#moonknight!reader

“She was an Avenger. She gave Dina a fake scarab. Doesn’t that serve in our favor? Come on, Khonsu, your favorite game is using people until they’re not useful anymore.”

You struggled to appeal to his good side if he had one. There was no telling what he would have you do the second he had what he wanted. If he would leave you, your wounds bloodied and hands quivering. It was selfish, you knew, wanting to hold onto Natasha for as long as you could.

There was a small knock at the door.

“Occupied,” you said, louder than your ears were used to. “Either way, you’re getting to the tomb. This is what you wanted, right? Sit back and enjoy this lovely 10-hour flight.”

 I have better things to do.

“Right, yes, do those.”

“Y/n?”

Natasha’s voice flitted through the small crack under the door. You gave Khonsu a smart smile. He let out a rumbling sigh. If you could see his eyes through the soulless sockets of his crumbling skull, you guessed they would be rolling. He dissipated into a cloud of sand. You flicked the door unlocked and were quickly pushed back, Natasha joining you.

You breathed her in, the small of your back pushed into the counter. “Oh, ouch”

“Hi,” She smiled.

“Hi”

“Were you in a business meeting?”

“I wouldn’t’ call it business. Certainly not pleasure. I mean, there’s only so much fun to be had when you’re in-flight. Especially in the bathroom.”

Natasha narrowed her green eyes at you. There was a heat that pooled in your cheeks. She was close and you were conscious of her warmth, her lavender scent, the devilish look in her stare. She swiftly gripped your hips and lifted you onto the counter, standing between your legs. That certainly freed up some space.

“Are we alone right now?” She asked.

“There is an entire group of people right outside of this door.”

“Not what I meant.”

Her lips grazed against your pulse point, breath warm. Goosebumps rose on your skin. You chuckled, wrapping your ankles around her waist and pulling her close. Natasha trailed soft kisses down the side of your neck, to your collarbone.

“The mile-high club, really, Nat?”

“Oh, are you opposed to it?” her words vibrated into your skin. “Because I can stop.”

“No, don’t.”

Natasha looked at you tenderly, then, both of her hands on your cheeks. They were warm compared to the cold cabin air. She had moved her head to a 45-degree tilt, the smallest of smiles against her lips. There was a vulnerability there, and you both knew it, despite the small, cramped bathroom. You wanted her to lean forward, you wanted her to touch you and that ache radiated into a craving to return the favor.

Instead, she leaned forward and kissed the tip of your nose with a deep chuckle that you could feel in her chest. “I’m afraid they’ll come looking for us if they know we’re missing. We shouldn’t get air marshalled above the North Atlantic.”

You groaned into the soft spot in the crook of her neck “Can’t you pull some Avenger bullshit to get us out of it?”

“Ex Avenger, Malen'kaya Luna”

Admittedly, when you got a spare moment, you googled the easy Russian that slipped her tongue. She had been asleep next to you, curled under your sheets as the dull glow from your phone was kept low enough not to wake her. Little Moon. It warmed your heart, squeezed it like her hand on your knee now.

You leaned forward and kissed her again. Natasha hummed into your mouth, fingers ghosting over the back of your neck. Oh, how you wished you had stumbled upon the woman in front of you in any other circumstance. No moon gods, no secret temples. And certainly, no evil aunts.

Natasha begrudgingly led you back to your seats at the center of the plane. The flight attendant raised both of his eyebrows at you before realization clouded his expression and the tips of his ears turned a cotton candy pink. Nat placed her hand on the inside of your thigh protectively, chills moving across your spine.

“We need to come up with a plan for when we get to Cairo.”

“Truthfully, I was just going to follow your lead.” You said, giving your best pout. Natasha narrowed her eyes at you. “Fine, yes, fine. I actually have a map.”

“A map?”

You pulled your backpack from under the seat. Apologizing to the man next to you who grunted, pulling himself closer to the window in annoyance. You produced the sketch book that you took to the museum every day.

