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You choked a bit in response to her question, but you tried to laugh it off. "Geez, Lena, I'm not really sure what your sister's intentions are." Kate stayed quiet, looking at the whole scene in front of her, and a small smile played on her face. She has known you for quite some time now, and your emotions aren't that hard to read, as much as you would like to give yourself credit for. "Well, you know how my family is, and if you can't even answer that question to me, it's going to be fun seeing how you act around Alexei and Melina," Yelena stated. You nodded and chuckled at her words. Of course, their parents scared you, but Yelena wouldn't let you live it down. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it." You simply stated, turning around towards Kate, to try to change the course of this conversation. "You had a date, right, Kate?" You asked, Kate looked like a deer caught in headlights, and that shut Yelena right up, her focus going towards Kate. "You motherfucker, you didn't tell me!" Yelena said in surprise, you grinned at the look of a nervous Kate, and now your little relationship problem seemed farther away as Yelena directed her attention towards Kate. "I-uh didn't want anybody to know," Kate said quietly, shooting daggers with her eyes towards you. You felt yourself relax slightly against your chair. "What- That's crazy, Kate! You know you can trust me, come on, tell me about it." Yelena dramatized. Those two had been dancing around each other for some time now. It was simply a matter of time for them to admit their feelings for each other.

"Well, I think I need a refill. I'll be right back." You said, letting the chair scrape against the pavement and turning around to go inside.

Inside, there were more people that you didn't recognize, some playing pool and others playing darts, you hum quietly as you take a quick detour towards the bathroom, taking your cellphone out.

"I didn't think I was going to find you alone tonight," a voice you recognize well said. You smile and turn around to see Carol standing behind you. "Carol! I didn't know you were back already!" You hug the taller woman, squeezing her hard. A genuine smile slips onto her face, twirling you slightly. "A year came and went faster than I expected." She smiled. Her hand stayed against your arm, warmth spreading from her fingers, and you took a moment to take her in once again. Her hair was longer than you remembered, even though her face looked tired, her eyes shone with happiness. "And how was it? Did you meet anyone new? Would you go again?" You asked, earning a slight chuckle from her, the bathroom long forgotten as you pulled Carol by her forearm towards a more secluded space. She left for an exchange program in Europe. She was one of your closest friends in your group, always participating in friendly competition with Kate. But everyone always knew that Carol wasn't meant to stay in one spot. "Well, I knew it was going to be an unforgettable experience, but man. I loved everything," she started. You had no problem chatting with her with a smile on your face.

"Hey, Nat," Tony started, signaling towards the window that looked inside. Specifically towards a blonde with a smaller figure next to her, an exchange is taking place. "Isn't that your girl?" He asked, and Natasha laughed nervously, turning slightly around to see the silhouettes. She recognized you in a heartbeat, and the other woman, she recognized as well. She had crossed paths with the blonde before, never really liking the woman much. She chuckled, shaking her head. "No, we're just casual." She stated, but excused herself quietly.

She walked over to you, a drink in hand, as you looked deep in conversation with Carol. She was explaining something with her hands, and you looked very focused on the conversation. She slid a hand towards your waist, pulling you close together, and handed you the bottle.

"I'm sorry I took so long," Natasha smiled as you turned your head towards her, your smile spread a little bit more. She leaned to kiss your cheek, and was sure that some of your lipstick stuck on her skin. "I was just talking to Carol about her exchange," you explained, gesturing between you both. Natasha nodded and offered Carol a small smile. "I'm glad you're back," She lied, her thumb tracing small patterns against your hip. Carol watched Natasha curiously, slightly nodding. "It's good to be back, it seems like a lot has changed," Carol stated, causing Natasha to chuckle. The air was tense, the music getting more and more on Natasha's nerves. "Well, I'm sure you want to get up to date, but we have to leave," Natasha stated, and you turned to look at her eyes, dark, and you weren't sure if it was the alcohol in her or the week that she had. You put your hand on top of hers, squeezing her hand. After all, Kate wasn't wrong with her statement before. And this is a clear example of that. "I'm sorry, Carol, you have my number, but we should get going. I have to get up early tomorrow." You said, saying goodbye and left Carol with a slightly confused expression while Natasha tugged you to her car.

When you arrived at Natasha's apartment, her lips were on yours. Feverently kissing you, hands strong against your jaw, neck. It was like your body was on fire, and her only responsibility was to extinguish you with her kisses. You didn't notice when she locked the door, your own hands buried at the back of her neck, tugging her hair slightly, letting her braid loose. Her fiery red hair brought you back to life, inhaling deeply as you let her lips go. You moaned softly as she started her trail down, focusing on your neck.

"Nat," you exhaled, pulling her slightly back, enough to let the outside light shine against her face, her cheeks were tinged slightly pink, barely noticeable unless you knew her well. Her lips puffed, and her eyes, those were always going to be your undoing.

"What happened?" You asked, caressing her cheek. She chuckled slightly, leaning towards your touch, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, turning her head just enough to place a small kiss against the palm of your hand. "I just really need you," she confessed. While it was true, the unknown jealousy that blossomed at the pit of her stomach was the part that made her bring you home, made her selfish.

"Nat, you know that I'm yours," you started, bringing your hand down towards her arm, giving a gentle squeeze as you drew in closer, your lips hovering over her cheek before placing small pecks. Natasha smiled softly, turning her head to capture your lips with hers. Her hands came back up from your waist to your jaw, grabbing it tenderly. "Show me," she whispered against your breath, pulling you towards the all familiar bedroom.

The next morning, you woke up early as always, shifting between Natasha's sheets, her scent clung to your skin, and your eyes fluttered open to see her bathroom door open, the invitation clear with the sound of water running. And, as much as you would like to join her, you hopped up, grabbing her clothes and slipping them on before going to the kitchen. You knew her routine by now: shower, makeup, breakfast.

It was ordinary, everyone would do the same. And yet, you felt the need to help her with her routine. It might not be hard but making her breakfast, it was a small reassurance that you could give her.

The sun wasn't even up, if you were at your place, you would have done a small routine to get up, start to check lectures or study something that you needed to understand better. But here, with Natasha in the other room, you felt the need to show her that you could do more, be more.

"Hello, sweetheart," you heard Natasha say. You turned around to see her smile at you, perfume accompanying her. You give her a small peck, passing her a plate full of food, her coffee ready. "God, you're the best." She sighs, starting to eat.

Natasha clears her throat softly behind you, the scrape of her fork against the plate stalling for just a moment.

"Y/N," she starts, and you glance at her quickly over your shoulder, and she hesitates. Her eyes lingered on you a second too long. She looks down at her food. What she's about to say requires more effort than she expected.

"You know that we're not together," Natasha comments, looking over at you cautiously. But you know her; her voice is too even, and you recognize the mask when you hear it.

You're still, your back towards her. You grip the pan in your hand tightly, trying to take a few deep breaths, anything to hide the pain at the bottom of your heart, the fear of making a wrong move and shattering the most precious and fragile thing you own. "Yes, Nat, we're casual." The words feel like sandpaper, the complete opposite of what you feel. You aren't even sure if Natasha notices the way you tense, if she even knows your reactions to different situations, as you notice her reacting. "That means, you don't have to do this." She says, slowly and calculated. As everything always has to be around her. "Even so, thank you for the delicious breakfast." She says, and you turn around to see her. Long gone is the twinkle in her eyes; your body feels colder with every new word that she speaks. You feel as if last night was a dream, a recurring dream. "You're welcome." You comment, letting the pan sit on the stove, your hands gripping the grey marble, and you faking a smile. "See you later, Y/N," Natasha says, kissing your cheek and heading for the door, taking your heart with her.

The door shuts, and you want to cry, but you shouldn't. She doesn't deserve your tears. You don't even clean up, you muster enough energy and courage to save a plate for Yelena. You go back into Natasha's room, wondering how long you're going to let yourself go through this. You know it isn't fair, you don't deserve this. But you only feel this way when Natasha treats you coldly, when she's apart. Her warmth during the night is enough to keep you coming back.

You grab the clothes from your drawer- you even have a fucking drawer at her place! And she wouldn't have given it to you if you meant nothing, even if she doesn't see it yet, there has to be something.

"Y/N! Thank god you picked up!" You hear Yelena's thick Russian as you answer your phone, you rush through the city streets, paper in hand, as you try to make it in time for your class. "Yelena, what's happening?" You question, maneuvering around the people in the city. "I kind of kissed Kate." She states, you sigh in relief that the younger woman wasn't in any immediate danger. "Congrats? I don't know what you want me to do, Yelena." You answer, finally happy that they stopped their tiptoeing around each other. "No, I need you to come over after your class, my parents are coming around, and you know Alexei, he's so embarrassing, and then Melina, so cold-" she rambles, and you exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. "You want me to be the buffer," You counter, cutting Yelena off. "YES! Exactly. I would appreciate it and owe you big time." She says, and you look around, feeling lucky that you found a bakery. "Fine, I'll go after class."

"Y/N! We're so happy to see you!" You hear Alexei say as he hugs you tightly. As much as Yelena complains about her father, they have the same energy. "It's so good to see you again, Alexei, Melina." You say, balancing the cake in one hand. Inside are already Yelena and Kate. Kate looks nervous, and you hope she keeps her mouth shut so as not to embarrass herself. This family doesn't let small things pass. "You look good, Y/N. How is school?" You listen to Melina as you bring the cake to the counter. Yelena seems to have finally let out a breath, thanking you quietly for the distraction.

"Pretty good, almost done with my final projects." You smile as you explain your life. "Oh yes, Yelena told me you had some projects together. It makes me feel calm to know that she has such a good influence." Melina said it wasn't easy to earn their trust and care, but you feel happy and safe with the family. "What about Yelena? She is the bad influence for Y/N, what with all the vodka and parties." Alexei counters, and you know that Yelena is embarrassed, you chuckle at his statement. "Alexei!" Melina scolds, shooting him a stern look. "Well, she is Russian, and I taught her well; I hope she has been showing you more about the culture." He says, and now you laugh, shaking your head. "She did at first, but now Kate and I manage to keep her from trouble. Although we still can't keep her from drinking." You joke, and Alexei laughs. "Alright, Kate, tell us more about yourself," Melina says, and you laugh slightly. You signal Yelena towards the kitchen, walking calmly to start gathering things.

"So, how are things going?" You ask softly, pulling the coffee filters. Yelena stood next to you, watching the exchange between her parents and Kate. "Good, but I wish I could have given her more of a warning." She says, you nod and hum slightly. "Well, you are like your family, so I don't think a warning would help." You state, chuckling as Yelena hits you softly. "How are things with you?" She asks softly. You don't know if it's because of how she asks, the fact that she's Natasha's sister, or because she is one of your closest friends, you feel your eyes well up with tears. "Thank you for breakfast the other day," she says, looking at the mugs you are now bringing out. "I know I'm not supposed to be biased," Yelena starts, and looks at you. You try to avoid her gaze, the knot in your throat getting too big for you to handle. "But I just want to say that anyone who has had the pleasure of knowing your heart is privileged. But not everyone deserves it." She states, and you nod, letting the gentle tears flow down, grabbing a napkin to clean yourself up. "I don't feel like I'm doing enough or am enough." You confess, Yelena grabs your hand and shakes her head, muttering something softly in Russian. "You are enough for the right person." She says, the words hanging heavily on your chest. You can't cry, Alexei and Melina are here. Natasha will be home. You need to be strong.

"Yelena! Y/N! Kate has a house on the beach!" Alexei boomed, it's enough to make you laugh and forget about your insecurities, for now. Yelena helps you bring the coffee and cake for everyone. "Like, I just have to check around with my mom, but I think she'll be fine with me using it for a weekend," Kate adds on, you smile softly at her. "It's gonna be great, my daughters and my beautiful Meilina will love a weekend away," Alexei boards on, and you don't dare to correct him. "Alexei, calm down." Melina softly encourages, but the man can never calm down, being the dramatic, overemotional parent he is. And you can't blame him, he has great daughters.

"Hey, I'm home," Natasha says as you finish putting the table. Her parents get up to greet her. "Natasha, pack your bags, we're going to go on a vacation," Alexei informs his daughter, and she smiles awkwardly, waiting for context. As Melina fills her in on the plans, you observe her. Whenever she's in the room, she always has your attention. Her red hair flowing, her smile small, and her clothes a bit disheveled. Could it be from work? Surely, you know that she's great at what she does, and Tony sees a lot of potential in her. She's destined for greatness; that was never in doubt.

Natasha sits down at the table, and you hear Alexei groan. "Natasha, show your love for Y/N! I didn't raise my daughters to just sit down." Alexei scolds, and Melina nods. You never were introduced as Natasha's girlfriend; you were always only her friend, but Melina and Alexei know their daughter better than you, and small touches, glances are enough for them to surmise their daughter's relationship.

Natasha chuckles, rolling her eyes, and you know you're blushing. She goes to hug you, her arms feeling familiar around your waist, and her intoxicating scent, the one that you've grown used to, invading your every sense. She sits down next to you, grabbing your hand, her fingers playing with the ring you got a few years back.

The gathering was filled with conversation between Alexei, Melina, Natasha, and Kate. You felt happy that Kate was getting their approval, but when they started planning the trip, you went quiet, a little bit serious. You dropped Natasha's hand, her warmth missing, and you regretted it, but these past few weeks have started to take a toll on you. Melina noticed the change in your attitude, and you felt Natasha tense.

"Why are my parents planning a vacation with you?" Natasha asked, voice low and tense as she leaned against the counter.

Kate and Yelena were down for the night, and now you were only washing dishes with Natasha. "What?" You question her softly. "Why are you here? Why are my parents planning a vacation with you?" She asks, and you take a deep breath. "Kate offered." You replied, washing the same plate over and over again. "I got that, but what made you feel like you had the right?" She asked, her tone stern. You turn to look at her incredulously, as if you wanted this. "Yelena invited me over, and Alexei told me that we were going on vacation." You stated, "I didn't ask to be a part of any of this, I was just doing my friend a favor." You continue, Natasha scoffs, and shakes her head. "Even so, that is not what we agreed to do, we said-" you don't let her finish. "Casual, I know." You said, leaving the spotless plates on the counter, turning to look at Natasha.

"How long until we can leave casual behind, Natasha?" The use of her name makes her tilt her head, you let your hands go to either side of your hips, looking at her leaning against the counters. "Another year until we can admit our feelings?" You continue, wondering aloud. "Natasha, casual is not me leaving my favorite lingerie in your apartment, it isn't your sister asking me advice for her relationships, it isn't us getting each other off, it certainly isn't you getting jealous because of a friend." You state, her gaze doesn't falter, her shoulders don't slump. "I didn't ask you to do any of that." She lets out softly, and you don't know if you want to slap or kiss her. "Casual," you spat, "was never what you meant. Your breakfast and your parents' vacation invite- none of that was casual." You say, and Natasha lowers her gaze, shaking her head.

She walks towards you, her hand lifting your chin, her lips close to yours. "I can't do casual anymore, Natasha." You whisper, you don't know if those words are correct or incorrect but you only focus on the feeling of her lips pressing up against yours, the way her breath trembles and her body relaxes in to your touch.

The passion is there, the love is there from your part, but you don't know if it's reciprocated.

Even if your heart protests, you push her gently away. Looking into her eyes. Your hands rest on her chest, your forehead against hers and you close your eyes.

Of course it had only been in a friendly way. You only and always have had eyes for Natalia Alianovna Romanova.

It’s quiet, for only a minute, it’s silent but the rain outside is loud. Sounds of heavy rain outside and careful cars driving through the wet streets.

Her hair is wet, straight hair has now turned into small, curly waves. Her nose is pink from the icy cold, you knew if you were to touch her hands her fingertips would feel like ice. She always ran cold, it’s what you love about her. Her coat is hanging off a dining chair. Her light grey turtleneck compliments her pale skin. She’s beautiful even when she’s angry.

“I can’t believe you.” She blinks away the tears before you had the chance to notice them. She’s letting her anger take over.

“What, Natalia? What can’t you believe?” You hiss, scolding her like a child that had left the gas on in the kitchen.

You don’t even notice the way you use her real name.

The girl in front of you does. She picks up on how mad you are, clueless, and blind.

“You literally can’t even see it!”

You scoff at her words, wishing she could just spit it out. “Just say it. I obviously don’t have a fuckin clue what we are talking about here!”

“She’s in love you with you!” She screams, there is a vein that appears on the side of her neck when she spits it out.

“Now you’re the one being unbelievable.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes! You’re crazy for thinking that!”

“No I’m not! I’m not unbelievable and I’m not crazy,” she paused, she knew if she has another word without stopping her voice would crack. “You’re so fuckin blind.”

Your stomach sinks when she spits out your name instead of baby.

It’s hypocritical to act hurt, just moments prior you had called her by her name as well. However, before you can redirect the conversation Natasha speaks again.

“Don’t come up with some bullshit saying she’s just your friend. You may be her friend and think of her as nothing but a friend, but remember. I was that friend.” Natasha points to herself, memories of the first few weeks the two of you had gotten to know each other came back to you.

“I was the friend that fell in love with you! I was the one that flirted with you and got drunk so you could take care of me. I did everything so I could have your attention. I was the friend in love with you!”

-

“Hey stranger, missed you last week.” Natasha’s face lit up when she saw you walk toward the small bar entrance. “What’s wrong?”

“Ahh I know,” you rub your temples before explaining, “My girl had some thing with her parents.”

There’s a playful scared look while you slide into the booth she’s sitting at. Reaching over to give her a small hug, Natasha held on for a just a second too long, but, of course, you brushed it off.

“Parents? You guys are that serious?” Her nerves get the best of her as Natasha bites the tip of her straw, drink half full.

Your eyes unlock with hers as you flag down a waitress. Without wasting any time you order yourself a vodka tonic.

“That bad?” Natasha jokes.

You laugh loudly at her joke before sighing deeply. “Um I- I don’t really know if it’s gonna work out between me and her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Natasha is sincere with her apology, but there’s a small fraction of her that is hopeful.

“Are you?”

Natasha’s eyes widen in shock. Natasha stumbles to come up with words when you continue to look at her with raised eyebrows.

“Y-yes I’m sorry. She’s your girlfriend and if that’s not working out then I’m sorry. I want you happy because I’m your friend.”

Natasha hates every word that fell from her mouth. No she wasn’t entirely sorry to hear things were working out because she wanted you all for herself.

“It’s a bit funny cause she thinks you like me. Always going off about ‘Natasha likes you and fucking hates me cause I’m with you’.”

“I don’t hate her.” It’s true. Natasha doesn’t hate her, sure she’s jealous, but hate is such a strong word.

“But you like me?”

“Yes. Wait! No- I mean- fuck. I’m sorry.” Natasha shuts herself up by chugging the rest of her drink.

“But that’s not the problem... the problem is I like you back.”

-

“Remember?” Her voice cracks and it breaks your heart.

Your eyes meet hers and now is the time you take to look at your wife.

Anger has faded and merged into hurt. She took your silence as your confession, that you had fell out of love with her. That you were going to have the same conversation you had with your ex with her.

“Baby,” you call softly, reaching over to hug her, reaching to comfort her. Hold her in your arms and tell that you only love her and you’re sorry.

“No, don’t touch me.” She grits out with tears sliding down her cheek, flinching away from your touch as if you had burned her.

“Baby, let me explain.” You choke out, trying your best to ignore the pain in your heart when Natasha refused to let her guard down.

Poor choice of words.

“I’m leaving.”

“Don’t leave. It’s wet out. They said that the rain is coming back.” You beg softly. You don’t know why you’re not crying. You should be, but your eyes are dry.

“From the bottom of my heart, Y/N, fuck you.”

“Nat. Stop. Stop that. You don’t mean that. Just go to the room I’ll take the couch. Just don’t drive. It’s not safe.”

“No, seriously. I don’t know why I thought I was special. You’re never going to change. You will always go onto the next girl who falls for you. I am so stupid thinking you can truly love me, let alone one person.”

author notes: Thank you all sooo much for the love you’ve sent over this mini fanfic — seriously, my heart’s full! I’m beyond excited to say that yes, a little series about our chaotic (but adorable) family is officially happening <3

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Time had a funny way of folding in on itself when you weren’t paying attention.

One moment, you were a reluctant presence on the fringes of her and Ana’s quiet world, and the next… you were everywhere. Slowly. Naturally. Not because you forced your way in, but because Ana wouldn’t let you be anywhere else. Because Natasha hadn’t known she was waiting for you until you started showing up.

With each passing week, you had become more a part of them—tangled in the fabric of small, ordinary things. Breakfast crumbs. Quiet laughter. The gentle thud of little feet running to find you the moment she entered a room. Natasha had told herself it was nothing. Just temporary. Just the way Ana gravitated to you.

But it was more than that. You weren’t just a presence. You were constant. Steady. You were becoming a part of them in ways Natasha hadn’t prepared for.

And that terrified her.

Because she’d started loving you.

More than she meant to.

And not just emotionally—her body had begun responding to you like it remembered something ancient, like it knew what it wanted before her mind had a chance to catch up. It wasn’t just attraction—it was primal. Deep. Dangerous. Her womb would ache in ways she hadn’t felt since before Ana. Ovulation, hormones, cravings… not just for you, but for the idea of you beside her, in her, with her. You, with Ana. You, in their future.

And you made it worse by being exactly who you were. By showing up when she least expected it. Like now.

Natasha was wrecked. Exhausted beyond measure. It had started with one stupid playdate. She should’ve known better—one of the other mothers had been coughing in that vaguely suspicious “I’m fine, really” way, and now Natasha was paying the price. First came the fever. Then the stomach bug. First for her, then for Ana. And now they were both half-alive, curled into a blanket cocoon on Natasha’s couch, in the dim light of her apartment.

Ana was burning up and clingy in the way toddlers get when they don’t understand why they feel so awful. She wouldn’t let go of Natasha, not for a second—not even to sleep. And Natasha herself was barely staying upright, her limbs heavy, her head pounding, her body still trying to fight off the virus she’d caught. Her shirt was damp with sweat, and Ana had been crying for the last thirty minutes with no real reason other than pure discomfort.

She was drowning. Alone, exhausted, and on the edge of breaking.

And then the door opened.

No warning. No knock. Just the sound of your voice, soft but firm.

“Hey.”

Natasha didn’t have the strength to lift her head fully. But you were there. Jacket already half-off, eyes scanning the mess in a heartbeat. You didn’t need an explanation. You didn’t ask questions. You just moved.

You took Ana from her arms with practiced ease—Ana went willingly, burying her flushed face into your shoulder like it was the only place she’d ever belonged. You murmured something soft, bouncing her lightly, hand rubbing circles on her back. Natasha watched you lower onto the couch beside her, Ana now pressed between you both, content in a way she hadn’t been all day.

And just like that… the panic faded. Natasha breathed again.

Your hand brushed against hers when you reached for the thermometer on the table. You glanced at her sideways. “You look like hell.”

Natasha gave a breathless laugh. “Thanks.”

“I brought soup.”

“You’re a menace.”

But you were her menace. She leaned her head against your shoulder without meaning to, eyelids fluttering closed for just a moment.

And you let her.

There weren’t any declarations. No promises. Just the warmth of your body beside hers, Ana dozing between you both, and the quiet understanding that, somehow, this wasn’t temporary anymore.

It had never been temporary.

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep—not really. Just close her eyes for a moment. But something about your presence always disarmed her, made her forget how long she’d been holding everything together. And now, with Ana tucked warm and feverish against your chest, with the tension in her own body finally starting to loosen, she let herself lean into it.

Only for a few seconds.

When she stirred, it was to the smell of something warm and simple. Soup. Real food. She blinked blearily and found you in her kitchen, moving with lazy familiarity. You were pouring the soup into a bowl, spoon already in hand, as if this was your place to do that. As if you belonged here.

You did.

You handed her the plate without a word, just gave her that look—eyebrow lifted, smirk tugging at the edge of your lips, the one you always wore when you were pretending not to care. She took it with both hands like it was a gift from the gods and didn’t even bother pretending otherwise.

“Okay,” she rasped, already taking a spoonful. “This might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

You gave a faux bow, already shaking up a bottle for Ana with one hand while she watched you from the curve of your hip, dazed and blinking.

“It’s literally canned soup, Romanoff.”

She took another spoonful and closed her eyes, groaning. “You heated it like a pro.”

“Oh, I’m very skilled with microwaves. A real domestic goddess.”

“You’re lucky I’m too weak to throw this at you.”

“You’re welcome.” You smirked, adjusting Ana gently in your arms as you rocked side to side, absently bouncing her. It was natural now. So seamless it made something in Natasha’s chest ache.

She watched the two of you for a moment, spoon frozen halfway to her mouth. Ana had gone still, her eyes fluttering closed, hands curled loosely against your chest. She looked content. Safe. Natasha swallowed past the knot in her throat.

“How did you know?” she asked, voice quieter now, worn at the edges. “That I was sick?”

You didn’t look away from Ana, just smiled lightly and said, “F.R.I.D.A.Y. noticed your vitals were way out of range for a few hours. High cortisol, spiked temp. She told me you weren’t doing great. I figured something was up.”

Natasha blinked. “You figured?”

You finally looked at her, that teasing glint still there, but softened. “I’m not gonna let you fall apart on your own, Romanoff. You and Ana… you’re mine too. My family.”

She didn’t answer at first. Couldn’t. The warmth in her chest wasn’t fever—it was you. The way you said it so simply, like it wasn’t something enormous. Like it didn’t undo her piece by piece.

She looked down at her bowl and took another bite of soup, mostly to keep from crying. “Well,” she murmured after a moment, “you might’ve just earned another microwave session.”

You raised an eyebrow, adjusting Ana as she finally slipped into deeper sleep. “I’ll take that as a declaration of love.”

She smirked, eyes still on her bowl. “Keep telling yourself that.”

And in the quiet that followed, with Ana asleep between the two of you and the warmth of soup lingering in her hands, Natasha let herself believe it was real. That maybe this wasn’t just a moment, but the beginning of something she never dared to imagine.

The soup was almost gone by the time Ana stilled completely in your arms, her little hand twitching once, then going limp against your collarbone. You stayed swaying, even as your legs must’ve grown tired, and Natasha didn’t miss the way your fingers moved gently across Ana’s back, steady and rhythmic, like it was instinct.

The kind of instinct that made her want things she had no right to want. The kind of instinct that made her heart ache.

“She loves you,” Natasha said, voice softer now, almost inaudible. She wasn’t even sure why she said it—maybe to test the sound of it in the air. Maybe to see if it shook you the way it shook her.

You didn’t look up. “I know.”

The answer was simple. Certain. It wasn’t arrogance—it was truth. You knew. And Natasha realized then that maybe you’d known for longer than she had. Maybe you’d been letting Ana pull you into their orbit from the start, quietly, without resistance. Maybe you’d been falling too.

“I thought you didn’t like kids,” she said after a beat, not teasing this time.

You finally looked over, the weight of Ana sleeping across your body anchoring you both to the moment. “I don’t,” you said lightly. Then added, “But she’s not a kid. She’s Ana.”

And Natasha smiled.

God help her, she smiled.

You glanced at her empty bowl. “Do you want me to warm up the rest?”

Natasha shook her head slowly. “No, if I eat more, I’ll owe you even more declarations of love, and I’m not sure your ego can handle that.”

“Oh, I can handle a lot,” you said, setting Ana down on the couch between you both with infinite care, your hands lingering on her curls as she whimpered, then settled again. “I’ve got range.”

She gave a tired laugh, her body sagging sideways, finally letting herself rest now that the worst of it had passed. Now that you were here.

She glanced at you through her lashes, quieter this time. “You didn’t have to come.”

You looked at her for a long second. “Yes, I did.”

There wasn’t anything more to say after that. Not really. The silence between you both wasn’t empty—it was full of unspoken things. Full of what was building day by day, moment by moment, croissant crumbs and emergency soup and the soft thump of Ana’s head against your chest.

Natasha watched Ana’s little face in sleep. Then she turned to you.

“You know,” she said lightly, “I think she’s just trying to get herself a stepmom.”

Your mouth twitched. “Well. She’s doing a damn good job.”

Natasha leaned her head back against the couch, eyes half-closing again, lips curved with something half-smile, half-surrender. “This is your fault, you know.”

You raised a brow. “Mine?”

She nodded once, slow and deliberate. “You were supposed to hate kids. I was supposed to keep my life quiet. Ana was supposed to be enough.”

“She is enough.”

“I know,” Natasha said. Then softer, “But now there’s you.”

You didn’t say anything. You just looked at her like you already belonged there. Like you’d stay. Like maybe you were already home.

And Natasha—tired, sick, warm, and full of something she hadn’t felt in years—didn’t say it either.

She just smiled.

And watched you keep pretending like you weren’t already halfway hers.

“Go take a shower,” you said, rising from the couch, Ana tucked easily against your shoulder like she belonged there. “You look disgusting.”

Natasha scoffed, too tired to argue. “Charming as ever.”

You shot her a smirk. “I’m just saying, it might not be the flu. It could be self-inflicted. Maybe try soap.”

She rolled her eyes, but the way her mouth curved betrayed her. That ridiculous, easy charm of yours—that’s what made it dangerous. Not just because you were funny or disarming or beautiful in that sharp, effortless way. But because you made it feel like loving you would be so… simple.

She watched as you disappeared into the hallway with Ana, cradling her like she was the most delicate thing in the world. And despite the biting jokes and your performative annoyance, you moved like you were born for it. Like Ana was safest in your arms.

Natasha sat still for a moment. Her muscles were aching, her skin hot from fever and sleep, but her thoughts didn’t drift toward rest. They drifted toward you.

You, humming something softly under your breath while you ran warm water for Ana. You, scooping bubbles with your hand and making her giggle, even feverish and worn out as she was. You, being gentle. Thoughtful. Patient.

You, who weren’t supposed to want any of this.

But you did. Maybe not in the way you’d admit out loud—not yet. Still, it was there in every wordless offering. In the croissant you split without blinking. In the soup you served before she could even ask. In the way you told her, so casually, that they were yours too. That this—her and Ana—was home.

What are we even becoming? she thought, rubbing a hand over her eyes. The question made her heart beat harder than it should have.

She leaned her head back against the couch and sighed. For so long, her future had been a blank space—no risks, no attachments, just the weightless quiet of a life lived in retreat. Ana had changed that. She’d started painting the outlines of something new: slow mornings, comfort food, the kind of chaos that wasn’t dangerous but deeply, beautifully human.

But you… You filled the rest in.

And it terrified her, how easily she could see it now.

The three of you. A home that wasn’t just a safehouse. A life that wasn’t just survival. She could almost feel it like a memory that hadn’t happened yet.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, she thought, dragging herself to her feet. It’s just soup. Just a bath. Just you.

But she smiled anyway.

When you returned, Ana was clean and dressed in fresh pajamas, her damp curls already drying against your shoulder. She was fast asleep again, breath soft and steady against your neck. You were barefoot, shirt wrinkled, and your hair damp from whatever splash damage Ana had managed in the bath—but you looked so at ease. Like this had been your life forever.

“Your turn,” you murmured, keeping your voice low not to wake the baby. “Go. Before your skin peels off.”

Natasha huffed, but moved toward the bathroom without protest. She stopped in the doorway, turning back once more to glance at you. You were pacing slightly, patting Ana’s back, rocking her with barely a thought.

You didn’t see her watching you.

You didn’t have to.

Because the truth had already rooted itself deep in Natasha’s chest, undeniable and warm and terrifying.

This was never part of the plan, she thought, fingers curled lightly on the doorframe. But maybe it should’ve been.

And with that, she disappeared into the steam of the shower, letting herself wash off everything but the thoughts of you that clung stubbornly to her skin.

“You should take a shower,” you said, rising from the couch with Ana limp and quiet in your arms. “You look… borderline contagious.”

Natasha blinked at you, deadpan. “Wow. That’s romantic.”

You smirked, shifting Ana carefully to your other side. “Just thinking of your well-being. And mine. Mostly mine.”

She was too tired to quip back. Too tired to do anything, really, except let herself sink deeper into the couch cushions and close her eyes for a moment. Just a moment.

She heard the bathroom door creak open. The faucet run. Then the quiet echo of your voice—lower, softer, like you only ever used that tone for Ana. Words she couldn’t quite catch, but the cadence was gentle, soothing. A rhythm built for trust.

Natasha opened her eyes.

She didn’t get up, not yet. She sat there and listened. To the occasional splash. To the stillness in between. To the silence when Ana didn’t fuss or cry or fight. No complaints. Just the warm hush of water and care.

Eventually, curiosity pulled her from the couch.

She padded slowly to the bathroom doorway and leaned against it, too exhausted to announce herself, too captivated to interrupt.

You were on the tiled floor, legs crossed, sleeves rolled up. The tub was only half-full, steam curling into the air like a dream. And there she was—Ana—leaned back against your chest, damp and drowsy, eyes fluttering closed even as you gently ran water over her curls.

She was asleep. In the bath.

Completely, utterly at peace.

And so were you.

Not smiling. Not speaking. Just there, holding her with the kind of quiet reverence Natasha didn’t even know you were capable of. Your chin rested lightly on her head. One hand supporting her chest, the other tracing idle shapes on her arm, slow and repetitive. Calming.

It should’ve been startling—how natural it looked.

But all Natasha could think was: Of course it’s you.

Of course you’re the one who could lull her daughter to sleep in the middle of a fever, in the middle of a bath, in the middle of a chaotic day that had nearly brought her to her knees.

You didn’t notice her watching, not at first. You were too focused on the moment. Focused on Ana.

And then, quietly, you spoke. “You’re staring.”

Natasha blinked. “I am not.”

You didn’t turn around, but your smirk was audible. “You’re allowed to be impressed, you know. I’m amazing.”

She rolled her eyes. “She’s asleep. You didn’t solve world hunger.”

“Not yet. But I did make her smell like lavender and peace.”

You shifted slightly, moving with impossible care as you adjusted her position, resting Ana more securely against you. Her cheek smooshed softly against your shoulder, mouth parted in sleep. She didn’t stir. She trusted you. Completely.

