Myles 🕷️

also I really do think I had my hater shades on when I was playing through this game the first time. I think I’m like idk 10 hours in and I’m having a pretty damn good time??? The exploration is fantastic and the tombs are bigger and better. Also love the crypts which are like mini tombs. I looked at my old save file and omg I really didn’t give a crap about collecting outfits cus I barely had any!!

You were on a redemption tour of sorts.

You wanted to be intentional with your family again. You needed to be.

Your kids were growing right before your eyes, and while you’d always been active and involved, that wasn’t necessarily what they appreciated most from you. Not really. Quality time had always been the thing that kept your family close. It was how you stayed in the know.

You’d always silently judged parents who didn’t know their teenager’s favorite music, best friend, or what they were nervous about lately. You’d scoff at the fathers at the firm who bragged about only paying a couple of hundred dollars in child support, like it was a badge of honor instead of embarrassment.

You weren’t that type of parent.

You never would be.

Today was about Paige.

Charlie had bragged endlessly about the basket she got when she first got her period. It had become somewhat of a tradition after Cara. But for Paige, you knew a basket alone wouldn’t really do it.

Which was how the two of you ended up at Off The Record, a small mom-and-pop record store tucked into the city, smelling of old paper sleeves and incense.

Paige was your youngest girl and, unsurprisingly, the most detached in a way. Independent. Reliable. Sometimes, too much so for a child who was only nine going on ten.

Sometimes you missed when she used to cling to your leg every waking second, wanting nothing except to be wherever you were.

Now she wandered.

Browsed.

Built little pieces of herself privately.

You looked over at her now as she stood at the counter, seriously explaining to the cashier what kind of music she liked while flipping through stacks of CDs. Paige was taller now. Long-legged and expressive with her hands when she got excited. Her hair was pulled into two pigtails that bounced every time she turned her head.

“…and my sister says Lauryn Hill changed her life,” Paige informed the poor cashier with complete seriousness. “So I probably need to hear that too.”

You smiled to yourself before looking away quickly, suddenly overwhelmed by how fast all of this was happening.

“Mom,” she called suddenly. “I’ve never listened to a full Mariah Carey album before, have I?”

“We’ve listened to some singles, but never a full album, no,” you shook your head.

Paige gasped softly like this was a genuine parental failure.

“So can I get that too?” she looked up at you with wide puppy eyes. “And maybe Taylor Swift? Oh, and Beyoncé. I’m old enough for her music now, right?”

“I’d say no, but I won’t deny you the queen,” you leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

Paige grinned triumphantly before immediately turning back toward the shelves.

“How much is all this going to cost me?” you muttered, finally glancing down at the price tag on a Michael Jackson Off the Wall vinyl nearby.

Your eyes widened. “Forty dollars for one record?”

Paige blinked innocently beside you. “You said whatever I wanted.”

“I always tend to eat my own words.” You mumbled. 

“You’re the best mom ever,” She bounced on her toes. 

You snorted softly under your breath, shaking your head as she carefully pulled another vinyl from the rack. Watching her here, excited, curious, growing into her own little person with opinions and taste and favorites, made something ache warmly in your chest.

This was what you’d been missing. 

The next stop was a boba tea shop. Boba was her new obsession, and though you weren’t a big fan, you wanted to indulge her. Paige amazed you in more ways than one. She and Charlie were little fashionistas in their own ways. While Charlie was more New York chic, Paige, meanwhile, took a softer approach. Vintage denim jackets. Colorful sneakers. Hair clips shaped like stars and butterflies. Though the purse she carried was no doubt her older sister’s. You wondered if Charlie even knew. 

You watched her now as she carefully stirred her drink with concentration, brows pinched. 

“What?” She looked up immediately, catching you staring.

“Nothing,” you smiled into your own drink. “You’re just getting big.”

Paige groaned dramatically. “You say that every five minutes now.”

“Because every five minutes you grow another inch.”

“That’s not scientifically possible.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” she slurped loudly from her straw. “I’m literally in advanced science.”

You laughed softly, leaning back into the booth.

Outside the window, people passed by without much thought, the city moving around the two of you like always. But for once, you didn’t feel rushed to catch up to it. Cincinnati was supposed to be slower than New York. It was supposed to be your break from the big life you left behind. 

Paige reached into the record bag again, peeking down at her choices for what had to be the tenth time already.

“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “I think this is my favorite day we’ve had in a while.”

“Yeah,” You nodded. “Me too.” 

Paige seemed to blush, then hid her curiosity by taking another sip of her drink. 

“You want to ask something?” You guessed. She seemed a bit surprised, but then rolled her eyes at herself. You’re her mom, of course, you could tell. 

“Do I look like her?” Paige asked, kicking her feet under the table. “My mommy. My birth mommy. Karen.” She felt the need to clarify. “Halmeoni always says I do, but I don’t know.”

You knew how important it was to answer truthfully. “Yes. You do.” You try to hide the sadness still in your voice. Thinking bout your best friend always brought a sense of melancholy. “You have her eyes, “ you continued. “Especially when you’re annoyed.”

Paige snorted softly.

“And your smile,” you added after a moment. A smile of your own spread wide across your face. “That little crooked thing you do when you’re trying not to laugh? That’s all her.”

Paige looked down into her drink, strangely shy now.

“She was really pretty,” she mumbled. “I mean, from all the pictures I have and the videos.” 

“She was,” you agreed instantly. “And loud. And dramatic. Like someone else I know.”

That earned you a laugh.

“She sounds fun.”

“She was,” you smiled softly. “She loved really hard, too. Especially you.”

The smile on Paige’s face faded into something smaller. More thoughtful.

“You think she’d like me?” she asked quietly. 

Your chest tightened so fast it almost hurt.

“Paige,” you reached across the table for her hand. “She would’ve been obsessed with you. She was obsessed with you. ”

Paige blinked quickly after that, looking away toward the window before you could fully catch her expression.

“And she didn’t die because she gave birth to me?” She asked. That question practically knocked the wind out of you. What was it with your kids and asking incredibly hard questions at random times?

But Paige was getting older now. Of course, the questions were changing too.

You squeezed her hand gently before answering.

“No, baby,” you said carefully. “No.”

Paige looked back at you immediately, searching your face to see if you were telling the truth or just trying to protect her feelings.

“Your mom got very sick after you were born,” you explained quietly. “And the doctors missed some things they shouldn’t have.”

Even now, years later, anger still flashed low in your chest when you thought about it too long.

“But you are not the reason she died.”

Paige’s eyes dropped again.

“Not even a little?”

“Not even a little,” you repeated firmly.

The boba straw bent between her fingers as she messed with it absentmindedly.

“I think about it sometimes,” she admitted. “Like… if she didn’t have me, she’d still be alive.”

You got up from your side of the booth before you could think twice about it, sliding in beside her instead.

“Oh, Paige,” you pulled her into your side immediately. “Listen to me.”

She curled into you without resistance, suddenly looking much younger than she had when walking through the record store earlier.

“Your life was never something bad that happened to her,” you murmured into her hair. “You were the best thing that happened to her. To all of us.”

Paige stayed quiet after that, small against your side as the city moved outside the window beside you.

“You really mean that?” she whispered eventually.

“With everything in me,” you answered.

“Sorry for making this sad,” She said. “I know that’s not how you want to spend your time off work.”

Your face softened immediately.

“Hey,” you reached up to move one of her pigtails from where it had fallen into her face. “This isn’t sad to me.”

She looked unconvinced.

“It’s important,” you corrected gently. “There’s a difference.”

Paige picked at her straw. “I just don’t want you getting tired of me asking about her all the time. We don’t talk about her a lot anymore.”

“Oh, baby.” You pulled her closer again without hesitation. “I will talk about Karen with you for the rest of my life if that’s what you need.”

That seemed to hit her harder than expected. She blinked quickly, trying to keep herself together in the way your kids always did when emotions caught them off guard.

“You know what your mom used to say when she was pregnant with you?” you asked softly.

Paige shook her head against your shoulder.

“She said she hoped you’d be stubborn enough to survive this family.”

A tiny laugh escaped Paige before she could stop it.

“And look at you,” you kissed the top of her head. “Bossing me around in record stores and spending all my money.” 

“I’m glad you and Mama aren’t getting divorced,” She admitted. “We were really scared.”

“Me too,” you confessed. “Your Mama and I love each other and you guys too much.”

“Good,” Paige said. “Sometimes I miss it. Like when we first got here, and Cara was home. We would do all these things together.”

“Well, your birthday is next week, and I have it on record that we will all be together.” You promised. “Mama and I will try to make an effort to keep those family things going. Movie nights. Dinners. All those board games we have are collecting dust.”

“And Charlie hates me sometimes,”

You sighed softly through your nose.

“Yeah, I heard about that,” You nodded. “I’m not too happy with how that’s going between you two. I thought we solved it.”

“I guess,” Paige shrugged. “She acts like she doesn’t even want to be my sister sometimes.”

“You sound just like her with Cara,”

 Paige’s face twisted immediately. “That’s different.”

“It’s really not.”

She groaned, already knowing where this was going.

“You and Charlie are a lot alike,” you continued. “Too alike sometimes. And when sisters start growing into different versions of themselves, there’s usually some bumping around.”

“She’s quitting ballet,” Paige frowned. “That’s something we always did together. I mean, I even joined because I wanted to be like her.”

You smiled at that. You remember Charlie being so excited to take her younger sister to school. 

Paige pushed her drink away.  “She’s changing,” she admitted quietly. “Everybody is.”

The honesty of it sat between you. You reached over, smoothing your hand over the top of her hair.

“Baby,” you said softly, “your sister growing up doesn’t mean she’s growing away from you.”

Paige looked unconvinced. “But things are different.”

“Yeah,” you nodded honestly. “They are.”

You looked out the window for a second before continuing.

“When Cara left for college, Charlie cried in her room for two days straight.”

Paige blinked. “Seriously?”

“She made Natasha drive her to campus three separate times in one month because she ‘forgot something.’”

“I did forget things,” Charlie had insisted every single time.

Paige smiled at the memory.

“Families change,” you continued quietly. “People get older. Interests change. Schedules change. But that doesn’t mean the love leaves with it.”

Paige rested her cheek against your shoulder then, quieter now.

“I don’t like it.”

“I know,” you kissed the top of her head. “Me neither sometimes. Neither do your siblings. But we’re working on it. Hey, ask her to help you with last minute things about your party. I bet she’ll answer.”

“That’s a good idea,” Paige nodded. “Can we go to one more place? The bakery on Scott?”

“Sure, we have time.”