The lights on the plane dimmed automatically as you flew through the night. You could hear the muffled sounds of in-flight movies humming through the issued headphones. Two kids in front of you were playing a game on a switch, quietly chittering to themselves. A flight attendant walked through the aisle and offered out sleep masks. The man to your left took it gratefully.

“The coffin of Lady Madja was brought in by Chip a year ago. It was a great find, in-tact and the art across the outside was still readable.” You whispered, flipping through the pages that you had scribbled on. “It took a long time to decipher, but the hieroglyphics tell a story about the Valley of Kings, and where to find it. But it’s not something easily translated. It took me months.”

You finally got the page that you wanted, each drawing had been analyzed, highlighted and deciphered. There were charcoal smudges and the crossing out of things you didn’t quite understand. Natasha’s eyes lit up.

“The scarab is important, sure. It’s like a key that unlocks the tomb. But it’s equally important to know how to get there. The mask had clearer instructions carved into it. Dina just didn’t realize that it was right under her nose the entire time. She didn’t’ look hard enough.” You pressed your finger at the green highlighted numbers at the bottom of the page. “These are the coordinates. They lead us straight into the desert.”

However, Natasha wasn’t looking at the notebook, she was staring directly at you. Her breath was warm against your cheek. You ran the pads of your fingers nervously over the indentation in the paper, giving her the smallest, brightest of smiles.

“You’re incredible, you know that, right?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I would.” You felt your cheeks warm up with a rush of blood. Even in the dim lights, it was nearly impossible to get anything past Natasha. You went to flip the book closed, but instead, she put her fingers in between the pages. “Y/n, what’s that?”

“This?”

You couldn’t very well hide it now. By no means did you classify yourself as a top-of-the-line artist. Sure, you had the studio, but most of your stuff was abstract, curated like you had been taught to do. But you did sketch diligently.

Some of your sketches were of Natasha. Namely from the trip the two of you had taken. During the long comfortable stretches of quiet on the road, you had captured her profile as she drove. The curve of her jaw, the way stray pieces of hair had fallen from her baseball cap. There was admiration there, infatuation flourished every line drawn.

“A half-baked hobby.” You watched as she furrowed her brow and looked up at you like you had just said something blasphemous. “You’re impossible to capture, you know that, right?”

“How so?”

You swallowed the dryness in your mouth. “Everything is subjective, but your beauty is concrete. There is always room for interpretation, for improvement. You, Natasha, are infinite in your words, in your actions, in your complexion. Charcoal and paper cannot even begin to encapsulate.”

Natasha let out a shuttered breath that tickled your collarbone. She moved forward, she kissed you slowly, careful and quiet. You pulled all of her in, smoothing your thumb against the edge of her jaw. You wouldn’t stop drawing her anytime soon, or at least attempting to do so.

By the time you landed in Cairo, your neck was aching. Natasha had dozed off against your shoulder, and you were careful when laying your head on top of hers. She had to be roused when it was your turn to exit the plane. She had an adorable, sleep ridden pout on her face that you resisted kissing away.

The heat in Cairo hit you both and slowed your movements. It was balmy, the sun warmed your skin and your cheeks. You hadn’t been in Egypt for a long time. Your last visit was under the boney wing of Khonsu, a small meeting between the God’s and their avatars.

Sure, you had gotten a chance to see the sites, but part of you knew that Khonsu was receiving a slap on the wrist for his less desirable habits. You had gotten the chance to see a few things, and make some friends.

“Layla is going to meet us inside.”

“You’re sure we can trust her?”

Out of all the avatars that you’d met over the years, Layla El-Faouly was the most trustworthy, as was her master, Taweret. You’d only met the Goddess of Woman and Children once, but she could level Khonsu with a single pointed stare. You’d seen it during the meetings, had stifled a smile that Layla wasn’t too keen on hiding.

