angst way or the high way

“Who are you looking for?” a voice drawls behind her.

Natasha jumps before she can stop herself and turns to look over her shoulder.

Maria Hill stands there, arms folded and expression carved with amused curiosity.

Natasha straightens at once, face smoothing into a practiced calm. 

“Just assessing the agents you brought with you,” she says coolly, crossing her arms.

Maria’s brow arches. 

“Mm. And your assessment requires hiding behind a wall?”

Natasha goes to defend herself when the sound of approaching footsteps makes her glance over Maria’s shoulder. She then turns to the wall and lifts a hand to shield her face, staring at the metal plating as if suddenly deeply fascinated by the wall’s infrastructure.

The footsteps pass by without stopping. 

Natasha slowly lowers her hand and sighs softly in relief when she sees that it wasn’t anyone familiar.

Maria watches this entire display with open delight.

“Ah,” Maria hums. “So. Who are we avoiding?”

“No one,” Natasha snaps defensively.

Maria raises a brow, giving her a pointed look at her response. 

Not wanting to explain herself, Natasha turns to leave, eager to put this whole situation behind her—only to collide with a figure rounding the same corner at the same time.

Her hands act on reflex, steadying you with a firm, sure grip. Only to jolt back the second her brain catches up with her body. She drops her hold on you like she’s been burned, fingers hovering inches from your sleeves. 

Your eyes, also wide and startled, lock with hers, recognition flashing across your face before anything else. Then, just as quickly, something colder settles in.

You step back, composing yourself.

“Hey,” Natasha breathes softly, almost tentative in her tone, like a request for a peace offering disguised as a greeting.

You look at her for a lingering second before dismissing her just as quickly. You turn to Maria instead, voice steady and professional.

“I have the reports you asked for, Commander.”

Maria’s lips curl into a grin she doesn’t bother to hide. She takes the tablet from you, glancing pointedly between the two of you.

“Well, hello, ‘no one,’” she says under her breath to Natasha in a singsong tone.

Natasha stiffens before throwing a warning glare at the other woman, but Maria just chuckles in response before gesturing for you to follow her to the conference room.

You walk away without another glance at her.

The rejection lands sharply in Natasha’s chest, but she doesn’t chase it. She watches instead as the door closes behind you, cutting her out.

Natasha shifts her weight, gaze drawn to the narrow pane of glass alongside the door. Inside, you stand across from Maria, already focused on the briefing. As if sensing her, your eyes lift and meet hers through the glass.

No surprise this time.

Only cold acknowledgment.

Then in one smooth motion, you reach up and slide the privacy screen down, shutting her out completely.

A quiet exhale slips past Natasha’s lips. She looks away, jaw flexing once.

You deserve that, she tells herself. You’re the one who disappeared.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The hum of quiet conversation dwindles as Steve steps forward, tapping the screen behind him to display the layout of a distant Hydra compound. Lights dim. The atmosphere shifts into focus. Everyone directs their attention toward the front.

Everyone but Natasha.

Despite her best efforts, her gaze keeps drifting to the other side of the long conference table to where you are. 

You sit upright, attention locked on Steve, eyes deliberately avoiding the left side of the room where she is. 

Even from here, Natasha can see the tension in your shoulders, the way your jaw tightens every time Steve mentions the two teams working together.

A low, quiet sigh escapes her before she can stop it. Then a nudge at her elbow draws her attention.

Maria leans slightly toward her, voice pitched just low enough to blend into the shuffling of papers and muted voices around them.

“So,” Maria says, sounding almost casual, but Natasha catches the glint of mischief in her eyes. “Want to tell me what all that was earlier?”

Natasha’s brows pull together. She crosses her arms, posture defensive. 

“Not particularly, no.”

Maria huffs in amusement. 

“I don’t think you have a choice here,” she says.

Natasha scoffs and shakes her head lightly in disbelief.

“And why’s that?” 

Maria holds up a finger. 

“One: she’s one of my agents. And I need to know if there’s going to be any problem here.” A second finger. “Two: she had you—Natasha Romanoff—hiding behind walls.” A third finger. “And three: I promised Fury I’d mess with you at least once while we’re here since he can’t anymore. Something about tradition.”

Natasha slowly turns her head to stare at Maria with an unimpressed look.

Maria only smiles.

Natasha exhales sharply through her nose and glances back toward you, only to find your eyes already on her. The contact is brief and immediately electric. 

However, your expression hardens on instinct, gaze sharpening into a glare before you turn away, chin lifting slightly in silent dismissal.

The reaction is expected. But that doesn’t make it sting any less.

You used to smile when you looked at me.

That thought makes Natasha lower her eyes to the table, fingers worrying the corner of the mission dossier. She can’t seem to keep them still.

“We…uh…” she murmurs under her breath.

Maria tilts her head, listening patiently.

Natasha’s lips press together. There isn’t a word that feels right. Dating was too small a label. Together too uncertain. Neither of you ever defined what it was.

But the outcome is the same, regardless of the label you two refused to give.

“I don’t know,” she finishes quietly, almost to herself.

Before Maria can respond, Steve’s voice cuts back through the room.

“Alright,” he says firmly, clicking the remote to shift the slide. “We’ll be working in joint units with SHIELD on this one.” He nods toward Maria. “Commander Hill will give assignments.”

Maria stands and moves to the front, clipboard in hand. 

Natasha forces herself to sit up straighter, though she can feel dread coiling low in her stomach, a premonition she can’t quite shake.

Names are read. Agents are paired.

She barely registers them until she hears yours.

“Agent Y/l/n,” Maria announces, “you’ll be with Romanoff.”

Stunned silence hits Natasha like a physical force.

Across the table, you stiffen. Your chair scrapes softly as you sit up, eyes snapping toward Maria in immediate protest. Your hand starts to rise, ready to argue, refuse, do anything to prevent this.

But Maria has already moved on.

You slowly lower your hand, fingers curling into a fist on your lap. Then your head turns, not toward Maria, but snapping directly toward Natasha.

The glare you level at her is sharp enough to make her wince.

Behind the raised clipboard, Maria flashes Natasha a discreet thumbs-up.

Natasha groans internally.

It’s not fair. This isn’t even her fault.

But as she risks one more glance at you and sees the fury, the betrayal, and the pain you don’t bother hiding, Natasha knows that whether it’s her fault or not doesn’t matter.

Because she’s the one who ran away first.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Snow crunches beneath Natasha’s boots with each step, the air growing colder with the silence stretching between you. Frost clings to the dark branches above, and the pale moonlight breaks in fractured beams across your shoulders as you lead the way. The only sound is your steady breathing—measured, controlled,…and entirely devoid of any acknowledgment of her presence.

Your avoidance becomes obviously deliberate to her. 

Every time Natasha speeds up, you quicken your pace. Every time she slows, you pull further ahead. It’s not just silence. It’s punishment.

And she deserves it.

But you’re also the only other member of this infiltration team. If you don’t work together, the rest of the Avengers won’t even make it past the perimeter of the Hydra base.

Natasha takes a slow breath, watching it cloud the air before deciding this has gone on long enough.

“We need to work together on this,” she says quietly, matching your pace again. “You can’t avoid talking to me forever.”

You stop so suddenly that she almost walks right into you. Muscle memory kicks in as her hands lift instinctively, hovering inches from your back, her body swaying as she catches herself before making contact. Natasha steps back quickly like she’s burned.

You pivot slowly, eyes sharp at her. Your gaze flicks to her raised hands, then back to her face, disbelief curling your lip.

“You’re one to talk, Natasha.” You jab a finger into her shoulder. “You ghosted me first.”

Natasha freezes, breath catching. She opens her mouth, a response forming, then failing. The truth stands between you like a wall she built with her own hands.

You huff a quiet, bitter laugh. 

“And of all the underhanded tactics…” You gesture vaguely, as if the entire mission briefing is still hovering over your head. “Now you’re forcing me to be with you on this mission.”

Natasha’s jaw tightens. Hands slowly lower to her sides, fingers flexing once before curling into loose fists.

“Hey, this was not my fault,” she says, frowning. “I had nothing to do with this. If it were my choice, I wouldn’t have chosen you—”

You scoff in disbelief, cutting her off and turning your back to her.

“Right. Great talk.”

Realizing how her words landed, Natasha reacts on instinct. She steps forward quickly, boots crunching through the snow as she moves to intercept your path.

The cold air stings her lungs, but not nearly as much as the panic rising in her chest. She lifts her hands to stop you—not yet touching—her fingers splayed in midair as though even the ghost of contact might shatter whatever fragile boundary still exists between you.

“Wait,” she says, voice softer now, no longer the practiced calm of the legendary Black Widow. There’s something raw in it. Something unarmored. “I didn’t mean—”

Her throat works as she swallows, eyes tracing over your features like she’s memorizing them all over again. A flicker of vulnerability slips through her usually unreadable gaze.

“I just meant I wouldn’t have made you put up with me. Again. Given our…history.”

The word falls hesitantly into the space between you. A quiet, unspoken acknowledgment of everything you two used to be. Everything she walked away from.

You stare at her in silence, expression unreadable. Then your gaze lowers to her hands. Suspended between you. A breath away from your jacket sleeve. So close. Trembling.

Natasha tries to hide it, curling her fingers back into her palms, but you already saw. 

When you finally speak, your voice is gentle. Soft and devastating.

“What history?”

Natasha’s breath hitches. No enemy’s ever thrown her off the way you do with just two words.

“Last I remember,” you continue, taking a step toward her as if challenging her to deny your words, “You said it was nothing.”

Natasha flinches, not outwardly, but she still feels it like ice through her bloodstream. A familiar shame crawls up her spine, the same shame she felt the moment she said those words to you. Words she didn’t mean. Words she used as armor. Words that did exactly what they were designed to do—create distance.

Except now she has to live in that distance.

Natasha’s gaze falls to the ground as you walk past her, your shoulder brushing so close she can feel the warmth radiating from you in the freezing air. Your footsteps pause beside her. 

And when you speak again, your voice is quiet. Barely more than a whisper. But it carries more impact than a shouted accusation.

“Stop acting like it ever meant anything to you, Natasha.”

You continue walking without looking back.

You don’t see the way Natasha stops moving entirely, her lungs forgetting how to draw breath. Her eyes fall closed, lashes trembling. A faint gasp escapes her, not from physical exertion but from the emotional blow she didn’t even try to dodge.

Because the truth is—

It was something to her.