“Great, I have ideas.” She said. You wondered what she was cooking up. 

—-----

It was a great day to be outside. For Natasha, this meant sitting on the sidelines, watching as Luke and James attempted to teach Max and Midnight new tricks. She sat stretched across one of the patio chairs with her bare feet tucked under her, a pen balanced between her teeth, and her yoga manuals spread out before her. Every few minutes, she would underline something, scribble in the margins, and then glance back out at the yard. 

“No, no, you have to say it with authority,” James snapped his fingers so Midnight would sit. 

“Midnight,” Luke squared his shoulders. He deepened his voice and said, “Roll over.”

The dog barked once and sprinted off in the opposite direction. 

Natasha smiled into her book. They’d be at this a little while longer. 

The backdoor slid open behind her.  Yelena stepped out carrying a bottle of water and one of Natasha’s protein bars she definitely hadn’t asked permission to take.

“You know,” she said as she settled into the chair beside her, “watching you become suburban has been one of the strangest experiences of my life.”

Natasha didn’t look up from her notes. “You say that every time you visit.”

“And every time it becomes more true.” Yelena gestured vaguely toward the yard. “You’re outside annotating yoga books while children train rescue dogs. You used to fall asleep in vents.”

“I’ve never fallen asleep in a vent,” Natasha scoffed. 

“Twice you did,” Yelena shrugged. “Once in Venice.”

“You and I remember that differently,” Natasha flipped through another page. “How long are you here for again?”

“Until Kate is done visiting with the Bartons,” Yelena tore open the packaging of the bar. She bit into it, her nose scrunching at the taste. “Tastes like chocolate chalk and ass.” She dropped it onto the table between them.

“You would know what that tastes like,” Natasha muttered without missing a beat. 

“You’re so funny,” She rolled her eyes.  “So,” She said casually. “I can’t help but notice your wife is not home,” Yelena looked around the yard. The boys were playing some kind of game of tug-of-war with the dogs and James’ t-shirt. “Again.”

“She’s with Paige,” Natasha closed the book against her knee. She looked at Yelena fully. 

“Funny, I didn’t see her kiss you goodbye this morning,” She said. 

“Why don’t you come out and say what you really want to know?” Natasha raised a brow. 

“No, ice cream together. No disgusting cuddling on the couch,” Yelena began to list off. “No displays of affection that make me want to hurl. I would say your marriage is in trouble.”

“You’d make a wonderful spy,” Natasha shook her head. She looked back into her chair. “My marriage is not in trouble.”

“But it’s not like normal? Tell me I’m wrong,” Yelena threw up her hands. 

“You’re not wrong,” Natasha sighed. “We’ve become disconnected. But we’re trying. Actually, we were supposed to have this talk with you together.”

Yelena narrowed her eyes.  “You think I couldn’t handle the truth.”

“I think you’re our child by proxy at this point,” Natasha shrugged. “You tend to dig your nose into our marriage anyway.”

"Hey, it's traumatic when you two stop flirting? The whole house becomes cold.”

Natasha laughed despite herself, shaking her head.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I am serious,” Yelena pointed at her. “You and Y/n are like… weirdly in love. It’s unsettling. So when that disappears everybody notices.”

That quieted Natasha a little. Her eyes drifted back toward the yard where Luke had now wrapped himself around Max like a backpack while James argued with him about “proper dog training techniques.

“It didn’t disappear,” Her voice was even softer now. “At least that’s what I keep telling myself. She’s been busy with work.” “So, it’s her fault?” Yelena tilted her head. 

“No,” Natasha denied. She fiddled with her hands. Very uncharacteristic. “I think it’s been building up for a while. Starting with me after that mission.”

“That was five years ago?” 

“She mentioned it in an argument,” Natasha nodded. “I mean, would you really expect your wife to get over saying you wanted to abandon her and the kids? Especially without telling them?”

“You did that?” Yelena gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“I almost did,” Natasha said. “I wasn’t in the right headspace after that mission. Wanda had to step in and find me, but…there’s a reason I don’t like magic.” “But why didn’t you want to come home?”

“I didn’t feel like me anymore,” she admitted finally. Her fingers twisted together again. “And when I looked at them…” she swallowed. “I loved them so much it scared me.”

Yelena’s face softened immediately.

“I thought if I came home like that,” Natasha continued quietly, “I’d ruin everything.”

“But you still stayed,” Yelena pointed out gently.

Natasha looked back toward the house. Toward the kitchen windows. Toward the life inside it.

“Yeah,” she said after a moment.

A small, almost disbelieving smile crossed her face. “Because apparently I love my wife more than my own self-destruction.”

“And this now is payback?” “I think it was an indicator we needed counseling together,” Natasha breathed. “We still made time. We still had our moments, but we both got too busy. Too wrapped up in emotions and jobs and the kids.”

Yelena leaned further back in her chair, staring up at the sky dramatically. “This is all way too mature for me,” she declared. “I liked it better when relationship problems were just somebody cheating or getting arrested.”

Natasha snorted softly. “You’re thirty-four.”

“And still emotionally nineteen.”

“That explains a lot, actually.”

Yelena ignored her. “I just…” she sighed, glancing over again. “You two have always felt permanent to me.”

“You know what the weird part is?” Natasha asked after a moment.

“What?”

“I don’t think either of us realized how bad it got until we stopped touching each other.”

“No more couch cuddling?” Yelena grimaced. “Tragic.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, but there was no real bite behind it this time. “I’m serious,” she murmured. “We stopped reaching for each other.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?” Yelena asked. “Wait, too mature, again. Don’t tell me.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Natasha laughed. Her sister was genuinely unbelievable at times. Though in her own head, she probably couldn’t tell her a date. There was still work to do. “I met this widow,” she changed the subject. “She has a kid, and she wants me to help her meet the kid.”

“Why you?”

“I asked the same thing…” Natasha exclaimed. She was happy for the topic change.

—-----

Paige stood right next to Charlie’s bedroom door for a long moment before finally knocking. She could hear music permeating through the door. It was slow and calm.  

“What?” Charlie called through the door. 

“It’s me,” Paige answered. 

“Go away,” Charlie said. 

Paige rolled her eyes. Typical. “I have something for you.”

“What kind of something?” 

“Open the door and see,” Paige knocked again. “I’m going to drop it.”

The door finally cracked open just enough for one suspicious eye to peek through. Charlie’s curls were piled messily on top of her head and she was sporting black eye liner and mascara. 

“You’re annoying,” she mumbled.

“And yet you opened the door.”

Charlie sighed dramatically before opening it wider. Paige stepped inside, balancing a box of macarons and two cups of matcha from the bakery. 

“I picked these up when I went out with mom,” Paige set them on the desk. “These are your favorite right?”

“They are,” Charlie’s eyes lit up. “So, did you do the whole period basket thing.”

“I got vinyls,” Paige shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Wait, that’s way cooler,” Charlie gasped.

“I know,” Paige grinned. 

 “I still think it’s weird you kept it a secret from everyone,” Charlie bit into a macaron with a frown. 

“It wasn’t really a secret,” Paige tilted her chin defensively. 

“Then what was it?” she asked. “I mean… weren’t you scared?”

Paige was quiet for a second longer than expected.

“A little,” she admitted eventually. “But mostly I just didn’t want everybody acting weird around me. I already knew what to do.”

“But you didn't come to me,” Charlie looked over at her. “We tell each other that stuff.”

“I don’t know,” Paige shrugged again. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, okay,” Charlie let her have it. “Is that the only reason you came in here?”

“No,” Paige took another macaron for herself. “I wanted to talk about my birthday party. I was wondering if you could help me dye my hair.”

“You’re going to dye your hair?” Charlie’s mouth dropped. “Dude, moms will kill us both. You’re turning ten, not sixteen.”

“It wouldn’t be permanent or, like, my whole head,” Paige defended quickly. “Just maybe the front pieces. Or underneath.”

Charlie stared at her for another second before narrowing her eyes thoughtfully.

“…What color?”

Paige grinned immediately, knowing she’d won her over a little. “Maybe dark red?”

“Oh, that would eat,” Charlie admitted before catching herself. “Wait. No. I’m supposed to be responsible.”

“You literally have a Pinterest board called hair inspo.”

“That is private information.”

Paige laughed into her drink. 

Charlie watched her for a second after that. Really watched her.

“You’re getting big,” she mumbled.

Paige groaned loudly. “You sound like Mom.”

“Well, you are.” Charlie reached over, absentmindedly fixing one of Paige’s pigtails where it had started coming loose. “It’s weird.”

“You’re weird.”

“True.”

“Maybe we could do a little trim too. I’m good with scissors,” Charlie pretended to search for them. 

“No way,” Paige shook her head. 

“Okay, I’ll do it,” Charlie said. “But we have to ask Moms. I’m not getting grounded over this.”

“Fine,”

—----------------- —-----------------

The first thing Natasha noticed when she stepped into your shared shower was the delicate gold anklet wrapped around your left ankle. Tiny little charms glittered against damp skin every time the water hit it. It was new, and she wanted to question where you got it from, but it seemed unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

You were carefully scrubbing around it as you hummed softly to yourself, completely unaware she’d followed you in.

For a second, Natasha just watched.

The steam curled around you, your braids pinned messily up away from your face, one of her oversized shirts abandoned somewhere on the bathroom floor outside the glass doors.

“Can I join you?” She asked, finally.

You jumped slightly, hand flying to your chest as she stepped inside anyway.

“Natasha!” you laughed breathlessly. “You scared me.”

“Mhm.” Her hands settled automatically at your waist once she was close enough. “That was the goal.” She didn’t mind the hot water splashing against her back.

You rolled your eyes, though the smile stayed as warm water splashed against both of you now.

Natasha’s eyes drifted downward again.

“When did you get this?” she asked quietly, kneeling so that her thumb brushed against the anklet.

You looked down like you’d forgotten it was there.

“Oh,” you smiled softly. “A few weeks ago. I picked it out when I went shopping.”

Natasha hummed at that, still tracing absent patterns against your ankle underwater.

You tilted your head slightly at her silence.

“What?” you asked softly.

Natasha just shook her head once before leaning down to kiss your calf.

“Nothing,” she murmured against damp skin. “You’re just pretty.”

“Just pretty?” You pulled her into your arms. The steam made your cheeks flush, or maybe it was the look in her eyes, or the feel of her bare skin against yours. “Nat, you’ve called me a lot of things over the years. Just pretty feels like an insult.”

A slow smile spread across her face. She reached up, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Alright then. You’re devastatingly beautiful. You’re the kind of beautiful that makes people forget their own names. Better?”