You had shot her a message before boarding the plane, and she waited in the dusty Egyptian heat. She leaned against an old dark-red Nissan that rested among the hustle and bustle of families picking up friends, and workers making deliveries. Natasha shifted rigidly as the woman pushed herself off the side of the car.

“Y/n,” Layla grabbed your free hand and pulled you into a warm hug. She smelled like freshly turned soil, metallic and alluring. She moved back, keeping her hands on your arms “Ugh, it’s so good to see you. We have so much to discuss.”

You laughed, taking her in. It was always nice to see other avatars, but especially her. You’d both been thrown into this life at the same time, living in the city and talking over stale bodega coffee. The memory blocks were the worst, eventually fading away into nothing but the cold feeling of always being watched by your master, doing their bidding.

Taweret had a softer hand, you both admitted, but you had grown used to the way Khonsu had done things, even if he kept you in the dark for most of his plans. Natasha had gotten further than you thought she would. Rather- Khonsu had allowed you to usher her towards the endgame.

“I’m being a dick,” Layla put her hand out “I’m Layla.”

“Natasha,”

“Romanoff, right? I’ve seen a few press conferences. You’re very impressive.”

The Russian spy tentatively reached out and returned the handshake. She was guarded like any agent would be. There was a heat to her cheeks, almost as if the sun had already likened them to ripe strawberries.

She led the two of you to a nearby café and the shade that the awnings offered instantly quelled the heat. Layla ordered them drinks without looking at the menu, and you were frankly thankful for that. The words blurred, and while most of them were in English, you still knew that you would butcher the pronunciation regardless.

“Alright, so, give me the rundown. What does Khonsu have you chomping at the bit for?”

You scoffed “Chomping at the… I think I’m being very level-headed.”

“No such thing, not with you.” She took a long sip of her drink “While Taweret doesn’t have an explicit say on who I associate with you are not her favorite.”

“Oh, ouch. I thought we bonded!”

“Was that before or after you lifted a shabtis from the Smithsonian?”  

Natasha eyed you “You what?”

Suddenly you were interested in the drink in front of you, humming into the cup as you gulped down the cold liquid. Layla laughed. “My point is, Khonsu blurs the line between ethical use of immortality, don’t you think? If you contacted the Black Widow and me, then you’re in some deep shit.”

“We are in deep shit.” Natasha said, her hand finding your knee in a domestic act of familiarity. “And need to get to the Valley of the Kings as soon as possible.”

“The Valley of Kings? That’s a little further than most tourists go. It’s a good forty miles of nothing but sand and heat. A team of archaeologists have been digging out there for years now, searching for a key. But I can get you out there.”

She leaned back on the chair, sizing the both of you up. “You have the key, don’t you?”

“We’re not the only ones that do.” Natasha kicked you under the table, a small warning tap, nothing that you wouldn’t gain feeling back in after a few minutes. “Ow! Okay. No, Layla. We don’t have the key. We would like to go sightseeing.”

You smiled sweetly at the both of them. The heat was starting to get to you. It didn’t’ seem to be bothering Natasha or Layla. They rolled their eyes at you, almost in unison that made you swell with an odd bit of pride.

“I don’t want anything to do with what’s inside of the Valley of Kings, trust me. It’s a construction zone at this point. But there are rumors. And in good conscience, I can’t help you unless I’m certain that what you’re doing won’t add fuel to the fire.”

Layla was staring at Natasha when she spoke, shifting her weight on the metal chair. How wasn’t it burning a hole through the fabric of her pants?

“I have no reason not to trust you. You’re a literal Avenger going after Avenger level threats. But Y/n…”

“I’m in the room.”

Natasha put a domestic hand on your shoulder, effectively shutting you up. It was such a tender gesture, one that you had seen your parents do, and even your aunt when Chip took too much liberty with the conversation. For now, you were content to sit and listen.