It still is.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

taglist: @krazyyoung @hjjc23 @putellasgirl @x-ani @l4c1f3r @ihavenolife1234 @liverpoolfan96 @natalia-alianovna-romanova84 @charlotteonpoint @vlt503 @mywomankatarina @ravenfcb @ainsley9967 @jenny0818 @fluffykitten11 @coxlong @ainoha @oohtobeagooner @justareader7 @sannyone @littlelvmb @sevenbasquiat @hella-hecka-gay @yamaris-reputation

@yellowbaseballglove @tayrausi @wlwfandomfics @joyfulthingsandwich @buzzinrusso @kenslm @aliesia @crybabysbakery @miaereen @goodloe-e @gabi-16 @wosolipa @priyajoy @rnm17 @actua11yromantic @alexialareina @96tidal @lallaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @tahastilinski @bears-05 @sasatata @lay1212 @culiculer @newyork1215 @summertime1a1 @ppppolarrrr @pb1fan @ktrout7 @steffi-209 @pickle14 @blamekris

ᱬ

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1: Bet

Chapter 2: Friendless

Chapter 3: Friends With Benefits

Chapter 4: Side Quests

Chapter 5: Broken Heart

Chapter 6: How Much Are You?

Chapter 8: Nocturnal, Secretive

Chapter 9: Sleep Well, My Darling

taglist: @krazyyoung @hjjc23 @putellasgirl @x-ani @l4c1f3r @ihavenolife1234 @liverpoolfan96 @natalia-alianovna-romanova84 @charlotteonpoint @vlt503 @mywomankatarina @ravenfcb @ainsley9967 @jenny0818 @fluffykitten11 @coxlong @ainoha @oohtobeagooner @justareader7 @sannyone @littlelvmb @sevenbasquiat @hella-hecka-gay @yamaris-reputation

@yellowbaseballglove @tayrausi @wlwfandomfics @joyfulthingsandwich @buzzinrusso @kenslm @aliesia @crybabysbakery @miaereen @goodloe-e @gabi-16 @wosolipa @priyajoy @rnm17 @actua11yromantic @alexialareina @96tidal @lallaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @tahastilinski @bears-05 @sasatata @lay1212 @culiculer @newyork1215 @summertime1a1 @ppppolarrrr @pb1fan @ktrout7 @steffi-209 @pickle14 @blamekris

I can't thank @muffinpink02 enough for their help with this. Seriously. This fic wouldn't be on paper without her. For over a year she's read and reread this I don't know how she has the patience.

And I would have probably had a mental health crisis without the therapy sessions she's delivered at 2am.

Also, more for you. Thank her for the smattering of smut in this because the thing would be a 12a rating if it was up to me alone. She's a real one ✌️

As ever, here's the song the fic is based on. And yes. The Mamma Mia version. The only correct version.

I'm sorry for taking so long with this, but I assure you the next 2 parts are written and scheduled to be posted so there will be no 18 month wait! (this time) also, the other parts need to be read for this part - it wont make much sense otherwise.

Alexia had always wanted kids.

If you’d asked her even before she realised she wanted to be a professional footballer, or had any chance to think of what she wanted her life to look like.

She knew she’d wanted kids.

When she realised that she was gay, it had never entered her head that her future wouldn’t involve her having children. Not even a barrier to overcome.

Her childhood with Alba. All of her tios and tias. Having 4 houses in town to call her own and wander into, whenever she wanted. Door always unlocked. Finding a cousin in the square to kick a football around with without having to arrange beforehand. Huge family dinners that lasted hours.

That's what she wanted for her kids.

A big family.

Full of love.

And food.

Loud and chaotic.

When she met you, she didn’t realise it, but that dream changed.

It was a difficult enough change for you to be settled into Barcelona from your nomad life. She knew you’d given up a lot to be with her. For gods sake you’d literally broken up for over a year because Mapi had made a comment about you being wifed up.

There was nothing more cementing in life than kids.

So yeah, the dream had changed. When she met you. Her heart literally left her chest and attached itself to you. It was dangerous, having her heart wandering up and down mountains, outside of her body and unable to be protected.

And it scared her.

She thought she was actually going to die the day that your mum told her you’d gone missing on Everest.

She couldn't explain in words how much she loved you. You stole the breath from her lungs with a simple look.

Her knees weakened watching you stir your tea in your pajamas on a Sunday morning, all soft and sleepy.

Your easy nature and thoughtfulness powered her to be a better person.

Your humour made her sides hurt with laughter. Your kindness was quiet, unassuming and ever present, she thought it was the stuff people used to write poems about.

So no. Her dream changed. You never mentioned wanting kids. And all she wanted was you.

So it was simple.

She would be the cool gay Tia. Though. In her family, there were only gay Tias. A whole team of them in fact.

She was fine with that. She really really was. But then she’d started to notice how you’d gaze adoringly at kids in the supermarket, how you’d look after your faux nieces and nephews in Mario's kids - taking a moment to press a kiss to their heads or double knot their laces before taking them to the park.

How you’d facetime your own nieces and nephews religiously, pulling faces to make them laugh from miles away.

She let herself hope, then.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

You’d started to drop hints, but she didn’t want to scare you off. You started to discuss ideas for the future, flippant comments made about growing into your home.

But she never let herself hope too much.

She was a professional footballer, and you still worked in the mountains.

It wasn’t a realistic goal at that time, so there was no point in worrying about it.

It was when she'd noticed your postcards on the fridge. The 7 postcards you had sent her, well 6 sent and 1 hand delivered. They'd been the staple of your Barcelona apartment and now your rural home. 

But now, she noticed, 3 of them were covered, by a paper crinkled and covered in a messy splodge of paint, magnets holding it up crookedly, she couldn’t even guess what it was supposed to represent.

Just as she reached a hand out to straighten it when you’d bumbled into the room, arms full of shopping.

“Ey, Love, there you are! Come help, muscles.” you’d teased as she relieved your arms full of groceries and started to help pack them away. She nodded her head over to the fridge,

“Amor, qué es eso” “Huh?” you’d glanced over,

“Oh, I was painting with Mario and the kids today, and Bruno made it for me! Isn’t it great! It's me and you! He’s like Banksy!” you’d replied, so enthusiastically it made her heart melt, and she couldn’t do anything but smile and agree, even if she couldn’t decipher any image from the mess on the fridge.

She pressed a deep kiss into your lips, breathing you in as she closed her eyes.

You got lost in the kiss, trying but failing to pull away as Alexia deepens it, pushing you against the counter and slipping her tongue into your mouth. As she finally pulled away you took a second, dazed,

“What was that for?” you’d asked, breathlessly. 

“Because I love you.” was the only reply she could think of giving.  

Charming smile delivered as standard. Not wanting to blurt out, ‘love of my life, think! That could be our kids' art on the fridge!’.  

She knew you needed to come to her. You needed to make that decision for yourself. She knew what you wanted before you did.

But she didn’t want to push you.

She knew though, deep down, that covering those postcards meant something more.

When you’d asked her if she was ready. Somewhat out of the blue that night in bed. She was taken aback, as though her body wasn’t ready for how full of love it was.

It was the easiest yes of her life. And as she held you, later that night. After you’d both tried to defy science and make your own babies. She couldn’t believe all of her dreams had come true.

Alexia wasn’t a religious woman.

Not particularly, she’d gone to church as a child, but soon fell out of that after her papi had passed. She didn’t know what she believed in really, but that night, with you in her arms gentle breaths hitting her neck as you slept, she found herself closing her eyes and praying. She didn’t ask for anything, no. She found herself saying thank you.

To whatever was up there. Thank You. For this perfect life, with everything she could have ever dreamt of and more.

But now.

At this moment.

Months later.

She pinpoints that moment as the moment things started to fall apart.

All she could do was ask, why?

As she held your trembling body tightly against hers, in the darkness of the room, the sounds of your sobs breaking her heart into a million pieces, as she rocked you and tried to settle you. Every now and again mumbling through your tears, mindless mumblings of despair, questioning what you’d done wrong to deserve this. 

Her strong wife.

Her strong English wife who never let herself cry.

Who always had the answer.

Who was always the protector.

Destroyed in her arms.

A shadow of the woman she knew you to be.

She found herself closing her eyes again, her own tears leaking out, and speaking to God again. But this time, Why? she thought.

Willing anything for an answer.

Anything.

Anything to soothe your pain. 

What have we done wrong? Why would you do this to us? She doesn’t deserve this, Why, Why, Why?

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had all started to change, months ago.

You knew Alexia was a planner.

You were both the same that way, but she took it beyond. She lived on a rigid schedule, meals planned, hours planned, training sessions planned, she had to, that's why she was La Reina.

Her life had been carefully planned since she was 6. It was a schedule of success.

You planned too. You had to. Fail to prepare, prepare to fail and all that. But you were a bit more fast and loose with your schedule. You may decide at the last minute to wander into the wilderness, but you would always have the right kit.

When Alexia sat you down, the same week after Man V Woman aired, after your midnight confession of wanting to start thinking about children, your wife's organisation shocked even yourself.

You’d come home from teaching a night class about fire starting, expecting a quiet house with Ale watching a replay of her latest UWCL game as standard.

And yes, you were met with a quiet house, but instead of the glow of the TV you expected and your Spaniard muttering to herself, you found a projector set up, a whiteboard with some sort of timetable worked out, and… yes.

Your Spaniard muttering to herself.

Pacing.

You dropped your bag to the kitchen floor (she hated that. That's why you did it) and knew she was lost in her head when she turned but did not scold you.

“Hola, Love… what’s all…” you vaguely gestured towards her complicated set-up.. “This?”

“¡Amor, estás en casa! Bien!” she’d bound over to you and man-handled you onto the couch, moving to stand in front of you like you were back in school and she was a teacher.

“This is our plan!” she presented to you, proudly. “Our plan?” “Si, Si, mirar…” she clicked a remote that she apparently had hidden in the waistband of her joggers, the projector came alive and the room was bathed in the white glow of the screen, you looked up and saw…

‘Project Putellas 2.0’

Plastered across the screen in the most basic clipart word 1992 had ever made, your wife not giving Bill Gates a run for his money.

“...Putellas 2.0” you read aloud to yourself as Alexia nodded eagerly, eyes not straying from your face, you turned your attention to her, “What was the first project Putellas?”

“That was you! Obviously.”

“Obviously.” you deadpan.

“Yep! Mapi helped me with that one when I was planning on asking you to marry me. She showed me how to add a pie chart! Look!”

“You had a powerpoint for our engagement?” you asked, amusedly, as she clicks through her adorable slideshow, nodding at your question, you can’t help but continue “Did your powerpoint include the bit where you were so nervous you dropped the ring into the lake and then cried when I jumped in and found it?

“Shut up, I cried ‘cause I was happy and you were naked.”

“I didn’t pack a swimsuit! But, of course. tonta yo…. Oh! Picky bits!” your attention was grabbed by the coffee table which you just noticed Alexia had set out small bowls of food, as you realised you hadn’t eaten anything yet for dinner. “My favourite!”

“You know I hate it when you call it that. It’s Tapas!” you rolled your eyes at her as you stuffed some olives into your mouth “you pick at it though”, you’d grumbled through a mouthful, ignored by your wife,

“I thought we could go through my proposals and I knew you’d come back silly and hungry. Fire does that to you.” she added, affectionately.

But something she’d said slightly dampened your silly mood.