You pretended to consider it, tapping a finger against your lip. “Hmm. Getting warmer.”

Natasha laughed, a real, unrestrained laugh that echoed off the glass walls. She pulled you closer, water streaming between your bodies. “Fine. You’re so beautiful it physically hurts me sometimes. There. Are we done rating my compliments now?”

“Depends,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss her jawline. “Are you trying to get lucky?" It sounded sexier in your head, and you both knew it, sharing a smile between the two of you. "It's been too long."

"Eight months," She said, closing her eyes after a particularly hard nip at her throat. "But who's counting?"

"Is that why you came in here?" You questioned. "To talk about my anklet and how pretty I am?"

"No. I came in here to see how long it would take to get you on your knees." Her response was quick, and you shivered despite the steam.

"It's a shame. You beat me to it." You whispered.

The water continued its steady rhythm against your skin, but Natasha’s focus was solely on the way your body moved against hers. She let out a shaky breath as your fingers traced the line of her collarbone, down between her breasts.

She bit her lip. This was what she had been wanting for so long. "I need..." The redhead started.

"I know, baby," you murmured against her skin. "I know."

Her hands tangled in your braids, gently guiding you back to her lips. The kiss started slow, a gentle exploration, but it quickly deepened into something more desperate. Months of unspoken tension, of carefully maintained distance, melted away under the hot spray of the shower.

Your hands roamed her body with a confidence that made her tremble. You knew every sensitive spot, every place that made her gasp into your mouth. When your thumb brushed against her nipple, toying with the jewelry piercing both ends, she arched into your touch with a soft cry.

"I've missed this," she whispered against your lips. "I've missed you. I wanted it to be more special for us. Dinner. Candles." Her speech was broken by pants as your other hand traveled lower, tracing patterns on her stomach.

"We can have dinner tomorrow," you murmured, nipping at her earlobe. "Or I could make you wait."

"You could," She nodded. "I came in here to be with you. Not for sex."

"Hmm," You nodded. Natasha pulled back slightly, her green eyes dark with desire and something deeper. That unwavering devotion that had defined your relationship from the beginning. She watched you for a moment, her expression uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"You still want me, right? Even after everything? After my stupid pride and the distance and..." Her words faltered as your fingers continued their torturously slow descent.

"Every day," you said simply, and it was the truest thing you had ever spoken. "Even when I was angry with you, I still wanted you."

That was all the encouragement she needed. Natasha surged forward, pressing you against the tiled wall of the shower as the water cascaded over both of you. Her kisses grew more demanding, her hands exploring every curve of your body.

"I love you," she gasped between kisses. "I never stopped. Not for a second."

Your response was lost in a moan as her teeth found your shoulder, biting gently before soothing the skin with her tongue. Your fingers finally reached where she wanted them most, and Natasha's knees nearly buckled at the contact.

You found her clit with ease, circling slowly at first, building tension with each pass. Natasha's head fell back against the tiles, water streaming down her face and neck as she surrendered to the pleasure you were giving her.

"Fuck," she whispered.

The water began to cool as you brought her closer to the edge. Your other hand came up to cup her breast, thumb and forefinger rolling her pierced nipple between them. Natasha's hands gripped your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as her hips began to move against your hand.

"Look at me," You commanded softly.

Natasha's eyes fluttered open, locking with yours. The intensity of her gaze nearly undid you. In that moment, there was no distance, no months of separation, no stubborn pride. There were only the two of you.

"I love you too," you murmured, and with those words, you increased the pressure, your fingers moving faster as she cried out your name.

Her orgasm crashed over her like a wave, her body trembling against yours as she gasped for breath. You held her through it, your movements gentling as she came down from her high.

Natasha slumped against you, her face buried in the crook of your neck as her breathing gradually returned to normal.

"Wow," she finally managed, a weak laugh escaping her lips. "Just... wow."

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. "Yeah."

The water was definitely cold now, but neither of you seemed to notice or care.

"I came in here innocently at first," She spoke against your skin. "Just wanted to be with you."

"I know, Tasha," You kissed the top of her head. "Get out. I'll be there in a minute."

She pulled back reluctantly, her eyes searching yours. "Don't be long."

"I won't."

As Natasha stepped out of the shower, you watched her grab a towel, her movements slightly unsteady. She caught your eye before wrapping the towel around herself, and the look she gave you was full of promise for what the rest of the night might hold.

You finished washing up quickly, your mind racing. Eight months. Eight months of distance, of carefully constructed schedules, of avoiding the one person you needed most. And all it took to break through everything was one innocent question about an anklet.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped securely around your body, you found Natasha perched on the edge of the bed. She hadn't bothered dressing, just holding the towel around herself as she watched you approach.

"I was thinking," she said as you stopped in front of her.

"About?" You asked, reaching out to tuck a strand of damp hair behind her ear. You stood between her legs, caressing her face.

"About how long it's been since we had a vacation," She said, tracing the back of your thigh with the tip of her fingers.

"Hmm."

"I booked us something for the week after Paige's birthday. Paris."

Your eyes widened. "Natasha—"

"Don't," She interrupted. "No excuses. Just say yes."

You studied her face, seeing the determination in her green eyes. "What about the kids"

"My parents can handle things for a week," She said dismissively. "And I've already cleared it with Yelena to help."

You laughed softly. "Of course you have."

"So?" Her fingers stilled on your leg. "Is that a yes?"

You leaned down, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. "Yes," you whispered against her mouth. "That's a yes."

Natasha's relief was palpable, her whole body relaxing as she deepened the kiss. When you finally pulled apart, she was smiling, a real, genuine smile that reached her eyes.

"I was worried you'd say no," she admitted.

"After what just happened in the shower?" You teased. "I'd say yes to just about anything you asked right now."

Her grin widened. "Good to know. You don't think it was too soon?"

"I think it was too quick," You clarified at her eyebrow arch. "I meant I want us to have the opportunity to go all night." You lowered your head to her neck. "Too soon isn't a thing for us after almost two decades in. That's our problem, we're working off what we think should happen or schedules and everything else. If I wanted to eat your pussy in the parking garage of the therapist's office, I would." You paused. "Don't get any ideas."

She laughed. "Noted. No parking garage cunnilingus." Her hands slid up your back, tracing the line of your spine. "But the bed is fair game?"

You hummed, leaning in to nip at her jawline. "The bed is very fair game."

Natasha's response was to capture your lips again, this kiss deeper, more demanding. Her hands roamed your body, mapping familiar territory. You responded in kind, your own hands exploring as you slowly backed her toward the center of the bed.

When the back of her knees hit the mattress again, Natasha fell back with a soft gasp, pulling you down with her. The towels between you felt like an unnecessary barrier, and she wasted no time in remedying that. She flipped the two of you, effectively pinning you.

"Much better," she murmured against your skin as she finally got you naked beneath her.

You laughed, arching into her touch as her mouth found your throat. "I agree."

Natasha took her time rediscovering your body, her lips and hands tracing every curve, every dip, every scar she already knew by heart. It was both familiar and new, like coming home after a long absence.

When her mouth finally closed around your nipple, you gasped, your fingers tangling in her damp hair. She teased with practiced skill, knowing exactly how to drive you wild with minimal effort.

"Natasha," you breathed, your hips rising to meet hers.

She lifted her head, her green eyes dark with desire. "I want to taste you," she said, her voice husky with need.

Instead of waiting for a response, she began her descent, pressing kisses along your stomach, dipping her tongue into your navel, smiling against your skin when you squirmed. By the time she settled between your thighs, you were already panting with anticipation.

She paused, looking up at you from between your legs. The intensity in her gaze made your breath catch.

"You're so beautiful," she whispered, and this time, the compliment felt like a revelation.

Then she leaned in, and all coherent thought ceased to exist.

The first stroke of her tongue against your clit sent a jolt of electricity through your body. Eight months of pent-up desire melted away in an instant. Natasha had always known exactly how to touch you, how to read your responses, how to push you to the brink and then pull you back, drawing out the pleasure until you were begging for release.

"Babe, we didn't lock the door." You didn't even know why the thought crossed your mind when she was tongue deep inside you.

"Then I'd guess you better be quiet so the kids don't come in," She mumbled without breaking her rhythm.

You rolled your eyes at her cockiness but didn't protest again, lost in the sensation of her tongue exploring your folds. Your hands found her hair again, guiding her as she built a rhythm that had your hips moving against her face.

When she added two fingers, curling them perfectly to hit that spot deep inside, you couldn't suppress the cry that escaped your lips. Natasha smirked against you, clearly pleased with herself as she increased her pace, her tongue working in tandem with her fingers to push you higher and higher.

The tension coiled in your stomach, tighter and tighter, until finally it snapped, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. Your back arched off the bed as you called out her name, your fingers tightening in her hair as your body convulsed with the force of your orgasm.

Natasha stayed with you through it all, her movements gentling as you came down from your high. When your breathing finally returned to normal, she placed one final kiss on your sensitive flesh before crawling back up to lie beside you.

You turned to face her, a lazy smile playing on your lips. "Wow," you whispered, echoing her earlier sentiment.

She chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "I thought we could be spontaneous for a change."

"So you came in from your little yoga reading session and thought, damn, I wanna fuck my wife?" You teased.

"Not exactly," She rolled onto her side to fully face you. "I wanted to talk to you about the trip, and then I saw your tits." She shrugged.

You let out a laugh, the sound filling the quiet room. "Always so romantic, Romanoff."

Natasha's smile softened, her fingers tracing patterns on your arm. "I want you again," she admitted quietly. "If you're up for it."

You raised an eyebrow. "Already?"

"It's been eight months," she reminded you. "I have a lot of lost time to make up for."

The thought of another round sent a fresh wave of desire through you. You leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep kiss, tasting yourself on her tongue. "I'm always up for anything with you," you murmured against her lips.

Natasha responded by deepening the kiss, her body pressing closer to yours as one of her hands slid down to cup your breast, thumb circling your nipple until it hardened under her touch. You arched into her, wanting more, needing more.

When her other hand slipped between your legs, you gasped into her mouth. She wasted no time, finding you already wet and ready for her. Her fingers explored with familiar confidence, stroking, teasing, building that fire in your belly all over again.

"I missed this," she whispered, her lips trailing along your jawline. "I missed being inside you."

"Then stop talking," you breathed, hooking your leg over her hip to give her better access. "And fuck me."

Natasha's response was to enter you with two fingers, slow and deliberate, drawing a moan from your lips. She set a languid pace at first, her thumb finding your clit as she moved within you. The familiar stretch, the perfect angle, it all came rushing back like second nature.