“I assure you, Layla, I will do everything in my power to keep things in order. I may not be associated with Nick Fury and his practices anymore, but my goal remains the same. Protect the general public and if Khonsu pushes further than he should then I will not hesitate to push back to a certain degree.”

There was a hard swallow. You were suddenly reminded of the press conferences the Black Widow had to take part in. There were flashing cameras and microphones shoved into her face. She had to smile and assure the world that its fate wasn’t detrimental.

“Okay,” Layla shrugged non-committedly “I’ll take you both out there. But y/n, don’t think for a second I won’t call upon Taweret the second you step out of line.”

You nodded, keeping quiet, as promised. The journey ahead would be long, and undeniably hot, and while you didn’t’ want to question Layla’s power and skill, you knew that with the promise of resolution within your grasp, Khonsu would only grow stronger. You’d sit and behave, drinking down the last of your water and instantly regretting the decision to do so.

There was no doubt in your mind that the rest of the gods had caught wind of Khonsu being back in Egypt. While you had entrusted Layla, there was still a lingering feeling of fear that you would be stopped by something stronger than one God with a warrior. There were hundreds, and you were simply one.

Natasha hummed quietly “I can’t let you do that. Y/n leaves with her life.” 

“I can’t promise you that. Most God’s are selfish, they pick avatars based on their brokenness. They mend them and use them, but at the end of the day, they discard them. And we let this happen simply because we crave that second chance.”

You scooted forward, letting your elbows rest on the metal of the table. It scorched your skin. Your heart clenched at Natasha’s obvious worry for you. It was cruel- bringing her here, just to watch your potential demise. But you couldn’t do this without her.

“You knew this?” Natasha asks, and her voice is filled with a certain type of regret and sorrow. “That you had no full control of the God that governs you?”

“There… was a 50/50 shot that things would go wrong, and that still stands. I’ve been loyal to Khonsu for years now. Part of me wants to believe he’d be benevolent and spare me.”

“And the other part? The part that leads you to the Valley of Kings in the first place?”

You swallowed the dryness in your throat, fingers twitching with anticipation to reach out and comfort the woman in front of you. Her green eyes were dilated, and her lips were pursed with contemplation. She had every right to turn around and get on the next flight back to the States.

There was a buzzing, a ringing in your ears. You struggled to find your place, remembering things in pieces; like Natasha’s soft pink lips, the scent of her breath- the fact that she had electrocuted you with what felt like a thousand volts of ‘fuck you’.

“Is she dead?” a soft whispered voice made your eyes flutter.

“No. She is still breathing. People who breathe are not dead.” A thick Russian voice responded. You could feel their presence but couldn’t’ bring yourself to open your eyes again, the light was too bright. “I do not know what Natasha sees in this one. She goes for the strong, silent, type and she does not seem like either.”

You groaned then, trying to shift. There was metal around both of your wrists. Okay- that was enough to pull you out of whatever pain-filled daze you were in. Hitting the brink of death had been easy, painless because of the morphine and your own self-reliance. This, on the other hand, thrummed through every inch of your body like a bad hangover.

Your stare went straight to the bottom of a sink. Someone had looped a pair of industrial handcuffs around your wrists and through the gap under the porcelain basin and the pipe. They were larger cuffs, rimmed in a glowing, pulsating blue. You drew in a sharp breath, hitting your forehead against the tiled wall behind you.

You swore “Son of a Bitch,”

“Most definitely not either.” The second voice reiterated the dizzying statement. You flinched and turned your head to the opposite side and met the curious eyes of two women that you had never seen before. They lingered in the stilted doorway; arms crossed. Neither of them reacted to your stony glare.

“She must be something special if Nat broke her sacred shield rules for her.” The brunette said.

“She can hear you,”

Your voice was scratchy, barely above a whisper. The blonde looked unphased, but her companion seemed to cower a bit at her own statement. Neither of them took their eyes of off you. Uncomfortable was an understatement.

“Ah, zaika, I think you’ve embarrassed the prisoner.”