“Proposals? Ale, this isn’t a business decision….”

“No, No, I know but… Mi Amor there is so much to plan. Look…” she started to click through her presentations, shuffling next to you on the couch, 

“I have plotted both of our periods so we know when we're…you know… good to go, this is a list of donation services we could use, and look, this page is about all the different reproductive clinics in our area, and these are the clinics in England near your mamas, I know you get weird about Spanish hospitals… 

I have your schedule here and you’re booked up for the next 12 months but i’ve highlighted in red what Mario could do without you, maybe we should get that apprentice you’ve been considering, they could help him....and this is my schedule, obviously I’ll miss a large portion of a year, maybe 18 months, but If we decide i’ll carry then it would be best if I was inseminated in June because then it would coincide with summer breaks and my return could be the following year…”

You tried your best to not be overwhelmed by the information you were presented with, lists, bullet points, pie charts, google reviews, there was even a page dedicated to car seats. But it all got the better of you…

“Ale, Ale, Ale,” you interrupted her rambling about the best fertility doctors in Catalonia… “stop.”

She looked at you, wide eyed, cheeks slightly flushed and hand still raised with the remote to the projector. “Si?”

“Ale. Do you want a baby with me?” you asked, simply.

“Que? Of course I do!” she looked affronted at being asked the question.

“Okay, good. Me too.” You'd pressed a quick kiss to her lips at that, a small win. 

“Do you want the donor to be a stranger or someone we know?”

Her response came quickly, somewhat shyly…  “a stranger. I don't want anyone else involved, this is our baby.”

“Good. I agree.” another quick kiss. 

“And you do want to carry that baby or do you want me to?” That was a bigger question, and she hesitated.

“Amor, it is not that simp…”

“It is that simple. What do you want?”

“I honestly don’t…” you knew your wife. and you knew what her heart wanted, she just didn’t want to admit it. She would perceive it as selfish. Which you knew it wasn't.

“Ok, I’ll go then. Ale. Can I carry our baby, please?” you’d interrupted, as she looked at you with her mouth gaping open, you choose to continue to give her a moment to process, 

“You have a time-limited career, Ale. I don’t want you to miss any of it. No more than you've already had to. Not for something that I can provide. The outdoors will always be there for me, I’ll be walking around til I’m 99.” she still sits still next to you, eyes giving nothing away, “

That's the practical. And on the less practical side... Ale. I want this. I want to do the most natural thing a woman can do, what type of explorer am I if I don’t explore this! And… I want to have your baby growing inside me. I want to feel baby Putellas kick me in the night, I want to make you go for ice cream for me at 4 am, I want to hold your hand while I'm in labour, and I know how supportive you’ll be I just… I want that…” you’d finished, you don’t need a slideshow to make a convincing argument.

Her eyes became glossy now, “You’d do that for me?” she croaked out, voice betraying her…

“No” you replied, “I’d do that for us.”

And that's when your weepy wife broke down in tears, throwing herself into your chest as she cried tears of joy.

“Amor, I really really want that too… I do. I want to see you pregnant with mi bebe, I want to look after you, after you both, to do it all… I just… I do not want you to feel like you have to, because of my job. I can take time, I can. But now you say that you want to... i just… thank you, gracias, gracias...”

“Listen. You do not need to be thankful. Ever. Ok? This is our family. Si?” she nodded and pulled herself from your embrace, but not moving very far, “Now. We’re going to eat these lovely picky bits you’ve made us,” you ignored the pinch to your side with a laugh,

“and I’m going to drink 2 bottles of wine while I still can... and we’re going to go through your slideshow, and then we’re going to try to make this baby…”

“Amor, I don’t think we’ll be able to tonight, it’s late, I will ring as soon as they open and make us appointments first thing though… Oh.” she blushed at your arched eyebrow as she realised what you meant, before she shook it off and pulled you to straddle her lap.

Your wife was easier to turn on than a light switch, and an eyebrow raise was often all she needed, even if her eyes were still puffy from crying.

“I think that sounds like a fantastic plan, Amor.” her large hands reached around your back and moved to settle on your bum, stroking the skin at your waist as she went, sending shivers up your spine as you leaned in to connect your lips,

“One problem though” she whispered, and you felt her breath on your mouth as you moved to kiss her,

“I think your plan may be backwards. Baby making first.”

Your eyes shot open as instead of the feeling of warm, pillowy lips you expected to be met with, you were suddenly mid air, your amazonian wife standing, your legs automatically wrapping around her as you squealed and she walked you towards the stairs.

“Ale, Mi Vino!” and after a quick detour to the kitchen, with you still in her arms, now armed with a bottle of red…

“Let’s go make a baby, bonita.”

------------------------------------------------------

You’d started straight away.

Alexia really had done a fantastic job with her research.

God, you loved your perfectionist wife. 

You’d attended the top-rated fertility clinic in Barcelona not two days later.

The cosy office-like building shocked you.

“What did you expect, Amor?” your wife had laughed at you as you started at some goldfish floating happily in the large fish-take in the waiting room. “I don’t know… more… sterile… more, masked doctors?” you’d shrugged in return, though she should have been used to your fear of foreign hospitals, that didn’t stop her eye roll as she concentrated her attention back into the booklet she had been pouring over.

You felt okay here though.

It felt more like a teachers office than a medical waiting area.

So you watched the goldfish quite contentedly, floating around without a care in the world. Alexia's hand firmly on your thigh as she read the 1000th piece of literature she’d found in the last week. Seemingly deciding to start preparing for your family the same way she would the champions league final.

“It’ll be fine, Amor.” your wife reassured, looking up at you, squeezing your thigh gently, eyes unable to hide their excited glint.

Dr Garcia was a kind woman. Younger than you expected. But with wise eyes and soft hands.

... Maybe you wouldn’t mention the hands thing to your wife.. Who looked stressed to death in her little stool next to where you lay in the reclining chair. Gripping your hand tightly.

Dr Garcia pulled your top back down after wiping up the cool gel on your stomach. Your stomach still felt sticky and you hated the way your shirt clung to the remnants of the substance.

“Venir, let’s sit where it’s more comfortable.” she’d gestured you both over to the other side of her modern office, a couple of couches and a coffee table, the type of environment that was versatile, good for sharing good news, delivering bad, and everything in between.

As you sank into the leather sofa, you laughed to yourself, yeah, this was definitely not the NHS.

You needed to ask your wife how much this was costing.

“So, señoras. Firstly, don’t look so worried…” she immediately took the tension out of the room with a gentle smile, and you felt your wife deflate next to you, hand easily slipping into yours and pulling it onto her lap.

“Mrs Putellas, everything looks fantastic. Really. You’re fit, young, honestly, absolutely no issues with your reproductive organs that I can see. You reported you have regular periods?” she asked you, directly, to which you nod and she notes that down, “I’ll send these bloods off but with your lifestyle and condition, I have no problems continuing with you being the carrier for this embryo.”

You’d noticed that she never said baby, maybe it was a medical thing, to detach yourself when things could go wrong. Everything was ‘embryo’, ‘egg’ and ‘donor fluid’.

“So… now we have that cleared up…” she took out some pamphlets, which you swore you’d already seen in Alexia's glove box this morning, “how would you two like to progress?”

She must have seen your confused face as she nodded at you to speak.

“Well is it not just… like a turkey baster situation?”

“Amor!” Alexia hissed at you, growing red at your turn of phrase. But Dr Garcia laughed her easy laugh, “Don’t worry Mrs Putellas I’ve heard it all before.” she turned her attention to you, “It can be. If that's what you like. I notice you have both indicated that you want an anonymous donor, we can sort that no problem. What you’re referring to is a Doctor Assisted Insemination. And absolutely we can do that.” you’d nodded, you’d read about that.

“The other opinion you have is IVF. Now usually I wouldn't recommend it. Mrs Putellas your eggs are viable and you shouldn’t have issues in becoming pregnant through insemination. The reason I mention it is because it is often a choice taken by same-sex couples.”

You looked over at your wife, and she had a look on her face that you recognised, a longing look, the same look she’d get at the beginning of your relationship when you would tell her you were set to leave again.

“Why do they choose that?” you’d asked, because you were pretty sure your wife already knew the answer and you wanted to be clued up.

“Because we are able to take the eggs from one partner, fertilize them here in a lab, and then transfer them to your womb to impregnate you.”

Now, you had never thought about having kids until you met your wife. And you were somewhat of a luddite, spending most of your time in nature, you could be accused of not keeping up to date with current affairs.

You knew science was amazing, you had seen reports back at home about people's journeys with IVF and the amount it cost.

But you didn’t know you could carry your wife's baby.

You felt it happen. Like you would a new challenge in the wild. That suddenly, your world tilted and this was about to become your focus. Your obsession. This is what you wanted.

“I want that one.” you’d stated, firmly. Looking directly at Dr Garcia as though willing her to tell you there was a barrier, even if she was the one to tell you this even existed in the first place.

When she simply smiled and nodded at you, you turned to your wife.

“Ale, I want to do that one. I can have your baby Alexia. Yours. Can we do that one?”

She had that lovesick look in her eyes, like you were saying everything right. But she was always more practical than you, and she turned to the Doctor.

“Dr Garcia, doesn’t that have more side effects for the person who is carrying?”

You knew it did, or else she wouldn’t have asked, and you promise, you did listen as the Dr explained the injections, the side effects, the risks.

But you didn’t care.

You could do this.

You could carry Alexia's baby.

“... the other thing to consider is the cost. IVF can be very expensive.” that caused you to pause. You had always had a weird relationship with money. Alexia was rich. No two ways about it. You did very well, especially since you were thrown into semi-fame after your TV appearance. But it paled in comparison to your wife's earnings.

You were married, you knew the money you had was shared with your wife. But you would never spend what you deemed as her money. She hated it. And it had caused more than one argument between the two of you.

“That isn’t a problem.” she assured, shutting the Doctor down before you could ask more. You let it go this time. Dr Garcia had a fantastic ability to read a room and took a moment's leave to sort something out at reception, an obvious ploy to give you a moment alone.

As soon as the door clicked closed behind her you turned to Alexia, trying to hide the desperate look on your face. “Ale, any baby that we have will be our baby. But I want to carry your egg. I want a mini you. A baby that is both of us.”

She took your face in her large hands, and pressed a kiss to your lips, “Amor… I want that so much.” there was a but coming, “but… there are risks. Risks for you. Not just physical but... mental. You are my priority. You know that, right?”, she was being deadly serious.

She knew you. And she knew that you had a habit of just ignoring problems. You respected mental health in others. You were aware. But she knew you didn't think it was ever anything that would affect you.

You nodded, your foreheads bumping at your close contact, “I do but Ale, I can do this. I really really want us to do this. Would it be possible with the season? They have to harvest your eggs don't they?” she scoffed at that, she’d made it abundantly clear over the last few days that she wouldn’t be letting football get in the way of your family.