You met her gaze, seeing the raw emotion in her green eyes. Eight months of distance, of carefully maintaining space, all melting away with each thrust of her fingers. You reached up, caressing her face.

"I love you," you whispered, the words coming easily now.

"I love you too," she replied, her movements gaining speed as her own arousal grew. "So much."

You could feel her need pressing against your thigh, and it spurred you on. You rolled your hips, meeting each thrust, encouraging her to take you harder, faster. Natasha obliged, her fingers moving deeper, her thumb working your clit with skilled precision.

The second orgasm built more slowly but was no less intense. When it finally washed over you, you cried out her name, your body trembling with release. Natasha didn't stop, continuing to move within you, drawing out your pleasure until you were completely spent.

Only then did she withdraw, gathering you in her arms as you both caught your breath. The room was quiet except for your ragged breathing, the cool air from the open window doing little to cool your heated skin.

"I think we're going to need two weeks in Paris," you finally spoke.

You woke up refreshed. 

It was the first weekend in weeks you actually had time to relax. 

You were pretty sure it had something to do with tossing your phone into a random drawer the night before and leaving it there. You wanted more time with family. More time with yourself and your wife. You kept your eyes closed, stretching slowly beneath the weight of Natasha’s arm draped over you, pressing your face further into the pillow.

She stirred beside you, letting out a quiet hum as she shifted closer, her body heat settling against yours in a way that felt easy.

Familiar.

For once, there was nowhere else either of you needed to be.

You slipped back under for a little while longer.

The next time you woke up, it was to the sound of raised voices from the living room. Paige and James. One of their rare arguments.

You frowned slightly, still half-asleep, not quite ready to deal with it. The mattress shifted as Natasha started to get up. Instinctively, you reached out, blindly catching her wrist and tugging her back down. She paused, turning toward you, a quiet question in her expression. Like she wasn’t sure if you’d meant to do that. You cracked one eye open, still heavy with sleep, and leaned in just enough to press a soft kiss to her bare shoulder.

“Stay,” you mumbled. She leaned back into you, your arm curling around her middle as her legs hooked loosely over yours, the two of you folding together like you’d done a hundred times before

“We should get up,” She said. 

“Let them duke it out,” You shook your head, though you did loosen your hands to allow her to leave. “It’s been too long since we laid in bed together.”

“Someone is always needing something,” She sighed, lacing her fingers with yours. You wanted to say something. Anything that didn’t sound like a repeat of what you’d already been through. 

It felt right having her in your arms. It always did. Losing the physicality and intimacy of your relationship, the ease of it,  had been more jarring than you wanted to admit. 

“You’re thinking too loudly,” She turned her head. 

“Am I?”

“Penny for your thoughts,” She squeezed your hand. 

“I’m sorry,” You whispered. The tone in your voice startled her. 

“For what?” She asked quietly. You exhaled, resting your head against her shoulder blade, before pulling back. 

“For letting it get like this,” You admitted. “For being here, but not really being here.” You swallowed. “It took us to go to counseling for me to really feel it.”

“You’ve been here,” She said after a moment. 

“But not really,” You said, rolling onto your back. “Not the way you needed. Not the way either of us needed. I know that.”

She turned fully towards you, watching your expression. “I’m sorry too.” She confessed. “I’ve been pushing you away and shutting down. Being moody.”

“Sounds like the opposite of what we promised not to do,” You said, swiping at your eyes. “To have and to hold and all that.”

“Yeah,” She agreed. She rested her hand on your stomach while using the other hand to hold herself up. “You’re crying.”

“Don’t tease,” You tapped her hand. 

“I’m not,” She rolled her eyes playfully. She knew you.

“This is serious, Nat.” You looked up at the ceiling. “I mean, really.”

“Hey,” she said quietly, waiting until you looked at her. “That’s not where we are. Not even close.”

You held her gaze, searching her face for anything that felt uncertain.

There wasn’t any.

“We’re just off right now,” she continued. “And we’re trying to fix it. That’s it.”

“You sound so sure.” You nodded. 

“A few weeks ago I wasn’t,” She said. “But now I am.”

“What changed your mind?”

“You,” She said. “Us together. My anger wasn’t misplaced. I don’t think that. I was hurt. Do you remember a few years ago, we had the conversation about all of our friends divorcing?” 

“Yeah, I brought it up,” You said. 

“There was a moment I felt like you wanted to say more,” Natasha held up a hand. “Don’t say you didn’t mean it. Even back then, I thought you did. You were nervous about us?”

You could remember that moment. Just a little over two years ago. It was one of those late-night sessions where you talked about anything and everything. It had been in your mind, but not because you wanted there to be problems. 

“I was nervous that we weren’t making time for each other.” You listened to the sound of footsteps outside your bedroom. Probably one of the kids creeping to see if you were awake. “Then work picked up, and it just spiraled into this. Us always arguing or mad at each other.

“Imagine going through our entire relationship barely fighting and then suddenly it’s all we know how to do.”

Natasha was quiet for a moment.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “It felt like we skipped a few steps.”

You huffed a small laugh. “Or like we were overdue.”

“Maybe,” she shrugged lightly. “So, do you want to continue with counseling?”

“I do,” You nodded. “I think it's good for us. I want to learn you.” 

“You already know me,” She leaned closer, nudging your nose with hers.  

“Yeah, but I feel like I missed a few chapters,” Your hands automatically dropping to her hips as she straddled your lap. “But I’m a fast learner.”

“I think you’ve already mastered that portion,” She kissed you then, soft and sweet. You both knew there wouldn’t be much time before Luke came demanding his breakfast. Even still, neither of you moved. You kissed her, holding her closer to you, wondering how you could ever give something like this up. 

When your hands traveled lower, to the roundness of her thighs, Natasha smiled against your lips, slow and knowing. The sound of Paige yelling at James somewhere down the hall barely registered anymore.

You kissed her deeper anyway.

Her fingers slipped to the nape of your neck, nails lightly scratching against your scalp in that way she knew you liked. The soft sound you made pulled another smile from her, one she tried to hide against your mouth.

“You’re distracted,” you whispered.

“I’m calculating how long we have before someone starts banging on the door,” she murmured back.

You laughed quietly, your head falling against the pillow again. 

“I didn’t tell you about Willow,” You sighed. You hated to ruin the good mood. “Brandon proposed to his girlfriend. She told me yesterday,” You traced lazy patterns against her thigh. “He mentioned wanting her to move back to Atlanta with them once they get married.”

Natasha was quiet for a second too long.

“And how does she feel about that?”

“She says she doesn’t want to talk about it.” You looked into her eyes. “Which probably means she’s been thinking about it nonstop.”

“Mhm,” Natasha hummed softly in agreement.

You watched her process it in real time, the way she always did, quiet first, emotions later.

“I don’t want her to feel stuck,” she admitted eventually. “Or like she has to choose between people she loves.”

“You think that’s how she feels?”

“She’s sixteen,” she said gently. “Everything feels bigger at sixteen.”

“We can talk with her about it later,” You glanced over at the clock. “She’s probably still asleep. Girl is going to run herself ragged with the schedule she has.”

“She’s determined to get into medical school,” Natasha shrugged. “Sounds like one of her parents.”

“I’ll have you know I took a gap year before law school,” You said, shaking your head. “I certainly wasn’t working towards it in high school.”

“I think she’s overcompensating just a little,” Natasha said, her position in your lap shifting the blanket. She didn’t miss the suggestive look you gave her – she just chose to ignore it. “Her birth mom isn’t in her life. She expressed to us that she’s always been worried about that. Brandon has been in and out for a while. I mean, the original plan was for her to stay with us for a year? Now it’s turned into five?”

“She loves her dad,”

“But think about how that felt when he just never came to pick her back up?”

“She didn’t say she wants to go,” You pointed out. 

“No, she didn’t,” Natasha agreed. “Do we tackle that first or the one with all the kids and how they think we’re breaking up?” “I think all of them,” You lifted out from under her. “We’ve left them in the dark about a lot. I still feel guilty about Paige and the period thing.”

“I think she’ll forgive you if you take her to get a new doll,” Natasha sighed. Oh, how she wished the two of you could stay in here forever. 

—--------

It was time to be a parent.

You couldn’t quite shake the nervousness sitting in your chest as you settled onto the couch across from all of the kids.

Paige sat cross-legged on the floor in front of you, only half interested after promising one of the neighborhood kids she’d ride bikes with them later. Luke was curled into James’ side, despite James very clearly pretending he didn’t want him there. Charlie held the iPad up with Cara still on FaceTime, refusing to hang up “unless someone was literally dying.” Willow sat across from Natasha, quieter than the rest.

You looked around the sectional.

This couch had once held all of you piled together at once, movie nights, fevers, Christmas mornings, accidental naps.

Now, everyone seemed spread out. 

“I know you’re all probably wondering what this is about.” You cleared your throat.

Natasha sat beside you, one leg folded beneath her as she looked over the kids’ faces carefully, like she was trying to gauge how much they already knew. Probably too much.

“Are we in trouble?” Paige asked immediately.

“No,” both of you answered at the same time.

James snorted quietly.

“That sounded suspiciously rehearsed.”

“It wasn’t,” Natasha said dryly.

Luke looked between the two of you. “Then why are we sitting like this?”

Charlie lowered the iPad slightly. “Wait, is this serious?”

“I’d say so,” You nodded. 

You rubbed your palms against your sweatpants before finally speaking again.

“Your moms have just been…” You glanced at Natasha briefly. “Working through some things lately.”

“Like what things?” James asked.

Natasha leaned forward slightly.

“Adult things,” she said simply. “Communication. Stress. Life.”

Charlie’s face shifted first. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “You guys are getting divorced?”

“No,” Paige protested. 

“Charlie, shut up, that’s not happening,” Willow denied. 

“What? What is that?” Luke looked between his siblings. He couldn’t decipher what their horrified expressions meant.

“Hey,” You tried to get a word in. 

“Means you live in two separate houses, and have two rooms, and they won’t be together anymore,” Paige rolled her eyes. 

“So, they won’t be our parents?” Luke asked. 

“That’s not what it means,” Natasha interrupted, wondering how you let it get this far. “At least for us.” She sighed. “We are in counseling. Together.”

Luke frowned. “Like therapy?”

“A little like therapy,” you nodded.

James blinked. “Wait voluntarily?”

“Thank you, James,” Natasha sighed.

“I’m just saying, usually people go to therapy after they throw chairs or something.”

“We have never thrown chairs,” you defended.

Natasha glanced at him. “Your mom did slam a cabinet last month.”

