Natasha and Wanda declare your cookies ‘the best ones they’ve ever had’. Once the date is over and everything’s packed away, you don’t pull away when Wanda takes your hand to walk back to the compound. Instead your thumb strokes over her knuckles the way you always used to do and Wanda smiles to yourself. Yep, you’re definitely still you.

“Hey,” Steve says gently. “Are you lost again?”

You nod, frustrated tears in your eyes. It’s been a couple of months now and you still keep getting lost around the compound. You’ve just had an appointment with Dr Cho in the medbay who told you that your short time memory might also be affected. “You’ll learn the layout of the building eventually when it transfers to your long-term memory,” She’d said. “And then hopefully you’ll be able to start going out by yourself.”

It made you feel like a child who couldn’t be trusted to go out unsupervised. You may not have any memories of yourself from before the mission, but you know enough from what you’ve been told that you were pretty independent. You were an Avenger after all, and it wasn’t likely you were going out on the field anytime soon. Not when you couldn’t even head to the store by yourself.

Steve notices the tears in your eyes and gives you a small, sympathetic smile. “Do you want me to get Natasha and Wanda?”

You nod again, not trusting yourself to speak as you hug yourself. Steve nods too, advising you to stay there and the moment he’s out of sight the tears begin to fall down your cheeks. You sniffle, turning towards the wall, not wanting anyone to see you. It feels like only seconds when suddenly a hand is on your shoulder, “Hey Sweetheart, you okay?”

It’s Wanda and you turn, burying your head in her shoulder and wrapping your arms around her torso. It’s the first time you’ve initiated such intimate contact and her arms immediately wrap back around you, rubbing her hand up and down your back. “It’s okay… Everything’s okay…”

“I feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, it’s just… Your brain not remembering well at the minute. It’s understandable after everything that happened.”

“I can’t do anything.”

“Yes you can, you’re doing great in training. And it’s not like you’re forgetting absolutely everything, you remembered how to make those cookies.”

You’d decided to attempt baking again yesterday, finding a basic cake recipe online, and you’d also made the cookies from memory just to see if you could. Natasha and Wanda had insisted they tasted even better than last time and it felt like your first real achievement since the accident. Even that suddenly made you feel childish – you’d gone from fighting alongside the Avengers to your only major achievement being making decent cookies.

“Please don’t get upset,” Wanda says, kissing your forehead. As soon as she does she feels bad, worried you’ll be uncomfortable but her kiss seems to help so she decides to risk kissing your cheek. “Do you want to watch a movie with me and Natasha? We could pick out something that you used to love again, to see if you still like it?”

They’d been doing that a fair bit and so far, you still loved all your old, forgotten favourites. The thought of finding another lost gem does cheer you up somewhat so you nod, taking Wanda’s hand as she leads you through to the living room. Natasha is already in there reading but she looks up when she hears you both, holding her arms out when she sees you’ve been crying, “Aw baby, what’s wrong?”

“I got lost again,” You sniffle, going over to sit next to her.

Natasha pulls you into her arms, looking down to make sure you’re okay with it. You’ve been initiating more contact with them recently as you warm back up to them, but she still always double checks. You snuggle into her arms and she smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I was thinking ‘Aquamarine,” Wanda says. “You told us you watched that as a kid.”

Wanda presses play then snuggles into your other side, both women cuddling you. As the movie plays there’s something about it that seems familiar. “I think I do remember watching this,” You mumble into Natasha’s chest.

“Yeah?” Natasha asks.

“I have a vague memory of sitting on the carpet. There was someone sat next to me. I don’t really remember but I just have this feeling if that makes sense.”

“It does,” Wanda says, her fingers running up and down your arm. “Hopefully it’s the start of you beginning to remember more and more.”

When Claire and Hailey jump in the water to swim after Aquamarine, both women notice that you start to cry again. “Are you okay?” Natasha asks.

You nod, quickly wiping a tear on your cheek, “Yeah, it’s just… It’s like us.”

Wanda laughs, “Yeah, I guess it is like us. We’d both jump into the ocean to save you.”

“I’m like Aqua. You two remember each other, you have so much shared history, and I’m the new one in the group.”

“You’re not new to us,” Natasha says. “You’re still our baby.”

“And… We do love you,” Wanda says. “Like Nat said, you’re still you, still the person we fell in love with.”

Your head lolls sleepily against Natasha’s shoulder and she gives your forehead a gentle kiss, “Shall we take you back to your room?”

You shake your head, “No, I wanna… I wanna go in your room tonight.”