“She’s out,” you said, glancing back. “Want to grab me a towel?”

Natasha hesitated for a second. Then turned around and came back with the softest one she had, warm from the dryer. You took it without fanfare, and in one practiced motion, you scooped Ana from the water and wrapped her up in it, holding her as if she were something precious.

She was.

And Natasha wasn’t sure who she was talking about anymore.

You passed her gently in the hallway on your way back to the living room, whispering something into Ana’s ear even though she was fast asleep. Natasha just stood there for a moment, hand still resting on the towel rack.

Then, finally, she stepped into the bathroom.

The tub was still steaming. The scent of soap and baby shampoo clung to the air. And she stared at it—the water, the stillness, the ghost of a moment that wasn’t hers alone anymore—and for the first time in days, she smiled without exhaustion in her bones.

You were supposed to be a complication.

Instead, you were comfort.

She turned the water back on and stepped out of her clothes slowly, heart still a little full in her chest. As the shower rained down around her, Natasha let her thoughts wander—just a little.

To quiet nights and lavender baths.

To soft smiles and someone else cooking soup.

To a world where she wasn’t carrying everything alone anymore.

Maybe not just someone.

Maybe you.

The water had helped.

Not in any dramatic, life-changing way, but enough. Enough to strip away the fog in her mind, the heat on her skin, the ache in her muscles that had been screaming for rest. She toweled off slowly, her movements heavy but less desperate now. Steam clung to the mirror as she stepped out into her room, wrapped in one of her fluffiest towels, hair damp and curling against her neck.

And paused.

You were there. Bent over her bed, sleeves pushed up, changing the sheets like it was the most natural thing in the world. You had already stripped the sick-sweat-drenched set and tossed them in the hamper. Now you were laying down clean ones—fresh, cool cotton with the faint scent of lavender detergent. Probably the same kind you used for Ana’s things.

“You organizing my closet next?” she said, arms crossing loosely over her chest, voice drier than the towel wrapped around her.

You glanced over your shoulder with a grin. “Already color-coded your knives, too.”

Natasha snorted, dragging her hand through her damp hair. “This part of the rescue mission, or are you just nesting?”

“Someone had to make your bed not smell like death,” you replied. “I drew the short straw.”

“Really? I think you’re just obsessed with me.”

You paused for half a second. Just enough for her to notice.

Then you looked at her with a smirk that was half-deflection, half-something warmer. “Keep telling yourself that, Romanoff.”

She hummed and moved slowly toward the bed as you smoothed out the comforter. You were almost done, and her limbs were already sagging with the pull of sleep again. Still, she didn’t want to rush this part. This version of you—quietly caring, effortlessly present, always pretending it meant less than it did—it made her want to look twice.

You finished tucking the corners in and stepped back, giving the space a satisfied nod.

“I know,” you said. “Perfect. You’re welcome.”

Natasha rolled her eyes but sat down, slowly sinking into the clean sheets like they were heaven itself. They felt crisp and cool against her overheated skin, and she let out a sigh she didn’t mean to.

“Yeah, yeah,” you murmured, watching her with something closer to pride than smugness. “Say it. I’m incredible.”

She didn’t say it. But she smiled.

And when her head hit the pillow, she felt the familiar haze of exhaustion crawling back. Her eyes fluttered shut—but only for a second, because then you spoke again, voice lower now, less teasing.

“I can stay.”

Natasha blinked up at you.

You were standing beside her, looking down, and for once you weren’t hiding behind a joke. “I mean. If you want,” you continued, scratching lightly at the back of your neck. “I can sit with Ana tonight. Keep an eye on her so you can actually sleep.”

It wasn’t the offer itself that made her heart stutter—it was the way you made it sound like breathing. Like of course you would. Like this was your home too.

She opened her mouth to say thank you. To tell you that was kind. That you didn’t have to.

But what came out instead was, “Lie down.”

Your brows lifted. “What, here?”

She patted the empty space beside her. “You already changed the sheets. Might as well test them.”

You hesitated for a breath. Maybe two. Then you moved without a word, toeing off your shoes and sliding in beside her. There was still space between you—barely—but it felt charged. Intentional.

Ana’s soft breathing came from the baby monitor on the nightstand, and for the first time in two long, fever-drenched days, the room felt calm.

You turned your head on the pillow to face her.

“You sure about this?”

Natasha looked at you. At the girl who didn’t like kids. The one who made her soup and changed her sheets and rocked her daughter to sleep in the bath.

“I think I’ve been sure for a while,” she said softly.

You didn’t answer.

You just smiled—small and a little dazed—and reached over, letting your pinky brush hers between the sheets. Not taking. Not pushing. Just offering.

And Natasha, ex-spy, assassin, mother—she curled her finger around yours and held on.

The room had gone quiet.

Not the kind of silence that weighed heavy or pressed against your chest—but a hush that wrapped around them gently. Like it belonged there. Like it had been waiting for them to notice it.

Ana’s breathing was soft through the monitor. The hum of the city outside filtered in faintly through the curtains. But here, in this bed, there was only warmth. And you.

You didn’t speak for a while. Neither of you did.

You stayed lying beside her, not touching, not rushing. The kind of nearness that said more than closeness ever could. And Natasha—who had known how to kill a man in a dozen ways before she ever learned how to ask for help—just let herself exist in the moment.

Eventually, your voice broke through the dark.

“Do you miss it?”

She turned her head slightly, eyes finding you in the half-light. “Miss what?”

“The life before this.” You hesitated, your gaze fixed on the ceiling. “Before Ana. Before… quiet mornings and lavender soap and someone needing you all the time.”

Natasha took a long breath. Then shook her head.

“No,” she said. “I was good at it. But I never wanted to go back to that.”

You nodded, slow. Processing.

“I didn’t think you’d say that,” you admitted, voice quieter now. “Everyone talks about you like you were unstoppable. Like you were this myth in red.”

Natasha smiled faintly. “I was a myth. But it wasn’t peace. It was noise. Constant noise. I didn’t realize how tired I was until she was born.”

You looked over at her. “And now?”

She met your eyes. “Now it’s like… I finally exhaled. Like I didn’t even know I was holding my breath until I saw her.”

There was a pause. You shifted slightly, the sheets rustling just a little. “She’s lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have her,” Natasha corrected gently. And then, after a beat, her voice softer: “And I think I’m starting to feel the same way about you.”

You blinked. Slowly. As if the words had knocked the air out of you without even touching you.

“You don’t have to say that,” you murmured, eyes flickering down. “Just because I’ve been showing up. I mean… anyone would, right?”

“No,” Natasha said simply.

She reached out then—not boldly, but with certainty—and let her hand rest on your arm, grounding, warm. “Not anyone. You.”

You swallowed hard, and for a second, she thought you might pull away. Instead, you turned toward her a little more, eyes clearer than she’d seen them all night.

“I didn’t think I had room for this,” you said, and the way your voice cracked a little almost broke her. “Not just the kid thing. Any of it. I have lived on my own since I was seventeen. I wasn’t built for this kind of… closeness. I thought it would break me.”

“It’s not breaking you,” Natasha whispered. “It’s softening you. That’s different.”

You let out a shaky breath. Then, tentatively, like you were still surprised it was allowed, you reached for her hand and held it fully this time.

“Sometimes I think she knew before I did,” you said.

“Who?” Natasha asked.

“Ana.” Your voice turned fond. “She just… decided. I walked into that briefing room and it was over. She picked me. I never stood a chance.”

Natasha smiled again—tired, wrecked, but so full of feeling it ached.

“She does have good taste.”

“Yeah,” you said, thumb brushing over hers. “She really does.”

Another pause. But this time, it wasn’t empty. It was full—of something new, something forming in the quiet between you.

“I can stay,” you said again, softer. “Not just tonight. If you’ll let me.”

Natasha didn’t answer right away.

She looked at you, fully and openly, and saw the way you looked back—unguarded, raw, still scared, but trying.

Trying for them.

So she gave you the simplest answer she could.

“You already are.”

You didn’t say anything at first. Just watched her, eyes barely open, red hair a damp halo on her pillow, face soft in a way the world rarely got to see. That expression—the quiet, raw one that didn’t come from war zones or missions or victory, but from something quieter. Something safe.

You shifted, slow and careful, until your body was turned fully toward her. And then, without asking, without needing to, you reached out and wrapped your arm around her waist. Gently, but without hesitation.

Natasha didn’t tense. Didn’t joke or protest or pretend to be made of stone.

She just let you do it.

And when you pulled her against you—when you guided her into your space like she belonged there—she went easily. Folded into you like she’d been waiting for it all along. Her back settled against your chest, her breath hitched just once, and then her whole body melted.

You held her close. Not like she might disappear, but like you were tired of pretending you didn’t want to. Like holding her was the most natural conclusion to every shared moment before this.

Your arm tucked snugly around her waist. Your nose brushed the back of her hair. She smelled like clean skin, steam, and something faintly herbal—maybe Ana’s baby shampoo, clinging to her like a memory. She was warm and exhausted and completely real.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The world could’ve fallen apart around you and it wouldn’t have mattered.

“Is this okay?” you murmured against her shoulder, voice almost lost in the dark.

She nodded, a slow movement against your pillow. “It’s more than okay.”

You felt her fingers brush yours where they rested on her stomach, weaving through them with deliberate care. Not asking. Not rushing. Just saying I’m here.

And she didn’t speak again. Didn’t need to. She let out a shaky sigh—half relief, half something deeper—and her muscles softened further in your arms. She nestled closer, fitting her body more tightly to yours until you could feel every small breath, every quiet shift, every wordless surrender.

You held her tighter. Pressed your forehead lightly to the back of her neck. Whispered her name once, like a promise.

And when she finally fell asleep like that—safe, held, loved—you stayed awake just a little longer. Listening to her breathing even out. Feeling the weight of her against you.

You hadn’t meant to fall in love like this.

　 ゛ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𓂃𓈒𓏸 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ᥫ᭡ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ༝ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 🍼 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ୨♡୧ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ᡣ𐭩 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ꩜　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ✧ 　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ୨୧ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺ 　　 　˳ 　 　⸝⸝⸝♡　　⁺　　୨୧　　　₊　 　 ˚₊

Natasha had never been the type to hope for softness.

Not for herself, at least.

She’d made her peace with that years ago—on the rooftops of Budapest, in the sterile hallways of S.H.I.E.L.D., in the long silences between missions where guilt and memory left no room for sentiment. And then came Ana. Not by accident. Not by surprise. By choice. Hers. A deliberate, defiant, I want this, spoken with all the clarity of a life finally claimed.

She never regretted a moment of it. Not the injections. Not the procedures. Not the days spent alone, watching her body change, knowing no one was coming but not needing anyone to. Ana was the best thing she’d ever done. Her softness, her quiet, her stubborn spark—that was Natasha’s legacy now. Not blood. Not missions. Her. Anasthasia Irina Romanoff. She’d chosen Irina long before Ana was even born. It wasn’t a family name, or a tribute to anyone in her past—it was a hope. Irina meant peace, and that’s what Ana was. Her stillness after decades of running. Her soft beginning after a life of sharp edges. Natasha had spent so many years living on instinct, choosing danger over safety, solitude over softness. But Ana was different. Ana meant slow mornings. Shared breakfasts. Laughter in the middle of the day for no reason at all. She gave her the name Irina because, for the first time, Natasha wasn’t surviving anymore. She was living. And Ana was the reason why.And maybe that’s why she was so protective of it—why she kept the world at arm’s length and Ana even closer. This calm, this rhythm she’d built, it was fragile in the way that mattered most. So when new variables appeared—new people, new energies—Natasha never let them close enough to shift the balance.

So she didn’t expect anything to come from your arrival.

Not in the way that mattered.

You were Tony’s daughter, and Natasha had always paid attention to the way people spoke about you—with a mixture of respect and restraint, like they weren’t quite sure what to do with someone who carried the Stark name but none of his chaos. She knew you joined S.H.I.E.L.D. when you were barely old enough to be called an adult, that you’d carved your space without leaning on legacy, and that you’d been stationed in England for the last few years—low profile, high results.

She also knew something more personal. Something quieter.

You didn’t like children.

Not in a cold, heartless way. You weren’t cruel. You were respectful—always. Natasha remembered the way you helped Lila Barton when she scraped her knee during a holiday visit, how you’d stayed still and calm while the girl sobbed against your shoulder. But the moment she calmed, you’d set her down gently and disappeared from the room like your presence had been an accident. You didn’t mock them, or treat them like they were less-than. You just… didn’t want them near. Didn’t invite them close. Natasha understood that. Some people didn’t crave the chaos, the unpredictability, the weight of something small depending on you.

That was fine.

That was expected.

Which is why she didn’t even flinch when she brought Ana to the morning briefing.

The meeting was scheduled in one of the larger lounge rooms—bright windows, low coffee tables, plenty of space for Ana to exist without needing constant wrangling. Natasha had done this dozens of times. Her daughter came with her everywhere now. She didn’t leave Ana behind unless she absolutely had to. The team had long since adapted.

You, however, were new.

She entered the room with Ana tucked against her side, one arm looped around the child’s waist with practiced ease. You were already seated—coffee in hand, face unreadable, posture casual but distant. Natasha didn’t expect more than a polite nod, maybe a glance. And that’s what she got. You didn’t tense. You didn’t retreat. You simply acknowledged her presence and turned your eyes back to the screen.

But Ana didn’t.

Ana saw you. And for the first time since Natasha could remember, her daughter paused.

Not in fear. Not in confusion. In recognition.

It started as a slow shift—her little body repositioning against Natasha’s ribs, eyes locked in your direction, curious and alert. Then the squirming began. Not impatient, not fussy—focused. Ana leaned out of her arms, little hand pointing downward.

Natasha frowned. “What’s going on, kotyonok?” she murmured, brushing her lips lightly across Ana’s hair.

“Down,” Ana whispered.

Natasha blinked.

Ana rarely asked to leave her arms during meetings. And never in unfamiliar rooms. She’d been clingy the last few days—teething, off her sleep schedule, adjusting to so many new faces around the compound again. But now, her little legs were kicking softly, hands gripping at Natasha’s shirt in earnest.

“Down,” she repeated.

Natasha hesitated—glanced at you.

You weren’t watching Ana anymore. You were watching her. Confused. Curious. But not annoyed. Not disapproving.

Natasha could read people down to the smallest twitch of a muscle, and in that moment, she read one thing clearly: you didn’t know what was happening either.

So she shifted forward and lowered Ana gently to the carpeted floor.

Ana’s sneakers touched down. She took one look back—brief, instinctive—then turned toward you like she already knew the path.

Natasha’s chest tightened.

One step. Then another.

You looked up.

There was a breath, the room shrinking around it.

Ana stopped at your knees. Her curls were mussed from her mother’s shoulder, her little fox plush dangling from one hand. She tilted her head to look at you properly. She didn’t blink.

And then she lifted both arms toward you.

“Lap.”

You froze.

Not in fear. Not rejection. Natasha saw it—something break quietly across your expression, the way your eyebrows lifted just slightly, like your own body didn’t understand how it was reacting before your brain caught up. There was no mask now. No calm Stark logic, no precise detachment. Just you—and the shock of being chosen by someone so small, so unrelenting, and so certain.

Natasha didn’t move.

She stood where she was, heart pounding quietly behind her ribs, not from fear or worry—but something more intimate. Something that reached the parts of her still holding every shattered version of family she’d ever known. She watched as you stared down at the child who had never, not once, walked into a stranger’s arms. And she waited. Because whatever happened next… would matter.

You didn’t reach for Ana immediately.

Natasha noticed the exact moment your eyes lifted—not to the child now reaching for you with unwavering certainty, but to her. And it wasn’t a question. Not quite. There was no panic in your expression, no discomfort. Just a pause. A stillness that asked without words: Is this alright?

And Natasha, who rarely let anyone past the perimeter of her trust, gave you the smallest, most intentional nod.

You moved like someone reaching into deep water—carefully, gently, aware of the weight of what you were about to hold. Your hands met Ana’s sides, small and secure, and you lifted her with practiced ease, as though this wasn’t the first time, as though her body already knew how to fold against yours. She settled into your lap like it belonged to her.

Like she had always meant to end up there.

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat.

Ana laid her head lightly against your chest, little cheek pressing into the dark fabric of your jacket. One of her hands tucked the fox between your arm and her belly; the other—small, dimpled fingers—reached up to your collarbone and found your hand.

And then she started to play.

Not with toys, not with distractions. Just your hand. Your fingers. One by one she explored them, pressing her thumb into your palm, curling your pinky against her own, dragging the tips along her forehead in idle motion. Her eyes drifted half-closed, calm and curious, while you stayed perfectly still—watching her with that same look Natasha couldn’t read.

It was almost unbearable, the quiet of the moment.

The meeting had technically begun, but Natasha hadn’t registered a single word Steve said. She hadn’t even sat down. She just stood near the door, arms crossed, eyes on the impossible softness blooming in front of her.

Because that’s what it was. Impossible.

You hadn’t flinched. You hadn’t hesitated. You hadn’t done what most people did—smile politely, hand Ana back, or distract her with something shiny so they could pass her off. You were just… there. Entirely present. Letting her settle. Letting her explore. Letting her choose.

And she had chosen you.

The worst part—if she could call it that—was that Natasha wasn’t angry. She wasn’t suspicious. She wasn’t even surprised anymore.

Because looking at you now—back straight, eyes lowered, completely surrendered to the tiny storm nestled in your lap—something made sense in her chest that hadn’t before.

Ana had found something.

Or maybe, someone.

And Natasha wasn’t sure what that meant yet, or how far she would allow it to grow—but for the first time in longer than she could remember, she didn’t feel the need to pull away. She walked slowly to her seat across from you, quiet as a shadow, never breaking the spell. And when she sat down, she didn’t take her eyes off you. The briefing wrapped without fanfare.

Steve’s voice faded into background noise, Bruce gathered his notes, and the others filtered out one by one with practiced efficiency. No one commented on Ana—no one dared. Maybe because they saw the weight of the moment. Maybe because it wasn’t theirs to touch.

The room was almost too quiet now.

Ana had slipped fully into sleep, her tiny hand still curled lazily around your finger, her head rising and falling against your chest like she’d found the safest place in the universe. You hadn’t moved. Not really. Just shifted to make her more comfortable—let her sink deeper into you without hesitation, like her weight belonged there.

Natasha couldn’t look away.

You hadn’t noticed—at least, she thought you hadn’t. You never were one to fidget under attention. But there was something different about you now. Something unguarded beneath all that calm.

“I have to admit,” she said, voice low, “this wasn’t how I pictured our first real conversation going.”

You glanced at her, brow arching just a little. “And how did you picture it?”

Natasha’s lips twitched. “Not with my daughter wrapped around you like a vine.”

You leaned back slightly, careful not to disturb Ana, and gave her that expression—dry, sharp, quietly amused. “You sound jealous.”

Her eyebrow lifted. “Should I be?”

You made a show of glancing down at Ana, then shrugged one shoulder—so subtle it barely moved her. “She’s got good taste.”

The laugh caught in Natasha’s throat before she could stop it. Soft, surprised. God, you were so damn composed, and yet there was something underneath that surface—a spark of something warmer, something playful. She hadn’t expected that. And she was rarely caught off guard.

“I should warn you,” she said, leaning her elbows on the table. “If you let her get used to that lap, you’re going to regret it.”

“I don’t regret much.”

“She’s one and a half. You’ll regret it the next time you try to drink a coffee without someone demanding half of it.”

You smiled—not a smirk, not your usual reserved grin. An actual smile. And Natasha had to look away, just for a moment, because something in her chest pulled taut at the sight.

“And here I thought you brought her to meetings as a distraction tactic,” you said.

She looked back at you with narrowed eyes, playful. “You think I’d use my daughter to throw someone off their game?”

“I think,” you said, gaze darkening just a little, “that if anyone could weaponize a toddler, it’d be you.”

Natasha laughed, this time all the way—low and warm in her chest, real in a way she didn’t usually allow to slip out. She shook her head, leaning back in her chair.

“You’re dangerous,” she muttered.

You tilted your head. “Me? You’re the trained assassin.”

“Exactly.” Her eyes dropped to the sleeping girl between you. “And you’re the one she asked for.”

The silence curled again. Not cold. Not awkward. Just thick with something unnamed.

You looked down at Ana once more, brushing a thumb lightly over her curls where they stuck up against your collar. “Don’t get used to this,” you said, not looking at Natasha. “I’m still not a fan of kids.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” she replied, watching the way you softened around the edges without realizing it.Natasha didn’t argue—she didn’t have to. The proof was already wrapped around your side in cookie-stained pajamas. She just watched you go, a quiet smile tugging at her mouth, the kind that stayed long after you’d left the room.

She knew this wouldn't be a one- time thing. 

A few days later, the morning unfolded differently, slower. Late morning sunlight filtered lazily into the kitchen, warm and indifferent. It fell across the countertops, gleamed off metal handles, and lit the soft chaos that was breakfast—or rather, the battle of breakfast.

Ana was seated in her high chair like a tiny queen in revolt, arms crossed firmly, lips pursed in open rebellion. The oatmeal had gone cold fifteen minutes ago. Natasha had tried coaxing, bribing, even threatening to call Bruce if she didn’t eat. Nothing worked. The spoon sat abandoned in the bowl like a white flag.

“You are so lucky you’re cute,” Natasha muttered, scrubbing a hand down her face. “Other people’s kids don’t get away with this.”

Ana remained unimpressed. She glared past Natasha’s shoulder as if expecting reinforcements.

The door creaked open behind them.

Natasha didn’t turn around right away—she was too focused on pretending she wasn’t about to lose a diplomatic war with a toddler. But she didn’t need to look. She could hear it: the shuffle of slow, dragging footsteps, the soft grunt of someone whose soul was not yet awake. Then came the familiar hiss of the espresso machine, followed by the rustling of a bakery bag.

You’d arrived.

She turned.

You looked… awful.

Delightfully awful.

Hair wild from sleep, hoodie half-zipped, mismatched socks peeking out under flannel pants. You were cradling your coffee mug like a lifeline, eyes heavy-lidded, mouth in a petulant line that said you’d only been conscious for five minutes and deeply regretted that fact.

In your other hand: a cheese croissant, still warm, still flaking. You tore off a corner and bit into it like someone performing life-saving triage.

Ana stared, Hard. So damn hard.

Not at Natasha. Not at the bowl of oatmeal she’d rejected like poison. But at you.

You took another bite, chewed, then finally glanced up—and blinked, slow and heavy.

Your gaze drifted to the high chair. To Ana’s unrelenting eyes. Then to Natasha.

“I take it we’re in the starvation phase of child rearing?”

“She’s being dramatic,” Natasha said.

Ana made a noise like a whimper and kicked her feet, You squinted at her. Then reached forward, broke off a soft piece of croissant, and held it out between your fingers.

Ana took it like it was sacred.

“Traitor,” Natasha muttered under her breath.

You made a sound between a hum and a sigh and dropped into a chair with all the weight of someone being punished by existence itself. “I’ve been up for six minutes,” you mumbled. “I haven’t even looked at another human being yet.”

Ana reached again, You fed her another bite.

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “You know that’s not helping, right?”

“She was clearly starving.”

“I told you—she’s not.”

“She’s got the same face I do when I haven’t eaten,” you said, deadpan. “We understand each other.”

Natasha studied you, the way you slouched, bleary-eyed and nonverbal, croissant in one hand, coffee in the other. She looked at Ana—mirroring your expression almost perfectly, down to the pout and the silent demand for carbs.

She huffed a laugh.

“My God. You’re the same person.”

You gave her a tired glare. “Keep talking. See if I share.”

“You’re both insufferable when hungry.”

“Sounds like someone’s jealous.”

Natasha crossed her arms. “Of what? Your shared standoffish breakfast cult?”

You sipped your coffee slowly, eyes flicking to Ana and back.

“She chose me,” you said, tone flat but triumphant. “I don’t make the rules.”

Ana squeaked with joy, flailing her hands toward the croissant again.

“She betrayed me,” Natasha replied, pointing to the untouched oatmeal. “I gave her life. You gave her cheese.”

You shrugged, already handing Ana another piece. “She’s got good taste.”

Natasha shook her head, lips twitching as she turned away to clean up the bowl of oatmeal. “You’re both ridiculous.”

You yawned, eyes half-lidded as Ana leaned her head dramatically on the edge of the tray, already chewing the last bite like it was a reward for surviving the morning. You were still half-asleep, leaning into your chair like gravity was trying to reclaim you, clinging to that coffee as if it were the only thing standing between you and the grave. You were cranky, antisocial before noon, and notoriously stubborn about food—especially when it was yours.

Which is why Natasha watched with mild astonishment as you rolled your eyes in a perfectly theatrical arc, sighed like a martyr, and wordlessly handed the rest of your croissant to Ana.

She squeaked with joy and took it like treasure, immediately stuffing the larger half into her mouth with both hands.

“Unbelievable,” Natasha muttered, not even bothering to hide her smile.

You ignored her, sipping your coffee in silence like you regretted every decision that had led to this exact moment. Your eyes were dark and tired, but there was no real irritation behind them. Just that quiet resignation you always wore when you knew you were losing a battle you never meant to fight in the first place.

You took another sip, then looked at her across the kitchen—eyes still half-lidded, voice hoarse with sleep.

“Give me the oatmeal.”

Natasha blinked. “What?”

You gestured vaguely toward the abandoned bowl. “She doesn’t want it. And I’m starving.”

A beat of silence stretched between you.

Then, without a word, Natasha reached for the bowl and walked it over, setting it in front of you with a raised eyebrow. You didn’t meet her gaze. You just set your coffee aside and picked up the spoon like someone about to make peace with their fate.

Ana was already chewing noisily beside you, bits of pastry stuck to her cheek.

Natasha crossed her arms, leaning against the counter again. “So let me get this straight,” she said, lips twitching. “You won’t share food with me, but she gets the last of your croissant and your breakfast?”

“She didn’t ask for it,” you said without looking up. “She demanded it with her eyes.”

“Right. So toddler mind control. That’s the explanation we’re going with.”

“She’s persuasive.”

“She’s one and a half.”

You glanced up then, finally, spoon midair. Your expression was blank, deadpan, and yet something in your eyes sparked with mischief.

“So am I,” you said.

And Natasha felt it—that little flicker again. The warmth that was growing far too easily in the quiet spaces between these moments. It settled somewhere under her ribs, soft and persistent.

You looked back down and took a bite of the oatmeal without flinching.

Ana, satisfied and full of croissant, leaned against the side of your arm and let out a sigh so deep it could only have come from the depths of her soul.

Natasha didn’t say anything else.

She just stood there, watching the two of you—both stubborn, both sleepy, both impossible—and thought, this isn’t going to stay simple, is it?

But she didn’t say that either.

She just smiled.And watched you keep pretending like you weren’t already halfway hers.Days passed like that—quiet, unspoken things folding themselves into the rhythm of the compound. You didn’t come looking for Ana, but she kept finding you anyway. And Natasha… well, she kept watching. Kept noticing the way your edges softened more each time.

Then came the briefing.

It had started as a simple mission briefing. Nothing classified, nothing urgent—just a routine strategy session with the new intel team that Natasha absolutely couldn’t reschedule. One hour, tops. Ana would barely notice she was gone.

She was so wrong.

Clint had been her first call. Obvious choice. He knew how to juggle five kids and a mission report without blinking. But the moment Natasha handed Ana over, the girl went stiff in his arms like a statue, then started wailing as if he’d personally betrayed her.

Wanda tried next. Ana let her hold her for a full five seconds before twisting away like a feral cat and screeching “NO!” in a tone that made two agents duck for cover.

Steve, bless him, had approached with his most diplomatic smile and a stuffed bear in hand, only to be met with the full force of toddler disdain. Ana didn’t scream that time—just buried her face in Natasha’s neck and growled.

And Natasha… Natasha was five minutes late to her briefing and dangerously close to losing her mind.

Which is why, when you happened to pass by—coffee in one hand, tablet in the other, clearly heading for the lab and not remotely interested in babysitting—Natasha didn’t think.

She acted.

“Ana, sweetheart?” she whispered, shifting the toddler to her hip. “Do you want to go see her?”

Ana lifted her head.

Wide green eyes blinked once. Then a slow, devilish smile curled across her face.

That was all Natasha needed.

“Catch,” she said dryly.

You turned just in time to fumble and catch the small human now squirming gleefully into your arms like she belonged there.

“Wait—what the—”

“Thanks!” Natasha called over her shoulder, already halfway down the corridor before you could protest.

Ana squealed in delight.

Natasha didn’t look back.

She made it to the meeting just in time. And to her own surprise, she didn’t spend the whole thing worried. Something about knowing Ana was with you—despite the fact you hated children (or said you did)—had her oddly at ease.

By the time she wrapped up and returned to the common floor, it had been almost ninety minutes. The hallway smelled faintly of coffee and cleaning supplies. Bruce’s voice echoed from the open lab door, calm and methodical, talking through some kind of energy recalibration.

And there you were.

One hip leaned against the table, the other supporting Ana, who looked perfectly at home in the crook of your arm.

Your hair was pulled into a haphazard bun, your shirt was half-untucked and absolutely covered in cookie crumbs. Ana’s fingers were dusted with sugar. You were talking to Bruce about vibrational decay patterns in multi-core reactors, as if the weight of a toddler on your hip was completely natural. Your other hand gestured midair, precise, animated, still clutching a small whiteboard marker.

Ana watched your mouth move as if following every word.

Then she gagged—loudly and dramatically.

Not because of anything serious. Just… toddler flair.

You paused mid-sentence, looked down, and sighed. “Rude.”

Bruce snorted. “She takes after you.”

“She has better fashion sense.”

Ana giggled, then burrowed her face into your shoulder.

Natasha stood in the doorway, unnoticed for a second longer, just… watching. The way your body shifted automatically to balance Ana’s weight. The way you wiped her mouth with the edge of your sleeve without looking. The way you didn’t rush to give her back, or seem particularly bothered by the crumbs now stuck to your pants.

She cleared her throat.

You looked up, brows raised. “Hey.”

Natasha raised one eyebrow. “So… is this your new lab assistant?”

You looked at Ana, who blinked at her mother and clung just a little tighter.

“She works for cookies,” you said. “And occasionally heckles my equations.”

Natasha bit back a smile, folding her arms. “Well, she’s my daughter.”

“She’s very opinionated,” you said dryly, adjusting her on your hip. “She gagged at my thesis. I’m considering it a peer review.”

Ana giggled again, tucking her head against your collarbone.

Natasha stared at the two of you for another second, then finally stepped forward, brushing a few crumbs off your shoulder. Her fingers lingered a little longer than they needed to.

“You’re a mess,” she murmured.

You smirked. “I could be Your mess.”

She looked at you. And the words stuck somewhere behind her teeth, She didn’t say them.

Not yet.

Instead, she stepped forward, reaching her arms out gently. “Alright, peanut,” she said softly. “Come here.”

Ana blinked up at her mother, expression unreadable for a split second… then, without protest, reached out. You transferred her easily, and the little girl immediately curled into Natasha’s hold like she’d been waiting for it all along—her thumb going straight to her mouth, her head resting against the curve of her mother’s neck.

Warm.

Quiet.

Home.

Natasha’s hand rubbed small circles against her daughter’s back, and for a second, she just breathed her in. The scent of cookies, and your cologne, and a hint of vanilla shampoo clinging to soft hair.

“She’s full of sugar and attitude,” you said, brushing a crumb off your shirt.

Natasha glanced at you over Ana’s curls. “She’s exactly where she gets it from.”

You tilted your head, already sipping the coffee you’d left to cool. “You sure about that?”

Her smile curved lazily. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Then she walked away—Ana heavy and content in her arms, safe, sleepy, and smiling like someone who had everything she wanted in one place. Natasha had gone to her apartment at the Tower —just late enough for the city to fall into a quieter rhythm, just early enough that Natasha hadn’t had time to put up her usual walls.

Ana was half-asleep on her shoulder, cheek pressed against her collarbone, and Natasha held her like she was made of something finer than glass. There was oatmeal in her hair. Cookie crumbs on her onesie. A smudge of ink on her tiny palm, and no one knew how it got there.

But Natasha had seen it.

She had seen it.

She’d walked into that lab expecting chaos—Bruce hunched over a console, a loose wire sparking somewhere, maybe you arguing with JARVIS about protocols. But instead she found you standing still in the middle of it all, with Ana on your hip and your shirt covered in evidence of breakfast bribery.

You didn’t even pause the conversation with Bruce. You just kept talking about cellular decay patterns, as if you hadn’t realized Ana was happily gnawing on a pencil and gagging every time you used the word “neurotransmitter.”

And that sound you made—that little laugh when she fake-gagged for the third time?

It rewired something in Natasha.

Now she sat at the edge of Ana’s bed, staring down at the little culprit like she’d committed an unforgivable act of treason.

“You traitor,” she whispered.

Ana, half-asleep and blissfully unaware of her crimes, blinked lazily at her mother, thumb already in her mouth.

Natasha sighed, brushing a loose curl from her daughter’s cheek.

“You did this on purpose.”

Ana made a content hum and reached for her blanket.

“Don’t play innocent now,” Natasha murmured, tucking the soft fabric under her chin. “I was fine. You hear me? I had balance. I had boundaries. I had one thing—one tiny, simple rule that I lived by.”

Ana blinked again. Unbothered.

“Don’t fall for anyone.”

Natasha exhaled through her nose, quiet and helpless.

“You were supposed to be the only love of my life, peanut. You. I planned for you. I fought for you. You were the only thing I ever let myself want.”

She leaned down, pressing a kiss to Ana’s hair.

“I walked into that room today and you were hers. Just—completely and shamelessly hers. You were giving her orders like a little general and she was just taking it. And smiling. She never smiles like that.”

Ana giggled softly, maybe in her sleep. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

“Is this part of your long con? Huh? Were you trying to get yourself a stepmama? Because listen—if that’s your endgame, we need to have a serious strategy talk.”