And you’d clearly been listening more than she’d thought.

“That's not a problem, Amor. I would just have to tell the physio I was taking hormone injections so I don't get pulled up on a drug test,” she’d let a smile tease her lips, “... Are we really doing this?” she had a giddy smile and you could feel the excitement coursing through her veins.

“We are, we really, really are.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You think you would have hated Alexia in school.

If you’d met when you were teenagers, all angsty and moody.

You’re fairly certain you would have hated her.

She was one of those girls who was perfect. Did anything they put their mind to seemingly without effort. Would get an A on the pop quiz about a brand new subject. Just good at everything she did.

If Alexia couldn’t carry on being a footballer, she should be a professional egg farm.

Dr Garcia had told her so.

Ok so, no.

That’s maybe not what she’d said exactly, but that’s what you’d heard. And the way your goody-two-shoes wife practically peacocked out of Dr Garcia's office, that’s what she’d heard too.

Obviously, it's a good thing you met your wife after you’d shedded your judgey teenager hormones because as soon as you met you saw her as the beautiful, hardworking, relentless, strong woman that she was.

She’d done the daily injections like in the same manner a drill sergeant would. She’d googled all the right foods to eat and exercises to do. She was wonder woman, and you loved her.

Which is why you indulged her preening over her apparently perfect and numerous eggs which had been successfully harvested.

“Did you hear that bebe? An abnormally large harvest she’d called it? Did you hear?”

“I heard Amor. I am very proud of your egg production.”

Alexia had completely missed your teasing sarcasm, as she often did, and blushed with the compliment. 

“I’m proud of myself too.” she’d whispered into your knuckles as she brought them to her lips to drop a kiss there as she drove home.

Idiot.

It was your turn now, you had started to take hormone injections which would prepare your womb. And after you got the call from Dr Garcia to confirm that you had a large number of viable embryos, it was go time.

The insemination was quick, in and out the clinic within 15 minutes, slightly painful but mostly just unpleasant; “Just like if a man made you pregnant, Amor!” Ale had teased.

You wouldn’t know anything for a few weeks, and everything continued as normal. You attended Ales games, you worked day trips with Mario. But you couldn't help it that you found yourself cradling your stomach at times, wondering what was going on in there.

That question was answered just under two weeks later. When you woke up to a familiar, dull tugging behind your navel.

And your stomach dropped with disappointment.

When a trip to the bathroom confirmed your suspicions that you had started your period, you blamed your hormone injections for the tightness you felt in your throat.

You tried to ease yourself back into bed without disrupting your wife.

You did, you wanted her to have a restful night's sleep without feeling the disappointment you did, but she had a sixth sense and rolled into you as you lay down.

“Porque estas despierta mi amor?” she mumbled sleepily, before her sleep-addled brain caught up “espera, ¿estás bien cariño?” as she sat up, moving you into her arms.

“I’m okay Ale.” you muttered into the darkness of your bedroom,

“I just got my period.”

You felt her deflate underneath you, disappointment palpable, even if you couldn't see her face.

“That's okay, Amor. It’s okay.” her hands creating soothing circled on your bare arms.

“Dr Garcia said it is early, and it could take a few attempts. It's okay, Mi Amor. Wait here… I will get you some pills for your cramp…”

You knew she was right.

But it didn’t help to quell the suffocating disappointment you felt.

Weeks passed and you took more hormone injections, gels, and tablets.

They interrupted your menstrual rhythm and, in turn, put your hormones on a roller coaster ride.

Alexia was there every step of the way. Injecting your stomach when you couldn’t face it. Always leaving a kiss in the wake of the needle mark. Calling out of training when needed, thinking about what you’d need before you even knew yourself. Always with whispered plans for the future pressed into your skin. 

You felt the excitement bubble in your stomach as you imagined her as a Mami. She would be such a good Mami. Which you told her, regularly, to which her eyes would shine as she looked at you as though you placed the stars in the sky and replied ‘really amor? Do you think so?’ with childlike wonder. Like she didn't believe you could think so highly of her.

The thing about being on hormone replacement and menstrual suppressants for months means that your body will naturally change. 

Your body was getting ready to have a baby, you had stopped some of your more strenuous work with Mario, which has assisted in areas that used to be muscle, softening into soft curves and rounded edges.

Your thighs had softened, stomach had curved slightly, and your breasts swelled so much you hadn’t worn a wired bra in weeks.

You weren’t a vain woman. Not at all. But you have had a very active life. Your body wasn’t a source of pride for you, it was a tool that you needed to climb that peak, wade in that river, and cross that desert.

You knew your body would change, it was changing to suit its new requirements, you understood that, it didn’t take you by surprise.

What did take you by surprise, however, was Alexia's reaction to it.

Especially after she returned from 2 weeks with the Spanish National Team, video calls being the only contact you’d had in that time. And, you suppose, you had changed a lot in that time.

You found her hanging around in the bedroom when usually she would be catching up with a game in the living room, finding reasons to be in the bathroom when you went to shower, on one particularly obvious occasion, you caught her laying on your favorite sleep shirt and after watching you for 10 minutes looking for it, finally interrupting you by whining it was bedtime and to just sleep topless.

When you relented and snuggled into her embrace, Alexias hands settling on your hips, which had become her new favorite spot, you felt the fabric beneath her back.

“Ale, it’s here!” you’d cheered, trying to pull it from under her body with great difficulty. “Oh. Oh yes, there it is.” she yielded, grumpy look on her face which you couldn’t help but question.

“What's going on Putellas?” you’d asked with an arched eyebrow. “You’ve been being weird for days.”

“I have not!” she’d blushed beet red.

That was the thing, you knew your wife was ogling you, to be honest you were used to it.

There wasn’t a subtle bone in her body.

And you had a very active sex life, something that hadn’t diminished at all in your years together.

What was new was that every time you caught her looking, her eyes darted away, as though she’d been caught doing something illegal.

“You have, Mi Amor. You’ve been staring at me” you pressed, “Oh qué, ¿entonces ya no puedo mirar a mi esposa?” she responded in rapid spanish, which she often did when she was defensive.

“That's what is weird about it! Of course you can! Why are you looking at me like you shouldn’t be?”

Her face at this point was an impressive shade of lobster, and she covered it with her hands and groaned into them “Amooooor, bastante.”

“If you don’t tell me then I’m putting my shirt on.” you threatened, teasingly, moving your arms up to put on your shirt, which was quickly plucked out of your fingers and thrown across the room.

“no quiero que pienses que soy un asqueroso.” she’d mumbled, eyes down into her own chest.

You took a moment to translate her words, and confirmed to yourself that your wife was ridiculous.

“Ale, look at me please…Ale.” She looked up, firmly keeping her eyes on yours, not letting them drop to your bare chest which, in her defence, must have been difficult because you were sitting on your haunches, slightly raised above her.

“Alexia Putellas I could never, in my whole life, think you were a creep.” you’d assured her, to which she’d nodded, but still looked so adorably unsure, bottom lip pulled into her mouth as she chewed.

You knew your wife enough to know she could be prudish at times, she wouldn’t express herself about what you suspected was going on.

“My body has changed, Ale. I have noticed. You are my wife. Of course you can notice. You can look, baby. I am yours to look at.”

“I don’t want to… you know… make you feel objectified or anything…” she’d mumbled, eyes still stuck firmly on yours.

“Pero?” you’d prompted

“...pero… eres tan sexy”

The compliment made you preen, and you grasped her hands in yours and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

You deepened it, your tongue seeking permission as you felt the vibration of her groan through your connected lips.

“... so I gather that you don’t think it makes me a creepy kinky weirdo that I'm insanely turned on by you right now? Like, I was thinking about your thighs today and Mapi hit me in the face with a ball.” she confirmed, as you pulled away from your kiss, leaving her breathless.

“No. No I do not. It makes me feel sexy and wanted.”   

“Bien.” she moved in to take control of the kiss this time, the confident version of your wife returning. “Because you are sexy”... a kiss pressed to your lips…”and wanted”.

As your lips connected again you raised your joint hands and guided hers to cup your swollen, bare breasts. 

Nipples erect from the chill of the room, you felt the heat from her palms spread through your whole body, settling into your core. “Just be careful Ale, they’re more…tender… more sensitive than you're used to” you practically purred into her mouth, her ministrations already sending a current directly between your legs.

“Oh dios mio” your ridiculous wife groaned as she carefully massaged her two new favourite things before eagerly dipping her mouth to capture one of your perked nipples.

“Fuck.” You groaned as your hand automatically tangled in her blonde locks. 

Your core throbbed harder as her warm mouth consumed your sensitive flesh, gently tracing her tongue over your breast, before pulling away. 

She used her stupid, athlete strength to move you onto your back gently and sat back onto your thighs.

There was no shame this time, as she practically consumed your body with her eyes.

You honestly felt like the most beautiful woman in the world.

“See Ale. You can look.” You husked a little shakily now.

“Oh Amor, voy a hacer más que mirar.” She practically growled, wolfish grin on her face, cocky Alexia back in full force. 

And god.

She did more than look. 

Your breath hitched as her large hand began to snake down your body, gliding her fingers along your soft skin, leaving goosebumps in her path.

She stopped just below your belly button before giving you another gentle kiss. 

Then her fingers dipped lower. 

“Oh,” Her cocky smile widened when she felt just how quickly your body had reacted to her. “Already?”

Your eyes only slightly roll at her cockyness. “Yeah, well. Have you seen you– oh, my god!” 

Your words are caught in your throat as your wife easily presses one large finger inside of you.

Her own groan drowned out yours before she slid a second digit in.

She easily captures your mouth with her own, swallowing the whimper that escapes you. Her kisses are soft, just like the fingers inside you, there's no rush, no big show, just slow gentle thrust that makes you clench desperately around her. 

She gives you another gentle kiss before she starts to shift her body down your own, peppering soft kisses down your chest, over your stomach, then along your thighs before she presses a kiss on your wet lips, and slowly dips her tongue, parting you and capturing your swollen bud between her lips. 

You never did manage to put your sleep shirt on that night.

--------------------------------------------------

I'm Drowning

Miscommunication

ᱬ

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1: Bet

Chapter 2: I love you

Chapter 3: Friendless

Chapter 4: Friends with benefits?

For the last 8 months, your relationship has been changing in small ways; you're now overanalyzing. Where Wanda used to cook small romantic dinners for the two of you, now it's you trying your best attempt at cooking, with one dish always getting cold. Her touch has become distant. Kisses went from passionate to small pecks on the lips. Still, you can't help but feel an emptiness in your stomach just thinking about your current situation.

And you're now 4 days away from your second anniversary.

The intrusive thoughts again are replaying scenarios you don’t want to think about. For the past few months, every time Wanda mentions something related to Jarvis, you can’t help but feel a hole in your stomach, followed by a tingle sensation. Anxiety, your therapist called it once.