A startlingly familiar sound filled the air, Natasha clearing her throat. Your head was pounding, screaming at you, really. Your shoulders were enveloped in stiff pain, back throbbing. It had been years since you spent the night on a tiled bathroom floor. Usually, it involved more alcohol and the purging of it.

Part of you was relieved that she was here, wherever here was. The two women grumpily pulled themselves from the doorframe at one stony look from the redhead. They wandered into the hallway, mumbling something about breakfast, which truly didn’t sound like a horrible idea.

A small black cat weaved between Natasha’s feet, rumbling in contentment at her presence. Neon green eyes blinked at you. Your shoulders relaxed a tad. You were a sucker for animals, and this one was tiny, unbelievably adorable.

“You feeling okay?” Natasha finally asked, pushing the sleeves of her grey sweater to her elbows. You glared at her. It was an odd time to start caring about your well-being. “Don’t pout. I’m doing you a favor here.”

“If locking me in a bathroom is considered a favor, I’d hate to see your disservice.”

Instead of answering you, she walked to the sink, flicking on the faucet. You flinched as the metal of the cuffs vibrated against the pipe. She filled a small mug with cold water and squatted down next to you.

“It would be easy for me to get out of these.”

“Want to give it a shot?”

There was something daring in her eyes. You frowned and tried to gather your thoughts. Over the years, you’d grown used to simply willing the suit to do as you wish. But the hugging sensation didn’t’ appear this time. Neither did the burst of strength that usually came with it. You opened you pulled at the restraints.

“Magnetic destabilizing handcuffs.” She smirked at you. “We weren’t sure if it would work on the gods, but if Strange can be reigned in with them, there’s a good chance you could too.”

She guided her fingers to your jaw, goosebumps rising against your skin. Simply, she instructed you to drink. You hadn’t realized how thirsty you were until you could see the bottom of the mug. You were obedient, tired, and hazy in your post-electrocuted state.

“Good girl. Now, here is how this is going to go. I have a meeting with your aunt today. She wants the scarab. I’m going to give it to her. You had the right idea, letting her lead us to where we need to be.”

“That’s all well and good, Natty, but do I have to be here during your little exhibition? We could do this together, you know?”

“Do you know why Khonsu wants to get there?”

You clenched your jaw and swallowed the remaining taste of the water on your tongue. She could read you well, could read anyone well with talents like hers. You were simply his avatar, and from your experience, avatars weren’t at liberty to know anything their masters did not want them to.

“I complete his will.” You gritted.

“Which is precisely the problem, y/n.” She stood and replaced the mug, moving her hands against her pants to dry them. “Yelena and Kate will keep an eye on you while I’m gone. Your aunt and mother think that you’ve gotten some sort of bug on the trip.”  

“Ironic.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, pulling a small fob from her pocket. She hit a switch on the front. The two cuffs broke apart at the center. You let out a hiss of pain as your rigid muscles got a much-needed break.

In a moment of renewed defiance, you moved to sweep your arm at her feet. That’s what Khonsu would have wanted, after all, for you to escape and get these things off, restoring your link. Besides, part of you wanted to get the woman back for the ungodly amount of electricity she had sent through you.

She brought her knee into your abdomen. You let go of the breath that you held, and she hit the button again. The two halves of the cuffs slammed back together with apt force. You let out a grunt, turning on your back from the strength of the hit.

“Magnetic, remember?”

“Yeah. I remember.”

It was worth a shot, anyway. Natasha grasped the center of the cuffs with her brute strength and pulled you to your feet. There wasn’t much choice in the matter, after all. She pulled you down the hallway, the small creature trotting behind both of you like this was a common practice. For all you knew, it was.

The living area was quaint, decorated in muted colors. There was a soft leather couch, a small coffee table, and television that was surrounded by aged books. There was tasteful art on the walls. The blonde woman flipped through a magazine, leaning against the breakfast bar. The brunette was shoving a mouthful of cereal into her mouth, tipping her spoon at the two of you as she chewed thoughtfully.