Ana rolled a little, settling deeper into the mattress. Her small hand rested against her chest, and Natasha just… stared.

“She doesn’t even like kids, you know,” she continued, as if trying to justify this to someone who hadn’t been there. “She’s the one who leaves birthday parties early. She practically hisses when Clint brings his brood around. You sneeze near her with a juice box and she’s gone.”

She paused.

“But not with you.”

A slow breath pushed from Natasha’s lungs.

“She picks you up like you weigh nothing. She lets you shove half your breakfast into her mouth and doesn’t even blink. And I saw her yesterday—reading with one hand while you chewed on the other. I don’t even think she noticed.”

Ana’s breathing started to slow again, thumb slipping lazily from her mouth.

“And the worst part?” Natasha whispered. “She makes it look easy. Like maybe… maybe this whole thing isn’t a fluke. Like maybe she could actually stay.”

The confession hung in the dark like a sigh caught midair.

Natasha leaned down, resting her forehead against Ana’s tiny one.

“I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t want to see it coming. But you… You threw her right into the center of our orbit like it was nothing.”

She kissed her daughter again, voice teasing even as her chest ached.

“You couldn’t have picked someone older? Someone predictable? Someone who’s not Tony Stark’s daughter, for god’s sake?”

Ana didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Natasha ran a slow hand down her back, feeling the weight of love settle over her like a soft storm.

“You’re trouble,” she murmured. “But the best kind.”

Then she stood, brushing her fingers one last time across Ana’s cheek.

“You really couldn’t wait for me to fall first, huh?”

She flicked off the light.

Behind her, Ana slept soundly.

And Natasha stayed frozen in the doorway for just a moment longer… shaking her head to herself.

Fury grumbles next to you.

“Is there a problem?”

“She’s down! 3 games to lob on the first set. Why are you not freaking out right now?” the man whisper yells and Melina glares, shushing him.

“She’s bored” you say after she loses the fourth game.

“What did you just say?”

“Natasha’s bored. She won Roland Garros 6-0, 6-1, so she wants to make this at least a bit entertaining”

“Well, could she possibly play sudoku or something else to combat this boredom? If I wasn’t bald already I’d be losing my hair from the stress”

After the break, and as you suspected, Natasha wins three games in a row. You admire her graceful movements as she sprints across the court. She’s wearing all white, as tradition requires. Such a shame that her team opted for a polo shirt. Yes, she looks elegant, but you’d rather see those toned arm muscles as she exerts herself.

“Fuck”

Natasha’s outburst and the crowd’s gasp break your train of thought.

“Are you kidding me? That ball was so in” she challenges the call.

“That’s the rule” umpire Steve Rogers, aka Mister Manners, says.

“That’s bullshit”

“Ms. Romanoff, language!” he says, truly shocked. You’re amused, because Natasha can do so much worse than that.

So much dirtier…

“Stop it” Yelena elbows you.

“Stop what?”

“Looking like you’re ready to throw your panties to the court”

“If that keeps the press from asking about her little outburst, be my guest” Fury sighs.

But you’re already on it.

After throwing her racket across the court, Natasha has to go the extra mile to win 7-5 on the first set. Throughout the rest of the match, you make sure your left hand is showing the big diamond ring Natasha gave you.

“You’re already trending on Twitter” Yelena says, amazed. “Thank God you’re on our side, evil genius”

Natasha wins the second set easily, and is saved from the court interview by the English rain.

“Nice. The tennis part, not the tantrum in the middle of the game” Fury says.

“Come on, the umpire was being an idiot. How long do I have before the press conference?”

“20 minutes, give or take. Don’t worry, they’ll be nice to you”

You show the ring and she nods.

It all started as an honest mistake. Yes, Natasha had given you this particular ring as a present, and yes you’d wore it in public. But the speculation of an engagement was enough to boost her public persona, so you ran with it.

“You know, when I get you an actual engagement ring, it will be huge” she says, pulling you closer to kiss you.

“I don’t have a preference on that regard, Miss Romanoff” you smile against her lips.

“Really? I was under the impression you liked how big my stra…”

“Aaaah! Stop. I should have stayed in New York!” Yelena says, leaving the locker room in a rush.

—

“Have you set a date?” is the first thing a journalist asks during the press conference.

“Date for what, David?” Natasha plays dumb.

“We’ve all seen the huge diamond ring on Y/N's finger. Or maybe you’re planning on getting married right in the middle of the court once you reach the Golden Slam”

“No comment” Natasha says, holding back laughter.

—

It’s been two years since the start of your relationship with Natasha. Once it became clear that you were both committed to making it work, you quit your job and joined her team, as PR manager/mediator when Fury and Natasha were butting heads.

At first, you were worried that I’d be too weird to work with Natasha, but she valued your input and trusted you. Two things she had never found in anyone else aside from her family and Fury.

The fact she had won 3 grand slams last year and was on route to completing the golden calendar this year was a testament to how good you were as a team.

Knowing her after match routine, you figure there’s some time to catch up with Bucky’s first round match. He gets the job done in straight sets, and you wait for his interview to be over.

“Hey, defending champion” you say, looping your arm around his. He smiles.

“Hi, coach Y/L/N”

“Glad to see umpire Jarvis wasn’t a total asshole to you this time” you mutter, looking around as a couple of kids approach Bucky for autographs.

“Might be too busy with all the Maximoff drama”

“Oh?”

Though Wanda had stopped trying to mess with Natasha since you two became public, you were always on edge when it came to her. It couldn’t hurt to have any extra intel on Maximoff.

“Word on the street is that they broke up” Bucky lowers his voice, placing his hand on your back. “You didn’t hear it from me”

“My lips are sealed”

“Hopefully not for food. I’m starving”

“Lunch on me, champ”

—

“I’m home” you joke as usual, stepping foot on the hotel suite. That had been the hardest part of your new life.

You didn’t spend more than two weeks in the same country, and being alone with Natasha was a rare ocurrence.

There were times when you missed your couch and the Indian food from around the corner of your apartment.

The sight that greets you is enough to make up for it.

Natasha is stretching in nothing but leggins and a sports bra, her perfect ass on full display as she bends over in a complicated yoga stance.

“Now that’s a champion’s ass” you whistle.

The redhead smiles and straightens, raising her arms above her head. You take the opportunity to wrap your arms around her waist, kissing her neck. “Where’s everybody?”

“They went to get some food”

“Perfect timing” you whisper against her skin, enjoying the soft smell of lavender. Your hands wander all the way down to her ass and slap playfully.

“You know the rule” Natasha warns, but still melts against your touch.

You huff, annoyed. Stupid, stupid rule. No sex during tournaments.

“I have to wait two more weeks to taste you? How is that fair, baby?”

“Don’t I make it up to you everytime?”

“Let me just…” you kneel hugging her hips and placing kisses on the small of her back. “I’ll take care of everything. Just bend over and spread those pretty legs for me”

“Y/N…” you can tell by her tone she’s ready to give in and you smile.

“Hope you are all starving… ah! AGAIN! I quit” Yelena shouts as she walks in on you.

“Step away, Y/N” Fury warns as you stand up and whimper pathetically against Natasha’s shoulder. “Go take a cold shower.”

“Not fair” you cry out. Natasha chuckles, leaning forward and kissing your neck. A blush spreads as you imagine her lips in other parts of your body. “Really not fair”

—

It wouldn’t be Wimbledon without a rain delay. Considering Nat lost the second set against Danvers, a little break might be good for her.

As you wait for the weather to improve, you keep looking at your calendar and the meeting that no one knows about. Of course it has to happen the minute the match resumes.

“I’ll be right there” you promise, knowing it will be a quick call anyway.

“Ramonda speaking” the voice on the other end greets. She knows it’s you, but still makes you introduce yourself. You expect nothing else from the head of the WTA. “Have you thought about my proposal?”

“It’s very generous… but I’m afraid I’ll have to reject it”

Head of Communications for the Women’s Tennis Association. Being on the citcuit for two years had put you on the map, beyond your wildest expectations.

But you would never leave Natasha. You are a team.

“You’ll still be able to see your girlfriend, if that’s what you’re worried about” the woman says, with a certain condescention in her voice.

“Like I said… it’s very generous. But I am where I need to be. Thank you, Ramonda”

There’s a pause and you wonder if the woman will call you a fool and hang up.

“Look, our current director is leaving at the end of the USO anyway. We’ll hire a consultig firm for a bit, and I hope you’ve had more time to think about this”

“Alright”

Your answer will be the same, but right now you need to go back to the game. Ramonda says her goodbyes and promises to send a better offer by the end of the month.

It makes you dizzy, to think that a local news reporter like yourself could ever do such a huge job.

“You look a little pale” a voice with a thick Russian accent says as you leave the locker room.

It takes you a moment to recognise it.

“Alexei”

“Surprised to see me?”

“Well, yes. Considering you’re banned from the club” you hope that he’ll take offense and end the conversation. But the man laughs, showing his gold teeth.

“I still have my connections”

“Natasha is not here”

“I’m not here to see her. Not right now, at least”

“Then what do you want?”

Alexei sighs, sitting in a bench and looking at you with a phony smile. He looks so much older, and nothing like the man that would get entire stadiums to cheer for him.

“You know I taught her how to hold a racket? How to throw a ball? She was serving before she knew how to write her name”

“Sorry, I don’t have time for this sentimental daddy of the year bullshit”

“I want her back” he explodes, standing up and blocking the exit. You look up, aware that he’s a lot taller than you.

He’s scaring the shit out of you and you hate him for it.

“She listens to you. Put on a good word for me. And then, she’ll come to her senses. That’s how Natalia is, she always needs a little guidance”

“If you go back to coaching her, it would be the worst mistake of her career. So, no. Now move. I have a match to get to”

Alexei punches one of the lockers and you try not to jump at the sound.

“I’ll make sure you regret this”

All you can feel is your heart beating out of your chest. What can you do to escape this situation?

“You better leave now, jackass” Bucky steps out of nowhere, shielding you with his body. “Security is on their way”

The man grumbles, exiting the room. You sigh with relief, allowing Bucky to hold you for a second.

“You ok?”

“Yes. Thank you, Buck”

“Natasha has to know about this. He could be dangerous”

“I don’t want to worry her. It will be fine” you dismiss his concerns quickly, but he looks annoyed “I’ll tell Fury, that should be enough. You have a match to prepare for, I’ll leave now”

Despite his protests, you walk out of the room, heading to the player’s box without paying attention to anything.

“Y/N?” Fury insists when you’re seated and you finally snap back to reality.

“What?”

“Did you two fight? Because she’s about to lose the match and you look like you’ve seen a ghost”

“What do you mean she’s about to lose?” you look up, noticing Natasha is two games down.

Well, shit.

“No, we are not fighting. And the reason I look like I might pass out is because Alexei was here”

“What?”

“I’ll tell you about it later” you say, watching as Danvers prepares to serve.

This eighth game isn’t any better.

One point and that’s it for Natasha.

“She’s gonna pull through” you say, hopeful.

And miraculously, she does. The redhead saves three match points, wins a couple of games and forces a tiebreak.

You sigh with relief as the umpire speaks those magic words.

“Game, set, match, Romanoff”

Little did you know, this wouldn’t be the last bump on the road.

—-

A questionable reputation

The world of tennis knows her as a devout girlfriend, strategist and PR manager to her partner of two years, Natasha Romanoff.

And yet, we know very little of Y/N Y/L/N as she seeks to share some of Romanoff’s record breaking glory.

An insider has shared that they met two years ago during the USO, when the Russian player was having one of the worst seasons of her career.

The public perception has been that Y/L/N contributed to Romanoff’s success, but recent information has put that into question.

As it stands, Miss Y/L/N has a habit of blurring the lines of professional and personal relationships. She has been tied romantically to Yankees’ superstar Sam Wilson and current ATP number one Bucky Barnes.

It seems as if the loving girlfriend is actually a calculated gold digger, and Romanoff might be the next target in her long list of infamous conquests.

—

Well, shit.

Not only did Alexei drag your name (and career) through the mud, but he also managed to put Sam and Bucky in a PR nightmare of their own.

You severely underestimated him.

What a time to post the article. Natasha is about to make her way to the quarterfinals, which means the press conference will definitely include some questions about her “gold digger girlfriend”

A tear rolls down and you try to keep it together, but it feels like the world is on your shoulders.

Your phone pulls you out of the miserable thoughts, but your stomach drops again when you see the name on the screen.

“Yes?” you greet, wiping more tears from your face.

“Alexei is after you” Ramonda drops the bomb without so much as a greeting and you laugh.

“No shit”

“You knew” the woman says, confused.

“He asked me to convince Natasha to take him back as trainer. You can imagine what my answer was”

“I see. He called me too, you know? I don’t understand what he was expecting to get out of it. Alexei’s not a friend of the WTA. He suggested someone else for the job we’re offering you, which is frankly unbelievable. I wanted to call you and let you know that he’s cashing in the few favors he has left to bring you down”

“What would you do in my place, Ramonda?” you pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming.

“I’d give him hell”

The playful tone makes you laugh.

“I got nothing to lose, right?”

“Good luck, Y/N”

She hangs up the phone, but the conversation keeps playing in your head.

You may have underestimated Alexei, but he doesn’t understand one thing. As a team, Natasha and you are fucking unstoppable.

So, you take a deep breath, stand up, and go look for your partner.

—

The post match routine is the same as usual. The only thing missing is you.

“She’ll be right here” Fury says, nodding as Melina checks Natasha’s leg, where she felt a cramp.

“Pickle juice” Melina reminds her daughter and she rolls her eyes.

“But it’s so gross, Mama”

“Gross, but effective”

While they wait for you, Natasha walks to the bathroom. The first thing she hears upon entering is someone puking their guts out.

“You ok?” she asks, not knowing who was there.

A beat of silence and then a voice that she knows all too well.

“I’m fine”

Wanda.

“You never threw up before a match. Are you nervous?” the Russians tries to joke while she washes her hands, but stops when Wanda exits the bathroom stall looking half dead. “Jesus! What happened?”

“It’s nothing. Morning sickness” Wanda answers, too tired to care about keeping her pregnancy a secret anymore.

“Oh. Congratulations” Natasha says in an even tone.

“You sound more excited than Jarvis” Wanda says, splashing some water in her face. “Says he’s not ready to committ after two years. What am I supposed to do with twins by myself?”

“Twins?”

Wanda is about to speak when she throws up in the sink once again.

“Here. Let me just…” Natasha rushes to her side, offering some paper towels and craddling Wanda’s face between her hands as she cleans her mouth.

“I’ve missed you”

“I…”

Natasha places a strand of auburn hair back in her place out of pure habit. This is the closest she’s been to Wanda in years, outside of the court.

Her heart aches over Wanda, how terrified and alone she looks.

The redhead is about to say something else when the door opens.

“Oh”

Natasha turns around, her hands dropping immediately to her sides.

“Y/N…”

“Don’t” is all you say as you leave, not looking back.

You’ve seen enough.

—

It was wise to keep some things to yourself. Like this little bar downtown, where Natasha would never think of looking for you.

She must be going crazy, considering your phone is off and the last time you saw her she looked ready to kiss her crazy ex.

Bucky said Wanda and Jarvis broke up.

So, maybe this whole time you were just a distraction. And now, with the article and Wanda being single again…

No. Natasha would never do this to you.

“I’ll have whatever she’s having. Plus another one for her” someone says behind you.

“Carol” you turn, smiling at the woman. She squeezes your shoulder, taking a seat on the bar stool next to yours.

“I thought you’d be preparing for the next round”

“Nah. Gold diggers don’t work, we just cash” you joke but she doesn’t laugh.

“That article was bullshit. Everyone who has ever worked with you knows that. And if Natasha believed it, you’re better off without her”

“I don’t know if she believed it. I left after I saw her with someone…” you sigh, taking a drink from the new glass the bartender brings over.

How you wish you could erase that memory of Natasha and Wanda.

“I thought her and Maximoff had called it quits” Carol says, shocking you. “What? They weren’t as sneaky as they thought. The rest of us didn’t care enough to mention it”

“Wow”

You sit in silence, drinking and looking out the window. It’s gonna rain again.

“If I had known…” Carol starts, but just shakes her head. You encourage her with a nudge of your elbow. “I would have asked you out. But Natasha had to beat me to that as well. As she does with everything”

“Oh, come on” you say shyly, biting the inside of your cheek.

“I don’t know, in the court I’m pretty good at fighting Natasha. Maybe I can give it a try off it”

“I wouldn’t recommend it” you smile, looking over at the menu as a way to change the subject. “You got me a drink, I’ll get you a cheeseburger. How about that?”

“Deal”

—

By the time you go back to the hotel, the rain is pouring. Carol was staying very close to the bar where you had dinner, so she lent you her jacket to keep you dry during the ride home.

You’re walking down the hallway, when the door to your room opens.

If looks could kill…

“Where the hell have you been?” Natasha says through gritted teeth.

You were expecting an apology, not a scolding.

“Out” you walk to the room, eager to change into some dry clothes.

“Yeah? Danvers is your new target, or what?”

Your blood runs cold. Hell, you’re even sure Natasha regrets it as soon as the words leave her mouth.

But she still won’t apologize.

She just stares and that pisses you off.

“Excuse me? Say that one more fucking time, Natasha”

“What do you want me to think? There’s that stupid article going around and just now, someone takes pictures of you hugging Danvers in the rain. It’s all over social media”

“She was helping me with her jacket, Natasha. But, while we are on the subject, how is Wanda? As charming and batshit crazy as usual?”

“That’s different” Natasha scoffs and you laugh.

“You are unbelievable. Truly. One of a kind” you go back to looking for clothes, praying the hotel has a spare room you can book.

“It’s not what it seems. She was going through a rough… just trust me, ok?”

“What? Is it her break up?”

“I don’t have to tell you everything” Natasha says, and you feel like crying.

You threw your life out the window for someone who was waiting for the one that got away.

“Yeah, you’re right. You absolutely don’t have to tell me anything”

“I don’t need this right now, Y/N. Think whatever you want”

She walks out, slamming the door behind her.

Everything you believed in has fallen apart.

—-

It was supposed to be an important day. However, your phone has been off since the day you got on a red eye back to New York City.

Bucky is the only person you talk to through video call using your old computer. He’s so pissed off that he easily agreed to not bring up Natasha at all.

So, Saturday comes and you have no idea if she reached the Wimbledon final or not. You stay in your living room all morning and afternoon, watching a medical drama.

Your heart is so broken, and the last time you felt this kind of pain was after losing your father.

At some point, you’ll have to start thinkig about getting a job. There’s no way in hell you’ll take Ramonda’s offer, because it would mean working with Natasha at some point.

For now, staying in your couch while you wait for your food to be delivered is enough.

“Finally” you mutter, standing up to walk to the door. You open without looking who’s on the other side.

“Hi”

Natasha is standing in the middle of the hallway. You look at the containers she’s holding and realised she hijacked your order.

“That’s mine”

“Can we talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about”

“Yes, there is”

“No, there isn’t” you reach for the food and she steps back. “Seriously? Fine, I’ll eat leftovers. Whatever”

You begin to close the door, but Natasha stops it with her hand.

“I’m sorry”

“What for, Natasha?” you say, but she doesn’t answer. “For not explaining whatever that was with Wanda? For impliying I was cheating on you with Carol? Or for stealing my fucking food?”

There’s no answer.

“Everything you just said. And for not protecting you from Alexei. Fury told me everything. Barnes provided some extra context in a very loud voice too”

You want to laugh at the idea of your best friend yelling at Natasha. He’d been waiting to do it for so long. It’s apparent that Natasha has no intention of leaving so you walk away, leaving the door wide open.

The redhead takes the hint and goes inside, closing the door behind her.

“Have you eaten anything?”

“There was some food on the plane”

“Wait, what?”

“I… won Wimbledon”

“Congratulations” you say without a hint of excitement.

“And when I looked to my box, you weren’t there. I didn’t even climb to hug anyone. I got through the ceremony, then went to the airport and on a plane here”

“Natasha, are you insane?” you go back to work mode immediately after hearing how stupid she’s acting. “You know you have to stick around for the interviews, the pictures, the dinner. The press is gonna have a field day speculating…”

“I don’t care”

“I do. We are getting you back on a plane to London. Not to mention the Olympics are in two weeks on a completely different surface. You should be training”

There is absolutely no way in hell that Natasha will miss the milestone of her career because of you. You find your phone tucked away in your travel bag and plug it, ready to call Fury and make a plan.

“Y/N, I’m not going back unless you come with me” Natasha walks to your room, leaning against the door.

“I- I can’t. Not now, Natasha” you look away, tears rolling down your cheeks. “You should go”

“Ok”

She agrees so easily to let you go, or so you think until she speaks again.

“I’ll be back to get you some breakfast”

“What?”

“I’m going to a hotel. I meant what I said earlier. The only way I’m going back is if I can fix the mess I made”

Natasha lingers for a second and you sigh.

“Use the guest room” you give in, turning to cut off her thank you. “Just for tonight. One way or another, I’m making sure you go back to London”

—

The call with Fury takes an unexpected turn.

“What do you mean you don’t want her back?”

“This past week was hell for all of us. Did you see how hard she was hitting the balls? I almost thought she’d break them in half mid play”

“So what? She’s so close, Nick. We have to help her to the finish line” you plead. Just two more things and she’ll become a legend. That’s the way it was always supposed to be.

“Don’t tell me you’ll be the one to put the sport above your relationship. I thought it was all Natasha’s doing”

No, it wasn’t all Natasha’s doing. This past week has been eye opening for you.

You gave up your life to follow her, you decided to become her rock. She didn’t ask for anything, and even when she crossed a line, being too focused on the game to check on you, your immediate reaction was to minimize your needs. In your mind, Natasha came first because she was extraordinary; a once in a lifetime talent.

But what about you?

“You still there?” Fury says, making you snap out of it.

“Yeah. Just thinking”

“Listen. If she doesn’t want to come back, no one’s going to force her. I think you know better than anyone that nothing can change Natasha’s mind. Well, only one person can”

“Who?” you think about Melina or Yelena. They can talk some sense to her.

“You” Fury says before hanging up.

Well, that won’t do. You’re done telling her what to do, or when. She’s a big girl and she can handle herself.

“How’s Fury?” she says as soon as you walk out of your room.

“He wants you on the next flight to Paris” you lie to her, but she laughs.

Of course she knows better.

“If you want me out of your place, just say the word and I’ll find a hotel. But I’m not leaving until I fix this. Hey, are you listening to me?”

“There’s a seat available for tonight’s flight” you ignore her, pulling out your credit card to buy her a ticket.

“Stop it!” she protests, snatching the card from your hands.

“Natasha, give it back. You need to practice before the Olympics”

“Why are you so worried? Clay is my best surface” she argues and you take the bait.

“Your best surface is grass but stats don’t reflect that because there’s like two championships! Why am I even arguing with you?”

“I don’t care about any medals if you’re not there” she insists, going after you as you pick up a basket of laundry and walk to the bedroom.

“Really? You’re fine with Maximoff taking it from you? The one thing missing in your career? Olympic gold. Boy, she must have done a number on you on that bathroom, huh?” you say bitterly, trying to shut the door, but Natasha pushes inside.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I saw how close you were. Her hands on your waist, yours on her face. Fine, be with her, I don’t give a shit”

“It looks like you do” Natasha tries to joke when you throw the clothes on the bed. “And Wanda’s not competing. She’s pregnant”

“Congratulations” you smirk, walking out of the room. Natasha stays annoyingly close and you’re aware of how small your apartment really is when you keep moving but there’s absolutely no way of putting distance between you two.

“Ok, now you’re just being an ass. You don’t believe I want to be with her”

You laugh, but it comes out as a sob. Natasha’s smile fades, and she tries to inch closer to touch you, but you step back. She doesn’t push it this time.

“You’re the one who was quick to assume I was flirting with Carol. The one that believed the article. It hurt, Natasha. Especially because I quit my job and my life to be with you”

Your words are met with silence. Not even an apology. Great.

“Wait” she says a second later when you’re opening the door to leave.

“Don’t. I need to be alone”

Luckily, she listens to you.

As you walk down the street to get some food (because yes, you’ll stress eat like you always do), Fury’s words come back.

You could change her mind.

But you don’t want to. She’s a grown woman, a professional athlete with a career to think about. If she wants to throw it all away, that’s fine.

That’s not your problem anymore.

“Hey, Y/N” Pat greets as you enter your favorite diner. “Shouldn’t you be at the Olympics?”

Since you left to travel with Natasha, there’s always a tennis tournament on their television. Apparently it’s a big deal for everyone when the camera pans to the player’s box and you’re there.

“Ah, I had to come back for a bit, I don’t think I’ll make it to Paris” you say, trying to avoid the topic.

“Is that why you weren’t at the Wimbledon game either?” the woman says with a frown and your eyes widen. “It was all the commentators were talking about, sweetheart. They said it was a miracle she won. You didn’t watch it?”

“Nope”

“Well” she turns to the screen and shushes a customer complaining about watching baseball. “There. Watch for a bit while I get you some food”

“Pat, it’s scary how much you know me” you smile in spite of yourself.

It’s a though watch. Natasha lost the first set and barely managed to get the second one in a tiebreak. You notice how she kept looking at the player’s box, and then shaking her head, muttering to herself.

Pat gets you a chesseburger, shaking her head at the way in which your eyes are glued to the screen.

During the break before the third set, she sat looking defeated, and you notice she was running her hands up and down her left arm.

Of course.

It’s the spot where you always write something or put on a smiley face before a match. A spot only she can see.

Even if you already know the result of the match, you cheer when she wins. Natasha doesn’t. It looks like she couldn’t care less about winning, she won’t even go to her box.

“Quite the watch, huh?”

“Yeah. It was… very stressful. I would have shouted at her if I had been there”

“Like your dad during the NBA playoffs?” Pat jokes and you laugh.

“Yeah. Would have gotten banned too”

“Here. Take this back to her. Sleep it off” she says, handing you a package with a burger. You nod, smiling when she tells you to go back home.

You’re walking back when the rain starts.

“Come on” you protest. To your surprise, Natasha meets you halfway there, holding an umbrella.

“Pat called me” she explains when you inch closer, feeling thankful as she shields you from the cold drops. “Come on, let’s go home”

Natasha places her hand around your waist, and even if it is only to keep you under the small umbrella, it makes your heart beat faster.

Once you’re back in the apartment, she places the umbrella in the hallway.

“I’ll get us some towels. Sorry, your food got wet”

“It’s ok” she smiles, taking the bag.

You go back to your room, getting rid of your wet clothes, and searching for a couple of towels among the mess you left earlier.

“Sorry, I should have knocked” Natasha says, but is unable to keep her eyes away from you.

“It’s ok” your voice shakes.

It feels like a small gift from fate. You’re never completely alone, you’re always thinking about the next tournament. But now, it’s just you and Natasha, and the rain drowning out the rest of the world.

She approaches you first, pulling you by the waist until you lean your head on her shoulder.

“You’re cold” she says against your temple.

“Let’s take a shower” you say, surprising her.

It also takes you by surprise, considering how pissed you were. Considering she hasn’t said she’s sorry.

But it feels like it’s been forever since she’s been yours and no one else’s. Your Natasha, not the tennis legend, the number one in the world.

No one can have her, not like you do.

“Ok” she nods after a second, allowing you to lead her by the hand. It’s a small shower, and definitely not as fancy as the ones in those hotels you stay at.

You laugh and giggle as you struggle to fit inside, and Natasha reaches behind you to get the water running.

“Nat!” you shriek when the cold water hits you. “It’s the other one”

“I always forget your shower’s messed up” she apologizes, and you push against her to run away from the stream. “Not that I’m complaining” she adds when you invade what little personal space is left in the shower.

Before you can protest further, she kisses you, slowly at first and then with more urgency.

“Feeling warmer?” she teases against your lips and you smile.

“Very much so”

Her hands travel to your waist, one trailing lower until her fingers are circling your clit.

“Nat” you sigh against her skin. She teases your entrance, and takes her time playing with your clit. It isn’t the friction that makes you come, it’s the soft kiss she places against your ear as you keep moaning.

“It’s ok, let go, baby. I got you”

And as you ride out your orgasm, digging your nails in her back, you feel complete again.

—

The sounds of the city wake you up. As you open your eyes and look up, Natasha is already awake, admiring you.

“Morning, detka”

“Were you watching me sleep like a weirdo?” you grumble, sinking further in her arms.

“I missed this view. Thought I’d never get it again”

You don’t say anything, and stay in her arms until your stomach protests.

“I’m making you pancakes” Natasha says, kissing your temple and leaving the bed.

Even if you want to stay in bed, you follow her to the kitchen and watch as she gets everythig she needs for breakfast.

“I’m surprised you have anything at all”

“Did some shopping the day I got here” you comment, and she nods, trying to act unfazed.

Natasha cooks in silence, and as she places a plate in front of you, kisses your temple.

“Can I say something?” Natasha asks after a beat of silence. You nod, bracing yourself for the worst. “For the last two years, you’ve done what I wanted. I never ask you what you want or need. So, today I want you to tell me what do you want me to do”

“I want you to go and win the gold medal” you answer.

“Will you come with me?”

“I have to stay here… think about what I want” you say. “Natasha, I love you but my life has been all about tennis for the past two years. And I did it because I love you and we’re a great team… but if you were to break up with me tomorrow, you’d still have your career. And what about me?”

“Look, you’re right. We make a great team. But you need to tell me things too. If I had known Alexei was threteaning you, I would have handled everything”

“I didn’t want to worry you” you say, looking away.

“You’re my biggest concern. My reason to do this” Natasha says, holding you by the chin. “I’m sorry I made you doubt it, detka”

You lean forward, kissing her. After a few moments in her arms, you take a deep breath.

“In the spirit of transparency… Ramonda offered me a job as Head of Communications of the WTA”

“What? That’s amazing! When do you start?”

“I haven’t accepted the offer. If I do, I won’t be able to be with you all the time, Nat” you smile sadly, knowing you couldn’t do that to her.

“If that’s what you want to do, I’ll support you” she says.

“Not sure yet. And anyway, with everything that happened the offer might be rescinded”

You eat in silence for a moment, thinking about the things you discussed with Natasha.

“I guess I’ll take the next flight to Paris”

“Call Stark, ask for the jet. It will be faster” you roll your eyes, knowing Natasha hates talking to the former professional turned business man.

“Pass”

“You’re so stubborn” you complain, and she kisses your cheek, taking your plate to wash it.

“So, any advice when I move back to clay?”

“Patience is rewarded. Agression is not” you say, the same way your father always told you when watching those tournaments.

“Agression is my thing” Natasha grumbles.

“I know. Which is why clay is not your best surface”

“I know” she smiles, walking back and carrying you to the bedroom. “Now, let’s do some cardio. Just so I can get back into shape”

—

“Passport? Money? Your special socks?” you check as Natasha goes over her small suitcase.

“Baby, I didn’t bring a lot with me. I didn’t even shower after the game. It’s fine” she says, walking to the door.

Natasha hesitates before reaching for the doorknob, turning to look at you. You frown, arms crossed as you try to figure out what she’s thinking.

“This isn’t how I wanted to do it” she sighs, reaching for her pocket and pulling out a small box. You gasp. “But I realise that this place feels like home. Because you’re here. I know we go to all these amazing locations and I could set up a romantic dinner or a huge show, anything to impress you. Hell, I even had it with me at every final this year, thinking I might propose after winning”

“Nat…”

“I know, you would hate that” she smiles, placing the box in your hand and looking at you. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. If it is here, while you work and I become a personal trainer for wealthy, senile people, so be it”

“Oh, that would be fun to watch” you chuckle.

“You don’t have to answer yet. But know that I love you, and I’ll do anything to prove how much I want this. And apparently that includes winning a gold medal”

“I… I’ll think about it. Call me when you land?” you ask, taking her face in your hands, kissing her softly. “I love you more than anything, Natasha. The trophies are just a plus”

“Mean” she laughs against your lips, kissing you again. “See you soon”

“Yeah”

With a final kiss, Natasha closes the door and you’re left in your apartment, still holding the box.

You try to think of something else, distracting yourself with cleaning and sorting out some clothes. Natasha texts you when she’s about to board and that finally makes you open the box.

The ring is beautiful. Very simple, because that’s what you like, instead of some flashy, giant diamond. You put it on and it feels… right, like it’s meant to be.

“Screw it” you take your phone and dial Stark’s number. “Tony, hey! Have a small favor to ask”

—

There’s a lot of movement in the airport, tourists and athletes arriving for the Olympics. Natasha figured it was going to be chaos, so she told Fury there was no need to pick her up. Still, there’s a driver waiting for her at the arrivals section.

“This way, please” the man says politely, leading her to a black SUV.

“I told you not to pick me up…” she complains as soon as she’s inside, but it’s not Fury on the other side.

It’s you, smiling at her.

“I couldn’t miss this. Not when you’re about to make history” you smile, kissing her. She squeezes you in her arms, shaking and refusing to let go. “Hey, it’s ok”

“I love you”

“More than winning?” you tease and she laughs.

“Yes. A million times yes”

“Damn, you have it bad. Now, let’s get going. Fury’s gonna put you on a tight training schedule”

—

It’s been a week. As you obviously pointed out, Natasha needed a lot of practice in clay. The surface asks for consistency and patience, and she’s anything but patient.

Still, she’s made it to the final, and you’ve been at the player’s box every single day. The press is having a field day, speculating about your absence during Wimbledon.

“So, what do I get if I win this thing?” Natasha says when you go and wish her good luck before the final match.

“A vacation” you promise, pulling out a sharpie to write in her arm. “You can’t read it until the match is over. I’ll place a little bandaid over it because I’m sure you’ll cheat”

“Baby, not fair”

“Shh, just do as I say. There” you finish, grabbing her chin so she’s facing you again. You smile, kissing her softly. “You got this”

“I love you”

“I love you too” you smile, smacking her ass. “Go win this thing, baby”

The crowd cheers as Natasha steps into the court, and you sit by her family and Fury as she warms up.