“That cabinet was already broken.” You reminded her. “Thanks to someone hanging off of it.” You didn’t want to point in his direction, but Luke was also going through the Spider-Man phase, just like James did. 

Despite yourself, you noticed the way the kids relaxed slightly at the familiar rhythm of you and Natasha bouncing off each other in conversation. Willow looked carefully between the two of you.

“So, you guys are okay?” she asked quietly. 

The question landed differently coming from her. Natasha reached over, resting her hand over yours before answering. “We’re trying very hard to be,” she said honestly.

Charlie narrowed her eyes. “So, all of the fighting, did something happen? How do you just go from being happy to hating each other?” “We don’t hate each other,”

“I could never hate your mother,” You answered at the same time.

“We’re serious,” Paige frowned. “Like you were fighting a lot.”

You sighed at that. There wasn’t really a point in pretending otherwise. Those arguments, no matter how big or small, were not your proudest moments. 

“Sometimes adults get overwhelmed,” you admitted. “And instead of talking properly, we got frustrated.”

“With each other,” Natasha added. “Not because we stopped loving each other.”

Luke tilted his head slightly. “Then why were you sleeping facing opposite directions?”

James burst out laughing first. “Luke notices everything.”

“I do not,” Luke frowned defensively.

“You do,” Willow chimed in. “It’s a little creepy.”

Charlie looked carefully between the two of you, ignoring the talking around you. “So this is like,” she searched for the wording. “You guys trying before things get bad? Before a divorce?”

“That’s exactly what it is,” Natasha nodded.

Then Paige squinted suspiciously. “Wait.”

Everyone looked at her.

“Was this why you guys were kissing in the laundry room?”

You closed your eyes immediately. James had blabbed to his siblings after all. Natasha looked up toward the ceiling.

“Cara, how are you feeling?” Natasha suddenly remembered that your oldest child was still on the phone. 

“I don’t know,” Cara shuffled awkwardly on the call. “I think if you guys say you are working it out, I believe you. But it’s still weird.”

“That’s fair,” You nodded.

“You’ve been together my whole life basically,” Cara continued. “Like, you guys are just kind of Mom and Mom.”

“Riveting title,” Natasha muttered under her breath.

“It means,” Cara rolled her eyes affectionately, “you don’t really think about your parents as people until they start acting weird.”

“Ouch,” You winced.

“I’m being honest,” She shrugged. “Like one day you guys are annoying and kissing in the kitchen and then suddenly everybody’s tense all the time.”

Natasha looked over at you before speaking.

“We should’ve talked to you guys sooner,” She admitted. “That’s on us.”

“We thought we were protecting you from adult stuff,” You added. “But I think maybe we just made everybody more confused.”

“Yeah,” Charlie nodded immediately. “Because I thought one of you cheated.”

“Charlie!” Paige gasped.

“What?!” she defended. “People do that! We talked about it. Don’t pretend we didn’t.”

“No one cheated,” Natasha said quickly. 

You looked over at her.

“No one even came close,” you added softly. Something about the way you said it made Natasha’s eyes flick toward you for half a second longer.

“Can you tell me what else you guys talked about? Or if you have questions?” You looked into Charlie’s eyes. “If it made you feel differently or anything?”

“It felt shitty,” Charlie said. At your eyebrow raise, she continued. “I’m sorry for cursing, but it’s literally the only way to describe it.” You could see the telltale signs of her beginning to cry.  The wobble in her mouth, the way she blinked harder as she tried not to.

Charlie hated crying in front of people.

“We’d come downstairs, and it’d be weird,” she continued, her voice smaller now. “Like nobody was saying anything, but everybody could tell.”

“And you guys stopped doing stuff together,” she added. “Like little stuff.”

Natasha frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

Charlie looked between the two of you like the answer should’ve been obvious.

“You used to always sit together, like cuddling or holding hands, or it’s stupid,” she said softly.

“No, keep going,” You encouraged her. 

 “Or cook together. Or bother each other.” She finished weakly. “And then one day it was just…” she shrugged helplessly. “Different.” 

Paige scooted closer to your legs on the floor. “I thought maybe Mama was mad at you forever.”

That seemed to do it for Charlie. She burst into tears almost instantly, trying to get up from the couch before Natasha caught her gently and pulled her into her lap instead.

Which only made the room feel heavier.

“I feel so stupid for being emotional,” Charlie cried into Natasha’s shoulder. “I just… I don’t remember a lot about my birth parents. Or the foster homes before this. But I do remember the fighting.”

Natasha’s face fell immediately.

“I didn’t want that to happen to us,” Charlie whispered.

“Oh, baby,” Natasha breathed. She held her tighter automatically, rubbing slow circles into her back. “No, no. Come here.”

You moved closer, sitting beside them.

“This is something that’s been bothering you for a while?” Natasha asked softly.

Charlie nodded against her shoulder.

“I thought if you guys stopped loving each other, then…” she sniffed hard. “Everything would change.”

You reached over, brushing Charlie’s hair back from her damp face.

“Hey,” you said gently. “Your moms are having a hard time right now. That part is true.”

Natasha glanced over at you briefly before looking back down at Charlie.

“But none of this changes how much we love you guys,” she finished quietly.

“Or each other,” you added.

“You can’t promise that,” Charlie mumbled. “What if one day it gets too hard?”

“Then we save it for another day and try again,” You promised her. “I can’t tell you not to worry about it. But I can tell you we are trying. We are working together.”

Instead of answering, Charlie turned her head into Natasha’s shoulder to hide her embarrassment. Natasha smiled faintly, brushing her fingers through Charlie’s curls. 

“What do you even talk about in counseling?” Paige asked. Her knees were up to her chest now, seemingly insecure in her own way.

“A lot of things,” you answered carefully. “How to communicate better. How to listen instead of just reacting.”

“But why do you need help with that if you guys were doing it just fine before?” James questioned. 

You and Natasha shared another glance.

“Because sometimes,” Natasha started slowly, “you can love somebody for a really long time and still fall into bad habits with them.”

“Especially when life gets busy,” you added. “Work, schedules, stress, eventually you stop slowing down long enough to notice something’s wrong.”

James frowned slightly, trying to follow. “So you just forgot how to talk to each other?”

A small huff of laughter left you. “Not exactly.”

“We stopped listening as much,” Natasha corrected softly. “There’s a difference.”

Paige picked at the sleeve of her shirt. “That sounds sad.”

“It kind of was,” you admitted honestly. “But it doesn’t have to stay that way. It doesn’t change how we feel about either of you and our roles as your parents.”

Charlie stayed tucked into Natasha’s side. Luke had moved closer at some point, his head resting against James’ shoulder while Paige leaned into your knee on the floor. Even Willow looked softer around the edges, less guarded than she had been when the conversation started.

You looked around the room slowly.

At your family. You were rich in more ways than one. 

—---------------

Eventually, the kids understood the conversation and were ready to go back to their normal routines. Charlie disentangled herself from Natasha, borrowing the house phone, to go and call Natasha. You’d both asked Willow to stay behind as you wanted her to have the space to talk freely. Neither Natasha’s parents nor Yelena had come out of the in-law suite yet, so now was the perfect time. 

“You guys want to talk to me about my dad?” Willow folded her legs under herself. 

“If you’re willing, yes,” You nodded carefully. You didn’t want your opinion to cloud her thoughts.  “We don’t want to sway you either way. We haven’t truly talked to him yet.”

“I don’t want to go,” She said immediately. The answer came so fast it made both you and Natasha pause.“I don’t even know this girlfriend or their relationship. He brought her to meet me twice.”

Willow looked down at her hands. “My whole life is here. My schooling, my friends, my boyfriend.” She didn’t miss the look you gave at the last reveal. When had Marcus become more than just the guy she volunteered with? “I have plans.“I feel bad because part of me doesn’t even want to leave here,” she admitted. “And that makes me feel disloyal or something.”

Natasha leaned forward slightly then.

“Hey,” she said softly enough that Willow finally looked up. “Loving us doesn’t mean you love your dad less and vice versa.”

“Yeah, but can’t he force me to move with him?” 

“Our agreement is temporary, yes,” You nodded. “It’s an authorization agreement. It allows us to make educational and medical decisions for you. Which can be revoked by the parent at any time.”

“But,” you added quickly, “you’re not five years old, Willow. A judge would absolutely take what you want into consideration.”

“And before anything drastic like court happened,” Natasha cut in gently, “there would be conversations. A lot of them.” 

“I just don’t want everybody fighting over me,” she admitted. “I hate feeling like some kind of custody schedule. ”

“You aren’t,” Natasha said immediately.

“You’re our kid,” you added softly. “Always will be, no matter where you are.”

That finally made Willow’s expression crack a little around the edges. “And if I change my mind and go live with him?” “Your bedroom will always be yours.” You assured her. 

“Cool,” She nodded. “I’ll think about it. You guys are the best aunts ever.”

“We try,” Natasha shrugged. She could tell Willow was ready for the conversation to end. “Now tell us about Marcus.”

That brought an immediate blush to her face. “Ugh,” She rolled her eyes. “You don’t want to hear it.”

“Yes, we do,” You moved over to the couch to sit next to her. “Did you kiss him yet?”

“I did,” She covered her face with her hands. “Or he kissed me. Last Saturday, before he dropped me off.”

“Kids move fast, I tell you,” You mumbled. 

Natasha looked entirely too amused by this information.

“We are literally only two years removed from being teenagers ourselves,” Natasha reminded you dryly.

“That is not true biologically.”

“It is spiritually.”

“Do we need to have the talk?” you asked carefully.

Willow looked horrified.

“Oh my God, no.”

Natasha snorted beside her. “Your face alone says yes.”

“I know about protection,” Willow defended quickly. “And consent. And all the things. You guys act like I’m twelve.”

“You’ll always be twelve a little bit,” you admitted softly.

That earned you a dramatic groan and another eye roll, but Willow was smiling now. Really smiling.

“So, that means I can invite him over for dinner one night?” She looked between the two of you. 

“Sure, invite him over. I’ll have Alexei greet him at the door.” Natasha said. 

“No, no, no, you will not,” Willow stood up. “Matter of fact, forget I ever talked about a boyfriend.” She shook her head once again before rushing out to her bedroom. 

“You know who we have to talk to now,” Natasha turned her head. 

“I thought we hit all of our points,” You frowned. 

“Yelena,” She said. 

Good luck. 