"I just can't help but feel neglected, Wanda. This is the third time you have canceled our date night because you lost track of time, just because Jarvis asked for your help."

"Are you serious right now, Y/N?" Wanda asked in a controlled tone, knowing well it wasn't.

"Yes," you say, trying really hard not to yell.

"He's my boss, we're close to the end of the month, and you well know if this upcoming revision goes well, I'm up for promotion."

"And I support you! I just don't understand why, if you're so good at your job, like I know you are, he can't review those things alone." At this point, you're more emotionally tired than physically. Work has been stressful for you as well, and there have been a lot of staff cuts at the agency.

"It doesn't seem like it. What are you gonna do if I get promoted and work demands more time from me?"

"Work or Jarvis?" The words come out of your mouth before you have time to process them.

"Are you for real?" from her tone, you know Wanda feels attacked. Any other time, you wouldn't have paid much attention to it, but it's the little defensive tone that catches your attention.

"Wanda, all I ask is that you don't forget you have a girlfriend." With no wish for more arguments, you leave her there and go to your bedroom, in hopes of hearing footsteps following. Wanda doesn't go after you.

The next day, she sent your favorite flowers and a note, saying she was sorry and you were right. She even told you she asked to leave early next Friday so she could spend it with you. You foolishly thought she remembered your anniversary.

The sound of Kate's ringtone brings you out of your mind. She has the special ability of sensing when your mood is going south, calling it her spidey-best-friend sense.

"Hot and horny line, how can I help you?" It has become a tradition for you to answer her calls with the most ridiculous business greetings.

"Hi, yes. I would require the services of… Y/L/N, stop it!! I can't do this. What would my favorite striper say if she knew I'm cheating?" Her infectious laugh is enough to improve your mood already.

"And we know you're no cheater." Noticing the hour, you realize it is past your lunch time. Since your boss is out of town, you close your laptop and grab your things, ready to head out.

"Exactly. Now, how come you haven't eaten lunch?" Has she actually been spying on you?

"How?" you can picture rolling her eyes.

"I didn't, I was just fishing, but you confirmed my suspicions. So… lunch? I'm close to your agency, had to get out of meetings."

"What about Hangry Hipster? I could use some of their fries."

"Deal. See you there in 10 or you're paying Jellybean."

And that's the thing about Kate you like the most. Your shoulders relax, and a smile plays at your lips after a conversation with her, not mater how small it is. Closing the door behind you, you speed up a little, deciding to make her pay for your lunch.

“You’re one minute late jellybean” she singsong as soon as you see her at the door.

“You’re not even paying attention. You’re staring at your phone. How do you know I arrived like 4 minutes ago?”

Kate puts her cellphone back in her jacket and opens the door for you. "I have an extremely well-trained ear."

Now you can't help but roll your eyes. Nodding your head while passing through the door, you walk straight to your favorite booth. Middle of the hall, exact distance between the bathroom and the door. You can even watch the band perform without constantly being bumped by staff or patrons. Wanda doesn't see the appeal of it, telling you, while laughing, that all tables were the same. You had to restrain Kate from going into babble mode, trying to convince her.

Once you're seated, you don't need to look up at the menu. Kate signals for the waitress.

"Oh, hi, yes, I will have the pizza trick dish with a side of Caesar salad, no dressing, a zero Coke, no ice, and for her a buffalo chicken salad, and a side of the special fries, mineral lemonade, no syrup added, and lots of ice. Thank you!"

You smile. Once Kate realized you always ordered the same things (except for dessert) she took the role of always ordering for both of you.

"You know, the waitress wanted to talk with you," You say absentmindedly.

"What can I say? I'm a charming woman."

"Ain't that true" the tension in your shoulders has dissipated, asumming it was the change of scenario. Thinking about your office at the moment gives you chills.

"So, how are the preparations for the big day coming up?" Kate asks you, and you notice how her cheerful tone from before is gone.

"Going. I mean, I scheduled the DoorDash already."

"You're not cooking?" she asks you, playing with a napkin and trying to fold it into something.

"I was going to but-"

"You don't want to get your hopes up? I get you jellybean."

Food is placed in front of you before Kate can add anything else.

"If you need anything else, just let me know," the waitress tells Kate, ignoring you completely. You see her winking before leaving. Noticing Kate doesn't see it, she's busy opening her soda can while unconsciously pushing her plate towards you.

"Rude. She's flirting with you right in front of me."

"And that's a problem because?"

Catching you off guard, you try to still get the upper hand.

"Imagine if I were your girlfriend."

"But you're not so?"

"Well, this is still a best friend's time outing, so she was rude."

"If you say so."

And there again, a simple phrase that Kate always uses when either of you doesn't have any more arguments to win the case. Shaking your head, you grab a piece of her plate before digging into your salad. The delicious smell from Kate's plate is enough of a distraction.

You manage to give her a few more details about the cards you bought, and promise you'll buy the BFF pack for your next outing. Deciding not to tell her about the promise ring you haven't bought, but were considering. Would a ring fix the problems you had with Wanda?

You're still waiting to hear from a potential client, your boss has started the day with a really long and important meeting, scribbling notes in your notebook while sipping coffee. The clouds in your brain are starting to slowly dissipate. A soft ping on your watch alerts you to a new message from Wanda. You notice the time.

A pang in your stomach. Since when have you started to dread her notifications?

Wands Love 💕 "At what time am I supposed to be home tonight, dear?"

Supposed. Her words land wrong this time. Like you're just a suggestion.

You don't reply instantly.

Another ping.

Wands Love 💕 "The team wants to go for drinks. Revisions are going well. I was thinking of going just for a little while."

Your fingers press into your temples. Across the room, Steve, your boss, gives you a sympathetic smile and signals for a coffee refill. Sighing, you open your laptop, carefully aiming the screen so no one sees what you'll do. Thanking Natasha, your office partner, for ordering the privacy screens. Yet you liked to be careful. Especially after Kate once caught you watching a very detailed +18 video.

Opening your message app, you type a response. You erase and rewrite the message before pressing send.

Love 💫 "We agreed on being home at 4. You told me you were getting out earlier."

The answer is immediate.

Wands Love 💕 "I know, I know, but this is big. Stark is going."

Wanda's manager, that means Jarvis will be there, since they're like brothers from another mother or something like that. Wanda told you once, but you weren't too eager to hear about her ex-boyfriend.

Your heart races, and the bomb you're dropping makes your pulse accelerate.

Love 💫 "Bigger than our anniversary?" ... Love 💫 "You forgot it, right?" Wands Love 💕 "Of course not, Y/N, I thought maybe we could have our time later tonight." Love 💫 "Do what you think is best, Wands."

You watch the three dots appear before disappearing. Your heart is beating fast. Your stomach churns.

Wands Love 💕 "I promise I will be home at 7pm, and then we can celebrate. All night if you want 😚😉"

You stop answering.

"Hey Y/N. We're going for lunch. Barnes is paying. You coming?" the husky voice of Natasha sounds next to you.

"I already have plans."

"Come on Nat, we know is Y/N anniversary. She wouldn't stop talking about it at the last meeting." Barnes's arms pat your back before stepping outside.

Right. Two weeks ago. When you were excited about it. Now, you want to crawl into your bed and cry. Already feeling the sting in your eyes.

"You okay?"

Leave it to your very observant coworker to notice.

"Allergies. You guys go. I promise to invite the first round next time."

Not wanting to give more explanations, you hurry towards your office. The laptop makes a soft "thud" on your desk. Grabbing your phone, you choose your second pinned message.

World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "If anything, I get a 2x1 coupon on that fancy coffee shop you love."

She texted you before your morning meeting. A tiny smile appears. You know Kate's not a morning person.

Tiny Human 😜 "Emergency caffeine intervention?" World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "You need rescue already?" World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "Weren't you leaving work early today? Prepping everything for your Oh So Special day? World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "Why am I being summoned then? I'm not helping you! ... ... Tiny Human 😜 "I need you."

Her ringtone comes a second later. Your jaw unclenches, not noticing when it clenched before.

"Hi," a small sniffle.

"What did she do?"

"Kate..."

"Fine... what's wrong then, jellybean?"

"Can you pick me up?"

"I'm on my way."

She doesn't hang up. Deep down, you know she won't. Not since that anxiety attack you had during your final weeks in your last semester at college. Something about knowing she's just listening grounds you back in the present. Wanda once joked early on in your relationship about being jealous of that.

Your fingers drum. An attempt to prevent you from biting your nails. A bad habit you stopped a year ago. The emptiness in your stomach hasn't gone since Wanda's last text. Steven knocks on your open door.

"Hey Y/L/N, before you go..." You feel his blue eyes on you. Trying to smile, you acknowledge him.

"Can I do something for you, Mr. Rogers?"

"Send me the final report once you hear from Harkness Corp. Have a good weekend Y/N."

He lingers for a few seconds before leaving. Sighing, you go back to massaging your temples. Looking at the phone, you calculate the minutes you have before Kate arrives.

Picking up your computer, you grab its case before sliding it into your bag. Your coffee cup follows. Then the folders. Then your notebook.

Opening your drawer, you see a neatly wrapped box. Is there a point in taking the cards with you? Against your better judgment, you toss them into your bag.

Twenty-five minutes later, you hear Kate's voice on your phone again.

"Uber driver for Y/N"

"On my way," this time you're the one hanging up.

Opting to use the stairs, you close the door. You see your coworkers leaving, their laughs and camaraderie are quite contagious, making you smile, waving goodbye at them. Natasha winks at you before going down the hall.

Once out of your office building, you spot Kate's car. She's leaning outside the passenger's door. Sunglasses perched on her head. Her ten-thousand-watt smile once she sees you. Your urgency to hug her gets the best of you.

"Umph" but her arms secure you firmly against her. Advantages of being three inches shorter. Something you appreciate now. You and Wanda are similar in height.

Kate patiently waits for you to end the hug. An unspoken rule between the two of you. The one who initiates the hug is the one who ends it. Kate's wearing perfume. A Gucci one she just likes, and you love. She rarely uses it. Except when she goes out.

"I wasn't interrupting something, was I?"

"Nothing I can reschedule with my mom. You're good."

The relationship between Kate and her mom has been better for the past year. Yet, any chance she gets of getting out of it, she'll gladly take it.

Before letting her go, you inhale her perfume, quietly anchoring back. You try your best smile, which she doesn’t buy but doesn’t say anything. You enter her car.

The intense smell of the air freshener, “new car” lets you know she recently changed it. What does a new car smell anyway? But it’s so plain and so like Kate, you have come to like it.

Two cold coffee cups are neatly placed on the dashboard. A lavender cookie in its paper bag, rest on top of the lid of one. Kate has always had a sweet tooth. You reach for the coffee on the left.

“Didn’t know what kind of caffeine emergency it was, so I went for your old reliable.”

Vanilla iced latte, one shot of espresso extra. You ordered the exact same thing since you were 16. The bitterness of the coffee mixed with the vanilla was something you ached for.