“Do you think she’ll be extra mean because she’s playing against Danvers?” Yelena whispers as the match begins.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the pictures” Yelena says, smirking.

“No, come on. She knows nothing happened”

But then Natasha executes a move that leaves Carol on the floor, her shirt and shorts covered in clay.

Yelena whistles, laughing as Natasha gets another game with four aces in a row.

“Alright, yeah. She might still be a little pissed”

The first set goes on to be a little bit of the same, Natasha winning with an easy 6-4. For the second one, it becomes a close call. Whenever Natasha serves, she’s in control of the ball, but if it’s Carol’s turn, she manages to throw Natasha off her game.

“Third set” Fury says, when Carol wins the tiebreak by two points.

“She looks kinda tired” you frown, knowing the change of surface might be getting to her.

And it definitely shows when Carol wins the first two games, Natasha struggling to get a deuce on the third one. If she loses this one, then you feel like she’ll definitely not be able to come back from it.

“Is there anything we can do?” Melina says, and you think about it for a moment.

“Oh, boy. I hope I don’t get kicked out” you stand up, aware that several people (and their phone cameras) turn to you.

“Take off the bandaid!” you shout. The umpire glares, asking for silence. Thankfully, there’s no request for you to get kicked out.

Still, you watch as Natasha does what you ask, while Carol dries her hands and gets ready to serve. Once she reads what you wrote, she smiles, turning to look at you.

Then, a miracle. Carol throws what looks like a killer serve and Natasha returns it so fast that you have to do a doble take.

“Is it code for something dirty?” Yelena jokes when Natasha wins the third game and gets two aces for the next one.

You laugh, ignoring her question. She’s so close. Two games. Eight points.

“Serving for the match” Fury moves around in his seat, anxious.

Natasha tries to breath, turning to look at you and you smile, nodding. You mouth an I love you and blow her a kiss.

Then, an ace.

“Fastest serve she’s ever done” Melina comments, looking at her notes.

The last three points go by in a blur, as Carol is simply not playing right. Her last unforced error gives Natasha a match point.

It goes by in slow motion. How she throws the ball, lifting her racket. Her movements graceful, almost like a ballerina as she practically floats.

Carol returns the ball, but it gets stuck in the net.

The crowd goes wild, Natasha dropping to her knees after the realisation sinks in.

Carol waits for her at the net, smiling and hugging her. Natasha accepts the congratulations, going to greet the umpire and turning to you a moment later.

She goes through the sea of people, straight to lifting you up and kissing you.

“Do you mean it?” she says, looking at the thing you wrote.

Yes, I’ll marry you.

“Absolutely. Now, put the ring on it” you say, handing over the box discreetly so she can pull the ring out and slide it in.

“Congratulations!” Yelena says, hugging you both.

Natasha is called back to the court, and you wipe the tears as she talks to the interviewer.

“Thanks to my family, my trainer, and my fiancee…”

The crowd cheers, and you can’t help but laugh at how perfect everything is.

This is a day you’ll remember forever.

2 months later

“Darcy, what news do you have for us today?” Maria says, the screen splitting to show the producer turned reporter.

“Romanoff breezed through her first match and is the favorite to become the USO champion. This would mean she would be the youngest player to complete the Golden Slam in the Open Era. Her wife and a former collaborator of us was also there”

“I believe she’s joining the WTA team soon, isn’t that right?”

“As Head of Communications, yes. And it couldn’t have happened to a better person. Congrats Y/N, but you still owe me a beer”

“Well, let’s hope she finds the time to settle her debt” Maria laughs, but then frowns. “Hey, you said wife. Didn’t they get engaged recently?”

“Well, have a look at what Natasha said in her post match interview” Darcy says with a smile, the screen running a recording.

“Have you set a date yet?” one of the reporters ask.

“Actually, we got married last night” Natasha says, turning to look at you, and you’re blushing when you notice all eyes on you.

“Congratulations” another reporter says. “Can you share anything about the ceremony?”

“Just that we’re very happy and can’t wait to go on our honeymoon. But my wife says I need to win the USO first, so… I better get back to practice. Nice chat, everyone”

Natasha leaves the conference room, amidst questions and camera flashes. You greet her with a short kiss, smiling as she pulls you by the waist.

“Now everyone’s going to say you’re whipped”

“Aren’t I?” she jokes, kissing your temple. “Come on, let’s win this so I can have you all to myself for the next month”

“Relax, Mrs. Romanoff. We have our whole lives ahead” you kiss her, smiling as she squeezes your hand, her thumb running over your wedding ring.

Everything that happens after is a blur. Natasha feels like she just played the final, but in reality, it’s just the first round.

“Way to go, darling” her mother compliments when she’s back in the locker rooms, but Fury is quickly behind, not holding back.

“Three sets against an amateur and you won because she got nervous and got a double fault. That’s not good” 

“I beat her, didn’t I?” Natasha averts her eyes, putting on her jacket to go to the press room.

“Barely” her trainer mumbles. 

Natasha’s heart beats fast as she sits in front of all the journalists. They were warned about the questions they could ask, but still. Natasha feels all eyes on her, judging her reaction and demeanor.

“Did you worry about losing control at the start of the third set?” a man in the front row asks.

“It was the defining moment of the game, so I felt like I had to push myself harder and control the rhythm of the match. Which obviously happened”

“How was it to go back after your break? Unlike other players, you didn’t participate in any tournaments between Wimbledon and this”

“I’ve been playing tennis all my life, really, so it doesn’t feel like a big deal to me. Just because I wasn’t playing to win titles doesn’t mean I didn’t train” 

Natasha hears Fury cough and has to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

Control your temper, he’s trying to say.

Well, maybe they shouldn’t ask stupid questions.

--

You’re sitting in the middle of the press room, eyes trained on Natasha. She’s looking anywhere but you. 

I guess this means she read my column.

The conference is coming to an end, so you raise your hand and the assistant points at you.

“We have time for one more” he concedes.

“That’s enough for today” Natasha shuts it down before you can ask. 

Yeah, she definitely read the article.

Natasha can’t wait to get out of there, thanking the press before sprinting out of the room. You consider following her, but a text from your boss stops you.

Go to LA Stadium, Wanda Maximoff just bageled some poor girl.

With a bit of luck, you’ll get an exclusive with Wanda.

--

The biggest crime of Shostakov

It was a Tuesday afternoon, well into the second week of Wimbledon, when the news broke out. Alexei Shostakov, retired tennis player, was arrested for fraud and tax evasion. While in custody, it was discovered Shostakov was in possession of drugs.

The famous Red Guardian, who once had won on that very same club, was now dragged away in a patrol car, stripped of his days of glory. For people who are well versed in the history of tennis, this doesn’t come as a complete shock. Shostakov was a notorious trouble maker, often breaking rackets, ripping his shirts open and getting expelled from a total of 15 matches during the entire run of his career.

No one seemed more affected by the news than his protegee and adoptive daughter, Natasha Romanoff. The favorite to win the world’s most important Grand Slam retired amid the breaking news. As a result, Wanda Maximoff’s path to the trophy was an easy one, taking the number 1 from Romanoff while she was at it.

If her career depends on Alexei’s ability to get back on his feet, Natasha Romanoff should retire now.

In her best form, Romanoff is stealthy, precise and absolutely lethal. Her movements reminisce those of a ballerina; one that gracefully dances across the court -doesn’t matter if it’s grass, clay or hard- to deliver blow after blow of brilliance. Natasha has raw talent, pure heart and an unbreakable spirit.

The biggest crime of Shostakov, is that he’s in the way of her greatness. Maybe it’s his ego or a compulsion to attach himself to a woman who has the capacity to break every record from the Open Era.

Whatever the reason, it’s clear she’s better off without him. For those of us who love this sport, and want Natasha to be the champion she was meant to be, this is an unique opportunity to watch her finally emerge from the shadows of the overbearing man.

The proverbial ball is in Romanoff’s court. In all her brilliance, the one thing Natasha rarely does is take risks.

It’s never too late to start.

--

“We’re finishing the second day of the US Open and we have some major upsets. Carol Danvers, number 3 in the world and only American in the top ten lost to Brit Peggy Carter” you say, holding the mic and looking at the camera.

“I understand there was some excitement on the man’s singles” you hear Maria say on your earpiece and you nod.

“Queens had a face off with Brooklyn today. Bucky Barnes defeated amateur Peter Parker, but get this! They played five sets, and Peter won every tiebreak. So it seems like we have some exciting new talent”

“We’ll keep an eye on him, for sure. Thanks for the report, Y/N!”

“A pleasure as usual, Maria. Greetings to everyone back on the studio” 

“And cut” Darcy, your producer says. You remove the earpiece and hand over the mic. As you turn around, you spot Natasha training. It’s obvious you’re staring when Darcy speaks.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you know? You wrote what a lot of people were thinking”

“Well, seems like she doesn’t wanna hear it”

“It’s fine. I mean, it would be better if we could get a quote from her or an interview but if she hates you that much we can get someone else to do it”

“Or, I could go and try to talk to her?”

“So you have a death wish!”

“Didn’t you just say I did nothing wrong?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean she’ll listen. I am also legally obligated to tell you that your health insurance doesn’t cover injuries caused by tennis balls. Or rackets”

“Very funny”

--

“Relax your wrist” Fury instructs once again and Natasha ignores him, as usual.

She hates the press, the interviews, the hoops she has to jump through just so she can play tennis. 

None of it is optional and she has to follow the rules, something Natasha is particularly bad at.

“If you want to move to the next round you’re gonna have to listen to me”

Does she really want to move to the next round? Is there a point to all of this? She had lost her number one ranking and people were focusing more on her private life than her career.

Fury spots you across the court and smiles. 

You nod your head towards the man and he sighs, defeated.

“Can you talk some sense into her?” 

“Can anyone?” you say and he pats you on the back, leaving the court. The sun is setting and people are going home, ready to return tomorrow to watch the next round of players. You greet Natasha but she ignores you.

“You owe me a question” you try to joke, as she keeps hitting the ball so hard you think her racket will break in half. 

“I know who you are and I’m not talking to you” 

She looks hot when she’s pissed.

You push those thoughts away.

“Natasha”

“No, you and I are not on a first name basis. Not after you wrote all that crap about me without knowing me” 

“I only spoke the truth” 

“That my career is doomed and I should retire?” she finally stops throwing balls across the court and turns to look at you.

“Oh, my God! You didn’t even read it, did you?”

“I don’t need to. I know what everyone's been saying ever since Alexei was arrested. I know he was unconventional, but he was my trainer. He was beside me through the good and bad” 

“I get it, ok? He’s your family. And your trainer. That’s never easy and I understand how it can be hard to see things objectively. But,  Natasha, you are great in spite of him, not because of him”

That makes her pause.

“Nick Fury came out of retirement to train you. That’s how talented you are!”

The redhead serves a couple of times, staying completely silent.

“I’m not talking to you” she reminds you. 

“You’re the best player out there, Natasha. And right now you’re the only thing getting in the way of your success” 

--

Morning comes and so does the next match. Natasha is looking out the window of the suite, as people come and go around the busy streets of the tennis center.

Fury steps in, immediately aware of her nervous energy. If he asks if she’s ready, she’ll probably rip his head off. So, talking about something different might be the way to go.

“Her father was also a sports journalist,” he says, pouring himself a glass of orange juice.

“Who?” 

“Y/N. Richard was a single parent, so he’d always bring her to the games, even as a baby. She behaved better than most people too” 

“Is he retired?” 

“Nope. Cancer. Four years ago” Fury sits in front of Natasha. “Didn’t expect her to follow his steps, but that girl really knows sports. She’s working with the local station, and also writes for Sports Illustrated”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Never hurts to have a couple of friends around,” he says, sipping from his glass.

“I’m not good at making friends” Natasha looks away.

“Yeah, I know. You’re good at tennis, so…” the man checks his watch and stands up. “Let’s kick some ass”

--

Natasha has to face Kate Bishop, currently ranked 24. Her game is the opposite of aggressive, but she’s famous for her impeccable aim. Natasha has to control the game from the start if she wants to win.

She serves first, and as she bounces the ball, preparing her stance, Fury’s words echo in her head. All the advice he has given her for the past months, advice that she has consistently ignored.

Then, as she throws the ball, her eyes meet yours. You’re sitting in the front row, leaning forward. 

In a split second, she makes a decision.

Natasha is ready to take risks.

She aims for the corner of the service box, hoping it will fall inside. Kate lunges forward, shocked at the speed of the ball.

“Ace” the umpire announces. “Fifteen love” 

Natasha sees you clapping and can hear Fury shouting “That’s it, you can do this, Romanoff”

And boy, does she deliver. Kate is running across the court. Natasha’s unforced errors are incredibly low. While the crowd usually loves long games, the redhead is a legend and they’re excited to see her prowess first hand. 

The game ends in 47 minutes, 6-3, 6-2.

Kate approaches the net and shakes Natasha’s hand.

“That was… incredible, Romanoff”

“Thank you, Kate” 

The kind words and the genuine admiration make Natasha relax instantly.

Of course, the crowd goes wild as the redhead lifts her arms, clapping and waving. 

She’s in such a good mood that she decides she’ll finally take your question. But as she enters the press room, you’re nowhere to be found. 

Still, she chats and even jokes around with the journalists present.

Once again, the entire family celebrates as if Natasha had already won the Grand Slam.

“Seestra, the crowd was going craaaazy, it was like a Taylor Swift concert” Yelena tells her excitedly as they eat. Natasha’s starving, so nervous about today that she didn’t even have breakfast.

They keep chatting, talking about strategy for the next game and wondering who will go against Natasha next. 

“Natalia, your father wants to talk to you” Melina interrupts, holding her phone.

“Why?” Natasha snaps, going back to her stoic self.

“He wants to congratulate you,” the woman insists.

“I’m not in the mood. Excuse me” she stands up, losing her appetite.

Out on the terrace, she watches people passing by, trying to think of anything else but Alexei.

Your words come back to her, and she starts to believe them.

You are great in spite of him.

“Hey, there you are!” you shout from the bottom of the stairs, waving. “Do you have a sec?”

Natasha nods, going down. 

“First of all, wow. Brava”

“You wanted something?” she rolls her eyes, but you notice she blushes lightly.

It’s quite the view, Natasha’s body covered in sweat from the physical exertion, her sculpted arms in full display.

That tennis outfit looks really good on her.

“Oh.. yeah. Do you, uh, have time to meet a fan? She’s a little girl and you’re her favorite player”

“Of course” 

“Awesome, come with me!” you take her by the hand.

Natasha tries to ignore the tingling feeling she gets as she’s dragged around the center. Some people recognise her, but you’re walking fast and they don’t have the chance to stop her for a picture.

“Hey, Ava!” you greet the little girl, who’s holding a big tennis ball and a black marker. “Natasha, meet Ava. She’s your number one fan” 

“Hi,” the girl says shyly. She’s about nine, her mother standing next to her and smiling.

“Hi, Ava. It’s so nice to meet you” Natasha greets. “How are you liking the tournament so far?” 

“Uh, it was great, and you were so awesome today!”

“Thank you, I really appreciate it. Would you like me to sign that?”

“Yes, please!” her arms shoot forward, anxiously. 

“What other players would you like to meet?” Natasha says, as she signs the ball.

“Maybe Peter Parker… We met Carol Danvers, Bucky Barnes and also, Wanda”

Yeah, Natasha didn’t miss the way Maximoff signed the ball. 

From the number 1 player to the number 1 fan. 

So pretentious.

“That’s nice,” Natasha says, handing the ball back.

“Alright, let’s take a picture” you pull out your phone. Natasha kneels to be closer to Ava, and then places her tennis hat on the girl’s head.

“You can have it” Natasha smiles and is surprised when she gets a very enthusiastic hug. Her mother has to practically drag her away from where you’re standing, Ava turning around every couple of steps to wave at Natasha.

“Thank you, Nat,” you say, smiling.

“It’s not a problem. I didn’t see you in today’s press conference”

“That’s because it’s my day off” you say, surprised that she noticed your absence.

“What about that thing?” she points at the badge hanging from your neck that reads Press.

“That’s how I get in for free, duh” 

“Sneaky” 

“I can be” you shrug your shoulders and then turn back to your phone. “Hey, so can I send this to your PR team for them to post it?” 

“You don’t have to” 

“Fine, I’ll post it on my feed and tag you. Alright, gotta go. Have to cheer for Bucky” you say, taking her hand one last time. “Once again, thank you. And congrats. You were fantastic”

“I owe you a question” she calls when you’re walking away.

“I’m saving it for when you win the championship” you wink and she smiles, scratching the side of her neck nervously.

Later that day, her phone is blasting with notifications.

“Almost one million likes, Natasha” Yelena shows her the picture you uploaded of her and Ava.

“Is that good or bad?” the redhead shrugs her shoulders and her sister rolls her eyes.

“You’re so uncool!” 

However, she knows enough about Instagram to find your profile, going through your feed. Most of the pictures are from different games, some hangout with friends, the most frequent ones being Barnes and a pro that plays for the Yankees, Sam Wilson.

She’s about to close the app when two things that are equally horrible happen.

First, she likes one of your pictures from two years ago.

Second, she gets a message.

OfficialWandaMaximoff: Congrats on your win today <3

--

Bucky just lost the second set and is down on the third one. You keep refreshing the feed as you wait next to other journalists for Wanda Maximoff. 

Of course she’s in the quarter finals, that’s hardly a shock. Everyone’s waiting for her to face Natasha in the finals. When it happens, you’re obviously rooting for Nat.

Speaking of which…

@SportsBrooklyn: Good luck tomorrow! 

@NatashaROfficial followed you back

@NatashaROfficial: Do you only use Instagram or can you text like a normal person?

@SportsBrooklyn: Oh, right, text you to the number I don’t have!

Wanda walks in that moment and you lock your phone. Her auburn hair is tied in a high ponytail, and she changed to her signature red windbreaker and black pants.

You’re busy taking notes when your phone pings again. To your surprise, Natasha actually gave you her phone number.

@NatashaROfficial: If you share it with anyone else I’ll choke you

@SportsBrooklyn: Kinky ;)

The press conference ends and you practically sprint out to see if you can catch the rest of Bucky’s game.

You have to settle for the screens on the Champions Bar, comforted by the fact that Bucky seems to be ahead on the third set. As soon as he wins it, you stand up, knowing the break is the perfect time to slip into the player’s box.

“I’m so sorry” you say as you crash into none other than Wanda Maximoff. She grabs your arm to steady herself, smiling to ease you.

“That’s alright. You’re in a hurry?” she says, turning at the screen. 

“A bit, yeah” 

“I wish someone as cute as you was rooting for me” she smiles, placing a strand of hair behind her ear. She’s flirting? Oh boy. “I noticed you looking at your phone during the press conference. Barnes is a lucky guy” 

“Oh, we’re not…” 

“Here I was thinking he was smarter than that”

There’s a sense of urgency to go before the break is over, but you’re also completely confused. Why is Wanda Maximoff taking an interest in a local reporter? You’re vaguely aware that her eyes drift somewhere behind you from time to time, but before you can turn and have a look, she pulls your press badge and smiles.

“If you ever want an exclusive, just let me know, Y/N…” she reads the name from your press badge and walks away, leaving you completely confused.

--

Natasha watches the entire interaction from her small table. She needed a break so she decided to put on a hat and glasses, to get a drink without being recognised.

Wanda was all over you, giggling and looking Natasha’s way as much as she could, to let her know this was entirely to upset her.

All Natasha wanted to do was stand up and take you away from Wanda. You were too good for someone like Maximoff.

Wanda thought she was making Natasha jealous. 

She was right, but not in the way she would have wanted to.

--

“Maybe it’s time I retire” 

“You’re 28” 

“Might as well be 100 in tennis years” 

“Buck” you nudge him.

You’re looking out the Brooklyn Bridge, trying to cheer up your best friend after losing in the round of 16.

“You won the Australian Open this year” 

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. See? I’m senile” he mumbles, still grumpy.

“You did great, and you’re still in the top five, Grumpa. Ha! See what I did there?” he rolls his eyes and you smile, pulling him back to the street. “Come on, Sam is waiting for us to have some lunch” 

“Ok, but it’s on you because I’ll be broke once I retire” 

“Yeah, yeah” you roll your eyes, looping your arms together and dragging him to your favorite dinner. Sam’s already there, chatting around with everyone that recognises him.

All eyes turn to you as he stands up and practically shouts.

“How’s my favorite girl?” Sam greets you and then slaps Bucky’s shoulder. “Don’t make that face, man. You won the aussie one”

“That’s what I told him” 

Bucky takes his jacket off and orders a beer as soon as the waiter approaches you; even if it’s only noon, you let it slide.

You get a text from Darcy, asking if you’re watching the game.

Your mind instantly goes to Natasha. Did she lose? No, that can’t be. She was playing against Van Dyne, who was only there because of a wild card. You turn to one of the screens and ask the waiter to change the channel. 

“She’s winning” you say, still not understanding what Darcy meant.

“Why does she look so upset, then?” Sam points out.

Natasha is arguing with the umpire. You recognise him immediately.

“I hate that guy,” Bucky says, echoing your thoughts.

“Jarvis… something. Stone?” 

“Yeah, a total asshole. Wouldn’t give me a point I clearly won on Wimbledon because the other player was also a Brit” 

The argument ends and she keeps playing. Her forehand is killer today.

“Wow” Bucky says at the same time as you gasp.

“Man, I feel so dumb right now” Sam is looking between both of you, not knowing what caused your reaction.

“Just now? It’s more like, always” Bucky teases and Sam glares. He rolls his eyes and points at the screen. “Van Dyne hit after a double bounce. That’s not allowed. But Stone clearly doesn’t give a shit. He’s giving her the point”

“Natasha stopped playing because she saw it. He claims he didn’t so in his mind, she lost this one” you keep explaining.

“If Hope had a little bit of integrity, she’d concede the point or play it again”

“Well, she’s losing so she’ll take all the help she can get” you say. 

Natasha’s rage fuels her after this and she ends up winning, the second set a devastating 6-0.

However, the two men on the screen are being unsurprisingly critical of her. Your stomach turns when you hear the words “emotional” and “aggressive” thrown around.

Even if it’s a long shot, you try calling her. Phone’s off.

If you’re lucky, you’ll manage to see her once you get back to the stadium.

--

“Turn it off,” Natasha grumbles. Fury is watching the news in the living room. 

“I wanna see the highlights of other players. Prepare for what’s coming next. If you don’t like it, leave the room” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

After the game, Natasha did the mandatory press conference, went back to the lockers, destroyed two rackets, took a shower and then looked out the window for the better part of the day. 

She wasn’t in the mood to do anything and she didn’t want to turn on her phone. The temptation to read what the press and public had to say about her after today’s argument with the umpire was too big.

“Y/N, how are things at the US Open?” Maria Hill says. The screen splits, your image appearing on the right side.

“Exciting names on both sides for the semis. We have Thor against Banner, and T'Challa faces Namor for a spot in the semis. As for the ladies, Maximoff breezed through the match against Jean Gray”

“Well, I understand Romanoff didn’t have it so easy,” Maria says. 

From her seat, Natasha holds her breath. Yelena walks in at that exact moment, watching her sister closely.

“You know, I find it unbelievable that an umpire at the US Open could make such a poor call, not once but twice. First, with the hindrance call against Natasha and then by completely ignoring the double bounce before Van Dyne hit the ball” you say, clearly upset. “We’ve seen time and time again that some umpires are not up to the standards set by Grand Slams. And to my fellow journalists who like to throw around words like emotional, better save that energy for the men that smash their rackets just because they lost a point. As we all saw, Romanoff was in her right to demand fairness and she did it with the utmost respect” 

“Yes, I completely agree with you” Maria nods, clearly regretting even asking about it. “Well, let us chat tomorrow after we have the final for the men” 

“Of course, Maria,” you nod.

Natasha tries really hard, but she can’t help but smile at your words.

Yelena arches her eyebrows.

Well, this is interesting.

--

Natasha refuses to leave her room, arguing she’s not hungry. Melina, Yelena and Fury leave her alone, but the sudden silence becomes too much. There’s no noise to stop her thoughts from spiraling.

With a sigh, she turns on her phone. Two messages come through.

Y/N: Sorry about today. That umpire sucks :( 

Y/N: Bucky hates him too

Next thing she sees is a picture of Bucky and you holding your middle fingers to the screen with Jarvis’ face. Natasha chuckles at that.

She also zooms in, checking that your other hand is very close to Bucky’s. She feels a pang of jealousy that is interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Room service” a strange voice says.

“I didn’t order any..:” she says, but finds you smiling on the other side of the door.

“Gotcha” 

“What are you doing here?” the redhead can’t help but smile. You’re wearing a black leather jacket, a white tee and skin tight jeans. She’s torn between admiring your figure and paying attention to what you say next.

“Little bird told me you were very upset and you might need a distraction” 

“I’m gonna kill Fury” 

“Not Nick. Your sister. And are we gonna find something to eat by standing here or…?”

“I’m not hungry” 

“We’re going, Natasha. Go get changed” you push past her, tired of waiting around in the hallway. She’s taken aback by your forwardness. Her mother and sister would usually let her get away with anything.

“Where are we going?” she asks, hoping you won’t go all the way to her room and pick an outfit for her.

“Something casual will do” 

She changes as fast as she can, taking her phone and some money with her. You nod approvingly and then open the door, peeking around the hallway.

“This little field trip is not Fury approved so let’s be discreet about it” you inform her, taking her hand to lead the way to the elevator.

“Oh, yeah, this is super discreet” Natasha complains as you lead her to an electrical carriage. 

“Have a little fun, why don’t you?” you climb up, offering your hand. She takes and sits next to you. Natasha resists the urge to put a strand of hair behind your ear as you lean forward to give the address.

You feel her eyes on you, so you turn back, smiling and blushing lightly. 

It’s a short ride, and soon after you enter a small diner.

“Hey, Y/N” the owner greets you. “My, this must be a special occasion” she leans towards Natasha and whispers. “She’s never brought a girl over”

“Ok, Pat! Natasha is just a friend” you clarify, blushing in the process. Natasha laughs at you.

“Why? She’s pretty. You need to start dating” Pat says, leaving two menus.

“Don’t bother” you stop Natasha as she starts reading it. “She’ll bring us whatever she wants. But it will be worth it, I promise”

“Do you come here often?”

“My dad couldn’t cook if his life depended on it. But he was always good at finding the best spots to eat. So we came here all the time during the US Open and then later when Bucky started training”

Natasha nods and looks away. 

“So, you’re not dating Barnes either?” she says, looking anywhere but you. It’s embarrassing how much she cares.

“Uh.. no. He’s like a brother to me. His parents worked a lot so he’d tag along to games with us, and we grew up together” you wait until she turns to look at you. “Can I ask now?”

“Is this off the record?”

“Do you see my press badge anywhere?”

“One never knows with you people”

“Ouch, Natasha” the redhead laughs but you ask anyway. “Are you dating anyone? You’ve never been public about it”

“I’m not, no. I just don’t think I’d be able to find the balance. Between tennis and a partner. And my public and private life”

“Fair enough” you say. Pat approaches with milkshakes, cheeseburgers and fries.

“I hope you girls are hungry”

“Starving” 

“Fury’s gonna kill me” Natasha sighs, but then dips a fry in the milkshake and practically moans at the taste.

Your mouth is hanging wide open, and your teeth clash at how fast you shut it when Natasha turns to you.

“You’re right, this is worth it”

The rest of the night is spent eating and talking about everything but tennis. You learn that Natasha likes to bake in her free time, and that Yelena is taking a sabbatical before moving to New York to study at NYU.

After finishing your food, you both agree that walking back will be the best idea. 

“I’m so full” you complain as you enter through the back, too scared to be caught by Fury. Natasha walks in the opposite direction of the foyer. “Uh, what are you doing? I don’t want your coach all over my ass if you’re missing” 

“Have a little fun, why don’t you?” she echoes your words from before and you have no choice but to follow her. You end up on a tennis court, balls scattered around the floor.

“Do you practice here?”

“If I can’t sleep” Natasha picks up a ball and a racket and hands it to you.

“Can I help you?”

“Play with me”

“I can’t even serve, Natasha”

“Well, would you like to learn?” she says with a smirk and you can’t resist it.

“Fine. But after that, you go back to your room”

“Stance first” Natasha instructs. She corrects your posture and movements a couple of times, inching closer until she’s whispering instructions in your ear. The last thing she does is put her hands over yours to make sure your grip is tight. “Show me what you got”

She steps away and you miss her presence instantly. Trying to remember everything she told you, you toss the ball in the air and swing a little too hard. You trip over your own feet, but Natasha moves forward and catches you before you fall.

“You ok?” she says and you nod.

“How did I do, coach?” you steady yourself, holding her close to you. Your eyes travel to her lips, and you’re both out of breath from laughing.

Neither one can tell who leans first, but the fact is that you do and you discover, with great pleasure and no surprise, that Natasha is an excellent kisser. Her lips are soft against yours and she pulls you closer by your waist.

“Is this a new way of interviewing people, Y/L/N?” 

Oh, shit.

You break apart and turn to Fury, who looks very much not impressed.

“The only cardio you’re allowed to do until this slam is over is at the gym, Romanoff. Back to your room, now” 

“I’m not a little girl you can boss around,” Natasha protests.

“Come on, you should rest. We’ll talk later” you don’t want her to start arguing with Fury, not now that she’s finally listening to him. Natasha turns to you and nods, squeezing your hand one last time before going back to the hotel.

“I don’t want her distracted,” Fury says and you nod. 

“I wasn’t trying to… I won’t get in her way, Nick. I want her to win”

“Glad we understand each other. Now go home” 

He turns to leave and you wait for a little bit, trying to calm down after a mindblowing kiss. As you’re about to leave, you spot a yellow bracelet on the ground. You’ve seen Natasha wearing one before, but you’re too scared of Fury to go back now.

Tomorrow will be a new day for all of you.

--

“Keep your leg behind the ball” Fury instructs. Natasha has been listening to every single thing he says.

Yes, she’s nervous about the semis. And Fury’s the only one that can understand the feeling or help her play better.

“I want you focused,” he says as she walks to dry her hands.

“I am”

“You know what I mean” he says and as if on cue, you walk up to the court, waving. Natasha places the racket down and approaches you. “Practice isn’t over, Romanoff!”

“Five minutes” she asks, meeting you on the edge of the court.

“Hi”

“Hi” she says back. Her eyes go down to your lips and your heart flutters.

“Uh, you left… I think this is yours” you remember to speak, showing the yellow bracelet.

“Yes, thank you. Do you mind?” Natasha extends her hand and you put it around her wrist. “Yelena gave it to me before my first match. It’s my lucky charm”

“Well, good thing I saw it”

“Maybe you’ll be my next lucky charm”

“Oh? Am I supposed to be at every game from now on?” you smile, nodding when you’re done with the bracelet.

“I really wanna kiss you” Natasha blurts out and you blush. “But…”

“There are people watching and Fury doesn’t look happy either”

“He never does. Can I call you later?”

“Yes, you definitely can”

You want to kiss her so bad, damn it.

“Come on, go back, before Fury kicks me out of the court”

Natasha nods, squeezing your hand gently.

The way Natasha looks at you makes you all kinds of flustered, so you leave in a hurry before your desire takes over and you end up kissing her in front of all these people.

Once again, you run into Wanda Maximoff, only this time she doesn’t smile at all.

“She’s quite the player, right?” she says with a cold voice, her accent a bit thicker.

“Uh- yes. Natasha is a very talented pro”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant” she takes a step forward and looks you up and down. “Natasha likes to fuck around. But she always comes back to me”

“You’re… together?” your heart drops. Natasha wouldn’t lie to you about this.

Would she?

“Look, of course she wants to get distracted and she’ll use anyone that is dumb enough to fall for it. But don’t forget, she and I have history. And that’s stronger than whatever it is you think you have with Natasha”

No one is around to save you from this horrible conversation. You don’t want to argue with Wanda, because you’re still a journalist and it’s your job to be on the players’ good side.

But the reckless part of you wants to tell her to fuck off.

You sigh and look down. Wanda takes this as a sign of defeat and smiles, leaving you standing there.

It takes a minute for you to snap out of it, and you look around, desperate to walk away from everything that just happened.

—

“You’re seriously telling me you know nothing?” you ask Bucky for the tenth time.

“I don’t pay attention to rumors” he shrugs his shoulders, and you roll your eyes at him.

He’s sitting on your couch, the movie long forgotten. You nudge him with your foot and glare.

“Your best friend is a journalist, you should know better. You’re my insider into this crap”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m just not on the loop of who dates who on the women’s side. But I am not surprised Wanda scared you. Heard she can be batshit crazy”

“She didn’t scare me” you mumble. The both of you sit in silence for a while, until your phones ping simultaneuosly.

Thankfully, it’s not Nat. Right now, you don’t even know what to say to her.

“Sam. Probably to brag about his date in that fancy restaurant” Bucky tells you, but his eyes widen as he reads the message. “Wow. You need to look at this”

He hands you the phone and you read the conversation. It’s your group chat and Sam just sent a picture of Jarvis Stone, who is having dinner with none other than Wanda Maximoff.

“What the actual fu…”

“So that’s why he was being a dick to Natasha” Bucky says. “You’re not telling her about this, are you?”

“No, of course not. She has the semis tomorrow and I don’t want to distract her”

You look at your phone and press send before you chicken out.

Y/N: Can we talk tomorrow?

YBelova: Sure

—

You’re waiting by the entrance to Arthur Ashe, looking around.  Even if Maximoff’s match is later, you are still dreading to spot Wanda.

“Hey” Yelena says and you jump like a coward. “Wow, relax, it’s me”

“I’m sorry to be meeting you like this. I didn’t want to bother Natasha, especially today… she has enough on her plate”

“It’s ok, you can trust me”

“I know I can… it’s not easy to ask this, but do you know if Wanda and Natasha had a… thing? Like a relationship”

“Are you asking as a journalist?” the blonde says, clearly on edge.