This was what was in charge of watching you? God, this might be easier than you thought. Natasha pulled you forward by your hands, shoving you into one of the barstools. She rested her hands on your shoulder. One of the girls offered you a bite of cereal, milk dripping into the bowl.

“Yelena is a widow,” The woman behind you seemed to decipher your line of thinking.

“It is true. Unlike my sister, I will not hesitate.”

“Noted,” You rasped.

Whatever they had shackled around your wrists had some serious firepower. You had taken the superhuman healing for granted for way too long. Your throat stung and your skin was buzzing with mortality. It was stupid, this headache was stupid and so were these cuffs. You couldn’t help the creaking glare you leveled Natasha with, even if she had squeezed your shoulder with an heir of lovingness on her way out the door.

Yelena let out a labored sigh and flipped the page of her magazine to another moment in pop culture. Boring. The scent of freshly printed paper made your stomach churn so you focused your gaze on the woman who must be Kate. Her chewing slowed. You lifted an eyebrow at her.

“What can you do?”

“For starters, I engineered that tech that took you out.” She shot back. “And I’m an expert marksman. I’m Hawkeye.”

“I thought Hawkeye was a dude. That guy your father or something?”

Yelena let out a barking laugh and Kate’s cheeks reddened. Lover, maybe, though she seemed too young for that. All of you did; sitting in a small, warm kitchen together. There was a strange amount of violence in your life, starting with the moment you were gunned down. Your shoulder ached, and your heart did too.

Kate swallowed a gulp of milk from her bowl “No. He’s my mentor.”

You nodded and let the subject die in the air, much like your patience. Natasha’s plan was going to work. There wasn’t much to it, really. It gave Dina an excuse to not see you. After all, she was determined that you were going to fail, and you had, miserably.

She couldn’t keep you here forever, could she? Though part of you had to admit, looking at a small piece of Natasha’s life, her real life, was thrilling. You could imagine yourself ordering take-out here, because neither of you could cook, curled up on her sofa with the small black cat. In another world, you would have met Natasha’s sister over a drink, and not over restraints. In the real world, she shut her magazine and studied you as any widow would.

“Natasha said that you are a vigilante,” Yelena said.

“Not a vigilante. I serve a God. Whatever he wants, I do.” You said.

“Ah, so like, Charlie Manson.” Kate said.

“No, it’s not like that.” You frowned and made a nervous tug at your restraints. It wouldn't do anything, the metal dug further into your wrists with its stinging edge. Still, but made you feel like you were doing something, not just sitting here with the scent of sugary cereal in your lungs. “I owe him a debt. He saved my life.”

“The Red Room saved my life. Natasha’s too. They gave us food, shelter, what we thought was love.” Yelena gave Kate a tender look, one of gratitude, and maybe something more. It felt like you were witnessing something you shouldn't. Her stare turned hard again “They also brainwashed us and manipulated us to kill. They trained us into assassins with a dripping ledger for a debt owed.”

You repeated weakly, mind tired “It’s not like that.”

Yelena didn’t’ push after that. She let out a deep sigh and turned the page of her magazine to another dump of tabloids. Aliens spotted in Kansas; the large crop circles were a bunch of drunk teenagers. An amusement part that combusted was the fault of a chewed electrical wire.  

Kate had granted you with a blanket and another cup of water before redirecting you to the sofa as if you had a common cold. She explained that she and Yelena had been catching up on all the classic films she could think of. Yelena hated Back to the Future, but cried at Sixteen Candles- laughed at Heather's.

You had been in worse situations. This almost felt normal, like you had just ordered takeout and popped in a VHS tape. But sometimes the cuffs tugged, and your exhaustion flared. By the time they settled on Titanic, your eyes felt heavy, and you gave in to sleep, breathing in the soft lavender scent that clung to Natasha’s blankets. The small black cat curled behind your legs; your breath lined up.