"Where am I driving to?" she asks you in a quieter voice.

"My apartment," the smell of the freshly ground beans gives you something to concentrate.

Kate starts driving slowly. Avoiding the short way and taking the "panoramic" route, as much of NY can give.

The drive there is not awkward. Kate hums a song whose lyrics only she knows. Once in a while, you feel her eyes on you. You feel the sting in your eyes again. You force yourself to drink.

"Coffee was hot."

"Still is"

"Uh"

But the hot liquid helps swallow the lump in your throat. Numbing your current feelings. You reach for the cookie at the same time Kate does. Your fingers brushing hers. Kate's fingers are cold; she must have come straight from her office. She keeps the A/C always on. The sun reflects directly through her office.

She takes her hand almost too quickly.

"Sorry"

You need physical reassurance. Something to anchor you in the present. You don't ask it from Kate. You have asked too much already.

She would give it anyway.

You curl your fingers. Your fingernails digging into your palms works for now.

Kate notices, she always does.

"We're here."

Directing the car towards the visitors' parking, Kate punches the code. Once parked, you don't attempt to leave.

Kate unbuckled her seatbelt, her back casually leaning against the door, carefully aiming her knee.

"Wanna tell me what happened jeallybean?"

Inhale. Exhale. You concentrate on your chest rising.

"She forgot our anniversary."

Kate opens her mouth, closes it. like she's swallowing the first honest answer. She grabs her coffee. Her fingers drum against the wheel.

"Okey, okey, okey, maybe there's a logic and honest reason?"

"She texted telling me they'll be out for drinks, saying it was big. So I told her if it was bigger than our anniversary. She said no, but that she'll be home later than what we agreed on."

"Maybe she wanted to deceive you? And she's waiting upstairs to surprise you? In that case, I should just wait here. I don't want to be there, and oh, what if she's naked waiting? That's an image I don't want or need in my head, thank you very much.

"You're rambling, Katniss."

"Rude! I'm hotter than her."

Your laughter comes involuntarily, despite the wetness you feel in your cheek. Two tears now follow the road. You gasp for air. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you leave the car.

A second-door car is closed. Kate's footsteps are behind you. She stops before reaching.

"Hey. I'm sure Wanda didn't mean to."

"Why do I feel all I do is trying to keep together something that's breaking Kate?"

"That's something you need to ask her Y/N, not me." She grabs your hand and directs you towards the elevators. Her calloused hands, a product of all those hours at the archery field, give you a sense of security.

"Come on." The elevator opens, Kate walks first and presses the button for your floor. She let go of your hand.

"I'm just saying, if you're wrong and I'm right and Wanda is waiting for you naked, you're buying me drinks for the rest of the year."

"Fair"

"And taking me to Disneyland."

"You hate Disneyland."

"I like their churros, and the price would be worth it if my eyes see something I don't want."

The ding on the elevator indicates you have arrived on your floor. The metal door slowly opens. Sighing, you step forward. Kate follows. You search in your bag for your keys. The small box now has a scrambled ribbon. It takes two attempts for you to insert the key. Your hands shake.

The apartment is empty, except for the "Happy Anniversary" sign you carefully placed in the morning. Kate goes straight to your kitchen. a pang in your heart. Contemplating taking the sign, you feel your chest tightening, and your shoulders drop.

Kate reappears with a cup of steaming tea. Placing it on the coffee table, she hovers around.

"You can sit Bishop."

Taking a seat on the couch, you follow her. The smell of the lemon tea reaches your nose. You sit on the other side of the couch.

"The DoorDash would arrive in an hour. Want to stay for late lunch?"

"I don't want to intrude."

"You're not."

Kate grabs the remote, turns on the TV, and chooses a cooking reality show. Sipping their tea quietly, letting the noise of the TV fill the silences. Not awkward, not weird. Just a comfortable silence.

"If I were to be a contestant in that show?"

"You'll be terrible, but I'll cheer for you. Number one Fan!" You place your fingers showing a #1.

"Seems appropriate"

A buzz on the intercom announces that the food has arrived. You stand to open the door. You placed an order for pizza and salad, opting to save the other order for later. Thanking the delivery guy, you go to the kitchen to place the things. Something catches your attention.

Wanda's coffee cup. Placed so casually on the counter. Your heart does this stupid somersault, your stomach shrinking. You place it in the dishwasher.

"Pizza's here." You give Kate the plates, napkins, and chilli powder; meanwhile, you place the box on the coffee table, and two diet soda cans.

"I love pizza! So much that I could name a dog after it."

"What blame does the dog have?"

Kate munches her slice rapidly, swallowing before answering.

"It's a cute name. Plus, it will show that I'm committed, since I'm naming him after something I really love. Cute puppy, cute name, happy owner."

"If you say so, Katniss."

You can feel Kate's eyes on you. Since arriving back at the apartment, any topic about Wanda has been forgotten. Yet, your tears keep coming from time to time.

"Am I wrong, Kate?"

"On what?" She sincerely asks, placing her plate on the coffee table and cleaning her hands on a napkin. She scootches closer to you. Your own plate is untouched.

"Keep trying."

"Do you want my honest opinion?"

"Yes."

Kate's face gets serious. Her eyes observe you closely; there's something in them that you can't name, and you feel like she's trying to memorize you.

"Let me ask you something first. Do you love her?"

"Of course I do!" Kate's eyes look at the floor, nodding. Like she expected the answer.

"Right. So, are you still in love with her then?"

A simple question that should have been answered easily. Yet, you keep your mouth shut. Are you? You scrunch your brows, trying to come up with something. A tear escapes again.

"Oh, Jellybean, come here."

Kate embraces you the best she can. One arm comes around your shoulders, guiding you closer. Your head settles against her chest. You feel the steady rise and fall of her breathing, grounding, warm.

You let yourself cry.

Kate murmurs small reassurances -soft, simple words, and it's so simple, and yet it's not.

Because she thinks that, despite everything, you're still in love.

You're not so sure.

Otherwise, why couldn't you answer her?.

At that moment, the keys on the door are heard.

"Detka! I'm home, we can-" Wanda's voice gets cut as soon as she enters the apartment. She sees you crying on Kate's arms.

"Am I interrupting?" Her voice lacks accusation but genuine wonder. A bouquet in her hands.

She crosses the threshold, leaving her keys on the crystal bowl, hanging her coat and bag. Placing the bouquet carefully on the closest surface.

Kate pats you on the shoulders. She gives you a napkin so you can dry your eyes. She stands up.

"No, we were just watching horrible trash TV, and you know, Reality shows can do that to you sometimes, you know?" Before standing up, she gives you a sympathetic smile. You stand up to hug her goodbye.

"I'll text you later, tiny." Her mouth gets closer to your ear, her voice dropping down. "Talk to her."

Kate grabs her things, all the while articulating with her hands.

"Later Maximoff."

"Later, Bishop. Thank you for... seeing after her." You clearly hear the hesitation in her voice.

"Yeah, well, that's what Best Friends are for," you hear her over-excitedly voice, followed by the thud from the door. The couch feels bigger.

"Detka?" Wanda goes to sit on the couch next to you.

Your legs are bent, wrapped in your arms, and your head rests on them. Your hair hides your face.

"Can you see me?" Wanda's warm hand touches your hair. Reluctantly, you move to see her.

"There you are." She cups your cheek. You lean into her touch. Her thumbs brush your face. "I didn't forget our anniversary. I just lost track of the time. I'm sorry I was late."

You want so badly to believe that she didn't forget you. That today was marked on her calendar. But her choice of words makes you feel like a second option. Like her time was more valuable than yours.

"It's okay, Wands." You hope she refutes you that it's not.

"Alright, so, I brought you your favorite flowers. Let me put them on water, and then, we can do whatever you want."

Her footsteps as she walks away toward the kitchen only serve to reinforce the question Kate asked you. You shake your head. Wanda is here after all.

When you stand up to follow her and reheat the food, you notice the flowers. Beautiful indeed. Wanda has put them in a blueish vase on the kitchen table.

"You're here now." You hug her from behind. Your arms are cradling her waist, your hands on her stomach. You feel her tense up.

She takes your hands, putting them on her hips. She turns to see you.

"I'm here now. Where I'm supposed to be." Her smile doesn't fully reach her eyes.

You ignore the hole in your gut. You place your head on her shoulder. Wanda embraces you. Tentatively. Her scent has always been a tender mixture between sweet and something woody. You expected her to smell faintly like cigarettes and have that musty bar smell. She smells like her body lotion.

"Didn't you say you were out for drinks?"

"Mm?" she asks absentmindedly. Not quite losing her embrace. "Oh yeah, Stark decided to bring the drinks to the office. Lucky me! I didn't need to make an escape from the crowds."

"Lucky you!"

You detach from her arms. Wanda doesn't protest.

"So... dinner? Or can I interest you in dessert first?" She embraces you from behind, her hand coming to rest on your stomach.

And for a moment, you can't help but remember Wanda doing that exact same thing, on your first night living together. You feel hopeful for a little bit.

"Well, drinking always made you hungry, so we can grab a bite?" you offer, opening the boxes from earlier. The smell of sushi and teriyaki rice fills the kitchen.

"Did you order sushi?" you hear a slight tremor in her voice. You turn around and notice how the color leaves her face.

"Yeah. It's your favorite. Are you okay?"

Wanda swallows, breathing slowly through her nose, exhaling through her mouth. Her shoulders tense.

"I... yeah, probably something didn't agree with my stomach." She covers her mouth.

"I can... there's still some pizza left."

"No, no, don't worry. Can you make me a tea detka?"

"Yeah. Why don't you lie down? I'll bring it over."

Wanda kisses your forehead. Breathing slowly to calm the nausea. She retreats to your bed.

"Don't take long, Moya lyubov"

You're left there in the kitchen. Alone. Wondering if you should just accept defeat?. A few days later, you and Wanda are on your way to game night, hosted by one of your college friends. Things haven't exactly been bad between the two of you. Wanda felt better the next day, which improved your weekend by salvaging your anniversary celebration. She took you out for dinner, a movie, ice cream, and a walk in the park. She held your hand the entire time, but her mind was elsewhere.

"Love"? You notice Wanda watching through the window. No attempt at moving.

"Mm? She doesn't look at you.

"We're here," you signal the road. Thanking the Uber driver, opening the door, and giving your hand to Wanda. She takes it, pausing before standing up and leaving the car.

You walk hand in hand. Your shoulders are touching. Wanda's thumb traces your hand. You press the buzzer.

"Are you the pizza guy?" You hear in a thick accent.

"Sorry to disappoint Belova."

"Oh, it's you. Are you traveling solo, or is the girlfriend still attached to your hip?"

Wanda's thumb stops moving. You feel her tense next to you. A second later, her posture changes, her shoulders relax.

You hear back noise, like something fell on the floor, and then Kate's voice.

"Ignore her. Come on up, I'll buzz you in."