“No, it’s not like that! Natasha and I… we kissed. And then Wanda told me yesterday that Natasha is just fooling around because she always comes back to her… and that’s weird but then a friend sent me this. It’s from last night”

“That’s the umpire that was a jerk to Tasha” Yelena takes your phone, looking at it in desbelief. “That bitch is still pulling this shit”

“If it had been only about us, I would have waited until Natasha finished her match. But it seems to me, like Wanda is trying to play dirty here”

Yelena sighs and hands the phone back. She looks around and steps closer, lowering her voice.

“Yes, they dated. Kept it a secret. It was on and off, especially when they were playing against each other. Wanda didn’t like to lose and then, after a while, she began to mess around with Nat. She would have a fight with her before a big match, even if they weren’t playing each other. Made Natasha lose her cool and struggle. They really haven’t spoken since the AO”

“What do we do? I don’t want her to mess with Natasha. I won’t let Wanda get in her way”

“I’ll speak to Fury about this. He knows everything. I’ll let you know what he says”

“Didn’t know you two were friends now”

A voice calls from behind you.

“Seestra, hey!” Yelena steps forward to give you time to recover. “Y/N was just telling me about her time at NYU”

“Is that so?” the redhead looks between you two and you nod.

She stills makes you nervous and flustered.

“Alright, my presence is no longer required” Yelena complains, but still gives you a meaningful look as she walks away.

“I have to warm up, will you stay for the game?” she asks, stepping closer.

“Yes, of course I will. I’ll be screaming your name” you blurt out and then blush. “I mean, rooting for you. Didn’t mean it to sound like that”

“Sounds good to me” she says, coming closer. “Can I have a good luck kiss?”

You look at her smile, her beautiful green eyes. Think about all the times she’s been kind and funny and brave. And you also think about how someone played with her heart just for a stupid title.

So you nod and lean forward, kissing her gently.

Natasha deserves to win, not only because she’s the better player. She’s the better person.

“Go win this thing” you say against her lips and she smiles, pecking your lips one last time.

—

Natasha’s win is not a surprise to you, considering the level of her recent games. You still have to stick around for the Maximoff match, opting to stay far away from the press room once she wins.

So, it’s down to the two of them in the final.

You’ve never wished for Natasha to win something so much until today.

Work keeps you busy enough. Both of the men’s semis take a combined time of eight hours and you end up completely exhausted, seriously considering just sleeping in one of the locker rooms.

You haven’t heard from Natasha but it’s understandable. She’s playing for the championship tomorrow, and knowing Fury, he will be preparing her in every way possible.

As you get a cup of coffee from one of the last stands open, your phone pings again.

Natasha: Are you still here?

Y/N: Yes :(

Natasha: Meet me in court 17?

Y/N: Yes :)

When you finally get there, you find Natasha serving a couple of times, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“Is Fury ok with you staying up so late?”

“I did everything he said today. I think I deserve this one thing” she smiles, walking towards you. “You look a bit tired”

“Jeez, thanks”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Ugh, Yelena is right, I have no game off court”

You laugh at that, taking her hands in yours.

“It’s fine, I was just teasing you” you say, looking as her eyes drift towards your lips. You both lean forward, sharing a kiss.

“Thank you” Natasha says.

“Uh, you’re welcome?”

“I don’t mean the kiss, no. Thank you for telling Yelena that thing about… Wanda”

“Oh”

Natasha walks with you to one of the chairs and you sit together.

“I haven’t spoken to her in months. And I don’t want to be with her. I need you to know that”

“But still… you said you’re not sure you want a relationship, right? It would be too much trouble”

“I think it might be worth the effort for you” she confesses and you smile.

“You do have game”

“I do?”

“Tiny bit. We’ll work on it”

She laughs, and you sit in silence for a moment.

“I made my debut in this court”

“I know”

“How…?”

You sigh. Since you’re sharing stories…

“After my dad died, I kinda took distance from the things we did together. That included all kinds of sports. It was a painful reminder. And then, as the USO was starting, I realised he had already bought our tickets. So I came here, walked around a bit. And then I saw you”

Natasha smiles, squeezing your hand.

“Your hair was shorter, and you were wearing a weird orange top with green shorts” you frown as you remember how awful it looked.

“My mom chose it for me!” the redhead buries her face in her hands and you laugh. You take them in yours as you continue the story.

“You were amazing that day. Controlled, precise… I forgot for a little while about how sad I was. And after you won, I came back everyday to watch you play”

“Thank you for telling me that. I wish I could have known your father”

“I would have liked that too”

There’s silence as you both think about your own journies, the things that brought you to this moment.

“Come on, we should go. You need your rest” you stand up, offering your hand to Natasha. She thinks for a moment before taking it, but instead of standing up she pulls you down until you’re sitting on her lap, your legs around her.

“Nat?” you gulp, blushing at how close you are.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop” she whispers, kissing your neck and squeezing your ass.

“Holy shit, no, don’t stop” you plead, tangling your fingers in her red hair.

“Locker room?”

“Lead the way” you kiss her frantically, hoping no one sees you.

Once you arrive there, Natasha smiles and your heart stops for a second.

“Ready to scream my name?”

—

There’s warmth. And a nice pressure. Some tingling on your back. Like a soft touch.

You open your eyes in an unknown room, trying to remember where you are. As you turn around you find Natasha fast asleep, her arm around your middle.

“Nat?” you call for her, hoping no one walks in any time soon.

“Five more minutes” she mumbles against your skin.

“Nat, wake up” you plead.

As it turns out, she only reacts when Yelena kicks the door, walking in on you naked under the sheets.

“Happy finals day seestra—-ah! Naked”

“Yelena what is wrong?” to your horror, Melina joins her daughter. “Oh, you two lovebirds!”

“WHY DOESNT ANYONE KNOCK HERE” Natasha screams, putting the sheets above her head.

“Sorry”  Melina says, dragging away Yelena.

“Yeah, sorry” Yelena echoes, sounding anything but.

As you both get dressed, the memories of last night come back to you.

After your rendezvous -and almost getting caught by security- you decided it would be better to continue elsewhere. You blush as images of Natasha moaning, kissing and pleasuring you also come back.

“Hey” she approaches you as you walk to the door. “You ok? You look a little…”

“Flustered?” you say, trying to hide your blush.

“Well, yes. I’m sorry about them walking in”

“Last night was… amazing”

“Yeah?” she circles your waist with her hands and pulls you closer. “How amazing?”

“Like winning all Grand Slams in the same year kind of amazing” your hands go around her neck and you pull her for a kiss.

“Wow, that’s big talk” Natasha comments agains your lips. And as she’s about to kiss you, Fury walks in.

“Romanoff! What did I tell you about that cardio”

“For the love of God, knock!” Natasha says, defeated.

“Don’t worry, Fury, I promise she was laying down for the most part” you wink at the man.

“Stay for breakfast” Melina invites as she’s setting the suite’s table with all the room service.

“This has been sufficiently awkward, thank you. And I also imagine you have stuff to do”

“You need to stay hydrated. How much liquid did you lose?” Fury says, going around the kitchen like a headless chicken.

“Fury, I haven’t seen her this relaxed in months. My sister will be fine” Yelena comments.

“Are you coming to the game?”

“Of course. I’m on press duty”

“Come to the player’s box” Melina says.

“Would that be wise?” you ask and everyone shares a look. “What I mean is, we want to make Wanda think her plan worked, right? If she sees me there she’ll know we are on to her”

“I don’t care what she thinks. I want you there” Natasha takes your hand and you smile.

“Alright. I’ll be there. See you later” you kiss her cheek and smile.

“Byeee” Melina and Yelena say, and you realise that Natasha will have to deal with their questions.

Well, if she can deal with the press, she can deal with her family.

—

The day goes by in a blur, and as the match approaches, you feel more anxious. God, how does Natasha do this? If it were you with the world watching, you’d probably break down the minute you step into the court.

“Hello there” Yelena greets as you meet at the player’s entrance of Arthur Ashe.  “Ever been here?”

“Just once, with Bucky”

It’s hard to forget the luxurious facilities where players can get food, special gifts, some physio or workout before their matches.

“He won last year, right?”

“Yes” you smile at the memory. “How is Natasha doing?”

“She’s done with warmup, she had something light to eat and she seems ready. She’s also been smiling like an idiot all day, even if Fury kept her away from her phone”

“I want her to win, so whatever it takes” you smile at the blonde, and follow her to the lounge, where Natasha is waiting with Melina. The redhead smiles as soon as she spots you and you kiss her on the cheek.

“How do you feel?”

“Like a complete wreck”

“You got this. Remember she prefers short games, she also doesn’t like to volley or come close to the net. And people say her forehand is killer but she goes too far behind her back, so use it against her”

“Y/N?” she interrupts your rambling. “All of that is fine advice, but I already have Nick on my back 24/7”

“Right, sorry”

“You know what he doesn’t provide?”

“Hm?”

“Good luck kisses”

“That’s right, it’s above my paygrade” Fury says. “Say your goodbyes now”

Melina and Yelena hug her, Fury squeezes her shoulder and then they give you some space.

“Go win this thing” you say, leaning forward and kissing her softly.

Natasha leans her forehead against yours and smiles.

She’s ready.

—

Natasha comes out first, and the crowd goes wild.

Wanda is close behind her; you catch her staring at you, clearly shocked that you’re next to Nat’s family.

“Who’s losing focus now?” Yelena says with a cheerful voice and you can’t help but smile.

The game begins and it is very clear that Natasha is playing aggressively. She has an ace on every game and there are hardly any break points for Wanda. It’s been 30 minutes and the score is 5-2.

“She’s cooked,” Fury says, looking at Wanda. You shake your head.

“Maximoff has an insane record after losing the first set, you know that”

And in fact, she does lose the first set. As always, the crowd loves to cheer on the underdog, so they go wild when Wanda wins the first two games of the second set.

“Come on, Tasha” you scream, and she looks your way, smiling. In no time, they’re tied.

“What are the odds on a tiebreak?” Yelena asks.

“It can go either way” you sigh, confirming that it will happen as they reach 6-6.

Natasha is playing fast and hard, giving no time for Wanda to recover.

But as she serves for the match, Wanda challenges the call in the most disruptive way possible.

It was in, but since Nat stopped playing the point goes to Wanda.

“That’s bullshit” Yelena says under her breath and you nod.

Sure enough, Natasha zones out and goes from match point to losing the second set.

“Dear Lord” Fury says, trying to keep a neutral expression.

“Maximoff looks exhausted, Nick. Natasha is doing great. She didn’t give away the second set. She’ll do this”

The third set begins, the first four games a close call. Deuce is called when they’re tied at 2, and you know that whoever wins this point will end up winning the match.

Every time Wanda has an advantage, Natasha comes back and breaks. Even when the Sokovian is serving, it doesn’t stop Natasha from pulling her back to 40-40. The Russian is a wall, and Wanda seems to lose hope as time passes.

And then, it happens.

Wanda has a double fault that gives Natasha the advantage. Followed by a double fault that gives her a break.

“Yes” Fury claps, trying to keep it together.

As the score approaches 5, your heart beats faster. Once again, 5-2.

Natasha serving for the match.

An ace.

The crowd goes wild.

The second ball goes out of the court when Wanda hits it.

Then, a double fault.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It’s 30-15 and then 30-30. All Natasha needs are two more points to win.

She searches for your face in the crowd and you smile, nodding.

“You’re going to win” you say and she smiles.

Another ace.

The screens show the “championship point” sign.

Wanda doesn’t make it easy for her. She’s like a wounded animal that has nothing to lose, so she runs, she answers every throw with a groan, she comes to the net.

But when Natasha does her signature dropshot, Wanda tries to run, reaches too late and the ball bounces one, two, three times.

“Game, set, match, Romanoff”

“Fuck, YEEES” Yelena screams, standing up and cheering.

It’s all a blur, Natasha falling to the ground and covering her face. Walking to the net to shake Wanda’s hand, and then  the umpire’s.

After, she walks among the crowd, trying to reach her box. Yelena is the first to jump, their mother hugging them both and crying.

Fury looks like he’s about to cry as Natasha hugs him. You’re certainly crying happy tears as you watch them.

And then, she walks past him and picks you up from the ground, kissing you in front of the entire stadium.

“Congrats, Nat” you say against her lips.

“I’ll be right back” she promises when the security guard asks her to come back for the ceremony.

“You owe me a question”

“Save it for the next championship” she says against your lips and you kiss again, in spite of the guard’s insistence and with the crowd cheering you on.

—

It’s been six more slam titles, two years of tours around the world.

Natasha still owes you a question.

You move with practiced ease, pulling on your clothes, the soft rustle of fabric breaking the stillness. Natasha’s absence from the bed doesn’t surprise you; she’s already up, probably training or doing some task to keep herself distracted, to keep from thinking about the mission, about what happened, about anything. You don’t blame her. You’ve seen the way she handles it—how she compartmentalizes her emotions, how sex is the one thing she doesn’t keep in a box.

The door to her bathroom creaks open as you finish zipping your jacket. She doesn’t look at you, her hair damp from a quick shower, her expression unreadable, almost distant. She grabs her black leather jacket from the chair, pulls it on, and heads to the kitchen, the clink of mugs the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to speak, but the words always seem to hang on the tip of your tongue, trapped behind something you don’t know how to say. You're younger—years younger—and Natasha... well, Natasha never gives anything away. Not in the way you want her to. Her walls are solid, built from years of training, of being a weapon. And you? You’re just a moment, a fleeting thing in her life.

You find her standing by the window now, her back to you, her figure outlined against the early light. She’s always like this after missions, like she’s trying to rid herself of the weight, trying to get back to being Natasha again, instead of... whatever else she’s forced to be.

“Thanks for last night,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

She doesn’t turn to face you, doesn’t even acknowledge your words immediately. Then, as if the silence is too much to bear, she speaks. “You should go. Goodnight, baby.” Her voice is low, steady, but there's an edge to it—something you can’t quite place.

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah. I know.”

You turn to leave, but something inside you twists, a knot in your stomach that isn’t just from the awkwardness. It’s the realization that, for all the time you’ve spent together, nothing will ever change. This is just routine—an unspoken agreement between the two of you. She'll keep using you to forget, and you’ll keep pretending this isn’t affecting you.

But Natasha doesn’t ask you to stay, doesn’t even look at you as you make your way toward the door. When you reach the threshold, you steal one last glance at her. Her eyes are on the window again, her face set in that familiar, unreadable expression.

You leave without a word, the door clicking softly behind you, and the silence that follows is deafening.

This is never ending, we have been here before

But I can't stay this time, 'cause I don't love you anymore

The quiet hum of the helicarrier was almost calming, the steady vibrations of the engines beneath your feet grounding you after a chaotic mission. You’d never felt more alive than when you were out there—fighting, taking down the bad guys, doing what SHIELD trained you to do. But tonight, that adrenaline wasn’t enough to silence the nagging feeling inside of you. You kept replaying the moments from the mission—the moments with Natasha.

The mission had gone smoothly. You had worked well together, flowing seamlessly as a team, and Natasha had even given you a rare, approving glance when it was all over. It had been a high-stakes op, but everything had fallen into place. When the mission was debriefed, there had been laughter, light-hearted jokes exchanged between agents, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Natasha.

Her touch had lingered, just a moment longer than necessary, when she passed you your gear. Her eyes had met yours once, a flicker of something in them. It was fleeting, but it was enough to make you wonder. Maybe she feels it too, you thought. The way she looked at you, the way she spoke—there was an intimacy in it, a spark you couldn’t quite ignore.

The night had unfolded with a casual invitation to meet in her room. No big deal, she’d said. Just to grab a drink, just to relax. But when you entered her room, it felt different. You both shed the weight of the mission in the space between words, the tension between you growing as the night went on. Her touch had been slow, almost gentle, when it first brushed against your skin. You’d been hesitant, unsure of what was happening, but she seemed so confident, so sure.

It wasn’t until later—after you were tangled up in each other, breathless, skin flushed—that you felt that spark you had hoped for. Maybe she was just as interested, just as real about this as you were. It wasn’t just a mission anymore, not just two agents getting the job done. There was a connection. There was something between you.

But when you stepped out of her room the next morning, something shifted in the air. The way she had casually kissed you on the cheek before you left, the way she didn’t ask you to stay, didn’t look at you the way you hoped—none of it was what you imagined.

Later, you passed a group of agents gathered in a corner of the mess hall, talking in low voices. You’d barely paid them any mind, too focused on your own thoughts, but then you heard it.

“I wonder who Nat picked this time,” one of them had said, laughing. 

“Probably one of the newbies who doesn’t know any better. Gets what she wants, and moves on. No strings attached.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, your heart sinking lower with every syllable. Natasha. Natasha Romanoff. The woman you had admired from a distance, the one you had trusted and looked up to, had just used you. And maybe—maybe you had been just another mission for her.

You couldn’t help but feel the sting of that realization. You had wanted more. You had convinced yourself that there was something more to it—that the way she held you, the way she whispered your name had meant something. But no. This was who she was. A lone wolf. Cold. Detached.

You didn’t say anything, of course. You just nodded, forcing yourself to accept what you had heard, forcing yourself to forget what had happened the night before. The optimism you had clung to began to die right then and there. This wasn’t a relationship. This wasn’t something that could grow or change.

You walked back to your quarters, the weight of the mission—and your heartache—settling in your chest. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was easier to be just one of the many in a string of forgettable faces. The night with Natasha had been a blip. No more, no less.

The next time you saw her, you kept your distance, smiled a little tighter, and allowed the walls to go up. There was no point in hoping for something more when you knew exactly how this worked. She was always a few steps ahead of you, always thinking of the next mission, the next fight, never lingering too long in one place.

And you? You learned to accept that. No strings attached. No expectations. Just the way things were.

Please, stay where you are

Don't come any closer

The clang of metal against metal echoed through the training room as you and Natasha sparred. The fight was almost second nature now—quick jabs, swift dodges, and the occasional, playful taunt thrown into the mix. You'd gotten better at handling the pressure, but still, when it came to Natasha, it was hard not to feel like you were always playing catch-up. She was faster, stronger, more experienced. Sometimes, it seemed like she was born to fight.

You threw a punch, aiming for her midsection, but she dodged it with effortless grace, countering with a sharp jab to your ribs. You grunted, stumbling back a step, but you didn’t let it throw you off. You pressed forward, more determined now.

“Not bad,” Natasha said with a smirk, her voice light. “But you’re still weak. You need me to save you again, huh?” She laughed, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

It was a joke, you knew that, or at least, you thought you did. But something about her words hit you differently today. You weren’t in the mood to laugh. You had been pushing yourself hard in training, trying to prove that you could handle it on your own, that you weren’t just some rookie who was always under Natasha’s shadow.

You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the growing frustration that bubbled in your chest. You swung again, but this time, you missed her entirely. She dodged it effortlessly and caught your wrist in a hold that felt too tight.

“Still not enough,” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe I should give you some more training lessons. You know, to make sure I don’t have to keep saving you.”

The joke, the lightness in her voice, it only made you more upset. “Maybe I don’t need saving,” you snapped, trying to pull your wrist free from her grip, your temper flaring. “Maybe I can handle things on my own for once.”

Natasha’s smirk faltered, but she kept her hold firm. “Maybe I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Deep down you knew it was a joke, but it wasn’t funny to you—not today. Not when you already felt the weight of everyone’s whispers hanging over you like a shadow. She’s only here because she’s sleeping with Natasha. She’s nothing without her. Every agent seemed to think the same thing. Even some of your own teammates seemed to treat you like you were just an afterthought, a placeholder who only got the mission because of who you knew, not because of your skill.

You had always tried to prove them wrong. But when Natasha said things like that, it felt like all your efforts were for nothing. Like all of it was just... a joke.

You yanked your arm out of her grip and stepped back, glaring at her. “I don’t need you to save me, Natasha. I don’t need anyone.”

Her expression shifted, the playful edge in her eyes dimming. She didn’t understand. Of course she didn’t. She didn’t hear the things you heard, didn’t feel the weight of the judgment you carried every day. To her, this was just another training session, another moment of playful teasing. But to you? It was like being backed into a corner, your confidence slowly slipping away with every word.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Natasha said, her voice sharp now. “You know I’m just messing with you. Stop getting so moody.”

It stung more than it should’ve. You clenched your fists at your sides, holding back the urge to walk out of the room, to leave her there without another word.

But you didn’t. You just stood there, feeling the walls close in around you.

“You don’t get it, do you?” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. “You think I’m just here for the fun of it. That I can’t do anything without you. You don’t even see it.”

Natasha’s brows furrowed, and she let out a frustrated sigh, dropping her stance. “You’re being overly sensitive.”

You felt the words cut deep, the sting of her dismissal more painful than you wanted to admit. The last thing you wanted was for her to see you as some emotional mess. But it was too late. You could feel the heat rising in your chest, the ache of being ignored, dismissed, and reduced to nothing more than a pawn in her world.

“Fine,” you snapped, unable to stop the words from spilling out. “Maybe I should just go. You don’t need to deal with my mood anymore.”

Natasha didn’t even flinch at your outburst. Instead, she looked at you with a cold indifference. “Then fuck off,” she said bluntly, as if you were just another irritation, another moment she couldn’t be bothered with.

The words hit you like a slap. You froze for a moment, trying to make sense of it. She didn’t get it. She didn’t understand why you were so angry, why you felt so small in that moment. And you realized, with a sinking feeling in your stomach, that maybe she never would.

You turned and walked away without another word, your chest tight, your emotions a storm inside of you. You didn’t even know where you were going, but you couldn’t stay there, not with her. Not now.

Don't try to change my mind

I'm being cruel to be kind

The words hit like a slap in the face.

You hadn’t meant to overhear it. You had only walked into the SHIELD briefing room to check on some mission updates when Agent Ryder’s voice cut through the air, low but unmistakable.

You could feel the sting of his dismissive tone reverberating in your bones. Nepotism. The word had echoed in your head long after he’d left, taunting you. You knew the truth—your guardian wasn’t some high-ranking official, wasn’t some big shot with connections—but still, how could they say that? How could they reduce your hard work to just that? To nothing but the connections you didn’t even ask for?

You had always tried to prove yourself. Every mission, every task, every step forward was to show you deserved to be here, that you weren’t just some token agent or a pawn in a bigger game. You had trained harder than anyone. You had put in the hours, learned everything you could, sacrificed the same as everyone else. But still, every time you turned around, someone else was whispering behind your back, casting doubt on your worth.

And then there was Natasha. Her teasing had been the last straw. You had tried to laugh it off, to pretend it didn’t bother you, but you knew deep down that the way she dismissed you—it was just another reminder that you were expendable. You weren’t one of them. You were just... a mistake in the system.

So when you walked into the training room the next morning and saw Natasha leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking as relaxed and confident as ever, something inside you snapped.

You didn’t go to her like you usually did. You didn’t smile, didn’t offer the usual greeting. Instead, you simply nodded once, cold and distant.

“Something wrong?” Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow as she stepped forward.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you turned away from her, grabbing your gear and adjusting it with deliberate care. The silence stretched between you both. You could feel her eyes on you, studying you, waiting for an explanation, but you didn’t owe her one. Not anymore. Not after everything.

“You’re still upset about yesterday, huh?” Natasha’s voice was softer now, but there was an edge to it. A warning, maybe. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

You ignored her, shoving your focus back into the task at hand, determined not to let her see the way your chest tightened. You didn’t want to feel weak. You didn’t want her to know how much her words hurt. You were done with this—done with pretending, done with leaning on her. You were going to prove yourself. You had to.

A few moments passed before Natasha stepped closer, frustration creeping into her tone. “If you don’t stop this, we’re going to have a problem.”

You turned to face her then, finally looking her in the eyes, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “No. We’re not going to have a problem. I’m done with this.” You swallowed the bitter taste in your mouth. “I’m done with you. I’m tired of being treated like I’m some kind of charity case. Like I don’t belong here unless I’m under your shadow.”

Natasha’s face shifted, confusion flashing in her eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You don’t get it, do you?” You took a step back, your voice rising in frustration. “You think it’s funny, don’t you? All of it. The way you make fun of me. Like it’s just a joke. Well, it’s not. I’ve been busting my ass here, and all you do is remind me that everyone thinks I’m just some charity case. Nepotism. You think that’s a joke? You think I need you to save me?”

Natasha’s expression hardened, her gaze flickering to the side, and then back to you. She crossed her arms, clearly trying to hold her composure. But there was something in her eyes—something tight, something hurt.

“Is this about yesterday?” she asked, her tone sharper now, but there was a hint of concern buried underneath. “You’re overreacting.”

“I’m not overreacting!” You shot back, unable to hold it in anymore. “You don’t get to dismiss me and then act like nothing happened. I’m not some... some... tool for you to use whenever you want. I’m not some kid you get to play with and forget about when it’s convenient.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, thick with tension. Natasha’s jaw tightened, her lips pressing into a thin line. “You think this is about me using you? You think I’m using you? Is that what you really think?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah. That’s what I think.”

Natasha’s eyes flickered with anger, her usual calm demeanor slipping for just a moment. She shook her head, disbelief and frustration written all over her face. “You’ve got it all wrong. But fine, if that’s how you feel, then go ahead. Go prove yourself, like you keep saying you will. But don’t come crawling back to me when you realize you can’t do it alone.”

The words stung, but it was the way she turned and walked away—cold, final—that hit you the hardest. You felt the knot in your chest tighten, but you didn’t call after her. You couldn’t.

You spent the rest of the day avoiding her, your mind racing with doubt and anger. It wasn’t about the mission, not really. It was about feeling like you were fighting a battle on your own, with no one in your corner. The more you tried to distance yourself, the more you realized how much you needed her, even if it hurt to admit it.

But you were stubborn. You had to prove to yourself that you weren’t just here because of someone else. You weren’t going to be Natasha’s shadow anymore.

You couldn’t.

You have given me something that I can't live without

You mustn't underestimate that when you are in doubt

The morning briefing had gone smoothly, the usual debriefing about mission parameters, objectives, and exit strategies. But there was an undercurrent of tension you couldn’t shake. It was just a solo mission—nothing too difficult, Natasha had said, and you knew the protocol well. But the moment she had pulled out, just hours before takeoff, something in your gut twisted.

"It doesn't need to be a two-person mission," Natasha had said with her usual casual smile, but it hadn’t reached her eyes. "It’s easy. You’ve got this." Her voice had sounded almost dismissive, as if she hadn’t been training with you for months, as if she didn’t know how much you relied on her presence during missions. You knew Natasha wasn’t one for emotional goodbyes, but the absence of that small gesture—her usual good luck kiss before every mission—felt like a sign. You had never gone on a mission without one, and now, as you stood alone in the SHIELD hangar, you realized just how much you had come to rely on it.

She hadn’t even given you a heads-up, hadn’t said goodbye with her usual teasing smirk or reassuring look. It’s an easy mission, you told yourself. You don’t need her this time. But the unease in your chest told you otherwise.

You tugged the straps of your gear tighter, glancing once more at the aircraft. The mission was supposed to be straightforward: infiltrate a small criminal syndicate operating out of a hidden base in the mountains, retrieve intel, and get out. You’d handled worse. But you couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that something was off. Your instincts were screaming at you, and for once, you weren’t willing to ignore them.

You checked your wristwatch again. The flight would take a few hours, leaving you with time to prepare mentally, but all you could think about was Natasha. The way she had waved you off with barely a second glance, as if you didn’t matter enough for a goodbye. You tried not to dwell on it. After all, Natasha didn’t do sentiment. But the emptiness in your chest was hard to ignore.

Maybe she’s just busy. Maybe she’s just focused on something else. But none of that helped. You were used to her being there with you, a reassuring presence by your side. You needed her, especially when the missions were dangerous—especially when you felt the weight of the world bearing down on you. But now, you were alone, and that felt heavier than you expected.

As the helicopter’s engines roared to life, you settled back into your seat, trying to center yourself. This mission wasn’t supposed to be difficult. You could do this alone, you kept telling yourself. But something about it didn’t feel right. Maybe it was Natasha pulling out at the last minute. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't given you her usual kiss for luck, the one that always helped you steady your nerves before a mission. But whatever it was, it gnawed at you. Your instincts were telling you to watch your back. Something wasn’t adding up.

By the time you arrived at the drop zone, the helicopter had been quiet for too long. The mountainside stretched ahead, vast and intimidating, and the cold wind carried the promise of danger. You could see the hidden compound from the air—well-guarded, heavily fortified, and far from any backup. A simple mission, Natasha had called it.

You didn’t believe that for a second.

The drop was smooth, and you quickly moved into position, your boots crunching against the frozen ground. The area around the compound was still and eerily quiet. Too quiet. No guards on patrol. No sign of life. It didn’t make sense, but you pushed the unease aside. You had a job to do.

You made your way toward the compound, slipping into the shadows, the cold air biting at your skin. Every step felt calculated, but the tension in your shoulders refused to loosen. You kept glancing over your shoulder, as if expecting Natasha to appear and tell you everything was fine, that this was just another mission to add to the books.

But she wasn’t there.

You reached the compound’s perimeter and found the first guard’s post abandoned, his gear left behind but no sign of a struggle. There was no time to waste. You slipped inside, working quickly to disable the security systems and hack into the mainframe. The room you’d accessed was silent, save for the whir of the computers. As you pulled the intel from the servers, the cold feeling in your gut only grew.

Something wasn’t right. Your instincts had been spot-on—this mission had been a setup.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching. You froze, turning off the monitor and moving swiftly toward the exit. You didn’t have time to think. You just had to get out. The sudden realization hit you like a punch in the stomach—Natasha wasn’t here for a reason. She’d known this mission wasn’t as easy as it seemed. And now you were paying the price for going in blind, without her by your side.

Your heart pounded as you sprinted for cover, your mind racing. Every corner you turned felt like a trap. The compound was alive with activity now. You could hear voices, shouts, the sounds of boots hitting the concrete floor.

I should’ve known better. I shouldn’t have trusted this mission without her.

You ducked into an alcove, pressing your back to the cold wall, your breath shallow. The door to the room you’d just vacated opened with a quiet click, and a group of armed men poured in, searching for you. The walls seemed to close in on you as the adrenaline kicked in. You had to move, had to get out, or you would be trapped.

Suddenly, your body started to droop, collapsing against the wall behind. The last thing you saw before everything went dark was long red hair tied into a bun. 

But I don't want to carry on like everything is fine

The longer we ignore it, all the more that we will fight

You woke to the sting of cold water splashing across your face, the shock of it making your body jerk awake, muscles aching with the memory of the fight. The pain was sharp, gnawing at your ribs and shoulders, each breath a struggle. The world around you was blurred, and all you could focus on was the weight pressing down on your chest.

Your eyes opened, blurry at first, and then the details started to sharpen: concrete walls, dim lighting, and the cold, oppressive silence that clung to the room. There were metal chairs around you, all empty but one. The leader of the enemy force, a tall man with a face carved from stone, stood before you, a smug look on his face as he held the bucket that had been your rude awakening.

He tossed the remaining ice water in your direction, a small slosh hitting your face as he watched you with cold, calculating eyes. “You’re a tough one,” he said in a low, mocking voice. “I didn’t think you’d last this long. But everyone cracks eventually, don’t they?”

Your throat was dry, and your tongue felt like it was made of sandpaper. You could feel the blood caked on your face, the bruises that were already starting to swell. But despite the pain, despite the overwhelming urge to break, you held your ground. You glared up at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing fear in your eyes.

“You’ve got nothing to say?” the man sneered. “You SHIELD agents are all the same. So loyal. So stupid. You’re all just waiting for your little friends to come save you, aren’t you?”

Your lips pressed together tightly, and you refused to let a single word slip from them. You couldn’t afford to give him anything. Not a single piece of intel, not even a whimper. You knew that if you did, it would all be over.

He stepped closer, placing a booted foot against your thigh, forcing you back against the cold concrete. The pressure was almost unbearable, but you didn’t flinch. The silence between you both stretched, thick and heavy, until he finally gave a humorless laugh and straightened up. “I can wait. All of you are the same. Eventually, you’ll break.”

But you didn’t.

The next few days bled together in a haze of cold, pain, and isolation. The room was a blur of steel, concrete, and fluorescent lights. There were no windows, no sense of time. Your body was sore, covered in cuts and bruises, and the hunger gnawed at you. But you couldn’t give in. Not now. Not when you knew someone would come for you.

They’ll come. They have to.

Every time they came in, it was the same—questions, threats, taunts. And every time, you remained silent. You couldn’t let them know how desperate you were. You couldn’t let them see you break. Even if every part of you screamed for help, you stayed resolute, hoping that somehow, someone would find you, someone would come and end this.

But no one did.

It was only when the fourth day passed, when the darkness of the room had become your world, that you started to feel the weight of your own mind closing in. The silence, the isolation, the constant threat of pain—it started to take a toll on you. The hunger gnawed at your insides, and your thoughts drifted in and out. You could still hear his voice echoing in your head: They’ll come for you. They’ll come...

It was on the sixth day that it happened. A crack in the door. The low hum of voices. The sound of boots. You didn’t move at first, couldn’t. But then, just like that, the door swung open, and a small team of SHIELD agents burst in, guns drawn. They moved quickly, efficiently, sweeping the room and securing the area. You didn’t even have the energy to react as they cut through the restraints on your wrists and helped you to your feet.

"Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe now,” one of them murmured, gently pulling you into their arms.

But the words didn’t register. You could hear them, but it was like they were coming from another world. You felt light-headed, your body numb, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on you. Your mouth was dry, but you didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

The next few days were a blur of recovery, of medical checks and debriefings that you couldn’t bring yourself to respond to. Every word felt like it was coming from a place far outside of you, and you couldn’t find the strength to answer.

In the quiet, isolated room they had put you in at the base, you sat in silence, staring blankly at the wall. Every noise around you felt too loud. Every touch too much. They gave you time to recover, but you couldn’t shake the heaviness in your chest. Your mind had shut down, your body running on autopilot.