Natasha and Wanda exchange a pleased glance. “Our room,” Wanda says. “It’s your room too, you can come back whenever you want.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Natasha asks. “We don’t want to rush you-”

“I want to stay in your bed,” You confirm. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“You’re never alone,” Wanda says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “We’ll always be here if you need us.”

Both of them walk you towards their bedroom, Wanda holding your hand and Natasha’s arm protectively around your shoulders. Rather than feeling like a lost child, you now feel… Loved. Wanted. Forgetting your memories has been painful but it’s comforting to know that everyone here in this building genuinely cares about you. Natasha and Wanda obviously but you’ve noticed it in everyone else too. Everyone’s patient with you in combat training, if they see you hesitating they immediately ask if they can help, and most importantly you’ve never noticed any inconsistencies in what they tell you. Everyone is truthful. You’d asked Tony if you liked pineapple and he’d hesitated before going to find Natasha and Wanda to check, rather than just making up an answer or guessing.

It’s the first time you’ve been into your real bedroom in weeks and the faint scent of Wanda’s perfume makes you feel a strange feeling of nostalgia. This room is definitely familiar to you even if you still don’t quite remember it. Seeing Natasha’s firearm sat on her bedside table also triggers a feeling of reminisce within you – Natasha sees you looking and misunderstands, tucking it into the drawer out of sight.

They both change into their sleep clothes, forgetting that you’re probably self-conscious about getting naked in front of them. You turn away, shyly changing into your own pyjamas, a spare pair that had been left in here when you’d moved some of your stuff into the spare room. “You used to like sleeping in the middle,” Natasha says. “If you want to sleep on the end though or… You know, whatever you feel comfortable with. It’s entirely up to you.”

“I want to sleep in the middle,” You say, thinking that that does sound familiar. Their warm bodies next to you, Natasha’s soft snores mixed with Wanda’s slow breaths. The memory is faded; more of a feeling than an actual memory but it’s there somewhere.

As you climb in between them, their arms automatically wrap around you, both of them having missed you in their bed. They know that they should take it slow, give you time to adjust, but they can’t help both pressing loving kisses to your face. They don’t know if you’ll want to share their bed again tomorrow night or if tonight you’re just feeling particularly vulnerable, so they intend to make the most of every second.

“You were right.”

Natasha meets your gaze as you mumble those words, giving you a small smile, “About what?”

“I fell in love with you both all over again.”

Their eyes immediately soften, Wanda’s eyes watering as she kisses your cheek whilst Natasha kisses your forehead. “We love you so much,” Natasha says. “In this lifetime and every other.”

When you open the door you find that you’re not surprised to see Kate. Even the fact she’s bloody and bruised doesn’t really shock you. It almost shocks you that you’re not shocked, but you’d come to expect this from Kate. Although you’d known she was the (better) Hawkeye, she was still insisting on keeping you separate from her superhero work. She didn’t want you to get dragged into her mess. Yet here she was.

“Sorry,” She mumbles, sounding exhausted. “Pretty sure someone’s watching my apartment. Didn’t know where else to go.”

Kate stumbles into your apartment, followed by Lucky. When Kate flops down onto your couch, Lucky jumps up next to her. Kate tries to push him off but you shake your head, “It’s fine, let him.”

“I know your lease doesn’t allow pets-”

“Lucky’s not a pet, he’s family. He can sit on the couch.” You sit down next to Kate, watching the way she leans back against your couch, tilting her head back and letting out an exhausted groan. “Do I have to worry that anyone followed you here?”

“I was careful. I wouldn’t lead anyone here, I swear. I just need somewhere to spend the night. Today’s been… A lot.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Kate says, opening her eyes to meet your gaze. She sees the look on your face and she sighs, “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just don’t-”

“Want me to get dragged into your mess. You told me.”

“-Want to think about it right now,” Kate finishes. “I’d rather just focus on being with you.”

“I think all you need to focus on right now is sleeping,” You say. “You look exhausted.”

“I am but when was the last time we saw each other? I’ve been the world’s worst girlfriend recently. Fuck, it’s not fair to you.” Kate scrubs a hand over her face, smiling when Lucky reaches over to lick her cheek. “I will take you on vacation, I swear.”

“You’ve been saying that for weeks,” You tease lightly. “I’m sure ‘vacation’ is just a buzz word for you now. It’s lost all meaning.”

Kate can’t tell if you’re angry or not, and she reaches out to take your hand, “Where do you wanna go? Seriously, I’ll take you anywhere.”

“I’ve heard that before, baby. I said Paris last time. I said Cambodia the time before that.”