Wanda takes the lead, tugging your hand to move. You follow.

Inside Kate's apartment, everything is chaos. Yelena's dog, Fanny, naps in a corner despite the music and loud voices. Your old gang is here. Yelena, the Russian exchange student who never left, and is Natasha's sister. Peter, looking like a puppy out of his environment, is helping Scott arrange the game table.

Kate appears out of nowhere right next to you. You hear her before seeing her.

"We brought snacks." Wanda gives Kate a bag filled with chips, gummies, Skittles, chocolates, pretzels, and peanuts.

"Are the sour gummy bears in there, Kate Bishop?" Yelena's voice comes from the hallway.

A moment later, she appears.

"Y/N Y/L/N, girlfriend." Yelena grabs the bag from Kate, pushing her into your personal space, moving past Wanda.

Kate's arm bumps into you.

"Sorry"

"Hi, Katniss!" You're going to hug her, but Wanda slightly restrains from letting you go.

"Hey there Jellybean. Hi Wanda. Please come on in. Drinks are over there. Suit yourselves, I'm going to help Scott before he and Peter destroy my living room." Kate leaves before you can say anything else.

"You brought too many snacks, all of Kate's favorites!" Yelena's voice cries from the kitchen.

"What? That's not fair." Scott shouts and leaves what he's doing.

"No, we didn't, Yelena's just being dramatic." You said while walking towards the kitchen. Yelena blows you a kiss, and you roll your eyes.

"Nice to see you, Punk." Peter comes to say hi.

"Punk?" Wanda giggles next to you, and your stomach does this stupid flip-flop. You turn to look at her; she's looking at Peter, but you know her mind is elsewhere.

He side-hugs Wanda. "And you, Wanda. I'm glad you could make it this time."

"Me too, Peter," Wanda says while giving him an awkward side hug. Refusing to let your hand go.

You enter the living room to find chaotic order. Yelena and Scott are finishing arranging the table. One corner has a ridiculous amount of snacks displayed, including plates and napkins; on the other corner, two board games.

Your eyes scan for room to sit. Scott and Peter are on the modular, giggling like a pair of schoolgirls. Yelena is perched on the armchair, the other one suspiciously occupied by board games, snacks, and whatnot.

Kate's in the middle of the living room, her back towards the window, her hair in a ponytail, she balances the Monopoly box, a couple of Uno sets, and her own drink. She sits on the loveseat.

You smile.

Wanda notices. You feel her thumb caressing your hand.

"Where are we supposed to sit?" You ask while walking.

"You can share the loveseat. Kate can sit in your lap like in college."

"What?! No, we never, we didn't-" Kate's eyes are so wide, opening and closing her mouth. Her leg is bouncing.

"I'm sure we can squish in there, right Detka?" Wanda sits next to Kate. The space is so small that you end up sitting on the floor. Your back rests on Wanda's leg.

You put your hand on Kate's knee. She goes still, doesn't dare to move, not even to breathe. Wanda crosses her legs.

"Nervous, Katniss? We haven't even begun playing!" Your hand is still on her knee.

"You wish, Jellybean. You're going down tonight?"

"On you... that you would wish Bishop." Yelena casually sings songs. Kate chokes on her saliva. You drop your hand. Wanda caresses your head.

"Okay, lovebirds. I'm bored, so Sequence it is. I don't want to see Peter crying from losing Monopoly again."

"I didn't cry Belova!"

"You kind of did," Scott adds, opening a bag of chips and serving himself a generous amount.

"I don't want him on my team. So Peter and Wanda are red team, Scott and I, are green team, and you two can be blue team."

"Bluey!" you and Kate shout at the same time. Laughing afterwards.

"Weirdos" Yelena proclaims, proceeding to toss you the bag with the blue chips.

"Fine, I'll play, but I don't want to be held responsible if we lose again because I don't know how to play my cards." Scott opens their own bag, giving Yelena half of it.

"Wait! Y/N and Kate can't be seated together if they're a team." he doesn't see the cushion coming towards him.

"I don't think sitting on the floor counts as together Parker."

"Here, switch with me." Scott, ever the gentleman, changes his seat.

Standing up, you see Wanda breathing in and out slowly. Her brows are furrowed, and a small thin layer of sweat forms on her forehead.

"Wands?"

Wanda's green eyes look up at you. You can see the tiredness in them; the bags under her eyes were covered earlier with makeup.

"Could I use the restroom, Kate?"

"Yeah, yeah, you know where it is."

"Do you want-"

Shaking her head, Wanda stands up. "No, you guys start the game, it'll be just a moment."

She leaves through the hall. Your eyes never left her.

It's a cozy afternoon. You and Wanda are watching an old movie. Your head is currently resting on her lap. Her hand caresses your hair. You haven't felt this quiet in a long time. Wanda's been home on time for the past week. You have wondered if things were finally going back on track.

"You're thinking too loud, Detka." You turn to look up at her, her eyes still on the screen.

"Sorry, I was just reminiscing."

"About what?" she caresses your cheek now.

"Us"

Wanda then looks at you. Her eyes are observing your face, you think, as if trying to memorize it. Her hand stops.

You feel her lips on yours. The kiss is tentative, slow. You turn your head to kiss her better.

There's a second before she deepens the kiss, her tongue asking for permission she doesn't need. You welcomed her without hesitation. Your body reacts to her.

You push yourself up, shifting over her, pressing Wanda gently back against the couch.

Wanda keeps kissing you, her hands grab your hips, preventing you from moving. A soft moan escapes your mouth.

The kiss softens, her lips lingering. Too thoughtful.

Wanda pulls back to breathe. Her forehead rests against yours. Her nose rose against yours, slowly, gently. She pulls back, her gaze dropping, refusing to meet your eyes.

"What about us?" Her thumb traces your cheek. Your hand covers hers.

"Just everything and how we're still here. Choosing us"

Her eyes find yours. Her deep and vibrant green eyes look tired. There's something on them you can't name. Her gaze drops again.

Your cellphone vibrates next to you.

World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "SOS, Presentation is going horribly wrong!"

"Kate's driving herself into panic mode." Telling Wanda about your cell notification, you type back.

Tiny Human 😜 "Emergency caffeine intervention?"

Wanda gets up from the couch a little too quickly. You notice how her shoulders are tense, her posture slightly crouched.

"You want some tea?"

World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "I've been drinking enough caffeine to keep awake the city! World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "Or maybe not, the city is big!" World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "Do you think if I call sick, my mother will believe me and not assume I left everything at the last minute?" Tiny Human 😜 "Breathe, Katniss. I'll be there in... 20 minutes or so."

"Kate needs me."

Wanda turns to look at you. A small smile appears. She gets closer to you. Pecking your lips

"Did she leave everything for the last minute?"

"Yeah. The board wants to see numbers, and I bet she's already doubting 1 + 1 equals 2 and is double-checking it."

"Okay. Go help her."

"You sure?" Wanda pecks your lips again.

"You'll end up going anyway... She's your best friend."

Chuckling, you hug her and give her a kiss on the cheek. Walking to the coat rack, you grab your jacket, the keys from the bowl, and your backpack. Knowing Kate, her laptop charger is discarded at her office.

"I'll be back. I love you."

"Me too"

You don't question why she didn't say those words back. Your brain moves on before the thought can fully form. Already opening your DoorDash app to order something.

Tuesdays are your favorite days. Always have been since you were a teen. There had never been a logical explanation. Maybe it was because most of your favorite memories had happened on Tuesdays. Meeting Wanda? Tuesday morning, two and a half years ago. Stopping Kate from falling down the slide, thus starting your friendship? An afternoon on Tuesday, playing in the park when you were six. Your promotion to Acquisition Manager? A rainy Tuesday four years ago. The birth of your first niece? An early Tuesday morning a year ago. Home-office privileges? Every Tuesday since you renegotiated your contract a week ago.

So yes, Tuesdays were your favorite days.

That Tuesday in particular started differently. Wanda had woken you up with kisses along your back an hour before the alarm went off. She worshiped your body like she hadn't done in months, controlling every kiss, every touch, every move, leaving a small hickey on your chest.

You didn't complain; it wasn't at all unusual for the two of you to switch roles. When the alarm finally beeped, you were tangled in Wanda's embrace.

Wanda climbed out of bed first. You watched her figure retreat to the ensuite bathroom. A happy sigh leaves your mouth.

Since you were working from home today, you opted to make breakfast for both of you. Grabbing your robe, you hear the shower start.

Walking into the kitchen, you start the coffee machine. Eggs, bacon, and fruit were the menu options for today. Last week, Wanda had gotten sick at the mere smell of sausages, claiming it was probably from the stomach bug she had gotten a few days ago.

The coffee is the first one to be done. Grabbing your "I'm a Tuesday lover" (a gift from Kate. That cup has survived a lot), you add sweetener and milk. Black coffee first thing in the morning wasn't an option anymore.

Last Sunday you had cut the fruit for the week. Grabbing two bowls, you mix the melon and papaya, then add half a cup of yogurt, a little granola, and a drizzle of honey. Perfect!.

Well-done fried eggs come later. Placing them on the plates. The bacon goes on a separate small plate.

Wanda comes down a few minutes later. Dressed to the nines in a red pantsuit, texting on her phone. You can see small bags under her eyes.

"Smells delicious, Detka," She puts her phone down to kiss your cheek. "Big day today?" Her attention drifts back to her phone.

"Just a meeting after lunch. Steve asked us to propose a Working plan for the merge next year."

"Fun!" Wanda seems distracted, picking up her phone again and texting immediately.

Her brows furrow, she texts again.

"I guess. Would you be home early for dinner?" You grab your plate and place it on the sink.

"Yes," she says absent-mindedly, her eyes again check her phone.

You notice the bacon untouched as Wanda gets up. She places her cup in the sink before hugging you from behind.

"You always take care of us." Wanda kisses your lips briefly, like she’s restraining herself

"I'll text you later. Behave!" The door closes before you can answer.

Opting to optimize your day rather than get lost in your thoughts, you go back upstairs and get ready to start your working shift.

A couple of emails, coffees, and hours later, you're massaging your temples. Some corporate dumbass has signed the wrong formats, and now it's up to you to fix it.

World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "I'm bored." Tiny Human 😜 "And I'm working." World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "Rude!" Tiny Human 😜😉 "Stupid corporate guys thinking I can fix their stupid mistakes." World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "You can! 🤩" Tiny Human 😜 "Of course I can 😉 But they're a pain." World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "Lunch?" World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "Oh wait... you're home today!"

A different ping on your cellphone indicates Wanda's message.

Wands Love 💕 "How did the meeting go?"

You frown, leaving Kate's message unanswered.

Love 💫 "It's at 4 pm. Work just has been hectic today."

No reply.

You tell yourself she's busy.

Kate's text actually reminds you that you haven't had lunch yet. Saving your progress on any open document, you close your laptop. A salad with pasta and some chicken is written on the menu, stuck to the fridge, held in place by two magnets shaped like purple arrows and red crowns.