There were no words. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak. The trauma, the isolation, everything that had happened—it left you feeling hollow. Broken.

You didn’t speak at all for days, your body recovering, but your mind still trapped in the darkness of that cold room. The cold man’s words echoed in your head. You’re all waiting for someone to come save you.

But even as the team tried to coax you into talking, even as they brought you your favorite food and gave you the space to recover, the silence remained.

Natasha didn’t come. She wasn’t there when you needed her, and the weight of that felt heavier than any physical wound. It wasn’t her fault. You knew that. But somehow, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were still alone.

Your recovery was slow. You weren’t the same person when you were finally cleared to leave the facility. There was a coldness in your eyes, a distance in your posture. The silence you had once embraced had become a shield, and now, it was all you had.

Natasha had visited you once during your recovery. She hadn’t said much, just sat in silence beside you. But even when she reached out to touch your hand, you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. The trauma had built walls too high, too thick to break. And no one, not even Natasha, could find their way through.

You were alive, yes. But the silence that followed felt like it would never end.

Please, don't fall apart

I can't face your breaking heart

The sterile scent of the hospital room, the constant hum of machines, and the bright, white lights overhead did little to make you feel at ease. You stared at the ceiling, your gaze unfocused, your mind a swirling mess of everything that had happened. You couldn’t bring yourself to do anything. You didn’t feel like you were living—just existing, going through the motions. Every movement felt like an effort, and the space around you felt too small, too suffocating.

You hadn’t spoken since the rescue. Not to anyone. The silence, once a comfort, had become a prison you couldn’t escape. Your throat was raw from the lack of words, and when you closed your eyes, you could still see the cold walls of that room, the mocking face of the enemy leader, and the weight of the isolation pressing down on you.

The door opened, and you didn’t look up. You knew who it was before the first words even registered.

“Are you seriously ignoring me?”

The voice was sharp, familiar, cutting through the fog that had settled around your brain. Natasha.

You didn't respond. You couldn’t. Your mind was screaming for you to stay quiet, to not let her in, because the moment you spoke, you knew it would shatter the wall you’d built to protect yourself. But Natasha didn’t wait for a response. She stormed into the room, her boots heavy on the floor, her expression tight with frustration.

“I’ve been trying to reach you for days,” Natasha continued, her voice rising with every word. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? I can’t believe you’re acting like this. It’s been weeks. You’re acting like a damn child, and I’m done with it. I don’t have time for this immature bullshit, especially from you.”

Your chest tightened, a knot of anger and confusion building inside you, but you refused to show it. You couldn’t. You knew better than to let her see the storm inside you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t follow your schedule,” you said, your voice flat and devoid of emotion. You couldn’t bring yourself to add any more, any more than the words that barely scraped out. Sorry for being alive, sorry for failing.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed as she took a few steps closer, standing at the side of your bed. Her face was hard, her anger not hiding the concern that still flickered beneath. “You think this is easy for me, too? That I just get to pretend nothing happened? That I’m supposed to just let you wallow in here like—like this?” Her voice broke slightly, but she quickly regained her composure. “This is fucking ridiculous, and I’m not going to stand here and watch you ruin everything you’ve worked for. Do you understand me? You’re going to lose everything.”

The sting of her words cut deep, but it was the accusation in her tone that truly hit you. The one that had been festering in your chest ever since you’d been dragged out of that hellhole. You weren’t who you thought you were. You weren’t the person who deserved this life. The dream job, the recognition, the chance to be someone worth a damn—none of it was meant for you. Not after everything that had happened. You weren’t strong enough to keep it all, to be who they thought you were. And Natasha—Natasha, who had always been a silent pillar of strength for you, was now reminding you how easily it could all be taken away.

Her words stung. Immature... Ruin everything... You could feel the weight of her disappointment settle into your chest like a stone, heavier than anything you had ever felt.

And then, it clicked.

The final straw broke. Natasha didn’t understand. She didn’t understand the extent of what had happened to you—the isolation, the pain, the days spent waiting for someone to find you, and the crushing feeling that no one would. You were broken, and she was treating it like it was just a phase. That you just needed to snap out of it.

But you couldn’t.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, the pain from your injuries flaring in protest, but you pushed through. You weren’t sure where you were going, but you couldn’t stay here any longer. You had to leave. You had to escape the judgment, the expectations. You couldn’t pretend to be strong anymore.

“Don’t walk away from me!” Natasha snapped, but you were already moving. You couldn’t be near her right now. The anger, the betrayal—it was all too much.

Ignoring her calls, you grabbed the nearest coat, not caring that it didn’t quite fit right, and you made your way out of the room. You could hear her following you, her footsteps echoing behind you, but you didn’t turn around. You didn’t owe her anything anymore.

You didn’t owe anyone anything.

It didn’t take long to get to the secure office where you had to sign a few papers before they cleared your discharge. You barely registered the words the agent at the desk was saying. You barely noticed the fact that your fingers were trembling. You only had one thing on your mind—the resignation letter you had been drafting in your head for days.

You placed it on the desk in front of the agent, your hands shaking slightly as you slid the paper over to them. The words were short and to the point, and they made everything feel so final. So irreversible.

“I’m resigning,” you said, voice hoarse. “Effective immediately.”

The agent didn’t ask questions. They just nodded, their face unreadable, and then went about processing the paperwork. You watched, numb, as the reality of it all settled over you like a weight that you could never lift. You had dreamed of this job for so long, had worked so hard to get here, only to throw it all away because you didn’t deserve it anymore.

And in that moment, you felt everything you’d been holding in for weeks. The grief. The betrayal. The isolation. It all came rushing back, but you didn’t cry. You couldn’t cry. The numbness, the emptiness, it was all you had now.

You stood up, turning away from the desk, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a sense of finality wash over you. No turning back.

It wasn’t until you were almost out the door that you heard Natasha’s voice again, this time softer, more desperate. “Wait.”

But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

The door shut behind you with a soft click, and the world outside felt both too big and too small at the same time. You were alone now. Completely, irrevocably alone.

And somehow, that felt like the only truth you could rely on anymore.

I'm trying to be brave

Stop asking me to stay

Clint’s sharp eyes caught you before you could make it out of the door, his footsteps quick as he crossed the hallway. He was dressed in his usual casual gear, a quiver slung over his shoulder, his expression a mix of concern and frustration.

“Hey, wait,” Clint said, his voice softer than it usually was when he called someone out. You didn’t stop. Your feet kept moving, your heart hammering as you tried to escape. But Clint was relentless. He grabbed your arm gently but firmly, turning you around to face him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, his voice laced with something like disappointment. “You can’t just walk out on everything. Nat’s worried sick.”

You looked up at him, eyes glassy, exhausted. “I don’t need anyone’s pity,” you muttered, your voice strained. “Not hers, not anyone's. Just... just leave me alone.”

Clint studied you for a moment, his eyes narrowing with understanding. Then, without warning, he pulled you into a quieter corner, away from the main corridors, where he knew you wouldn’t be overheard.

"Look," Clint said, his voice lower now, softer but still firm, "I don’t know what kind of crap Nat's been feeding you, but I can tell you're hurting. You think you can just walk away from everything, like it’ll make things better? You think that's gonna fix anything?"

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t bring yourself to. But Clint didn’t need an answer.

“I hear things,” Clint went on. “I’ve been around long enough to know when someone’s trying to hide something. And I’ve been in the rafters during most of those 'training' sessions with Nat. You think you’re the only one who feels small, huh?” His voice turned bitter, a subtle edge to it. “You think you’re the only one she’s pushed away?”

You stared at him, shocked, unable to respond. Clint saw right through you. He knew what was happening, and he wasn’t going to let it slide.

“She’s been messing with your head, hasn’t she?” Clint said. “Somehow, you think you’re not good enough, that you don’t belong here. You think everything you’ve done has been handed to you on a silver platter because of her. Well, let me tell you something—that’s not true.”

Your chest tightened at his words, but you still didn’t speak. It was like you couldn’t find the words. The guilt, the shame, the feeling of never measuring up to the expectations—they all churned in your stomach.

Clint let out a long, frustrated sigh, his eyes softening. “You’re good enough,” he said, his tone firm, but there was an understanding there that made your throat tighten. “You’ve earned every bit of your place here. And if she can't see that, then she's the one who’s in the wrong. It’s not about who you know or who you're sleeping with. You’re here because of you. Don’t you ever forget that.”

You felt the tears welling up, but you forced them back, swallowing the lump in your throat. Clint’s words had landed hard, and it was like a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding was finally being released. But before you could say anything, Clint stepped closer, lowering his voice even more.

“Natasha…” Clint trailed off, his jaw tightening. “She’s been a mess lately. She’s scared—scared of losing you, scared of messing things up. But she doesn’t know how to apologize for anything. She’s been pushing you away because she’s too afraid to admit what she’s done. So yeah, she's been selfish. But you can’t just run away from everything. You deserve better than that."

Your heart twisted at his words, and for a moment, you felt that familiar pang of wanting to believe everything he said. But the hurt was still there, the feeling of being abandoned in your most vulnerable moment. You didn’t trust yourself enough to believe that you were the one who mattered.

Clint left you with a small pat on your shoulder - he couldn’t blame you for wanting to leave, he just wanted you to know the truth that Nat definitely wasn’t going to tell you. Now to chew her out. It didn’t take long for Clint to find her. Natasha was pacing the hall just outside, her face etched with frustration. The second Clint approached her, she shot him a glare.

“Where the hell is she?” Natasha demanded, her voice tight with anxiety. “You didn’t—”

Clint held up a hand to stop her. “Sit down,” he ordered. “And listen. I’m done with you thinking you can just brush this off like it’s nothing.”

Natasha’s jaw clenched, but she stood still. Clint’s eyes were hard, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t holding back.

“You’ve been treating her like shit, Natasha,” Clint continued, his voice rising just enough to get her attention. “You think she’s the problem? That she’s just acting ‘immature’ or ‘childish’? Look around you for two seconds. You’ve been pushing her away, making her feel like she’s not good enough, like she doesn’t deserve anything she’s worked for. You’ve been feeding her insecurities—her real ones—with your own mess. And, she’s traumatised. Those guys out there, the ones that tortured her for six days because she went in without an extraction plan”

Natasha opened her mouth to argue, but Clint cut her off with a sharp motion.

“I hear things,” Clint said. “I’m up in the rafters sometimes. I hear the crap that other people say about her when they think no one’s listening. They question her place on the team because her dad was an officer in Fury’s good graces, or because they think you play favourites with her. They don’t realise that you’ve got something else going on, but all that shit compounded. You’ve made one of our best agents question everything about herself.”

Natasha’s face went pale, her expression shifting from anger to guilt in an instant. “Clint, I—”

“You’re lucky she didn’t quit sooner, Natasha. You’ve been so wrapped up in your own bullshit that you didn’t see how bad she was hurting.” Clint’s words hit like a slap. “Now go find her. And you better make this right, because if you don’t Fury is gonna be pissed.” The ‘and I’ went unspoken.

We're not the only ones, I don't regret a thing

Every word I've said, you know I'll always mean

Natasha stopped at the entrance of Tony’s stupid ‘serenity garden’. It was the last place she had left to look, and it looked like luck was on her side. You were sitting on one of the benches in the corner, your back to her as you stared into the depths of the Koi pond. It was like you were a part of the landscape now, blending into the tranquility of the place. Natasha felt her throat tighten at the sight. You looked so small, so vulnerable, so distant. She had never seen you like this—not once. It was always her who had the walls up, not you.

She took a cautious step forward, the grass underfoot crunching softly as she neared you.

Natasha called your name softly, her voice hesitant, like she was testing the waters. You didn’t respond immediately, and for a brief second, Natasha was unsure if you had even heard her. The silence between you felt thick, almost unbearable. She sat down beside you, not too close, but close enough that she hoped you could feel her presence.

It wasn’t the same as before—when she had always known what to say to you, when her words had always been sure, always laced with a confidence that kept her safe. But now? Now she had no idea how to begin. Her usual sharp tongue had failed her. There were no easy words to break the ice this time, no snarky jokes to hide behind. Only you—and the wreckage she had left in her wake.

You turned your head just slightly, enough to see her. The surprise in your eyes caught her off guard. You’re surprised to see me here, Natasha realized. You didn’t expect her to come. You didn’t expect her to care enough to seek you out.

And for the first time ever, Natasha didn’t know what to say.

Her mind was racing, every thought colliding into the next. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. She glanced at you, her expression filled with uncertainty. She could feel the weight of everything she had said, everything she had done, everything she had failed to do. The words that had always come so easily to her were nowhere to be found now. It was as if the depth of your hurt had trapped her, left her speechless, helpless.

You, on the other hand, hadn’t moved, hadn’t turned to face her entirely, but your gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than usual. You could sense her struggle—Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, speechless for the first time in your memory.

“Nat?” you finally said, the question carrying more weight than it should. You almost didn’t recognize your own voice, hoarse and small, like the person you had been before all of this had come crashing down.

She looked at you, the smallest glimmer of relief flickering in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced with the same guilt she had been carrying for days now.

“I…” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “I don’t know what to say.”

You blinked at her, surprised. This was the first time you’d ever seen Natasha lost for words. You’d always been the one fumbling for the right thing to say, the one who couldn’t figure out how to get past the pain. But she—Natasha Romanoff, the one who always had control, always knew how to navigate even the most dangerous situations—she was the one who was struggling now.

It was like the world had shifted, and the unshakable woman you had always known had suddenly become... human.

It is the world to me that you are in my life

But I want to live and not just survive

Her voice was soft, as if the weight of everything she had been holding was finally catching up with her. “I messed up,” she said quietly. “I messed up, baby. And I... I don’t know how to make it right.”

Your chest ached as her words hit you. The vulnerability in her eyes was raw, and it took everything in you to keep the tears from falling.

“I’ve been a mess,” Natasha continued, her eyes looking straight ahead, not daring to meet yours. “I didn’t realize how badly I was hurting you... And I was so wrapped up in my own shit that I just—I pushed you away. I thought you’d be fine. I thought you’d understand. But I see now that I made everything worse.”

You swallowed, the words feeling like they weighed a ton in your chest. You couldn’t speak, not yet. But you turned your head slightly to face her, your gaze still unreadable.

“I never wanted to make you feel like you don’t belong here,” Natasha said, her voice breaking slightly. “I never wanted you to think that you were here because of me, or that you weren’t good enough.” Her lips tightened, frustration and regret flooding her features. “I just—I didn’t know how to deal with my own feelings. And I made you think I didn’t care. But I do. I care. I care about you more than you could ever know.”

The silence stretched out between you both, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Natasha felt small. Her pride, her strength—all the things that had always defined her—were gone, stripped away by the vulnerability of this moment.

You glanced at her, studying her face. It was like you were seeing her for the first time—broken, fragile, and unsure.

And for the first time, you allowed yourself to feel the smallest sliver of hope.

“I don’t know if you can fix this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “But I need you to know something, Natasha. I needed you. And you—you—were the one who turned away.”

Her chest tightened at the weight of your words, but she didn’t flinch. She nodded slowly, accepting the truth, knowing it wasn’t something that could be undone in a moment. The air between you and Natasha felt heavy with words you couldn’t articulate. You had remained silent for so long, allowing her apology to linger in the air like a fragile thing—something too delicate to touch, to hold onto. But now, with the weight of her words pressing down on you, you couldn’t remain silent any longer.

“I’m leaving,” you said, the words steady, though they felt like they weighed a thousand pounds in your chest. You weren’t sure why you were telling her this now, but you had to. You had to make it real, to take control of something in your life again.

“I’m transferring,” you added, your voice quiet but firm. “I’m going to Quantico. I’ll be working with the FBI as a consultant. It’s not what I thought I’d be doing, but... I don’t deserve to be here anymore. I got the hint.”

The words felt like a confession, a goodbye you hadn’t yet found the courage to say. There had been so many dreams—so many things you’d imagined for yourself at SHIELD. You had fought for them, worked tirelessly, sacrificed for them. But now, they felt like they were slipping away.

Natasha didn’t say anything at first. She didn’t even look at you. Her eyes were fixed on the ground, like she was trying to find the words. You knew what she’d say. She’d tell you that you were making a mistake, that you had so much potential. But it wouldn’t matter. Nothing would fix what had been broken.

You could feel the emotions swirling inside of you, but you had already made your decision. It was easier to walk away, easier than confronting everything that had gone wrong.

But then, she spoke. And it was different from anything you’d expected.

“You’re the best SHIELD has to offer,” Natasha said, her voice steady, though there was an underlying urgency in it. “You’re the best agent we’ve got, baby. I... I don’t think you see it. You’ve done things that people can’t even dream of. You’ve proven yourself time and time again. You’ve earned your place here. And I know I haven’t made it easy for you, but you belong here.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, you couldn’t quite comprehend what she was saying. Her voice was fierce now, insistent, and you could hear the raw sincerity in it. But none of it felt real. None of it felt true, not in the way you needed it to.

“I don’t believe you,” you said, your voice quiet, almost lost in the distance between you. “I don’t think I’ve ever truly belonged here. Not in the way you think. I’m not you, Nat. I’m not cut from the same cloth. I’m just—me. And I’ve been holding on to a dream that doesn’t fit. Not anymore.”

Natasha’s expression faltered. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words died on her tongue. She could feel your resolve, could see how broken you were, how done you seemed. It was like you had already left—mentally, emotionally, even before physically walking away.

Her chest tightened. “Baby, listen—"

But you shook your head, cutting her off. “Whatever you’re going to say, Nat, I’ve heard it all.” You inhaled sharply, the words rushing out. “And I’ve finally started hearing what’s been said. And now I’m seeing what’s been true all along. I’m not enough, no matter how hard I try. No matter how much I give. And you... you’ve made it clear that I’ll never be anything but a second choice. I was just a comfort to you, a distraction. You made me feel like I needed to prove myself—like I needed to earn my place, but I did. I did, and it never mattered.”

There was a pause. Natasha’s lips trembled, the harshness of your words sinking in. She knew she had been wrong, knew she had made everything worse. But hearing you speak this way—so broken, so defeated—it shattered something deep inside her.

"Please..." Natasha's voice faltered, her tough exterior cracking. She reached out toward you, but the gesture was hesitant, unsure. “I never meant for it to be like this. I never wanted to make you feel—”

You pulled away, standing up slowly, the decision final in your mind. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve made my choice. I’m leaving. And I don’t think you’ll miss me that much anyway. It’s easier to pretend like you don’t need anyone than to admit you might be wrong about something.”

That's why I can't love you in the dark

It feels like we're oceans apart

Before you could take another step, you felt a hand grip yours. Warm, strong, and unyielding. Natasha had caught up with you, her fingers laced around yours, holding you in place. You didn’t turn around. You weren’t sure you wanted to face her again, not after everything that had been said, not after the rawness that she had exposed.

Natasha’s voice was softer now as she called your name, more vulnerable than you’d ever heard it. “Please, just—don’t walk away yet.”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your racing pulse, but it was hard when every part of you wanted to run. You didn’t stop, but neither did she.

Her grip tightened, pulling you back just a little, her touch sending a mix of warmth and tension straight through you. When she spoke again, her voice wasn’t the confident agent you were used to, the one who had always kept her emotions under lock and key. There was something different now, something uncertain, almost as if she wasn’t sure of her place in your world anymore.

“I’ve messed up,” Natasha continued, her voice shaking with emotion. “I know I pushed you too hard. I know I made you feel like you weren’t enough, like you didn’t belong here, and... I did that because I wanted you to be the best. I wanted you to be safe. I was afraid that if anything happened to you—if I lost you on a mission, I—I don’t think I could survive it.”

You could feel her breath, the rise and fall of her chest close behind you, but you didn’t turn around. Not yet. Her words hit you like a wave crashing into the shore, raw and jagged, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to process them.

“I pushed you because I was scared. And in trying to protect you... I ended up pushing you away,” she whispered, the confession hanging in the air, the depth of it too much to ignore. “I was wrong. I’m sorry. I was so so wrong.”

The air between you both was thick with everything she had just said, and you stood there for a long moment, processing it all. But it wasn’t enough, not yet. You couldn’t bring yourself to face her—not yet.

“I don’t know how to forgive you for this, Natasha,” you said, your voice a mixture of anger and hurt. It wasn’t snark this time, no biting sarcasm, just raw emotion. "The only time something terrible happened to me, something that almost killed me, was when you abandoned me. You made the call. You didn’t show up. I was out there, all alone, and you weren’t there when I needed you most.”

Your chest tightened as you spoke, the hurt pouring out like it always had, but now it was different. Now, it wasn’t just anger. It was a deep, aching sadness that threatened to drown you. And despite yourself, you couldn’t stop the words from coming. “You made me feel like I wasn’t worth it. Like I wasn’t worth anything.”

You could feel Natasha’s breath hitch behind you, the weight of your words striking her deep. She didn’t say anything at first, and when you finally turned around, you saw the truth in her eyes—guilt, sorrow, and a pain you hadn’t expected. The sight of it, the way her face crumpled in on itself, broke something inside you.

Her hand fell away from yours, but it wasn’t because she wanted to let go. It was because she was shaking, trembling with emotion that she could no longer hold in. And then you saw it—tears. Two, maybe three, glistening on her cheeks. Natasha Romanoff, the unshakable Black Widow, was crying.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she whispered, her voice quivering. “I didn’t. I’m so sorry. I never wanted to make you feel abandoned. I... I couldn’t bear the thought of you in danger. But... I hurt you worse by pushing you away.”

For the first time in all the years you’d known her, you saw Natasha unraveling in front of you, breaking apart piece by piece. It felt almost cruel, to see her like this after everything you’d been through. But as much as your heart ached for her, you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive her. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“You can’t just apologize and expect everything to be okay, Nat,” you said, the words coming out sharper than you intended. “You hurt me. You made me feel worthless, like I wasn’t enough. And when it mattered the most... when I was out there fighting to survive, you turned your back on me.”

Natasha flinched at the force of your words. They were like a punch to the gut, and you saw how much it hurt her to hear them. But the truth was, you couldn’t keep pretending that everything would just magically be okay.

“I know,” Natasha said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know. And I can’t take that back. I can’t make up for it. But... I just need you to know, I care. I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know you care,” you said softly, but your voice still carried that edge of distance. “But that’s not enough anymore. I don’t know how to keep going back to the way things were. I can’t keep coming back to you only to be left in the dark again.”

There was a long silence, the kind that seemed to stretch on forever, and Natasha stood there, her shoulders slumped, her eyes filled with unshed tears. She was broken, but that didn’t change the fact that what she’d done had hurt you in ways you weren’t sure could ever heal.

“You’re right,” she said finally, voice cracked. “You deserve more than this. You deserve better. Someone who won’t make you feel like you have to earn their care, someone who won’t turn their back when things get hard.”

You stood there, feeling the weight of the finality in her words, and for a long time, you didn’t know what to say. You looked at her—the broken woman in front of you—and you realized that, despite everything, despite all the hurt, you didn’t want to stay. You needed to walk away. For yourself.

“I need to walk away, Natasha,” you said quietly, your voice steady but firm. “I don’t know what we were, what we are anymore. But I can’t do this anymore.”

You turned towards the exit, your steps unfaltering as you walked away. Natasha half expected - hoped - you’d turn around and run to her. But you didn’t. You walked away, slowly, your footsteps fading into the distance, away from SHIELD and away from her.

There is so much space between us

Baby, we're already defeated

A year later…

It was a quiet evening when you walked into the bar after a long day, your mind still buzzing with the details of your latest case. Quantico was different to SHIELD in almost every way. The people were different, the procedures were different, but you found that - after getting into the swing of things - it wasn’t worse. Just different. 

The dim lighting of the bar, the hum of conversation, the clink of glasses—it was a familiar comfort now, one that made you feel grounded after the chaos of your job. You ordered a drink and leaned against the bar, letting your shoulders drop, the weight of the day lifting slowly.

That was when you saw her.

Natasha Romanoff, standing across the room, her back slightly to you as she talked to a stranger at the bar. But even from behind, something about her caught your attention. She looked different. Older, somehow. More... mature. The woman you had known was always poised, confident, and untouchable—but there was something in the way she held herself now that made her feel more human. Vulnerable, even.

Her hair was different too—shorter, sleek, straight, a stark contrast to the wavy red that had once framed her face. She had always been beautiful, but now she seemed to radiate something else—something quieter, more grounded.

You stared for a moment, unsure if you were seeing things right, but as she turned to glance around the bar, her eyes met yours. Recognition hit her almost immediately, and she froze for a second, her expression flickering with surprise. Then, just as quickly, it softened.

Her voice was a little hoarse as she whispered your name, almost like she hadn’t expected to see you here, or maybe she hadn’t heard your name in so long that saying it felt foreign.

You didn’t say anything at first. You just watched her—really looked at her—before taking a slow step forward. “Natasha.” Your voice was calm, composed. Different from the way you used to say her name with that sense of longing, of wanting something that wasn’t ever going to be.

She gave a small, tentative smile, the kind that spoke volumes about how much time had passed, about how many things had been left unsaid between you. "You look... good," she said, her eyes flickering over you.

It was an understatement. You felt good. You felt like you were finally living a life that wasn’t defined by the weight of the past, by the mistakes you’d made and the ones others had made for you.

“I could say the same about you,” you replied, with a small smile of your own. “You look different. I like it.”

“Yeah.” She ran a hand through her new, shorter hair, a nervous habit, before looking back at you. “A lot’s changed.”

“Clearly,” you said, glancing around. You couldn’t help but take in the way she stood—so different from the woman who had always been so self-assured, so used to being in control of every situation. But in a way, it made her more real, more approachable.

The two of you stood there for a moment, the air between you awkward but not uncomfortable, as if neither of you knew where to start. It was Natasha who broke the silence first.

“So, how’ve you been?” she asked, her voice softer than you remembered it. “Really?”

You raised an eyebrow at her, unsure if she even knew what really meant anymore, after everything. But it was a simple enough question. And you’d spent the last year being honest with yourself, so why not? “I’m doing alright. Different. Moving on. Got a new job at Quantico. Therapy’s been helping. I’m in a better place now.”

Natasha nodded, though you saw the flicker of something behind her eyes—a mix of regret, of longing, maybe. “I’m glad to hear that. I’ve... I’ve been trying to do the same. It’s been a long year. Things haven’t been easy, but I think I’m getting there.”

You studied her for a moment, your expression unreadable. The quiet honesty in her voice made you want to believe that she was trying. You could see it now. She had changed too.

“You’re still working for SHIELD?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation casual, as if the past didn’t hang over both of you like a thick, invisible cloud.

She nodded, but there was a hesitation in her movements. “Sort of. I’ve been taking a step back, working in a different capacity now. More... behind the scenes. I guess I’m trying to figure out who I am, outside of all the missions, the work.”

It hit you—she was no longer the same person either. The intensity in her eyes had softened, and there was a certain sadness to her that you hadn’t seen before. She seemed tired in a way that wasn’t physical—tired of running, of hiding behind the façade she had built. You hadn’t seen this version of her before, and in some ways, you almost didn’t know how to react.

“So... what now?” you asked, the question feeling lighter than it should. “Now that we’re both here, like this.”

Natasha’s eyes met yours, and there was a long pause, the weight of everything that had passed between you hanging heavily in the air. And then, almost as if on instinct, you spoke.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” You offered the invitation like it was just a reflex—like things could go back to the way they were, the comfort of those old habits, the way things had felt when it was just the two of you, before everything had gone sideways.

She looked at you for a long moment, and you saw the conflict in her eyes. She was torn, and you could see in her eyes, that something was playing on her mind.

“No.” 

Everything changed me

And I don't think you can save me

The words hit you like a jolt, a shock of electricity shooting through your chest. Natasha’s eyes were steady on yours now, no longer hesitant, no longer uncertain. There was a firmness in her voice that you hadn’t heard in a long time—a quiet confidence that seemed to say she’d finally found something worth fighting for. And for the first time in a long time, you saw Natasha Romanoff not as the untouchable spy, not as the woman who had left you behind, but as someone real, someone who had learned from her mistakes.

“I’m not going to make the same mistake twice,” she said, her voice low but with an undeniable certainty. “If you want me, I’m going to do it properly this time. No more running, no more half-heartedness. I’ve hurt you, and I won’t do it again. But this time, it’s going to be on our terms. If that’s okay with you.”

You stared at her for a long moment, taking in the gravity of what she was saying, the weight of the promise she was offering. For so long, you’d wondered if this day would ever come. The idea of this—of her asking—had seemed impossible, a distant dream you never thought you’d reach.

And yet, here she was, standing before you, offering a chance to try again. A real chance.

“Dinner tomorrow?” she asked, her lips curving into a small, tentative smile. “If you're free?”

You didn’t have to think long. The question felt so simple, so natural, in a way that almost made you want to laugh at how easy it seemed compared to everything that had come before.

"Yeah," you said, the answer escaping your lips before your mind had fully processed it. "I’m free."

Natasha’s smile deepened, the corners of her eyes softening as she took in your response. It was a quiet victory for her—one that meant more than words could convey. She wasn’t expecting you to forgive her immediately, or to trust her completely. But she was willing to try, and that was more than she had ever given before.

“I’ll pick you up,” she said softly, her voice almost shy now. “I’ll make sure it’s a good night.”

You nodded, still processing the fact that she was here, still standing in front of you, willing to do what she hadn’t done before. And for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was something worth saving between the two of you.

“Sounds good,” you replied, a quiet confidence settling in your own chest. “Tomorrow then.”

With that, Natasha gave you one last look, a small, genuine smile gracing her face, before she turned and walked out of the bar. You stood there for a moment longer, feeling the weight of everything that had happened between you two, and then, for the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to feel something else—hope.

Tomorrow. You were willing to see where it could go. And maybe, just maybe, Natasha Romanoff was going to do it right this time.

You saved me.

The evening had been everything and nothing like you expected.

Dinner was at a beautiful, upscale restaurant with soft candlelight flickering across polished wood tables, glasses of wine that felt far too expensive, and Natasha—sitting across from you, more present than she had ever been. She wasn’t the untouchable agent, the mysterious woman who kept her emotions locked away. She was Natasha, just Natasha, in the soft glow of the candlelight, her laughter filling the space between the two of you, the lightness in her eyes almost enough to make you forget the weight of the years spent apart.

The night had been filled with easy conversation, the kind that flowed without effort, as though the years of silence hadn’t really existed. But it had. They had.

And yet, here you were, sitting across from her in a place that made your own paycheck look laughable, eating food that was far too rich for your taste, and all you could think about was how right this felt. You hadn’t expected it to be this natural, this easy to fall back into old rhythms, the way she looked at you like you were the only person in the room. And by the time you were back at your apartment, after a night of shared glances and a warmth between you that neither of you had ever truly experienced before, you couldn’t deny it anymore.

You wanted her. You needed her. And maybe, just maybe, you were ready to give her another chance, to let her love you, to let yourself love her again.

The moment your door clicked shut behind you both, Natasha pulled you into her, her lips capturing yours with an urgency that felt foreign, yet so familiar. There was no hesitation this time, no walls between you. Her hands roamed to your sides, pulling you closer, as though she couldn’t get enough. You met her halfway, losing yourself in the kiss, in the warmth of her touch, the way she made you feel like everything would be okay.

It wasn’t just the kiss though. It was what she said in between—her voice breaking the quiet with a rawness you hadn’t expected.

“I love you,” Natasha whispered against your lips, her hands tender as they traced over the curve of your jaw, as though she was afraid to let go. “I love you. And I never want to keep you hidden again. I’m done pretending I don’t need you. You’re everything.”

Her words hit you like a wave. They didn’t come with the weight of shame or regret this time. They were just the truth—simple, honest, and real. She loved you. After everything, after all the mistakes, she still loved you.

You breathed out a soft laugh, a tear slipping down your cheek at the raw vulnerability in her voice. She reached up, brushing it away with her thumb, as if she could erase the past for you, make everything better with that one gentle gesture.

“I’ve missed you,” you said quietly, your voice catching in your throat. “I’ve missed this.”

Natasha smiled, a single finger running down your cheek. "I don't want to hide you anymore. Let me love you in the light."

You’d made the choice not to apply for dorms. Instead, you’d made plans with your two best friends from freshman year. The three of you had been inseparable for two semesters, and it made perfect sense to rent an off campus house together.

As the summer went on, it started to feel like you were the only one in the group still excited for the experience of living together. You found yourself sending links for potential houses into the group chat, only to be left on read.

You should have seen it coming. You started to stress as the start of the semester loomed closer. Your anxious messages were still being left on read by both friends. Worry started to flood you on a daily basis, houses were being rented at a rapid pace and any good options were running out.

There were barely two weeks left until the start of the semester, when you finally received a message. Both of your friends were going to move in with their boyfriends instead. They’d met the boys in the last few weeks of your freshman year, and somehow the relationships had lasted through the summer. The four of them could split the rent of a two bed house close to campus. 

They were overly apologetic, promising that you could visit whenever you wanted.

Anxiety spiked immediately and you found yourself crying in your car as you read over the message. You were already late for the last shift of your summer job. You felt profoundly stupid like you should have seen it coming. You also felt lonely, you were only really close to those two girls.

You realised how different the next year was going to be. You tried to think clearly as you calculated how much money you’d managed to save across the summer. You’d only budgeted for one third of a house’s rent. There was no way you could afford a place on your own. 

You spent your lunch break scrolling through Craigslist ads. Your friends messaged you again and their apologies were more heartfelt. You knew they were feeling bad about your lack of response. You didn’t have time to care. 

You tried to filter through the housemate requests. You decided quickly that you didn’t want to share with couples, still feeling bitter about your friends’ decision. Boldly, you decided against sharing with multiple other people in general. You were feeling sick already of being the third in a friendship. You didn’t think you could stomach living with two best friends and feeling even more alone.

There was only one advert that met all your criteria. It was a little far from campus, but the rent was more than reasonable. The offered room was small, but there were trees outside the window and you decided it looked peaceful.

The listing itself was short and to the point. Female sophomore looking for a friendly housemate to help out with the rent.

