For @ask-nat-romanova

Natasha was not a morning person.

That’s not right. She was not a morning person to begin with. She was trained out of that. Natasha Romanoff, not a morning person. Not a night owl. She was someone who could be whatever she needed to be to get done what needed to be done.

 And she hated it.

She hated the fact the she relied on her alarm to wake up. She hated the sound of the alarm. She hated the jolt of being scared awake; the inevitable headache that usually lasted a few hours.

But she enjoyed the coffee. She enjoyed (with a guilty pang, but nobody needed to know) how everybody stayed far out of her way until she had at least two cups of coffee in her. She enjoyed watching Tony’s frantic skittering as he got out of her way, and the furtive glances he would shoot towards her. Almost as if he was afraid she would shank him where he stood. She wouldn’t. Let him think that, though.

She enjoyed the shy, quiet smile that always came from Bruce; his brown eyes twinkling as he always handed her the cup of coffee and received a sharp nod in response. He never minded her jumping up to sit on the counter and inhaling the cup as he stood with his mug of tea staring out the window. The most reaction she ever got from him was when Tony had accidentally crossed her path to the counter and the terrified squawk from the genius as he jumped away made Bruce’s eyes crinkle in laughter and a small chuckle fall from his lips.

She loved when Clint would be cooking breakfast and he’d be wearing an apron with far too little else, and he’d waltz around the kitchen, often singing along to the crap pop radio. He’d often obnoxiously bump into the others, and Bruce would have to set his tea down. Once Clint tapped Bruce on the shoulder, and he turned to see Clinton Barton holding a hand out to him. Without looking up, Natasha planted a foot in the small of Bruce’s back to push him. Bruce stumbled into Clint’s arms with a laugh and the two slow danced in the Avengers kitchen to Sam Smith playing on the tinny radio, amid Natasha’s thumbs up, and Steve’s “Is there something I should know?” and Tony’s wolf whistles.

She loved when Steve would stalk into the kitchen and lean over the counter as he stared moodily into his coffee after a morning run, his face still shining with sweat. She loved when Steve would put his head down far enough so she could ruffle his already messy blond hair, and he would look up with a glare of absolute offense, looking for all the world like an offended puppy. She loved when he would hum a tune she remembered, and she would hum along. He would look at her with a goofy grin and hum louder, turning it into a contest as to who could sound more obnoxious.

She loved when Thor was around, and he would take a cup of coffee, handling it with utmost care. He would set it on the counter without a sound and whisper “another,” before turning to the coffee machine with a sound of delight as he saw the freshly brewed cup. She loved watching him down the cup with barely a gulp before washing it so carefully and setting it to dry.

She loved when Pepper would walk in, all tall and regal with her heels, her strawberry hair bouncing on her shoulders. She loved watching Pep ruffle Tony’s hair as she walked by him. She loved watching Pepper pull the CEO voice on the rowdy Clint and Thor. She loved seeing Pep’s joking with Steve, even when the man was at his grumpiest. She loved watching Pepper’s soft smile at the quiet doctor and gentle half-hug that Bruce always welcomed. She adored seeing Pepper jump up on the counter beside her and steal a sip from her cup of coffee. She loved it even more when Pepper never failed to let her know she stole Nat’s coffee, because she could taste it on her lips. She loved that Pepper didn’t mind the whistles and jeers from the others. She loved that it encouraged her, and often the others fell silent and tried to escape when it turned into a countertop make out session.

She loved watching as the group interacted, often with the Avenger guests. Sometimes there would be food fights. Sometimes insult wars hurled over pancakes. Sometimes there were things spilled. There was always laughter. There was always noise. There was always something.

Then she moved out. Then her and Pepper realised that as much as they loved each other, it wasn’t working. Their lifestyles, while intertwined, were not compatible. Pepper would sleep alone for weeks or months at a time while Nat was off on a mission. Natasha would be alone while Pep would be overseas for a conference, and often the silence of the penthouse would deafen her. She spent so much time alone before the Avengers came along and took over her life. She wasn’t used to the loneliness anymore, and that made it hurt more. They split amicably. They split knowing that they still loved each other. There was no dramatic fight. There was no screaming. There was none of the rom com drama between the two of them. It was a calm agreement.

When Natasha moved out into her own place, it was quiet. It was almost as quiet as her life before Clint and Phil found her.

But she had her own place. She wasn’t running from anyone. It was enough.

She was not a morning person. But she could deal with it.

But now, instead of watching the others that she loved, she woke up to an silent house.

With a sigh, she reached over to her night table and shut off her alarm. She picked up the key and unlocked her wrist from the cuffs that trapped her hand to her bed. Methodically she ran through her morning routine. Next thing she knew she was standing in front of the coffee pot waiting for it to brew. She grabbed her coffee and hopped up on the counter. She glared into her cup and looked around at her quiet kitchen. No Clint dancing in shorts and a frilly apron to the Spice Girls. No Steve hiding behind his coffee cup, trying to pretend he’s not singing along. No Tony screaming out “Yo, I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want,” with Pepper walking by him with a snarky “So tell me what you want, what you really really want.” No Pepper popping up on the counter beside Natasha and no tasting Natasha’s stolen caffeine in her kiss. No Bruce staring out the window, knuckles white around his mug of tea. No quiet smile, no brown eyes crinkling at Nat’s lame jokes.

“My love?”

Natasha turned, and saw her partner blearily watching her. She smiled quietly and handed him a cup of his own. He smiled and took a sip as he moved closer to stand in front of her.

“Bathandekayo [beloved],” he began, setting his cup aside.

Natasha smiled and placed a finger on his lips.

“Shh, возлюбленный [sweetheart],” she whispered. She leaned closer, and her partner smiled at her, reaching up into the kiss.

“T’Challa,” Nat whispered, pulling back from his lips for a breath.

“Shh, Tash, let me treat you like the queen you are,” he returned, letting his eyes roam her face.

“No protest from me,” Nat breathed, leaning down to capture his lips once more.