Natsaha loved having her family home. She swore she did. It was always loud in the best way; the house was full of laughter, stories, and reminiscing. Yelena would come back with a dozen new adventures, half of them exaggerated, but all entertaining. Natasha would roll her eyes, pretend not to be impressed, but indulge her anyway. She was a retired mother of six; she needed her fill somehow. 

Sometimes Kate, Yelena’s on-again, off-again girlfriend, would visit, and the kids would swarm her, demanding stories the same way they did with Yelena. But just like Yelena, Kate never stayed long. Always passing through. Always a little untethered.

Her parents were another story.

After five years of living with you, what had started as full-time help had slowly shifted into something looser. They were gone more now, out of the country for months at a time, chasing whatever life they’d decided to reclaim.

Which was fine. You understood that. They still had their own lives to live.

It just meant you didn’t have that safety net anymore. Neither of you had wanted to admit you needed it. Your schedule was too heavy, and she carried most of the weight. You were aware of that. You’d always been aware of that. It was different back when you’d been home more. You would share responsibilities. You would share everything. 

It was just the idea of it, a stranger in your home, full-time. It was why you’d never hired a housekeeper, not really. Not after all this time. But it was starting to show.

Toys littered the hallways. Laundry hung over the banisters. Even the dishwasher sat half full, dirty dishes untouched for too long to justify.

If they didn’t notice the cracks there, they’d notice them somewhere else.

You felt lucky, sometimes, marrying into a family of spies. People trained to see what wasn’t being shown to them. And other times, like now, when everything felt like it was barely holding together, you weren’t so sure.

The kids and dogs were already outside in the driveway, giving their greetings and rounds of hugs. Even the dogs sounded your new guests as you stepped out of the house. You stood back, watching the scene unfold. You could hear low mutters of Russian as Alexei scooped Luke into his arms. Yelena was boasting about her new haircut to the girls, turning to the side for full effect. Melina, of course, seemed to be inspecting the yard, squinting at how high it was getting. For just a moment, everything felt normal. Just like you wanted. 

“There’s my girls,” Melina wondered over, already moving in to hug Natasha. “Natasha, are you eating? What’s going on?” She asked, not waiting for an answer. 

“Of course, I am, Mama.” Natasha rolled her eyes. Though she returned the hug with gusto. 

“You know I could never get her to eat enough protein.” Melina reached for you next. “You look good. How are you?”

“I’m doing well, thanks for asking, Melina.” You nodded. “Can I help you guys with the bags?”

“Oh, of course,” Melina said as she walked back over to her car. “Just don’t touch the green one. It has explosives.”

Your hands paused over the green carry-on bag, wondering how it had gotten through any airport security. You looked at Natasha with a raised brow. She shrugged. “I think we will keep this one in the car.” You said instead of heading back inside. “Max, Midnight, hey, inside.” You called to the dogs as you walked toward the in-law suite. 

“Sister,” Yelena called. 

Natasha barely looked at her. “If you cut your own hair again, I’m not fixing it.” She wrapped her arms around Charlie’s shoulder. 

“It’s called style,” Yelena shot back, tossing her head. Her haircut was short this time, barely reaching past her ears.  “You wouldn’t understand. You’ve been dressing like a suburban yoga instructor for five years.”

Natasha huffed a quiet laugh. “And you’ve been making the same three mistakes for ten.”

“Please,” Yelena scoffed. “At least mine are interesting.”

Natasha finally glanced at her, just briefly. “You’re exhausting.”

“And yet,” Yelena said, stepping closer, bumping her shoulder lightly against Natasha’s, “you missed me.”

“Yeah, Mama, you missed Auntie,” Charlie grinned. 

Natasha didn’t answer right away, but she didn’t move away either.

“…Don’t unpack that bag,” she muttered instead.

Yelena grinned. “So you did miss me.”

“It’s only the first day,” Natasha turned. “Let’s see what the rest of the weekend brings.”

—--------

Natasha managed to stretch dinner for seven into dinner for ten. It was a miracle, truly, with James newfound appetite and Alexei’s right alongside it. It called for a smaller portion size for everyone and added chairs to the dining room table. It was fine. She welcomed the distraction from the monotony that her life had quietly settled into. She’d barely gotten a word in conversation-wise as Charlie talked about dance, or Willow explained getting her CNA license once she was old enough. Still, it was something. She’d been yearning for healthy adult conversation, something beyond schedules and calendars, and she would get more than enough over the weekend. 

Now with the house settled into its usual post-dinner lull, she scooped two hefty scoops of ice cream into a bowl, having pressed start on the dishwasher only moments ago. Yelena was being helpful this time around while sweeping the dining area. You were finished up with tucking Luke in when you barreled down the stairs. You had plans to join her. 

“Any more in that tub for me?” You asked. Natasha looked into the gallon and nodded.

“I think we can make it work,” She said. She reached for another bowl in the cabinet, setting it beside hers, and began to scoop you a portion, not having to ask how much. She was about to pass it to you when the doorbell rang. “Are you expecting someone?” She glanced at the front of the house. 

“Oh,” You shook your head slightly, like you just remembered. “Leslie. She’s coming to pick up these files for work on Monday. She’s taking over the case. It should only be a second. Don’t let it melt?” You backed away. You really hadn’t planned on an interruption to this near-perfect moment. 

“Sure,” Natasha said. She watched as you walked toward the front door. 

“Leslie, hi,” You greeted. “Come in.” You stepped aside, letting her pass. 

“Whoa,” She looked around, impressed by the house. “All this time we’ve been coworkers, and I’ve never been to your house. This is massive.”

Natasha stayed where she was in the kitchen, scoop halfway in her mouth. Her appetite was suddenly gone. Yelena could see her from the dining room, listened to the tone of the newcomer, and decided then not to address her. Whatever it was, it didn't need to be acknowledged now. 

The entire thing was quick. Over before she could dwell on it. Even still, the annoyance she felt was bubbling over more than she liked. 

“Oh, Natasha’s in here, come say hi,” You offered, already guiding Leslie toward the kitchen. Natsaha wiped her hands on her thighs and gave a curt nod. 

“Natsaha, your home is lovely,” Leslie said, giving a soft smile. “I hope I didn’t keep y/n too long. Thanks for letting me steal her for a few minutes.”

“No, no,” Natasha shook her head. “We were just having a little snack. How have you been?”

“I’ve been good,” Leslie nodded. “Just stopping by for a file. I usually never do home visits, but I really need to get this in first thing on Monday. I should be getting back home now. You know how it is.”

“I do,” Natasha smiled, grateful that her visit would indeed be short. “Drive safe.” 

Again, she was out of the house and back to wherever she’d come from. 

“I don’t like your reaction,” Yelena said, not truly caring if the two of you were out of earshot. She stuffed the broom back into the pantry and narrowed her eyes at Natasha. “Is this one of those neighbor situations again?”

“No, nothing like that,” Natasha shook her head. “You would love it if that were the case.”

“Would certainly give me someone to terrorize for a while.”

“Stop,” Natasha passed her the quickly melting ice cream. 

“I thought this was for y/n,” Yelena tilted her head. 

Natasha didn’t explain how she knew you wouldn’t be coming back to the bowl. She simply dumped the rest of hers and headed for her bedroom. “Lock up, won’t you?”

“Yeah,” Yelena agreed. What was going on?

—----------

You made it to bed a few minutes later. Natasha was in the bathroom, brushing her teeth, moving quickly like she had somewhere to be, even though she didn’t.

You stood in the doorway, wondering if she wanted company before committing. It was what you were supposed to do. You began your own nightly routine, working around her, even unconsciously putting your hand on her waist to grab a bonnet from one of the drawers. 

“I’ll be glad when Charlie stops stealing my bonnets,” You muttered. Natasha glanced at you in the mirror, though she didn’t stop brushing. “Did you see Dr. Aris' text about homework?”

“I did,” Natasha nodded. 

“It feels kind of juvenile, don’t you think?” You raised a brow. You didn’t really believe that. Some part of you knew the point. “It’s supposed to get us to connect or something. Then we have to tell her what we did?”

“I don’t find it childish at all,” Natasha shook her head. “I think it’s needed.”

“Well, yeah,” You nodded. You reached around her again for your toothbrush. “I just think we don’t need manufactured moments. I don’t know,” You sighed. “Like in the closet. That was us. It was natural.”

“Yeah,” Natasha followed your line of thinking. “It was.” She said. 

“But,” you finished for her. “I hear a but.”

Natasha rinsed her mouth, setting the toothbrush down before answering. She didn’t rush it.

“…But we don’t get those often anymore,” she said simply. She met your eyes through the mirror then.“And we haven’t for a while.”

A beat.

“And it’s because I’m working too much?” you asked, already bracing.

Natasha didn’t answer right away. She reached for a towel, drying her hands slowly, like she was choosing her words instead of reacting.

“…No,” she said finally. “If I say yes, you’ll hear blame, and that’s not what this is about. Not fully.” She looked at you then.  “It’s because we stopped making space for it.” She reached for the towel again, refolding it, suddenly feeling smaller. 

“It’s not even that complicated,” She said. “We’re just supposed to say one thing. Doesn’t have to be a full sentence.”

“One thing,” You scratched your face, looking up at the ceiling to think, buying yourself a second. For some reason, you knew you had to go first. “I liked that you made me a bowl of ice cream.” You said. “Even if I didn’t get to eat it. Yelena devoured it.”

“She tends to do that,” Natasha nodded. “I offered it to her.” You didn’t want to question why. “I enjoyed seeing your interaction with the kids at dinner,” She breathed. “Luke really misses you.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” You replied. “I’m still here.”

“Yeah,” She said. “You are.” She stepped closer to you, offering you a kiss on your cheek, lingering for a moment. It was your usual these days. The barest form of intimacy. No cuddling. No holding each other. It was less of a commitment. 

Neither of you said much else. You finished your routines in silence, wondering what it all meant. You went to bed together, on your separate sides, wondering what tomorrow would bring.  

—---------

Natasha got to the studio earlier than usual. She only had a few sessions today. Nothing that required too much thought or energy. She juggled a smoothie, her yoga mat, gym bag, and keys in one hand as she opened the doors and let herself in. She was usually the first one there. She liked the quiet. 

Becoming a yoga instructor wasn’t on her list of life goals. It had fallen into her lap all those years ago after Lacey invited the two of you to a class. Natasha made friends with a few of the other moms and liked it enough to come back. Now, she had a clear schedule, balancing her time between this and a few private sessions of self-defense. It didn’t take too much time away from the kids or you. 

It was her entire reason for retiring. 

She stepped back into her studio, number three, the last one on the left, and dumped her things onto the counter space built into the very back. It was where the radio and a few important forms were housed. She didn’t move to turn on the lights, instead pulling her weapon from her thigh, turning quickly to point it at the intruder. 