You sent them an email. You kept it formal, not quite sure how to phrase yourself. By the time you’d finished your final day of work for the summer, you had a reply.

They replied with two words, an address and a name.

Visit Saturday?

Natasha.

You tried not to feel nervous about the girl’s blunt response. You replied and agreed to meet her, heart beating loudly as you typed. You spent the next two nights stressed about the potential serial killer you were likely going to meet on Saturday morning.

You considered asking one of your friends if they would come with you to the meeting. Then, you saw their joint posts on social media about their beautiful newly-rented house and decided you’d rather be murdered.

You pulled up outside the house early on Saturday. Something in your heart settled as you examined the outside from the driver's seat. It was smaller than the house that your friends were renting, but it also looked prettier. There were red leaves falling from the tree in the front yard. The roof looked new, but it matched the older style of the house.

The front door was painted a dark blue and the paint looked fresh. It didn’t look like a student house, it looked like someone’s home. You wanted to live here. Absent-mindedly, you wondered at how authoritative your potential housemate might be to keep a house looking so neat. 

You imagined being pulled into a rigorous cleaning rota and decided it might still be worth it. There was a cute bench swing on the porch. 

You walked up the path to the front door and knocked hesitantly. It opened only a few seconds later.

The redhead stood there with awkward expectancy and you knew that she’d seen your arrival in the car and had been waiting for you to knock.

Two things struck you immediately.

Firstly, this sophomore was in her thirties. Secondly, this sophomore was an Avenger.

Natasha Romanoff shifted slightly from foot to foot as you stared a little too intensely back at her.

‘Hi.’ She addressed you and her hand moved up to give you an uncertain wave.

‘Hi.’ You replied in a nervous exhale.

‘I’m Natasha.’ The woman introduced herself. You bit your lip to stop yourself from explaining that you recognised her. It felt strange to acknowledge it. This woman couldn’t have looked less like a professional superhero.

Her hair was loose and hung down past her shoulders. It was braided at the top and the style framed her face with a particular kind of softness. Her grey hoodie was oversized and her black leggings made her look unassumingly normal.

Your eyes glanced down at her fluffy socks disbelievingly. You tried not to be too obvious.

‘I’m (Y/N), I’m here to see the room.’ You informed her unnecessarily and your hand moved automatically for a handshake. Natasha shook it readily, an amused smirk flickered over her face.

‘Would you like a tour?’ She asked you warmly and you nodded, feeling shy.

You started to take your shoes off at the door and Natasha glanced at you in surprise. 

‘There’s not a rule or anything.’ She assured you.

You shrugged.

‘This place is so nice.’ You answered simply, looking over her shoulder at the clean hardwood floors. Natasha’s smile was small, but it seemed proud.

‘I always travelled around a lot.’ She told you suddenly. ‘I bought this place last year, and I ended up staying through the summer. It's the first place that’s really felt like home.’

You smiled back automatically at her words.

‘So, you’re the landlord?’ You confirmed teasingly, following her through to the kitchen/dining area. The lighting was soft and golden and it made the room feel warmer. 

Natasha rubbed the back of her neck unsurely.

‘I don’t really need a housemate.’ She admitted as you wandered over to the oak dining table accompanied with two matching benches that stood in the centre of the room.

‘It’s just a quiet house.’ Natasha added softly. You looked up from the table and met her gaze. Natasha’s eyes flitted away from you with embarrassment and she gave a small shrug. You wondered how lonely an Avenger could get. Abruptly, you realised it was likely lonelier than most.

‘Are you a sophomore?’ You asked her suddenly, wanting to confirm what you’d read in her advert. Natasha moved through to the living room area, opening a door for you to walk through. 

She nodded briefly. Your eyes caught immediately on the  rows of bookshelves that lined the far wall. There was a laptop sitting open on one armrest of the sofa and a grey blanket folded on the other. 

This didn’t look like a typical student house. You didn’t care, this was so much better.

‘I realised that I’ve only ever learned things for my job.’ Natasha explained from the doorway. ‘But I’ve never learned about anything just because I wanted to. I know I’m a bit older.’ Natasha paused again and she smiled carefully at you.

‘It’s okay if that bothers you.’ She added. ‘I won’t be offended.’ 

You caught the briefest shadow of loneliness cross her face. You felt sympathetic, Natasha seemed lovely and already you wanted to know her more. Still, you weren’t surprised that it had been hard to make friends on campus.

You grinned back at Natasha, trying to make her brighter with your own smile.

‘Doesn’t bother me at all.’ You assured her. You’d had an action figure of Natasha as a kid. It was too embarrassing to mention.

Natasha started asking you some questions then. You found yourself explaining the highlights of your own first year. She asked you follow ups and soon you were telling her about the shock of your friends ditching you unexpectedly. 

Natasha’s focus was flattering as she listened carefully. You tried to hide another wave of shyness as you realised that you’d been explaining your problems to an Avenger. You realised how different your problems probably were.

Natasha showed you the bathroom and gave you a brief look into her spacious and tidy bedroom. Then, she opened the door across from it, revealing your own.

You were right that it was a little small, but it was clear that Natasha had recently renovated it. The paint seemed fresh and the IKEA desk facing the window still had a protective plastic cover wrapped around it.

‘Perfect.’ You said aloud, because it was. Natasha beamed now, leaning against the doorframe, her hands rested easily in the pockets of her hoodie.

As you descended the stairs, Natasha told you about her degree choice. She’d picked an English major and her cheeks flushed slightly when she told you that she’d started the year’s reading list early.

You started asking her about the ones that she’d read so far.

Natasha’s conversation felt hesitant to begin with, but you could sense her desire to talk. You wondered how long the summer alone here without classes must have felt. Natasha’s explanations were detailed in a way that told you she paid attention in class far more than you did. You fought a grin as you realised Natasha Romanoff might be a huge nerd.

When you arrived back at the front door, there was an abrupt pause as Natasha cut herself off. You lingered in the hallway awkwardly for a second before you realised that she was awaiting your verdict on the house.

‘I’d love to live here.’ You told Natasha upfront, feeling suddenly much younger as you stood in front of her.

It felt bizarre when some tension seemed to lift from Natasha’s shoulders at your words. It was inconceivable to have her seek your approval. Natasha Romanoff had stopped aliens from invading New York.

Natasha’s answering smile seemed more relieved than anything else.

‘When do you want to move in?’ She asked easily.

.

The next time you pulled up at the house, car filled with cardboard boxes and assorted items, the weather was perfect. 

Natasha opened the front door while you were walking up the porch steps.

‘Let me help?’ She offered immediately and her eyes shone with something that made you feel like friends already.

You spent the next hour together, bringing heavy boxes up the staircase. Even Natasha had started to sweat with exertion. She seemed excited though, and you shared slightly giddy smiles when you passed each other in the hallway.

When the last box was in your room, Natasha hovered awkwardly by the foot of your bed. Before she could turn to leave, you gave her a reassuring smile.

‘You wanna sit?’ You offered casually, though your heart was pounding in your chest. You’d been crushing on Natasha Romanoff, the superhero, for years. Meeting her in real life had only made that feeling stronger, but you tried to push through it. More than anything, you wanted to be friends with your housemate. ‘You can give me decorating advice?’

Natasha’s eyes widened slightly in surprise at your suggestion and she moved obediently to sit on the end of your mattress. Her hands rested in her lap and she looked around your room unsurely. You could tell she was trying to think of something to say.

You started up a conversation about her upcoming classes. Natasha told you about a professor she’d been hoping to avoid but had ended up having for the second semester in a row. Any hesitancy left her voice as she found her rhythm. One story led to another and Natasha stood up to help you move clothes into your wardrobe as she told you all about an assignment she’d handed in to that professor before.

You tried not to smile at the realisation that the Black Widow was talking to you like you were friends. It was endearing to hear anyone talk so interestedly about a subject. 

There was something fresh in the way she told her stories and answered your questions. You could tell Natasha had formed opinions about her classes that she’d never shared with anyone before. It made you feel special.

After you’d moved most of your things into the right places, you decided to take a shower. The bathroom was shared and it gave you the opportunity to unpack your items for showering. 

You wandered downstairs an hour later, hair still wet. Natasha was sitting on one end of the sofa, legs curled under her as she stared at her laptop screen. When Natasha saw you, she straightened up. You waited for her to speak. Irrationally, you worried that she was going to tell you a list of house rules that included not showering in the afternoon.

‘I’m making lasagna’.’ Natasha told you suddenly. You nodded, realising now why your mouth was watering. ‘There’ll be extra?’

You felt like you were in a different reality, sitting at the dining table as Natasha presented you with a plate of food. You asked if you could play some music, trying to diffuse the tension. The first song that played was embarrassing and much louder than you’d planned. You hurried to skip it on your phone. Natasha huffed out a soft laugh. You glanced up from your phone and saw the amusement in her eyes. Somehow, you found yourself laughing too.

Soon, you fell into light conversation. Natasha wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met before. You knew already that you were in love with her voice. You tried to focus on the lasagna. You were so glad that you’d answered that Craigslist ad, but you could already feel the sting in your heart. Unreciprocated crushes always ended badly.

You insisted on cleaning up the kitchen but Natasha hovered close. She was curious about the music you were playing and started asking you questions about your other interests.  

The soft lighting made her eyes sparkle and you tried to focus on loading the dishwasher.

Natasha’s hand brushed your back as she moved past to start the coffee machine. You startled at her touch, feeling warmth rush to your cheeks. 

.

There were three more days until classes began. You’d been worried that Natasha might get sick of you just in those first few days. Instead, the pair of you gravitated towards each other with an unexpected familiarity.

The first morning, Natasha offered to walk with you to the nearest convenience store, so you would know the route. You felt shy at her thoughtfulness. The morning had been perfect, wrapped in scarves, shoulders brushing as the cool wind blew the falling leaves in spirals around you.

You bought the ingredients there to bake cookies, feeling weirdly festive as you embraced the last few days of vacation.

Natasha looked flattered when you offered her one of the cookies. She smiled carefully and told you how much she liked cinnamon. You were pretty sure that you’d fallen in love with her.

The next few days kept their festive theme. You felt like you were sharing a holiday with someone you already knew. Every once in a while, Natasha would take a phone call and leave the room.

She’d glance back at you as if conscious about how strange her behaviour must be. You barely reacted. It was easy to forget that Natasha was an Avenger on hiatus, but it didn’t bother you at all. You did wish that you’d acknowledged it from the start. It felt too late to explain that you knew her other identity, but it was painfully awkward when Natasha was elusive about details from her past.

.

Your first class was not as bad as you’d been expecting. You’d resigned yourself to trying to find a new place to sit in the lecture theatre. You softened slightly when you entered the room and saw your two friends waving eagerly from the back row. The situation stung less now that you’d ended up sharing a house with Natasha.

You sat next to them and soon you were talking in hushed voices about your summer vacations. Your friends gushed about their boyfriends and you tried to look mildly interested. It was clear also that they’d spent a lot of time together during the summer break without inviting you.

When they asked about your new living situation, their voices turned sombre, as if they were giving you condolences. They were surprised to hear about a sophomore that they hadn’t met before at any party. When you explained that Natasha was older, their looks became even more sympathetic.

You stopped talking, allowing them to move onto other topics. You felt annoyed that they’d made a snap judgement about Natasha. You tried to focus on the professor, speaking at the front of the class. Your friends were talking about a party they were throwing that night. They invited you enthusiastically and you couldn’t help but wonder if they’d only done so because you were sitting with them.

You agreed quietly, deciding that if nothing else, at least there would be other classmates there too. You had a feeling that you needed to expand your college social circle.

It was lunch right after the class and one friend invited you to sit with them and their boyfriends. The other, shot her a resentful look when she made the suggestion and suddenly you saw just how false they both were. You declined politely, realising with certainty that these people were not your friends. 

There were several places to eat on a street just off campus, and you wandered there without much of a plan. 

Natasha was sitting in the back corner of one café, your eyes caught on her red hair, tied back in a loose ponytail. She was wearing an oversized sweater and her focus was entirely on the book in front of her. You tried to catch her eye but she didn’t look up.

Without thinking, you entered the café. It was slightly more expensive than the chain coffee shop next door and so there were hardly any customers sitting inside. Natasha glanced up at the sound of the door opening and her eyes widened at the sight of you. You waved awkwardly, heading over to the counter to place an order. 

Natasha gave you a surprised smile and you prayed that you weren’t being weird and overstepping by coming in here. The waitress told you to sit down and she’d bring your order over to you. You moved awkwardly over to Natasha’s table, feeling like a school kid as you tried to fight the nervous lump in your throat. You just had to ask to sit with her. 

Natasha glanced up from her book again and looked at you quizzically. She smiled politely, evidently a little confused. You wanted to sink into the floor. You glanced down at the chair sitting opposite her and something clicked in her head. Natasha scrambled to move her items over to her side of the table. 

You sat down, wishing that every social interaction you started wasn’t always this mortifying. Then, Natasha gave you a shy smile.

‘I didn’t think you wanted to sit here.’ She told you embarrassedly. ‘I thought maybe you were leaving to meet friends.’

You rolled your eyes automatically at the word friends and Natasha laughed easily, shutting her book and instead picking up the sandwich that had been lying forgotten on the table. You explained briefly about your interaction with your friends. Before you’d finished, your own sandwich had arrived. You felt almost dizzy with your change of mood. Suddenly, you felt lighter than air.

Between bites, Natasha told you too about her first class. Her memory seemed eidetic as she recalled the contents of the lecture. You marvelled silently at how skilled she must be as a secret agent.

You mumbled about how impressive her memory was, and Natasha tucked her hair back with a hint of self consciousness. You gave her a reassuring smile.

‘I’m really glad I answered that ad.’ You told her randomly and Natasha’s features relaxed as she nodded in silent agreement. 

You both had an hour to kill before your next class. Slowly, Natasha returned to her book, jotting down careful notes as she went.

You listened to music as you tried to neaten up the notes you’d made in your last class. You groaned quietly when you saw the address scribbled in the margin.

Natasha looked up immediately, head tilted.

‘I promised I’d go to this party.’ You explained, head in your hands at the prospect of your plans for this evening.

Natasha looked surprised. 

‘Why don’t you want to go?’ She asked curiously and you explained who was hosting.

‘You can always ditch.’ Natasha suggested hesitantly after a moment. ‘I was only going to watch movies tonight but you’re welcome to join.’

You’d never felt so ready to abandon a social plan. You imagined how perfect the night could be. Then your mind caught on something and you hesitated.

‘I can’t keep relying on these two friends.’ You muttered, feeling embarrassed about your social failings.

‘Three.’ Natasha corrected quietly, taking a drink from her glass of water. ‘You have three friends.’

You felt a rush of gratitude suddenly and your smile was uncontrollably wide. You glanced down at the table trying not to look too silly.

‘Would you come with me to the party?’ You asked suddenly, picking at the side salad on your plate.

Natasha hesitated and immediately you felt mortified with your question. You opened your mouth to try and backtrack. 

Natasha spoke before you had the chance.

‘If you’re sure that you want me there. I’ll go.’ She promised quietly and her voice rasped with her assurance.

‘I do.’ You mumbled shyly, trying to process that Natasha, the beautiful Avenger, was going to a party with you. ‘I really do.’

.

Your classes flew by and, before you knew it, you were back at your house. For the first time, Natasha’s bedroom door was shut during the daytime. You hovered outside it for a moment, too nervous to knock. 

You worried that she’d changed her mind about going to the party with you and she didn’t know how to tell you.

You ate dinner by yourself and started getting ready soon after. You tried not to make any assumptions about Natasha coming with you. You told yourself to get a grip in the mirror as you fixed your hair. 

There was something rhythmic to getting ready. You tried to focus all your stress into the various tasks. Twenty minutes before you were planning on leaving, there was a knock on your door. You smoothed your outfit nervously, sure that Natasha was going to cancel officially, but still wanting to make a good impression.

Your jaw dropped as you opened the door.

Natasha was the hottest person that you’d ever seen, let alone stood a few feet away from. Her green dress hugged her curves. Her hair was intricately braided and your eyes ran over the beautiful patterns of her plaits, before catching on her exposed ear piercings.

Natasha looked tense, balancing in her heels.

‘I haven’t done this in ages.’ She murmured. ‘Do I look okay?’

You huffed out a quiet laugh.

‘Natasha.’ You said, reaching out to take her hand. ‘You were already next level beautiful. But, right now you might cause heart attacks on campus.’

Natasha rolled her eyes and you watched as a rush of confidence buoyed her slightly in her heels. Her mouth stretched into your favourite easy grin.

‘You’re looking pretty fucking hot yourself.’ She told you simply. The genuineness in her voice was unexpectedly attractive and you felt a rush of heat run through you.

You squeezed her hand suddenly.

‘Thanks for doing this.’ You mumbled. Natasha squeezed your hand back. 

‘Thanks for asking.’ She replied and you felt the undeniable want to kiss her. 

Unrequited crushes were the worst and you forced yourself to stand still. Natasha was far more of an adult than you could ever imagine being. You couldn’t fathom how many lives she’d saved. You felt stupid for hoping for more luck than you already had.

‘You’re the best landlord.’ You joked lightly, trying to remind yourself of the boundaries between you. Natasha laughed loudly and her fingers interlaced with yours.

.

You were still holding Natasha’s hand when you knocked on the door of your friends’ house. You’d expected a wave of jealousy or bitterness when you saw it in person, instead you found yourself even more grateful for where you’d ended up living.

One of the boyfriends opened the door. Awkwardly, you introduced yourself again and Natasha for the first time. His eyes widened as he took in Natasha’s outfit.

He hurried to welcome you inside. He offered you both a bottle of beer which you accepted, before leading you into the living room. There were various seats arranged in a loose circle around the room. Most of them were already full, you’d arrived purposefully later so that there’d be plenty of other people.

You watched as a sea of faces turned to stare at Natasha. Natasha’s own expression was careful and a little guarded. You recognised the uncertainty in it and squeezed her hand. You knew that for everyone else, her expression could only be adding to her intimidating beauty. 

You caught sight of your two friends in the corner. They looked shocked at your arrival and at the appearance of your housemate. You ignored their pointed stares, instead squeezing onto an old sofa, next to Natasha. Her bare leg was pressed against yours and you felt a strange electricity in the air between you. 

Natasha was only here for you. The awareness of that made you feel even warmer in the crowded room. Your hand touched her thigh. Conversation started up again and the room devolved into smaller social circles.

You found yourself taking steady sips of your beer. Different conversations started to spark up around you. You realised that, despite the presence of many people from your classes, Natasha was the only person you wanted to speak to.

You bumped your knee against hers familiarly and she bumped your shoulder in response. You shared a secret smile. A few people tried to catch Natasha in a conversation. She answered politely, always staying pressed close to you. You watched as their brows furrowed as they tried to decide if she really was the Black Widow at a college party.

Each time they seemed close to asking directly, Natasha would turn back to you, purposefully cutting them out of the conversation. She offered you her half drunk beer when you finished yours and you sat together in quiet conversation as the party grew more boisterous around you. The house had been filling up rapidly, and soon there was barely any space to move.

Finally, the chairs and sofas were cleared to the walls and you found yourselves stood together in the corner of the room as the speakers began to blast loud dance music. 

Natasha’s shoulders tensed and you saw her blink in discomfort at the sound. 

She turned to you, her lips next to your ear when she asked if you wanted to dance. 

You shook your head wordlessly, you didn’t know how to express what Natasha’s attentiveness made you feel.

You could sense how much of an effort this whole night had been for her. You remembered the hours she’d taken getting ready and you felt a sudden certainty in your chest.

Your arm slid around her waist as you led her quietly from the room. Natasha acquiesced immediately. 

You stood together on the cold front porch. Natasha watched the other dancers through the window, the party seemed strangely magical from a distance. You could still feel the thump of the speakers through your feet.

You didn’t move your hand from Natasha’s waist. Instead, you turned to face her, moving both your hands to rest on her hips.

‘I do want to dance with you.’ You admitted shyly. ‘But, just with you.’

Natasha looked at you carefully. You saw her take a deep breath as her hand moved to your face. Her thumb brushed your cheek and you couldn’t look away from her green eyes.

‘You don’t know everything about me.’ Natasha told you seriously. ‘There’s a lot I haven’t told you.’

‘I know who you are.’ You interrupted softly. You tried to memorise the way her body felt under your touch in case this was the only time you would be allowed to hold her. Natasha’s mouth opened in surprise.

‘I know that it’s not as simple as being a superhero.’ You said quietly. ‘I know you’re not just one thing. There are so many pieces that make you up. But, I like you with all of those pieces.’

Natasha’s eyes softened, her brow relaxed as she considered your words.

‘You’re beautiful.’ She told you simply. ‘I want to dance with you too.’

You couldn’t hear the music properly, only feel the beat of it under your feet. Still, you started swaying together. Natasha brought her body closer to yours and her hands rested on your shoulders.

With every sway, you found yourselves drifting closer together. Natasha’s lips made you think of fall. 

You leaned closer. 

The sound draws your attention, and for a brief moment, you glance back at her.

Natasha straightens, her heart flickering with hope, but the moment is fleeting. 

Once you see she’s relatively okay, you quickly shift your focus back to your conversation with Sam, effectively shutting her out again. 

“So, how far can Redwing fly?” you ask, tilting your head as you watch the falcon hover effortlessly above.

Sam perks up immediately, his tone turning proud. 

“Oh, he can make it all the way to the Mar-vel Kingdom and back in a day. No problem,” he boasts, clearly delighted to share the falcon’s capabilities.

Your expression softens into genuine interest as you nod, absorbing every detail Sam shares.

Natasha watches you from a step behind, the faintest smile softening her expression despite herself.

She’s always admired the way you connect with others, your genuine curiosity and openness drawing people in. It’s a quality that makes her heart ache even more at the thought of you feeling shunned and ridiculed recently. 

To her, it’s unfathomable how anyone could associate you with Dreykov’s scheming persona.  

Your thoughtful hum pulls Natasha out of her musings.

“And he can find anyone?” you ask.

Sam nods with certainty.

“Greatest tracker I’ve ever worked with.” 

As if to prove his handler’s point, Redwing emits a short chirp and begins circling a spot some distance ahead, drawing all of your attention.

Sam glances back at her with a serious nod.

“Found him,” he states simply, quickening his pace toward the location to scout the area. 

You fall in step beside Natasha, keeping your word to stay close to her, though you maintain your pointed silence.

Natasha bites the inside of her cheek, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. 

With Sam far enough ahead, she seizes the opportunity to address the lingering tension. 

Natasha takes a deep breath, steeling herself as she nudges your shoulder lightly.

“Y/n,” she calls softly, her voice a quiet plea.

You don’t respond, your gaze fixed ahead, and Natasha’s heart sinks. She takes another breath, her words tumbling out earnestly. 

“I’m sorry,” she begins. “I should have told you about Redwing. It’s just…” She hesitates, searching for the right words. “Ross had his men following you, and I knew he wouldn’t stop unless there was some kind of surveillance to replace his.” 

Your eyes narrow slightly at her words, though you still don’t look her way.

Natasha hurries to clarify, her voice faltering.

“Not that you need to be watched,” she says hastily. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. That’s all. I swear.” 

Her voice falters as you continue to remain silent, and she sighs heavily, running a hand through her hair as frustration and regret simmer within her. 

“I really am—” Natasha freezes mid-sentence, her words catching in her throat as she catches the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Her eyes narrow in suspicion.

“Wait a second…” she mutters before letting out an exasperated sigh. “At what point did you forgive me?”  

You finally look at her, a playful glint in your eyes. 

“At the first ‘I’m sorry,’” you admit with a shrug.

Natasha exhales sharply, shaking her head. 

“You were messing with me this whole time?”

“Maybe a little,” you confess with a soft chuckle. “I told you, it’s cute when the charming princess gets flustered.” 

Natasha rolls her eyes, though a faint blush dusts her cheeks. Reaching out, she catches your hand, stopping you and turning you to face her.

“You know,” she mutters, a teasing smirk playing on her lips, “having your queen grovel for forgiveness might be grounds for punishment.” 

Laughing lightly, you step closer, leaning into her body, your voice dropping as you reply in a challenge.

“Then punish me, my queen.”

Natasha’s breath hitches for a fraction of a second, the warmth in your tone and the proximity sending her heart racing.

But before she can respond, you step back with a knowing grin, your eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“You’re unbelievable,” Natasha mutters under her breath, though the smile tugging at her lips betrays her true feelings.

“And you love it,” you quip before stepping to follow Sam toward Redwing’s signal.

Natasha huffs, shaking her head as she refocuses on the task at hand, though a faint, lingering smile refuses to leave her face.

The alley stretches ahead, cloaked in dim light and deepening shadows as you all silently approach the narrow entrance where muffled voices echo from within. 

The three of you press against the wall, staying hidden. 

Sam raises a finger to his lips, signaling for silence as he leans forward, peeking cautiously around the corner.

“It’s Sitwell,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “And he’s not alone.”

Natasha creeps forward to peer around the corner, her sharp gaze taking in the scene as the lord’s voice becomes clearer. 

“It’s not my fault that Commander Hill took over Rumlow’s operations before I could!” Sitwell’s voice is frantic, a mix of frustration and desperation. “She locked everything down.”

“And what of the weapons?” a second voice asks, calm yet menacing. It’s muffled, belonging to the cloaked and masked figure pinning Sitwell against the wall. 

“I—I don’t know where they are!” Sitwell stammers, his voice trembling.

The figure’s grip tightens as they brandish a knife, the blade gleaming faintly in the low light.

“We had a deal,” the figure hisses, their tone laced with quiet fury. 

Sitwell fumbles frantically, producing a glowing stone similar to the one Natasha had seen before at the tavern. He offers it to the figure, his hand shaking.

“Wait!” he pleads. “I can get you more! Rumlow wasn’t the only one who knew the man who made them—I do, too.”

The figure hesitates, taking the stone and examining it. They motion for Sitwell to continue.

The lord swallows hard, seizing the chance to plead his case.

“Rumlow had a deal with him. He was supposed to deliver secrets about Dreykov and Romanov’s Widow operations in exchange for the weapons,” Sitwell says hurriedly. “But he double-crossed him and used it for himself. Now, only one person can give him what he wants.” 

“Who?” the figure demands.

“Lady Y/n—she’s the one he’ll trade for,” Sitwell blurts out, his voice shaking.

Natasha stiffens, her head snapping toward you. Her expression hardens with a mix of alarm and fury.

Sam clenches his jaw, his focus shifting to her as if awaiting orders. 

Natasha looks between you and the alleyway, her mind racing, before coming to a decision.

She gestures for Sam to take you away.

With an acknowledging nod, Sam starts to nudge you back, but you shove his arm aside when you realize that she intends to stay. 

The masked figure tilts their head, processing Sitwell’s claim, before their attention snaps to the faint movement from your group.

Their gaze locks on Natasha, their body tensing in readiness.

In an instant, they shove Sitwell to the ground and bolts.

“Secure Sitwell!” Natasha commands Sam as she charges forward after the fleeing figure.

Natasha closes the distance quickly, her movements precise as she grabs the figure’s cloak, yanking them back.

The figure stumbles but smoothly pivots on their heel, delivering a swift kick toward Natasha’s head.

Natasha ducks under the attack, but with surprising skill, the figure follows up quick with a sharp kick aimed at her torso. She blocks it at the last second with her arms, but the impact forces her to stumble back. 

You’re immediately at her side, steadying her with firm hands.

“Thanks,” she mutters breathlessly, her eyes never leaving the figure. 

The cloaked individual looks between the two of you cautiously before they suddenly lunge, their knife flashing as they swing at Natasha with calculated precision. 

Natasha pushes you away from her side as she sidesteps each swipe, narrowly dodging the blade.

Grabbing the figure’s wrist mid-swing, Natasha twists sharply, forcing them to drop the weapon with a metallic clatter. She traps their arms in a hold, locking them in place.

“Now!” Natasha shouts to you.

Understanding her unspoken command, you move quickly, delivering a powerful kick to the figure’s side. The impact forces a grunt from them as Natasha releases her hold, letting them stumble back into the wall. 

The glowing stone slips from the figure’s hand, falling to the ground.

The moment it hits the pavement, a loud crack resounds, and an intense, blinding light explodes outward, flooding the alley with a searing brilliance.

“Get down!” Natasha yells, shielding you with her body as the light engulfs the area.

The overwhelming brightness disorients you both, your vision obscured for several long seconds. When the light finally fades, Natasha blinks rapidly, her sight still hazy as she surveys the alley.

But after a quick scan, it’s clear that the mysterious individual is gone.

Natasha curses under her breath when there’s no trace of where they went. Only the faintly glowing, fractured stone remains on the ground, pulsing weakly with light.

“Damn it,” Natasha mutters, frustration evident in her tone.

Your hand comes to rest on her arm, grounding her for a moment.

She turns to you instinctively, her eyes darting over you, scanning for any sign of injury. Her hands come up to cup your face, tilting your head slightly to inspect every angle. 

“I’m fine, Natasha,” you assure her softly, gently pulling her hands from your face and placing them back at her sides. 

The warmth in your touch lingers even as you step back, creating a subtle distance between you. 

Your eyes flick briefly to where Sam stands, your awareness of the others pulling you back into your carefully maintained composure.

The sound of a struggle draws Natasha’s attention to where Sam restrains Sitwell, who thrashes ineffectively in his grip.

“Unhand me!” Sitwell shouts, his voice sharp and panicked.

Natasha stalks over to the squirming lord, her presence looming with command.

“Who was that?” she demands, her voice cold and threatening.

Sitwell recoils at her tone, his earlier bravado crumbling into fear. 

“I don’t know!” he exclaims. “They’re just…some black market arms dealer. Rumlow had a deal with them.”

Natasha’s expression hardens, remembering the way Sitwell targeted you at the council meeting, making you experience all sorts of discomfort as he questioned you. 

“All your talk of loyalty to the kingdom, yet here you are—a traitor.” 

Her words cut like a blade, and Sitwell visibly flinches.

“No, Your Majesty,” he pleads, desperation creeping into his tone. “I was trapped in Rumlow’s deal. When he didn’t fulfill his part, they came for me. I had no choice.”

“That’s a pathetic excuse,” Sam scoffs, tightening his grip on the struggling man.

Natasha steps closer, her icy glare silencing any retort from Sitwell.

“If you want even a chance at leniency, you’ll tell me who Rumlow was working with. Who made these weapons?”

Sitwell hesitates, the weight of her demand pressing down on him.

Finally, he opens his mouth to answer.

But before he can speak, a sharp whistling sound cuts through the air.

An arrow buries itself in Sitwell’s chest. His words die on his lips as his body crumples to the ground.

Natasha’s head snaps upward, her sharp gaze locking onto a shadowy figure perched on a rooftop above. 

The figure’s silhouette is menacing, their face obscured, but Natasha doesn’t miss how their focus shifts directly to you.

“Natasha,” you whisper, your voice tinged with worry as you instinctively grab her arm, tugging her back. 

But Natasha immediately moves to shield you, pushing you behind her protectively.

Her eyes narrow dangerously as she glares up at the figure.

For a moment, they linger, their presence a silent threat, before disappearing into the darkness.

Only once Natasha confirms the area is safe does she drop her hand from your side.

Sam kneels beside Sitwell’s body, his expression grim.

“He’s gone,” he confirms.

Natasha clenches her fists, her frustration mounting.

Sitwell’s death has left more questions than answers, and her mind churns with thoughts of who these mysterious figures could be.

Before she can voice her thoughts, she notices you moving away from her side.

Natasha turns to see you kneeling beside the fractured stone, its faint glow drawing your attention.

The light pulses weakly, almost hypnotically, and your hand hovers inches above it. 

Natasha remembers her earlier experience back at the tavern when her hand had brushed the similar stone on the attacker’s glove—the flashes of the worst moment of her life and the fear that had gripped her mind and heart.

“Y/n, don’t touch that,” Natasha warns, stepping forward and reaching for your arm.

The moment her fingers graze your skin, your reaction is sudden and uncharacteristically harsh.

You swat her hand away with surprising force, startling her.

Natasha pauses and pulls back from you, her eyes widening in shock. 

“Y/n?” she calls again, softer this time, her voice laced with worry as her eyes search your face.

For a brief second, your expression is distant, your eyes unfocused. Then you blink rapidly, as though shaking off a haze, and your gaze shifts to her, confusion flickering across your features.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, your voice tinged with genuine puzzlement at her expression.

Natasha’s lips press into a thin line, her sharp eyes scrutinizing you. 

“You pushed me away when I tried to stop you,” she says cautiously.

“I did?” Your brow furrows in surprise, and your gaze darts back to the now-dimming stone. Its glow fades completely, leaving only the cracked surface behind.

Natasha watches you closely as you stare at the stone, your expression unreadable.

The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken questions.

“Y/n?” Natasha says softly, her hand reaching for your arm again.

This time, you don’t pull away. You turn to face her, your eyes meeting hers.

“You don’t remember?” she presses, her voice gentle but firm. 

You hesitate for a moment, your hands fidgeting nervously in front of you at her words, but then you shake your head lightly and give her a reassuring smile.

“I'm sorry, my body must’ve still been on the edge after everything that just happened,” you reply softly.

Natasha studies you for a moment longer, unease flickering in her chest.

Whatever had just happened, it wasn’t normal like you’re suggesting. And as much as she wants to press further, she holds back, not wanting to push you too hard.

“That’s enough for today. Let’s head back,” she finally says, her tone steady despite the worry lingering in her gaze.

You nod silently in agreement before making your way out of the alley. 

But Natasha lingers in place, turning her attention back to the fractured stone on the ground. Her mind races with the mystery of its power—and the brief, unsettling moment when it seemed like you weren’t entirely yourself.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

a/n: And we're back. 😁 Time for more mysteries, secrets, and challenges for the two. Thank you for your patience and for reading!

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it, please let me know again.

⧗

Finally, it was the end of your long and tiring graveyard shift, you step out of the school building, exhausted and worn out. You pull out your phone, seeing multiple missed calls and texts from Natasha.