Time to decompress. Mergers are always messy and complicated, especially with all the paperwork and legal things. And Harkness Corp has been the most complicated so far.

Having had too much coffee already, you opt for a post-lunch tea. Caffeine free.

You sip it quietly, admiring the small kids playing outside. Their laughter passes through the small crack of the open window. You think about getting a dog again. Something Wanda has declined for some time.

A woman nearby crouches to dodge an excited puppy trying to climb her boots. She murmurs something too softly for you to hear. Scratching beneath its chin.

The puppy immediately rolls over for belly rubs. “See? Terrible survival instincts.” The woman laughs, and it sounds almost delighted by this.

The metallic jingle of a bell approaching distracts you. Looking at the time, you notice the garbage truck should come in 15-20 minutes, you leave your cup on the table. The trash still needs to be taken out.

That gives you plenty of time to take out the bags, brush your teeth, and get comfortable for your 4pm meeting. Steve always asks to be 5 minutes earlier so check everything works properly.

You take the kitchen and the guest's bathroom bags first. Reaching down under the sink, you grab the trash bags to replace the ones in your room and the office upstairs.

When you get to your ensuite bathroom, you see Wanda's hairbrush on her side of the sink. Grabbing the hairs on it, you open the trash can to throw them. You reach for the bag. In a quick movement, you take out the bag, but the trash tips over.

You bend down to put it in place. Seeing a bunch of paper behind it. Your hand reaches for it.

A pregnancy stick falls out of the bunch.

Tick-Thud.

You stare at it. Your stomach does this weird flip-flop.

The bag is forgotten. Reaching down to check that what you're seeing is real.

The cold and rough plastic feels very hard to the touch.

Two unmistakably red lines stare back at you.

You don't notice your hands shaking until the test falls again. Your heartbeat speeds up. The house feels so quiet.

Outside, the laughter of kids playing reaches you. You pick up the stick, putting in your pocket, grab the bag, and go downstairs. You gather the trash bags, head downstairs, and leave them beside the bin outside. If you forgot to bring the recycling one, no one would know.

You hear your cellphone ping. A message from Natasha, asking if you're okay, you're not online, and it's almost four.

You reach your computer and sign into the conference call. Steve welcomes you.

"Sorry, I was just... taking the trash out." Clearing your throat.

While Steve gives the order of the day for the meeting, your eyes find your phone.

Kate's contact. Your thumb hovers over the call button.

"Y/N can you hear us?" Steve's voice comes from the speaker.

"Uh yeah, sorry, boss. Long day"

"I bet I heard from the legal department that some contracts need to be re-signed."

"Yeah, I've been dealing with it all morning."

The rest of the meeting gets blurry. At some point, you felt a sting in your eyes.

DING

A message through the conference app. Natasha's

N.Romanoff - you seem a little bit off. Might want to turn your camera off.

Y/N. Y/L/N - Thanks.

A second later, you turn your camera off. Nobody comments. Your team is one of those teams that turn the camera when they need to stand up for something, and Steve is quite understanding.

Tiny Human 😜 "Are you busy?" World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "About to enter a meeting, but I can arrive 5 minutes late. What's up, Jellybean?" Tiny Human 😜 "It can wait." Tiny Human 😜 "Go to your meeting. Don't break your punctuality record." World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "Ha.Ha. You're so funny!"

The clock ticks painfully slow.

The hollow feeling in your stomach has nothing to do with hunger. Your heartbeat still hasn’t slowed down. Behind your eyes, a familiar throb warns you a migraine is coming.

"If nobody has anything else to add, then our meeting is done. Bucky will send the meeting notes." Steve says.

His image remains on screen while everyone disconnects.

He’s waiting for you.

You leave the call before becoming the last person there.

A text to Steve follows seconds later. You ask to postpone tomorrow’s meeting with him and Natasha.

His reply comes almost immediately.

“Yes.”

Turning off your computer for the day, you sit there. A point on the wall gets your attention. The painting has started to peel. Maybe it's time to change colors.

A clock downstairs signals it's 5 o'clock on the dot. Wanda would be home soon.

Wanda.

The mere thought of her makes your stomach clench. The stick in your pocket burns your leg. Maybe you should start dinner.

Taking out the prepared pasta, you take a look at the menu on the fridge. A shaking hand fixes the crown magnet. Chicken fajitas with peppers, onions, and avocado reads on it.

Silly you, today's not pasta for dinner.

The jingle of keys on the door grabs your attention. Turning towards the door, the bowl in your hand knocks against the cup left there. You watch your "I love Tuesdays" cup fall.

Your eyes scan the different pieces around the floor.

"Honey! I'm home!" Wanda's voice sings. You hear her changing her shoes, leaving her things, and keys.

Her footsteps get closer to the kitchen.

For some reason, your eyes are glued to the mess on the floor.

"Y/N?" You flinch at her touch on your shoulder.

Wanda's eyes scan your face and then the floor. Noticing the cup pieces.

"Was that your favorite cup?" you just nod. "Oh, honey, I bet we can get another one."

"It was a gift from Kate."

Wanda goes in search of the broom and dustpan. When she returns and starts sweeping, a tear rolls down your cheek.

You wipe it away before she notices.

"Well, then I know she'll gladly buy you another," she says and tosses the remains of the cup that had survived all your college years, and more.

You shake yourself out of your reverie, in time to see Wanda waiting for you. Her eyes are looking at your face. Your favorite shade of forest green, except right now, the forest feels cold.

"How was your day?" You pass her on your way to get the cutlery and plates.

"Long. I'm so tired I just want to lie down."

And that's the thing. Wanda's been tired for the past few weeks.

The stick pulses in your pocket. You feel its weight.

And then you remember, the sickness, the nausea, the lack of desire just to have her hands over you last night.

"I took the trash out today," you say, your voice calm, neutral. Hoping it doesn't quiver.

You feel Wanda pause midway to the table before you see it. She resumes her steps, redirecting herself towards you. You take one step back.

You look at her.

"Would you have planned on telling me?"

"Y/N," you can see the realization in her eyes. The green you have come to love now looks at you in all the wrong ways.

Lands in all the wrong ways.

Wanda tries to get close to you, but you keep stepping back, just out of her reach. Your heart beats so fast and so hard you're sure she can hear it.

"I noticed all the signs. I refused to believe them. I thought-" you breathe, pacing to the other side of the room. "I thought that it was just work, you were stressed with the promotion thing. I kept making excuses for why you were disappearing from me.”

Wanda is frozen in place, and you notice her fingers playing with her rings. A habit she does when she's nervous. Back when you met her, more rings adorned her hand than the few ones she kept now.

Her other hand unconsciously grabs her stomach. So mundane you feel nauseous.

"Detka-"

"Don't! Not right now"

"I can explain?" She says, her voice slightly trembling.

"Explain what? What's there to explain, Wanda?. I begged you to take time for us. I missed us even when we were in the same room. How's that fair?"

"It's not. I missed us, too." Her voice is quiet now.

You look at her, really look at her. Her red hair falling down framing her face, the small bags under her eyes, and her posture slightly crouched from the tension in her shoulders.

Your brain replays all her touches, her kisses, her laughter late at night, while you were both naked and tangled on sheets. You see all those trips, dates, and coffees.

The walls seem to start moving towards you. A cold drop of sweat runs down your neck. You feel your breathing thicken, your lungs doing what they can to grab air.

"I can't do this right now."

Your steps are quick to leave, making an exit toward the door, grabbing your wallet, keys, and cellphone. Wanda's voice panicking, calling after you.

"Y/N!"

"I need to breathe!"

"Please don't leave me!" She can't keep the tears at bay now.

"It's not.. I’ll just... I'll be back."

You don't let her follow you. Running outside and just slowing down once you know you're two blocks away. Your lungs feel on fire. Ironically, you’re used to running farther than this.

Your feet feel heavy. Thousands of ants crawl down your leg.

Tiny Human 😜 "Are you home?" Tiny Human 😜 "Can I go there?"

Kate's incoming call song plays on your cellphone. You send it to voicemail. World's Okayest Archer 😜 "Jellybean, where are you?" Tiny Human 😜 "I need to clear my head. I'll walk to your house." World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "I can pick you up." Tiny Human 😜 "Wanda's pregnant." Tiny Human 😜 shared her live location.

The second time Kate calls, you press the answer button. Her voice hesitates over what to say first.

"Jellybean?"

You phone keeps vibrating with messages from Wanda. You don't bother to read them.

"Hey Kate," there's a convenience store near the corner. Your mouth is dry and you taste something like copper. The doorbell chimes.

"I'm picking you up. Stay right there."

"Don't worry Katniss, I'm... I just need to think" Looking into the aisles you spot the one you want. Just water it's what you're looking for. A black haired woman is looking at the bottles. "That’s a lot of plastic for something that falls freely from the sky don't you think?” there's an eerie tone on her amused voice.

When you turn toward her, you only catch her retreating figure.

“Just meet me halfway, okay?” There's an urgency in her voice you notice only because you know her.

You hear a jingle of keys, probably Kate grabbing things.

"Kate?" your quiet and almost eerie calm voice contrast to the noise the store carries. A happy tune you don't remember hearing but know the lyrics to.

"I'm listening" the ding of the bell indicates your exit towards the street. A bottle in your hand that you don't remember paying. The streets are noisy, like the whole world decided to turn the volume up.

"Why does it hurt so much?" a quiet sob. You breathe, trying to regain the control.

"I don't know baby but listen to me. I'm 15 minutes away from you ok? There's a park close to you, a few blocks away. Wait for me there." Neither of you notice the slip of the nickname.

"Okay. I need to hang up." Not waiting for an answer you press the red button, automatically ending the call.

Your location still on.

Your mind is racing replaying your last conversation with Wanda. Weren't you enough? She said she was yours... You thought she was yours. Your mind scans for signs. Have they always been there?

Wanda's touch feels foreign now. Her kisses and hesitation suddenly made sense in a way your brain could finally understand. Your cellphone vibrates again on your pocket. For a moment you consider peeking at it. Your hand reaches for it. It grabs the stick.

Two red lines stare mockingly at you.

Everything slows down.

The city suddenly feels quiet.

Breathing suddenly feels difficult.

The sky starts getting darker. How didn’t you notice a storm was coming?

"People always act surprised when storms arrive like the clouds didn’t warn them first.” A voice that seems familiar. You can't place from where.

Your eyes feel heavy. Like you could fall asleep right there.

Had you fallen? You feel the hardness of the pavement on your back. Something drips onto your forehead. Rain? How come it's red?.

The city comes alive suddenly.

The honk of a car.

The screeching of tires.

Loud voices. There's an urgency in them.

Red and blue lights color the dark clouds.

The last thing you hear is a quiet voice.

"Te veo"

You try to turn your head towards it.

You close your eyes.