“Are you really going to shoot me?” Hazel scoffed. 

“You broke into a yoga studio?” Natasha titled he head. “You could go to jail for that.”

“Are you threatening to call the cops on me?” Hazel glanced at the gun, but was not the least bit worried. “You always do that? Pull a gun on your students before you say hello?”

“You’re early,” Natasha said, ignoring her question. She pulled mats from the racks, setting them out on the floor. “You want to be normal. You come like a normal customer. During opening hours.”

“I’m not a child,” Hazel replied, shaking her head. 

“When you’re defecting,” Natasha said evenly. “It’s pretty much the same thing.” She exhaled slowly and then finally looked at her. “I should kick you out.”

“But you won’t,” Hazel shook her head. 

Natasha stared at her.  Hazel was older, sure, but there was something unmistakable there. The newness. The rough edges that hadn’t been sanded down yet.

A freed Widow.

Fresh enough that it still showed.

What Hazel wanted from her, exactly, Natasha couldn’t tell.

And that was the problem.

“One lunch,” She said. “One lunch. You ask whatever you need to ask. Then get the hell out of my life.” 

—-------------

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision.

One of the easier weekends.

You were trying, really trying, to get back to something that felt like you. Change the routine. Do something different.

So you picked up lunch for the two of you. Natasha’s favorite Chinese spot, the one you went to often enough that they didn’t need to ask for your order anymore.

It felt like a small thing.

But it mattered. You pulled into a space in the lot, balancing the takeout on the passenger seat. This was supposed to be Natasha’s lunch break before her next session. You’d checked the shared calendar, scrolling through the color coding, the sticky notes, the overlapping schedules just to find a window where she’d be free.

It was crazy how much it took just to find time with your own wife these days.

You stepped inside, offering a polite smile to a few passing customers as you made your way to the front desk. Annie, the receptionist, looked up and blinked in surprise.

“Y/n? Hi. It’s been a while.”

“I know,” you said with a small laugh, adjusting the bag in your hands. “I was just stopping by to see Natasha. Thought I’d surprise her.”

“Actually, you just missed her,” Annie said. “She left about fifteen minutes ago for lunch with a client. Do you need me to call her?”

“No, no,” you shook your head quickly, offering a small smile. You shifted the bag in your hands, forcing your tone to stay light. “That’s okay. I don’t want to interrupt. I’ll probably call her.”

You glanced toward the hallway anyway, like she might still be there.

“Client?” you added, almost as an afterthought.

“Yeah,” Annie nodded. “New one, I think. She’s been coming in early.”

“Right,” you said, more to yourself than her.

You adjusted your grip on the bag again. It was still warm.

“Alright. Thanks, Annie.”

“Of course,” she smiled. “Tell her I said hi if you see her.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, already turning back toward the door. “Bye.” You gave a small wave.

The walk to your car gave you a little space. You needed to think. It wasn’t a big deal. Lunch with a client wasn’t really Natasha’s thing; she liked to keep boundaries with work. But that didn’t mean anything. It didn’t have to mean anything.

You didn’t want to call and question her. That would’ve been weird.

Right?

You hadn’t realized when you’d started feeling like this, second-guessing, reading into things that didn’t need it.

You pulled your phone out anyway.

Hey, stopped by for lunch. Missed you. X

You stared at the message, your finger hovering over the screen. Why was it bothering you this much? It was one lunch. One missed moment that hadn’t even been planned.

If anything, this was what you’d been doing to her for months.

You let out a quiet breath.

She was allowed to have a life outside of you.

You exited the message and instead called your mom. You got into the driver's seat, switching to hands-free, so you could drive home. Your hunger could wait. 

“Well, if it isn’t my mysterious daughter,” She answers on the second ring. It’s been a while since you heard her voice, often too busy to return calls. “Long time.”

“Hi, Mama,” You sighed into the phone. “I’m sorry I haven’t answered your calls.”

“Don’t be too sorry, I can take care of myself,” She said. “Can’t forgive you too much,  I haven’t seen your or my grandkids in Atlanta last Christmas or Thanksgiving.” She said pointedly, a light scolding in her tone. 

“I’m sorry, Ma.” You pulled over into the parking lot of a grocery store. It was far enough from other cars for privacy. “It’s just been busy. A lot is happening right now and…”

“And…” She asked. It was almost like she could read your tone and know something was wrong.

 “And…?” she prompted again, softer this time, at your lack of response. “Don’t trail off on me, baby. What’s going on?”

You bit your lip. You allowed your head to rest against the steering wheel, germs be damned. "I don't know. Truthfully, I don't. There's just so much."

“Mhm,” she hummed quietly. “You don’t call me out of the blue to say nothing. Not like that.” You could hear her shuffling around. “Start somewhere. I’m not in a rush.”

"Well, I just went to drop off lunch for Natasha," You clamored. That was the most immediate issue. You looked around, finding a focal point in a nearby tree. "She wasn't there. She was out with a client. She usually doesn't do meetings like that. So, now I'm here with uneaten cold food."

“…And you sittin’ in a parking lot over it?” she said, a small huff of a laugh slipping through. “Girl.” There was a pause. “Did you eat?”

"I did not," You shook your head.

“I figured,” she said, a little hum under her breath. “See, now that’s already your first problem. Go on and eat that food, baby. Don’t be starving and thinking at the same time, you gon’ hurt your own feelings.”

"I don't know why my feelings are hurt in the first place." 

She clicked her tongue softly. “Yes, you do. You just don’t like the answer.” She let that sit for a second before her tone softened.“Ain’t got nothing to do with that girl and her little lunch. You've been feeling something before today.”

"I've been feeling everything before today," You sat back in your seat. If you admitted it to someone other than the two of you, you didn't know if things would change for the worse. "Natasha and I, we've been, um, having problems..."

“Ah,” She replied. She sounded as if she’d been waiting for you to say it. “How long have you been having problems? You talkin’ about a rough week or something that’s been sitting with you?”

"It's been a while," You frowned, blinking back tears. You didn’t want to be so emotional about it. You didn’t want to think of the opposite.  "We're in counseling. Only had one session so far, I don't know. I feel so disconnected at times. I think we both do. The kids are noticing. We haven’t told them anything."

“First off, I’m glad y’all went to counseling. That’s not small. Don’t skip over that like it don’t count.”

You nodded to yourself. It did count for something. It meant a lot. 

“I’m not,” You breathed. “I just can’t help but wonder what we’re doing. What I’m doing…” 

“Secondly,” She said a bit louder to catch your attention. “I don’t think I’ve met any person in a marriage who didn’t run into their issues. Your father and I did.”

“Really? You two always seemed so in love,” You questioned. You decided your nervous system was calm enough to dig into your sesame chicken. It was always a messy fit to eat in the car, and you couldn’t find a single napkin, but you were doing it.

“Love and struggle don’t cancel each other out,” She reasoned. “When you’ve been with someone for so long, sometimes you need to find other ways of tending to the relationship. You said you’re in counseling, right? That shows me you’re still trying.”

“We are,” You said. “It’s confusing. I think she thinks I’m not trying hard enough. I’m working these long hours, and I’m away from the kids, but my job isn’t the only thing.”

“It’s the thing she can see the easiest,” Your mother was wise. She knew just the right words to say to get you to think.  “You leave, you’re tired when you come home, you got your mind on a hundred other things, that’s what she's experiencing. That doesn’t mean it’s the only thing you’re doing, it just might be the loudest.” She softened slightly.

“Have you told her what trying looks like for you?”

At your silence, she continued. 

“Not what you're doing. What you feel like doing?”

"Not really, no," You sighed again. "Mostly, it's been us arguing our points. For the past week its been better, but family is in town. Last night we had something, but Leslie stopped by, and it seemed like she shut down for a minute."

 "Who is Leslie?" Your mother asked.

“My coworker,” You said. 

“Female coworker?” 

“Yes,” You could see where this line of questioning was going, and you wanted to put an end to it. “Before you ask, she’s just my coworker. We’ve gotten closer over time. But nothing to write home about.”

“Closer to your coworker, but you and your wife have a disconnect,” she began. “How does Leslie feel about you?” “Ma,” You groaned. “Please don’t. Leslie is a straight woman.”

“I’m just saying,” She said. “Sounds like part of your problem right there.”

“I can’t just stop being coworkers with her,” 

“Yet, Natasha feels a way about her,” 

Again silence. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” She warned you. There was the scolding again. “You know better than that.”

“I haven’t even done anything,” you said, closing the carton a little harder than necessary. “Leslie and I have hung out alone outside of work maybe twice. Everything else has been with other coworkers or in the building. I can’t be accused of not being faithful again. You remember the neighbor I told you about, right? Natasha was up in arms about her.”

“And she turned out to be right,” your mother said evenly.

“This is making my head hurt, actually,” you muttered, frustration creeping in. “Can you at least be on my side? Yes, Leslie and I are cool. We spend a lot of time together, probably more than we should. My wife and I have disconnected because I’m at work more than I should be. But is everything my fault?”

“Hey,” she said, firmer now. “I am on your side. That’s why I’m not about to just agree with everything you say and let you walk yourself in circles. I didn’t say you did anything. I said pay attention. When you have distance at home and closeness somewhere else, even if it ain’t romantic, that can still hit the same way for the person on the outside of it.”

“I’m trying, Ma,” You said. “I really am.”

“I know you are,” she declared, softer now. “I can hear it. But trying doesn’t always look like what the other person needs. When you get home, don’t defend yourself. Don’t explain your schedule. Just be with her for a minute. Ask her how she’s feeling and listen, not to respond, just to hear her. You ain’t gotta fix everything today. Just don’t keep missing each other. Most of all, take care of yourself. If you’re neglecting yourself, there’s nothing left for anyone else. Work will be there.”

“Okay,” You nodded. “Even if sometimes I feel my marriage is over. Is that dramatic of me?”

“You're scared. That’s what that is.” 

A truth. 

“And when you're scared, everything starts feeling final. Like it’s already done when it ain’t.” You just told me y’all are in counseling. You went out of your way to bring her lunch. You called me ‘cause you don’t know what to do. That don’t sound over to me. It sounds like y’all are just missing each other right now.”

“I do,” You nodded. “I do miss her.”

“So, go home to your wife,” She said. 

—--------------------------------

Natasha was uncomfortable, and she hid it well. She knew Hazel hated that she couldn’t read her, as her eyes were hidden behind her Louis Vuitton sunglasses. She ordered a lemon water and salad, nonassuming and simple. Quick to eat. The food was placed in front of her even as Hazel dipped another of her fries into ketchup. 