Yelena had fallen asleep against Kate’s chest when you awoke. The end credits of the movie scrolled at a molasses pace. Your throat was sore, the small animal purring against the crook of your arm. You didn’t remember the cat moving, nor did you recall drifting into unconsciousness. Maybe you did need rest, after all.

“They’re fantastic at this guarding thing, huh?”

You drew in a sharp and cold breath, eyes darting to Natasha. She was leaning against the back of the sofa. A fond smile on her face as she looked at her sister and the archer. The blonde's fingers knit through Kate’s shirt, holding it as an anchor.

“I like your cat,”

“Liho likes you, it seems.”

Her deep green eyes flicked in your direction. Goosebumps rose against your skin, blush moving to your cheeks. This was Natasha, you realized. She was being vulnerable with you, as you had been with her. Allowing you into her home, to meet her sister. Superpowered handcuffs or not, this was her being lenient.

“I hate to admit it, but you had the right idea, letting your aunt lead us to the tomb. I’ve been trained in the best methods of tracking, recovering.” She frowned, moving her hand over the folded fabric of the couch “But ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics are out of my scope.”

You pulled yourself into a sitting position, careful not to disturb the small cat. She shifted easily onto your lap with nothing more than a little huff and the twitch of a pink nose. Natasha looked at you tentatively and sat on the other end of the couch. You could smell her again, the floral odor of detergent and warmth. It relaxed you.

Her knee was folded under her, touching yours. She reached over and scratched Liho under the chin. The cat let out a small mew of appreciation. It brought a smile to your face.

“You could have turned me over the SHIELD. You didn’t. Why?”

“They tend to react impulsively upon things they do not understand. And they certainly would not understand you. I don’t understand you.” She frowned, pulling her hand back into her lap. “But I think I want to.”

There were reserves, of course, there were. Her breath was warm against your collarbone. You had both inadvertently leaned in. There was coffee and mint on her exhale. You had buzzed the last time you’d inched this close. First figuratively, and then literally. But here, you were restrained, compliant. Too exhausted to make awkward sarcastic jokes. You wanted to drown in this moment.

She closed the distance between, nose cold against your cheek. Her taste was thinly sweet, the kiss tender and careful. Your fingers twitched, eager to weave into her mane of red hair, the cuffs preventing you from pulling her closer. Her own hand moved up to cup your jaw. You sighed into her mouth, content.

Natasha whimpered when you pulled away, a quiet sound. It shot something right to your core. You drew in a deep breath and smiled. That was something you could do all day if your lungs hadn’t been screaming for air. Even then, you considered it a good way to go.

“Thank you for not knocking me unconscious that time.” You spoke.

She laughed, shaking her head. There was a comfortable stillness to the air, an electric charge that had fizzled into longing. Yelena grumbled into the small of Kate’s neck, the sound muffled. Kate continued to snore softly in tune to Liho, still in your lap.

“Do you think you can let me out of these things?” You asked, putting on your best puppy dog look, hoping it would melt the mighty widow. “I promise I won’t go all Avatar on you, I’ll even wear them as fancy glowing bracelets.”  

She narrowed her eyes at you. There was no way you could stack up against two widows and an archer. Natasha must have read your mind because she produced the small magnetic fob and unlatched the cuffs, your shoulders relaxed, and the familiar ache that always plagued the one throbbed feverishly.

It gave you enough lead way to ghost your fingertips against her cheek, the warmth of her skin under yours. You had been wanting to do that for a long time, feel the way her features settled into a frown or a warm sunny smile. Natasha was beautiful and dangerous, and that gave you a spike of adrenaline.

You kissed Natasha again, fingers fisting her collar. It was urgent this time, like the thought of breathing her in was keeping you alive. But then again, it wasn’t.

You think toys from the Avengers box of tricks will keep me at bay? Get rid of her.

He was.