“God, yes you did,” Kate says, squeezing her eyes closed again as if she’s in pain. “And I promised we’d go to Cambodia then I promised we’d go to Paris and we didn’t even go as far as ‘Bad Pizza’.” Lucky barks at the mention of pizza and Kate quickly shushes him, worried your neighbours will rat you out.

“I get it Kate, don’t worry.”

“No, don’t say that, it makes me feel even worse.” Kate looks at you, feeling terrible when she sees the patient expression on your face. It’s late, you’re in your pyjamas – maybe she got you out of bed for her bullshit. “You deserve better.”

“Don’t start saying that shit. I’m dating an Avenger; I literally have the best girlfriend ever. You’re busy a lot of the time, it’s fine, I get it.”

“You’re being too nice, stop it.”

“Okay uh… You’re a bitch?”

Kate raises her eye-brows, “That’s where you jumped to?”

“You told me to be mean!”

“Well, no, I said stop being so nice. You could get annoyed about our lack of vacation or my lack of emotional availability but you just jumped straight to bitch.”

You nudge her shoulder, before reaching over to scratch behind Lucky’s ears as he pants happily, “I’m only dating you for this guy so it’s totally fine.”

“I knew it. I knew I had no rizz, it’s all the dog.”

You smile, gently cupping her cheek with your hand, frowning when she winces. Your fingers run gently over the bruises and cuts on her face – you’d almost forgotten what she looked like without a bruised face, as soon as they recover, new ones appear from whatever battle she’s most recently gotten caught up in. “Do you want some Tylenol?”

Kate hesitates for a moment before nodding, “Yeah please.”

You head into the bathroom, fetching the bottle from your cabinet. Kate leans back on the couch again, her hand running carefully along her ribs, trying to assess the damage without looking. They hurt but she doesn’t think they’re bruised or broken – she’s had a broken rib before and it was a pain having to rest until it had healed. It had taken forever to get back into her usual routine. When you return with the bottle, Kate dry swallows two pills and then nuzzles into your side when you sit back down next to her. “Will you hold me?”

“You’re feeling sentimental,” You comment, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, being careful not aggravate her injuries.

“I missed you,” Kate mumbles into your shoulder. “We’re going on that vacation.”

“No, we’re not,” You tease. “There will always be something that requires your attention.”

“Y/N-”

“It’s a good thing Katie, I love that about you. You went through so much shit and you managed to become this… Absolute badass who always runs towards danger if you think it’ll help someone. You could’ve so easily become bitter and angry but you didn’t. I don’t know how you do it.”

Kate thinks about it for a moment. There are only a handful of people who are allowed to call her Katie – Clint, America, and you. She’s only known you for a year but you’re quickly becoming the most important person in her life. Your reassurances don’t help though – she feels guilty for only turning up for the first time in three weeks because she needed somewhere to sleep that wasn’t her apartment. When had she even seen you before that? It had been your suggestion; you’d gone for a walk with her through central park with Lucky. You’d asked Kate if she minded going back to central park and she’d said she didn’t care, not mentioning that she still has nightmares about that day when she’d been fourteen years old.

Kate pulls her phone out of her pocket, “Paris or Cambodia?”

“What?”

“Which one? Seriously, I’m booking the flights right now.”

“Kate, you don’t have to-”

“Cambodia would be fun, didn’t they like film Tomb Raider there? Or the games were like inspired by Cambodia or something? Remember we played that?”

“Yeah-”

“We’re going to live out our Tomb Raider dreams in Cambodia and it’s going to be the best vacation we’ve ever had. Next month? Do you think you’ll be able to get the time off work?”

“I- Yeah, probably-”

“I’m booking them then. No expense spared, I’ll book us first class- Oh shit, no I won’t, that’s ridiculous. We’ll have to connect in Singapore- Fuck it, let’s spend a few days there too.”

“Katie, you don’t have to book this just to make me feel better-”

“Honestly, it’s more to make me feel better. And besides,” She turns to look up at you, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “I want to spend a few weeks with my favourite girl. There can’t be any kind of Avengers emergency in Cambodia. We can just spend all day exploring or sitting by a pool or… Whatever we want.”

“I’m not so sure about that. Trouble is your middle name.”

Kate presses checkout on the flights before tucking her phone back into her pocket, vowing to sort the rest out in the morning. Her arm wraps around your waist as she nuzzles into you again, Lucky curling up by her feet. “It's booked, no backing out now. Can we just… Cuddle here for a bit?”

You kiss the top of her head, “Of course we can.”