She leaned back in her chair, completely at ease, like she belonged anywhere she decided to be. Natasha, on the other hand, hadn’t touched her food.

“You’re not eating,” Hazel pointed out.

“I didn’t come here to eat,” Natasha replied flatly. She took her sunglasses off and put them on the table. 

Hazel smiled slightly at that. “Then why’d you come?”

“Curiosity,” Natasha shrugged. “What does a defective widow, older than me, want with me?”

“You think I need something from you?” Hazel questioned. 

“I didn’t say that,” Natasha denied. 

“You didn’t have to,” She said. She dipped another fry slowly through the ketchup. “How’s the family?” 

“We don’t talk about them,” Natasha was suddenly more serious than she’d been minutes ago. “Ever. Not my wife. Not my kids. No one.”

“No fun,” Hazel sighed. 

“Correct,” Natasha replied. 

“You ever let yourself relax?” Hazel pushed away her plate. 

“Not with strangers,” 

Hazel laughed. “I like you.” She looked out towards the rest of the street. It felt nice to sit on a patio, eat lunch with another person, and talk so freely. “I defected so long ago, but…this feels nice.”

“We have programs for that,” Natasha said. “Melina Vostokoff. She’s organized a widow reform thing. Helps with adjustment.” She notes the way Hazel’s hands fidget when she’s not eating. 

“Yeah, I tried that,” Hazel nodded. “But I didn’t say I was struggling.”

Natasha tilted her head. 

“There’s someone I’m supposed to meet,” Hazel said, looking at her. “She lives here in the city. My daughter.” 

Natasha's eyes widened. 

“She’s about twenty-five now,” Hazel brushed her hair behind her ear. “Lives an easy life. I gave her up when she was a baby. Dreykov didn’t know.”

“How’d you get something like that past him?” Natasha lifted a brow. 

“When you’ve been cycled through the program enough times, you make friends.” She shrugged. 

“Is that why you need me?” Natasha leaned forward. Hazel raised a brow. “Right, you don’t need me.” She corrected herself. 

“I need to know how to talk to her,” Hazel said, more plainly now. “You’re a widow. You have kids. A wife. A family I’m apparently not allowed to mention. I think you’ve got it all figured out. I don’t need help being strong. I’ve been doing that my whole life. I need help not to mess up.”

“That’s tough,” Natasha frowned. “I’m not an expert in family affairs.”

“You don’t believe that,” Hazel disagreed. “I’ve seen you with your wife. Videos and magazines.”

“I guess I’m failing to see how I can help and not a therapist or….”

“No,” Hazel said. “Just coach me.” 

“Can I have time to think about it?” Natasha said. She truly did need to think things over.

—---------------

By the time you got home, you’d had a lot of things to think over. Talking with your mom, while tough, had truly given you the push to make things right. You didn’t want to feel annoyed by Natasha being out at lunch. You weren’t joined at the hip, especially not these days, but you were more than missing her, too. You never stopped missing her. Naturally, when you started feeling overwhelmed, you would bury yourself in work. You would work, and work, occupying yourself with other people’s problems. 

Today, your children wouldn’t let you. You set the untouched takeout on the foyer table, pausing for a second longer than necessary before moving on from it.

“Mommy!”

Luke came first, always did, running into you like you hadn’t just seen him that morning.

“Hey, buddy,” you said, bending down to catch him.

“You were gone,” he mumbled into your shoulder.

“I know,” you said softly. “I’m back now.”

“Did you bring food?” He asked, never letting go. You carried him toward the kitchen, looking for the cause of the noise coming from it, as you kicked off your shoes. 

“Yeah, well, I did, but it was for Mama and me,” You explained. “You didn’t eat?”

“I did, but I’m still so hungry,” He lifted his head. “Charlie and Willow are making brownies with Auntie and Baba.”

“You can have some,” You said. You turned back to grab the bag for him. You walked into one of your favorite sights. Paige was sitting at the kitchen table, looking to be practicing her crocheting with Melina. Willow and Charlie were having an easygoing conversation with Yelena about a bag that Charlie insisted she wanted for her birthday. When you walked in, Yelena leaned against the counter, eyeing the bag.

“That looks expensive,” she said.

“It’s lunch,” you replied.

“All that for just you?”

You didn’t answer.

Yelena hummed. “Mm. Interesting.”

You wondered what she meant by that, but didn’t question it. You set Luke into a stool and opened one of the containers for him. 

“Mmm,” He licked his lips as he dug into Natasha’s Mooshu Pork. 

“Mom, please tell me you know about the Mini Kurt Geiger bags?” Charlie questioned. “I’ve been looking at them all day, and I really need one.”

“Yeah, I do,” You stepped in between her and Willow. Willow was busy pouring the chocolate batter into a pan. You dipped your finger into the leftover batter, humming as you nodded. “I have a few in my collection.”

“More than you already have?” Yelena teased. 

“No way,” Charlie squeaked. “Savannah just got one, and I’m pretty sure Tori Elkins did too. Can I please wear one to school on Monday?”

“Yeah, sure,” You shrugged. “It was a gift from a client. Be good with it.”

“Thank you!’ She hugged you tight before racing off to your closet. 

“How’s volunteering?” You asked Willow as she finished up with her dishes. 

“It’s cool,” She shrugged. She was always so nonchalant. 

“Cool as in…”

“Just cool,” Willow answered. “How’s work?”

“Just work,” You mirrored her tone. 

She turned back to the sink, satisfied with your answer, before she scrunched her face. “Have you talked to my dad?”

“No, I haven’t lately, why?” You asked. 

“He proposed to that girl,” Willow seemed anything but happy. 

“Oh, that’s great,” You smiled, then quickly wiped it from your face at seeing her expression. “It’s not great?”

“He talked about wanting me to maybe move back with him to Atlanta when they get married.” She dropped the bomb.

Your head whipped up so fast. “How are you feeling about that? Does Mama know?”

“If you don’t mind, I don’t really wanna talk about it,” She shook her head. “I just thought you should know.”

More than likely, she didn’t want to get into her feelings with everyone around.

“Okay,” you said. “Thank you for telling me.” You got closer to her. “You don’t have to figure anything out right now.”

Willow didn’t respond, just turned back to the sink.

You stayed there for a second, watching her, wanting to say more, but letting it be. The thought of her leaving your house after almost five years of being with you. It didn’t feel right. 

This life was so messy. 

—-------

Natasha got home an hour later. The house had dissipated into a dull hum, and everyone had returned to their respective spaces. You were in the laundry room, organizing the kids' laundry baskets, wondering how it got to be so much. You could hear the opening and closing of the garage door, seeing Natasha walk past before backpedaling. 

“Hey,” she said quietly, taking in the scene.

“Hey,” you replied, glancing over. “Long day?”

“A little,” she said, stepping further into the room. “You?”

“Not really.” You tossed a pair of pink socks into Paige’s decorated basket.

“Annie told me you stopped by earlier,” Natasha said, a little awkward now. “You didn’t text or call.”

You shrugged lightly, not looking up right away.

“I figured you were busy.”

“I would have answered if you called,” She said. 

“I know,” You said. 

She stayed there in the doorway, watching you for a second longer than usual.

“…I would’ve made time,” she spoke.

You paused, a shirt halfway folded.

“I know,” you replied again. “I guess I know how it feels.” You looked over at her. “How many times am I unavailable these days?”

“Let’s not do that,” She said. She stepped up to a basket labeled James. “Do you need help with this?”

“I think we need help with this,” You emphasized. “How do you feel about us hiring a housekeeper and maybe a nanny or two?”

“Well, we were against it for a while, but I think it’d be nice,” Natasha followed your line of thinking. 

“It would take some pressure off you,” You continued. “You do too much of the housework.”

“What brought this on?” She tilted her head. 

“I don’t know,” You said honestly. “Today has just been a day.” You tucked the baskets away, trying to keep your hands busy. 

She reached for your hand, turning you to her. 

“Tell me,” she said, searching your face.

God, she was beautiful.

“Not right now,” you admitted softly. “Can we just… be together tonight? I’ll tell you everything, I just—” you exhaled, shaking your head slightly. “I don’t really have the capacity yet.”

“…Yeah,” she nodded. “Okay.”

And then she stepped closer.

Her hands found your sides, light at first, like she was still figuring out if it was okay.

You stilled, caught off guard by how familiar it felt.

How much you’d missed it.

“Thank you for the food,” she said quietly. “And for stopping by.”

“It was nice being there,” you said, your voice softer now. “Good to see Annie.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. Her gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes. She leaned closer, just enough to meet you there. “I really appreciate you trying.” She whispered. 

“I appreciate you letting me,” You whispered back. Her lips were warm and soft, brushing against yours. The pressure of her hands against your side had you swooning as she licked gently at your lips, asking for entrance. You obliged, allowing the butterflies to settle into your stomach. Butterflies that never quite went away but dulled over time. You couldn’t tell if it was you or her that moaned, but it only spurred you on. 

She guided you back toward the counter, hands firm now as she helped you up without breaking contact. Your arms looped around her neck instinctively, pulling her closer like you didn’t want the space back just yet.

And then,

“Hey, Mom, do you think you could wash my jersey while you’re—” James stopped cold in the doorway.

You both pulled apart just enough to look at him.

His eyes widened immediately.

“Oh, ew.” He covered his face. “I thought you guys were done doing that.”

Natasha let out a quiet breath, resting her forehead briefly against yours before pulling back fully.

“We are not done doing that,” she muttered under her breath.

“Well, when you are can you wash this?” He asked. 

“I think it’s high time you do your own laundry,” You gestured to the washing machine, placing your hands back on Natasha’s hips. Everything you were worried about earlier could wait. You could stay here in this moment. You looked down at her lips again, and then back to James as he walked over to the washer and threw his jersey in. “Hey, you, you need to use soap.” You instructed. 

James just grinned, shaking his head like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“And more than one item of clothing,” Natasha chimed in, stepping in beside you like it was second nature.

“Wow,” James muttered, tossing another random shirt in. “So many rules.”

He turned back toward the two of you, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Wait… does this mean you guys aren’t breaking up?”

You blinked.

Natasha stilled beside you.

“Because,” he continued, already backing toward the door, “I definitely have to go tell Charlie and everyone what I just saw in here.”

“James—” you started.

“Don’t run—” Natasha added.

Too late.

He was already halfway down the hall.

Then you looked at Natasha.

She looked at you.

And just like that, you both laughed.

A talk would be coming soon.