"Where are you, babe?"

"Can I see you? I just got back from a mission."

"Where are you, Y/N?"

"Do you have uni today or tonight? I told you to send me your schedule."

"Text back, please."

"I miss you."

"I'm in your uni :)))"

As soon as you step out of the university gate, you see her sports car parked outside, the engine purring quietly. You hurry towards the car, a few students from your year noticed and started whispering to each other, pointing towards Natasha's Chevrolet Corvette Stingray. You can feel your cheeks flushing a light shade of pink as you quickly slide into the passenger seat, slamming the door beside you.

"Hey there, cutie." She reaches over to give your leg a gentle squeeze before focusing back on the road. "Long day?"

You nod tiredly in response to Natasha's question. "Mhm, felt endless. How have you been? I never got any calls from you after you left me that night." You lean back against the leather seat, turning your face towards the window so that she won't see the disappointment in your face but is evident in your voice.

"Sorry, baby. You know, the world calls for me."

You just hummed, it's not that you can demand for more of her anyway.

⧗

You and Natasha had been watching TV on the couch in your apartment, slowly drinking the wine she bought. You found yourselves making out heavily. She had picked you up, wrapping your legs around her waist and carrying you off to your room. Then one thing led to another.

The next morning, you wake up to the warm sunlight filtering through the curtains, and a strange feeling in your lower region. As you slowly open your eyes, you realize you're completely naked, and so is Natasha, sleeping soundly beside you under the duvet covers of your bed. You made sure to slowly get up and dress yourself with your favorite sweater you arbored from one of the world's mightiest hero, then you went straight to the kitchen to cook some breakfast.

While you're busy in the kitchen preparing breakfast—the smell of bacon and fresh coffee filling the room—Natasha wakes up, stretches lazily, and watches you from the bed. She props herself up on one elbow, admiring your focused expression as you cook. "Good morning...smells amazing here."

Natasha slides out of bed, she dresses herself up and pads softly into the kitchen behind you. She wraps her arms around your waist from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder. "Need any help, gorgeous?" Her voice is still husky with sleep.

"Get the plates and prep the table. And sit pretty for me."

She chuckles softly before reaching on top of your cabinets, her height towering you. You turned around only to be trapped by her, you giggled and hit her chest playfully before moving around her to put her coffee and your milk down the table.

It was so out of the blue, you two were okay as you both dug into the breakfast you made. Natasha was telling you about how she caused a circuit problem on Tony Stark's suit and how she had to sing for the Hulk for him to calm down. You two were joking and being playful around, but all of a sudden it changed.

"I don't think this is for me." You laughed it off, but there was more to your words.

Natasha suddenly frowned, her mood dropping down. "What do you mean?"

"I…I just-I feel guilty." You muttered, flashing a small awkward smile towards her.

"Why? Aren't you enjoying…this?"

"Nat, I do. I swear. But I feel like I am regretting all of it."

"Your post-nut clarity is crazy babe." Natasha joked, your cheeks heated up in embarrassment but you just laughed it off once again. The redhead immediately noticed making herself feel bad about it, then the tension became finally really serious, Natasha cannot help but ask. "Why? Why do you feel that way?"

"I just…I just feel like I am losing respect for myself with this kind of set up. I don't think this is for me, beb." Your voice was raw with vulnerability.

"So, what do you want to happen?" She asks in a flash, you laughed to make the atmosphere lighter, which always worked.

"Wait, my dialogue is not yet done." You smiled, you were still trying to sort things out in your mind but you have been thinking about this for some time now.

You told her that you feel like you aren't made for a fuck buddy type of relationship. You will not call what happened to you both a mistake, but an experience. Somehow, Natasha felt bad since she was the one who offered to be fuck buddies but you kept reassuring her that you agreed to it in your own will.

You and Natasha met in a bar while partying, both of you were hard drinkers and accidentally something happened between both of you that night due to drunkenness. You didn't even realize that she was the Black Widow not until you ended up being in the Avengers compound.

Natasha said that she wasn't ready for commitment and you agreed being so focused on your studies and side job—from there your relationship or set up rather, started.

"I don't know, I just feel sorry for myself. I pity myself." All playfulness instantly drains from her face. She's completely taken aback, her brain momentarily stopping from processing. "This type of set up isn't for me, I cannot keep up. I know I wasn't looking for something serious because of the demands of my study and my job but I didn't know that it would change."

You stare at her for a long moment, your eyes searching hers. You then gave her a faint smile.

"I am not made for relationships like this, I don't think I can still do this anymore. I think I am ready for something serious, a relationship where I can respect myself. I want to be with someone genuinely, not this shallow. I finally want someone to know me for who I am. I know you are interested and attracted to me, Nat. But now I am yearning for a deeper connection. Like I hope you knew I do digital arts, I sculpted, I do paintings and I love films before you saw my body. I wish you saw all the arts I made before you get to touch me. You don't even know I can sing and dance, you don't know that I play volleyball." You look defeated, like a weight has been pressing down on you for so long and you're finally allowed to collapse but still, you gave the redhead a warm genuine smile.

"That's all. I just feel like I am wasting myself in this when I am genuinely so much more, Nat." You tried to hold your tears back, biting your inner lip but the smile on your face never faded away.

You sit there, waiting for her to say something—anything. You want her to look at you and confess that she wants the same things you do. All this time you have been hinting her that. But the silence is deafening. It's telling you everything you need to hear. The longer she remains quiet, the more your heart sinks.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I just don't think it is for me, you know, love? " She cannot even say the word without grimacing, but you gave her an understanding smile.

"I know you'll find someone that will make you feel that it is for you."

“Yelena. It’s me” a soft voice says, and she can feel fingers caressing her forehead. “It’s Mama”

“Mama, I don’t wanna go to school” Yelena says, earning a chuckle from Melina.

“You’re in the hospital, sweet girl” her mother says. “You almost drowned”

It all comes back to her in a rush. The feeling of sinking, the freezing water paralyzing her. Your voice, asking her to stay awake.

“Y/N. Is she ok? Where is she?” she tries to stand up, but her mother stops her. Natasha walks in that moment, locking eyes with her sister. “Something happened to Y/N”

“No. She’s ok” Natasha shakes her head.

“Then why do you look so worried? Don’t lie to me” Yelena asks, tears welling up in her eyes.

“I’m not lying, sestra. You just scared me, that’s all” Natasha promises, leaning her forehead against her sister’s.

She tries to pretend everything’s ok.

—

Wanda is in your arms, reassuring you. It’s overwhelming, to feel her, to hear her.

Knowing what you just did.

And it all comes crashing down.

The stress of the past months, the lack of sleep, your resentment towards your mother and your last encounter. A sob breaks out and you can’t stop crying, because you fucked up.

Wanda’s gonna hate you, she’s going to leave you.

You wish you had drowned, because it’s better to die than to hurt the only person you’ve truly ever loved.

“Wanda, I…” your voice shakes. Your girlfriend looks at you, alarmed. She’s never seen you this shaken.

“Baby, look at me. You’re safe. I’m here” she tries to calm you down, but your sobs intensify.

“What’s wrong?” Darcy appears behind you, trying to check for any internal injuries. “Hey, Y/N. You’re hyperventilating. You know what you need to do. Breathe. In and out. Ok. Just like I’m doing”

You allow Darcy’s voice to guide you, while Wanda stays by your side.

“I…” you stutter.

“I think we should keep her in observation for a bit. Maybe she’s in shock or had a concussion. Did you hit your head?” Darcy asks. “Ok, come with me. Wanda, we will be right back”

“Ok. Hey. It’s ok” she says against your lips. “I’m not leaving”

Wanda’s gonna leave when she finds out. And you won’t blame her. But as your thoughts spiral, and you begin to hyperventilate again, Darcy drags you to an exam room.

“What happened? Talk to me, Y/N”

“I should have died out there. She’s gonna leave me, Darcy” you cry out.

“Damn it, ok, breathe. Do you want me to give you… something? Just to calm you down”

“Ok. And page Carol. I need to talk to her”

“Yeah. Ok”

Carol joins you a couple of minutes later.

“Hey” she looks between you and Darcy, not knowing how much she can say.

“She asked me to page you. What the hell happened? She’s having a nervous breakdown” Darcy hisses. Add her to the list of people who have never seen you lose your shit.

“Just tell her” you mutter, looking away. You need someone to say it out loud, so it’s real. And you can understand how much you fucked up.

“I walked in on Natasha and Y/N kissing just now” Carol says, looking at you with pity in her eyes.

“What the hell were you…?” Darcy’s first instinct is to yell at you, but as she sees you shutting your eyes, she calms down. “Ok, just tell me what happened”

“I don’t know. I walked in to find some gauze for this scratch on my arm and then she was there and she kissed me and I didn’t pull away. Not at first”

“So she kissed you?” Darcy clarifies. “You didn’t go after Natasha?”

“No, I wasn’t… I thought she’d be worried about Yelena and when she came in, I assumed something bad had happened” you stumbled with your words. It’s all a blur.

“You weren’t kissing when I walked in. She had her hands in your neck but you were leaning back” Carol says.

“I don’t give a fuck, it doesn’t matter. Wanda won’t care. I fucked up, it’s over”

“I think it’s important to… make the distinction. That she went after you. If you tell Wand at all” Carol adds.

You sigh, looking at your best friend. The one person who has been a constant in your life, who knows how much you struggle. The only one who understands that Wanda is your world. And how devastated you’ll be if when you lose her.

“I think you should tell her” Darcy says. “I’m sorry, I do. I know you’re honest and you’d never be able to live with yourself if you don’t tell her”

Not only that, but knowing what you know about Wanda and how she got cheated in the past. You can’t lie to her.

Even if it means losing her.

“I’ll do whatever you want” Carol says, squeezing your hand. “I won’t ever judge you, Y/N. If you decide to keep it a secret, I’ll take it to my grave. I swear”

“Thanks, Carol” you sigh, wiping the tears that won’t stop. “I need to get home and calm down. She deserves to hear it when I’m sane and won’t make up a stupid excuse hoping she’ll forgive me”

“I really think you can get past this” Carol says before leaving the room.

“I hope so too” you try to smile.

But the truth is you’re not very optimistic.

—

The next day, you refuse to leave the room. You’re not sure if you catched a cold with the freezing water or it’s your body’s response to the stress of what happened, but you run a fever that knocks you down.

At one point, you dream about the encounter with your mother. But it’s not her outside the hospital. It’s Wanda, and she’s hitting you as she finds out you’re a liar.

Your eyes fly open and you sit up, running to the bathroom to throw up. As you look in the mirror, you understand one thing.

You’re not gonna be able to keep this up any longer. You have to tell Wanda.

She’s nowhere to be found, probably because it’s a school day and someone has to drive the kids. While you wait for her to return, you run a bath and try to clear your head.

How are you even starting?

When you hear Wanda come back, your stomach drops, but you push through, sitting in bed.

“There you are. How are you feeling, my love?” she greets with a smile.

“I’m ok, I guess” you manage to say, looking anywhere but her.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me” Wanda says, knowing something’s changed. Truthfully, she’s expecting to hear that this life and death experience made you realize you want something different in your life.

Someone else.

“I… Wanda. I’m so sorry” you whisper, tears rolling down your cheeks. “I didn’t want it to happen”

“What? What are you talking about?”

With a deep breath, you finally say the words that will change your relationship forever.

“Natasha kissed me. We kissed. I mean, I didn’t look for her, she just walked in the room and then she was kissing me, but that doesn’t really make a difference, right?”

Wanda stays silent for a second, and then turns to leave the room.

“I’m going to kill her”

“Wanda” you catch up to her, stopping her at the top of the stairs. “Wait, please”

“No! Who does she think she is? Everything was fine between us, and then she comes and you’re pulling back. And now she thinks she can kiss you and I won’t fight back? Seems like someone should put her in her place”

“I don’t care about her” you plead, taking Wanda’s hand.

“You’re mine”

“Of course I am” you agree, trying to pull Wanda into a hug. She relents, but you can tell she’s tense and struggling with your closeness. “Wanda, I love you. I’m sorry, I didn’t want this to happen, I’ll do anything to make it right, just please, please…”

“Did you kiss her back?” Wanda pushes you away suddenly.

“I… don’t know. It happened so fast. I didn’t even think. I pulled away”

“But before that, did you kiss her back?” Wanda insists, looking at you expectantly.

“Wanda, I don’t know. She just came out of nowhere and I was trying to recover from almost drowning”

“I think… I think you should leave” she interrupts you. “You told me you were different, that you’d never lie to me”

“I didn’t…”

“Please, leave” she raises her hand to stop you. “I just can’t look at you right now”

Looking down, you nod. As you walk back to pack a bag with clothes and other stuff, Wanda stays rooted to her spot in the hallway.

You want to say something, but words are not enough to convey everything you feel. “Sorry” is an understatement. “I love you”? It feels like you lost the right to say that.

So, you walk out of the house, and drive to a hotel, wondering if it’s really that easy to lose your entire world.

—

The next days are hell.

You really wish you’d drown that day on the river.

There’s a hotel close to the hospital, and you stay there, wallowing in self pity and regret. You ignore everyone’s text and calls, because you’ll only answer one person.

She never reaches out.

“Hey, bud” Darcy greets when you get to work after two days. “I take it it didn’t go well”

“Nope” is all you say, not wanting to talk about it at all. You need work, distractions. Or a bus than runs you over. Whichever is fine.

“I’m here if you want to talk” is all she says, knowing you’d rather not.

“Thanks”

Kate greets you, a little too cheerful for your liking. Maybe it’s because she has the ER for herself. Speaking of which, you don’t even know if Yelena was discharged.

“Is Belova ok?” you say, looking at all the reports you need to sign.

“Yes, she left yesterday. And, uh… Doctor Romanoff was asking for you” Kate hesitates.

“I’m not speaking to Romanoff under any circumstances. If she asks again, tell her I said she can go to hell” you answer with a harsh tone.

“Maybe I could say you’re very busy?”

“Whatever keeps her away from me” you agree, walking to the entrance as an ambulance parks outside.

It’s a hectic day and you appreciate it. You also lose track of how many times you go out to smoke. At some point, you give up waiting for Wanda to call you.

Actually, now you don’t want her to reach out at all. You’re not ready to hear her say it’s over, so at least now you can pretend there’s a chance you’ll get past this.

“Did you sleep at all?” Carol says when she sees you next morning.

“For a half hour, maybe”

“Listen, you need to…”

But whatever well intended advice she’s about to give is interrupted by Fury.

“Doctor Romanoff would like a word”

“I’m busy”

“Not for her, you’re not” he cuts you off, practically pushing you in the direction of a conference room.

This is a new low, using Fury to talk to you.

“Doctor Romanoff, I’m so sorry, as you can imagine our Head of Trauma is busy” Fury says, moving so you can step forward. “Meet Doctor Y/L Y/L/N”

Wait, what?

A brunette approaches you with a wide smile. She has the same nose as Natasha, and even if her eyes are more hazel than green, you definitely see the resemblance in the determined stare.

“I can’t thank you enough for saving my daughter’s life”

Right. That Doctor Romanoff.

“Just doing my job” you say, hoping Natasha won’t join you.

“She’s eager to get back to work. Yelena said you’re a fantastic teacher” the woman says, smiling.

“Well, she definitely has a lot to learn” you say, which makes both people in the room turn to you.

“Doctor Y/L/N” Fury warns. But you don’t give a fuck. You want them gone from the hospital and the city and your life.

“Yelena’s good, but she could be better. That reckless behavior almost got me killed. She also needs to move faster and be more precise. Her work can be sloppy”

“Thank you, Doctor Y/L/N. That would be all” Fury cuts you off.

You nod, avoiding Melina’s stare as you leave the room.

Unfortunately for you, one of her daughters is waiting outside.

“Can we talk?” Natasha says. You ignore her, walking back to the ER. “What? Seriously?”

She grabs your wrist and you finally turn around.

“Don’t. I have absolutely nothing to say to you, Romanoff”

“What? Did your girlfriend forbid you to talk to me?”

“You don’t think about her or talk about her or anything related to Wanda. Stay away from me” you say, opening the door. Of course she follows you before you can lock yourself in, blocking the only way out.

“I didn’t think you’d be such a fucking coward, Y/N” she accuses you.

“Excuse me?”

“You kissed me back”

“I did not!” you kick the chair next to you, groaning. “I had just seen my abusive mother and almost drowned saving your sister. Do you really think I had the mental capacity to act rationally? I was still on fight or flight, Natasha”

“Lie to yourself all you want, but you’re not gonna lie to me. I know the way you look at me”

“Which is?”

“Like you’re picturing me naked”

You scoff at that, looking away.

“I don’t hear you denying it” she challenges, stepping closer.

“Don’t”

“If you were really sure about your feelings, you’d tell me to go to hell and move on. You wouldn’t be looking around the room, desperate to find a way out” Natasha says, moving closer and closer, until you’re inches apart. “Because if we stay this close, you know damn well that we’re gonna end up fucking each other”

“Please, stop” you say, trying to push past her. Natasha takes your wrists, and pulls you closer, letting you decide.

And you pull away. You do.

“Don’t mistake attraction with devotion. Wanda is all I want and need. I’m not playing games. Stay away from me”

You try to look composed as you leave the room, but in your mind, you know you hesitated.

A fraction of a second, but it was hesitation nonetheless.

—

Carol finds you outside the hospital, smoking as usual.

“Though shift?”

“You could say that”

You stare at her as she takes the cigarrette from your hands.

“Don’t tell Maria” she warns you and you laugh.

“Nu-uh, you need to be on your best behavior. One of us has to have a happy ending”

“Did you tell her?” Carol asks.

“Yeah. She kicked me out. Which is a very nice reaction. If I were her, I would have run me over repeatedly with her car” you sigh, lighting another one. “And now Natasha’s on my ass, saying I can’t deny that I have feelings for her too, when all I’ve done is be friendly”

“Ok, don’t shoot the messenger, Y/N, but it was obvious you two were flirting” Carol says. You stay quiet, and since you don’t argue, the woman takes it a sign to continue. “Look, when Maria came back… I hesitated too. I never told you this, but I wasn’t just trying to move on from her. I liked you, your committment to work. How kind you are. Honestly, with a little more time I could have seen myself in a different situation”

“But?”

“But Maria came back and I made a choice. What I’m saying is… I don’t think it’s unnatural for people to be attracted to others, even if you’re in a relationship. We seek connection, and surgeons have a fucked up schedule and life that only other doctors understand. Of course you felt something”

“Natasha is… a challenge. She’s funny and stubborn and quick witted. She doesn’t give a fuck about anything except work. It’s like an adventure” you finally admit out loud, knowing Carol understands. “But Wanda is my family. And I can’t lose that”

“There you go. I think admitting that you feel attraction is how you move past this. The important thing is if you act on it” Carol insists.

You think back to the encounter you had with Natasha just now.

You pulled back.

This time, she didn’t just kiss you. She gave you a choice. And you made the decision to step away.

That’s gotta count for something. Right?

“Thanks, Carol” you sigh, feeling better for the first time in days. To your surprise, Darcy comes next.

“Is it my turn now? I’m freezing, Danvers” she complains.

“Turn for what?”

“Well, this is an intervention” Carol explains, leaving the spot next to you so Darcy can sit.

“An intervention? Next to the trash? Really?” you say, looking around.

“You practically live here with all the smoking. Which, by the way, stops now” Darcy says, throwing away the pack you’re holding. “Now, as you know I briefly considered a career in Psychiatry. So I’m going to give you my analysis”

“Ugh, I hate this” you mutter. In spite of everything you’ve been through, you’ve never once considered going to therapy.

You have a job and a life. You’re obviously fine.

“Ready? I’m about to tell you some harsh truths. You can cry if you want to” Darcy says, settling. “You don’t believe you deserve good things. Of course, your mother showing up out of nowhere didn’t help. You’re self sabotaging because you think you don’t deserve Wanda. It’s a self fulfilled propechy. And it’s frankly stupid. You don’t need to fight your demons on this one. Just tell Romanoff to piss off and go get your girl. Speak up, tell her how you feel. This passive shit of wallowing in self pity is beneath you”

“Wow, anything else?” you say, trying not to be offended.

“Yes” Darcy says, looking at you. “You’re my best friend. I want you to be happy. Don’t cry” she snaps when tears roll down your cheeks.

“You just told me I could cry!” you complain, laughing at her.

“Yeah, well. I changed my mind. Now come on” Darcy nudges your side. “I’m freezing”

—

It’s uncharacteriscally quiet lately. No one says anything, but Pietro can feel it.

Your absence is the most obvious sign that something’s wrong.

Wanda can lie to the kids and tell them you’re working day shifts, but Pietro is not easily fooled. He never hears you come in, or leave.

You haven’t been home in a week.

“What’s going on?” he finally asks when Wanda’s doing the dishes, the twins fast asleep.

“What do you mean?” she plays dumb, without turning to look at her brother.

“She’s not working. Did you fight?”

“Leave it” Wanda says.

“No. You’re obviously not fine and I can imagine how Y/N’s doing”

“Y/N is very busy fucking that Russian” Wanda spits out, finally turning to look at her brother.

“You mean she cheated on you?”

“That woman… kissed her. And now, I kicked her out and heaven knows what she must be thinking. It’s perfect for Natasha, isn’t it? She didn’t have to try that hard to break us apart”

“Ok, so it was a kiss? Or more? I think you need to start over” Pietro asks, sitting at the kitchen counter and leaving his crutches against the wall.

So, Wanda tells him everything. How you began to spend more time at the hospital, and she got jealous and pushed you away as response. How her insecurities and your attitude made things harder and put you through a rough patch.

“But… she told you right after it happened?” Pietro tries to understand the timeline. “And it was just a kiss?”

“It’s not about the kiss. It’s about swearing nothing was going on, making me feel like I was acting crazy and…”

“How do you know she didn’t think the same thing?” his brother says, which makes her stop talking. Wanda shrugs her shoulders. “Maybe she thought they were friends. The thing is, she was honest, Wanda”

“Yeah, but…”

“You can’t let your past influence your future. I know he hurt you and it’s not easy to trust people. But not everything’s black and white. Do you honestly think Y/N was trying to hurt you?”

“Of course not” she says, shaking her head. “I just don’t know how I will get over this…”

“So it’s better to pretend nothing’s wrong?”

Pietro couldn’t say it without hurting his sister, but she was always so afraid of taking risks. And now she took the easy way out.

“Look, avoiding the issue won’t solve anything. If you want to fix it, do it. If you really can’t get past what happened, you at least need some closure” he says, his tone becoming softer as Wanda’s eyes well up with tears.

“I just hate this. I wish we could just go back to how everything was” Wanda sobs, covering her mouth. “And I miss her so much”

“Maybe you should tell her that” Pietro struggles to stand up, and goes to hug his sister. “It will be ok, sestra”

—

It’s kind of shitty to be happy over having a lot of injured people on your shift. But you’re so exhausted you’re positive you’ll pass out the minute you get home.

Well, the hotel.

That minor correction stings.

Your room’s a mess, but you’ll clean it up after you get some rest.

There’s a knock on the door right as you plop down in bed and you sigh.

“I don’t need any room cleaning, thank you!”

“It’s Wanda”

You get whiplash at those words, running to open the door.

“Hi” you say, trying to not sound too anxious. There’s a pang of guilt as you notice the bags under Wanda’s eyes.

“Hi. Can I come in?”

“Sure. Yeah” you step aside. “Uh, sorry about the mess. Work’s been crazy”

“So listen… I think we need to talk” she says, looking back at you.

“Oh”

So she’s here to break up with you. You stay quiet, urging her to continue.

“I… I’m not happy with this situation. Honestly, I really wished you had set boundaries with that woman from the start. I don’t know if you were just being friendly or a part of you was attracted to her at all”

“Wanda, I…”

“I don’t think I’m interested in knowing the answer to that. But I do know that we’re not gonna fix this by staying apart” she says, crossing her arms.

“Oh, so you wanna fix… I thought you were here to break up with me” you sigh, your shoulders relaxing at the realization that she’s giving you another chance.

“I have some conditions”

“Very reasonable. And my answer is yes to everything” you hurry to say, scared that she’ll change her mind.

“You sure you don’t wanna hear them? What if one of them is doing the laundry for a month?” she teases and seeing her smile is like a breath of fresh air.

“Wanda, I’ll cook forever if you ask me to”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s not like we can eat pancakes every day”

You both smile at that, and you let her take the first step, reaching for your hand.

“Pack your things, and I’ll meet you back home” she says, giving you a light squeeze.

“Ok, babe” you nod, wanting to kiss her. But she pulls away before you can lean forward, smiling.

You really hope there’s a way you can fix everything.

Because losing Wanda is simply not something you can deal with.

—

The first week back is definitely challenging.

As soon as you get home the boys run to hug you and you try really hard not to cry. You thought you’d never see them again. Pietro gives you a knowing look but keeps whatever he has to say to himself.

That first night you take the kids out to the arcade and to eat pizza, and though you’re a little disappointed when Wanda declines to join you, you understand she must be exhausted.

When you come home, you find a blanket and a pillow in the sofa. The message is pretty clear, but you take it without complaining and sleep there.

It was unrealistic to expect everything would be back to normal right away.

“How’s work?” Wanda asks one morning when you’re getting some coffee, ready to leave.

“It’s better. We’re not as short staffed anymore. Why? Do you need me to take some time off? I’ll talk to Fury” you hurry to say, desperate to prove your worth to Wanda.

“No, that’s fine. Uh… is she still there? I mean do you still have to take that course?” she asks, looking away.

“Oh. No. I mean, yeah, she’s still there but we don’t talk and I haven’t joined the last sessions. Darcy just brings me up to speed later”

“I don’t want you getting into trouble. I can manage if you have to be there” Wanda says, curious about your answer.

“It’s fine, love. I’m busy in the ER anyway” you appease her, reaching for a Pop-Tart. As you leave, you kiss her cheek out of pure habit, too busy with picking up your things to remember Wanda’s been avoiding physical contact. “Catch you later, have a good day”

“Yeah, you too” Wanda’s hand goes to the spot you just kissed, blushing.

Your day starts as usual, and you make sure you don’t leave the ER unless it is absolutely necessary. Thankfully, Yelena is eager to do any task you assign to her. That way, you avoid running into her sister.

At some point, you do have to go to the front desk to deliver some schedules and signed discharges.

“We have missed you these past sessions” someone says behind you.

You recognise Melina’s voice and answer without looking up.

“ER is very hectic”

You think that’s the end of the conversation until she asks something that almost makes you turn.

“So, which one of my daughter’s pissed you off?”

The only sign of surprise you show is how you stop writing for a second, but then you keep going.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand”

“I think you do, Doctor Y/L/N”

“Excuse me” you say, saved by your pager.

Melina hangs around, waiting for you to come back and finish the conversation, or find either Natasha or Yelena to get them to fess up.

The woman is looking around when a brunette joins her in the front desk, greeting the receptionist.

“I’ll page Doctor Y/L/N”

“Are you a patient of hers?” Melina says, looking at the woman up and down.

“I’m her girlfriend” Wanda answers, feeling like there’s something familiar about the woman.

“Oh, Y/N’s girlfriend. Yes, we’ve heard about you. She’s such a good teacher to my daughter. I’m Doctor Melina Romanoff”

Of course, Romanoff. No wonder Wanda’s gut was telling her to get out of there.

“Y/N’s teaching Natasha?” Wanda says, confused. She thought it was the other way around.

“No, Yelena. She’s working in the ER”

“Oh, good. There’s more than one of you” Wanda grumbles, wondering if Yelena flirts with you too.

“What was that, dear?” Melina says, confused.

“Oh, nothing”

Thankfully, you show up, smiling at Wanda.

“Hey, come here” you say, dragging her away from Melina.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Wanda asks as soon as the woman is out of earshot. You tilt your head, confused. “You’re teaching her sister. The whole family is here”

“Oh, that. Fury made me do it. Trust me, if it were up to me they’d all be long gone” you mumble.

Wanda’s taken aback by your bitter tone. No matter how annoying someone can be, you’re rarely unkind. It seems like they’re really testing your patience.

“Ok, well. I just wanted to drop off these cookies for Darcy”

“For Darcy and none for me?” you pout, taking the container.

“Yours are at home” Wanda says, and you’re busy checking your pager so you don’t notice Wanda looking over your shoulder, eyes locking with Natasha’s.

Wanda pulls you down, meeting your lips in a kiss that is not at all appropriate in the middle of your shift.

“Try not to be late tomorrow” she says and all you can do is nod, taken aback by the sudden display of affection. It only makes sense when you turn around, Natasha staring at you. Rubbing the back of your neck, you walk past her, only looking back once to wave your girlfriend goodbye.

Wanda stands there a little bit longer, arms crossed as she glares at Natasha. When the Russian gets annoyed, she drops her folder and makes her way over to Wanda.

She doesn’t have a chance to say anything, as Kate comes out of nowhere, dropping her coffee in the middle of both women.

“Oh, shoot” she says, not sounding sorry at all.

The sudden intrusion makes Natasha walk back and leave the reception, annoyed at having to keep to herself all the things she wants to say to your girlfriend.

Wanda, on the other hand, leaves the hospital with a smile on her face.

Kate is on the fence about telling you of the almost argument between your girlfriend and Doctor Romanoff.

To those close to you, is very obvious your relationship with the other surgeon went south, and considering how Wanda looked at Natasha, Kate has a very good guess around the reason why.

“I miss Boston a little bit” Yelena is talking your ear off while you check some X-rays. “Mama and Natasha are going back today and I wish I could too. And by the way, why is she acting strange around you?”

“Page Ortho and tell them we have a surgical case. Run lab work for the patient” you ignore her. “Questions?”

“Yes, did you and Natasha fight?”

“About the case, Belova” you clarify, turning to leave.

“Oh. No. So what happened?”

“Bishop, the case is yours now” you snap, annoyed at her insistence. You already had to deal with her mother’s questioning today, and it ran your patience thin. “Belova, you are in charge of post ops” the blonde opens her mouth to protest and you look up. “Reconsider what you’re about to say or I’ll send you to the morgue with Vidal”

Yelena nods, but you can see she’s hurt. A part of you feels guilty, but then you remember her family is incredibly wealthy and they could simply pull their heads out of their asses and hire a new Head of Trauma in Boston.

The rest of your shift is semi chaotic, until the end when you have to stay longer. Wanda doesn’t respond to your text when you explain why you’ll be late, so you’re in a hurry to leave.

“What the hell is your problem?” a voice chases you down the hall, making several people turn. You look over your shoulder at Natasha.

“Can I help you?” you ask in a bored tone, gathering your stuff to leave.

“Whatever happened between us is our business. Don’t be an asshole to my sister because it got into your head that I’m the one that screwed up your perfect relationship”

“Well, if your sister doesn’t like it she can go back to Boston, as I hope you’ll do soon and without any plans to return” you spit out, taking your bag to leave.

“I was so wrong about you” Natasha says when you walk past her.

“I’ll find a way to sleep at night” you mock, but then Natasha hits you where she knows will hurt.

“Yeah. In the couch, I bet”

Her mocking tone makes you turn.

“What a great relationship it must be, if she only likes you when you do what she wants”

Whatever you are about to say is stuck in your throat, so you turn around and leave.

The words repeat like an echo in your head until you get home.

Figuring Wanda must be in the bedroom, you go up and knock.

“Hey, sorry I had to stay longer. I texted you”

“Yeah, I got the text” Wanda nods with certain indifference. So, she’s back to being distant.

“Well, I’ll just grab a change of clothes” you say.

Wanda turns to look at you. Something takes over when she imagines Natasha kissing you, watching as you undress yourself.

Without warning, she turns you around, kissing you.

“Hey, what is it?” you ask, trying to get her to slow down. Instead of replying, she pushes you to the bed, barely giving you time to react when she straddles your lap. “Wanda, maybe we should…”

“I don’t want to hear it. You’re mine” when she doesn’t get a reply, she pushes forward. “Are you gonna let me fuck you or not?”

All you can do is nod, and she takes off your pants and underwear. You’re conflicted, because Wanda doesn’t seem to be in a right state of mind, pushed by her insecurities.

And then you feel her tongue on your clit, any coherent thought pushed to the back of your mind as she laps at your folds. Your hands go through her hair, but she pushes them away with a slap.

She doesn’t give you time to protest, moving up until she kisses you. The taste of yourself renders you speechless, except for the moan that leaves your lips when Wanda pushes two fingers inside you.

“Babe, slow…” you plead, overstimulated.

“No, you’re gonna take it” she shuts you up, biting your lip.

Her hand moves faster and you cling to the comforter, moaning until you’re pushed over the edge, squeezing her fingers as you come.

“Wanda” you say, trying to catch your breath. But she stands up immediately. “Where are you going?”

“To pick up the kids”

“Can I come with you?”

“Stay” she answers, leaving the room.

You plop down in bed, the rush of your orgasm quickly forgotten at her cold demeanor.

This wasn’t about pleasure, it was about jealousy, as everything seems to be lately.

She only likes you when you do what she wants.

You take a shower and drift off, appreciating how comfortable the bed is compared to the sofa.

The sound of footsteps and laughs wakes you up, Billy and Tommy entering in a rush to the bedroom.

“You’re here!” they say, jumping on the bed. Lately, they always seem anxious to know exactly where you are, as if they sense you’ll disappear without a trace.

It’s as endearing as it is heartbreaking.

“Hey, there” you laugh when they pile on you, shouting about their day at school. “Ok, ok, one at a time, kids!”

“Boys, no shoes on the bed!” Wanda walks in a minute later, making them go get changed for soccer practise. “Why did you let them do that?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

It’s been a week, of course you’re gonna be in the dog house. But honestly, even when you’re not doing anything, Wanda seems to find a way to be mad at you.

“Why don’t I take the kids to soccer practise?” you offer, thinking she couldn’t possibly be upset about that.

“Pietro has physical therapy, you drive him and I’ll take the kids to soccer”

“Or we can all drive to the rehab clinic and then to practise” you say.

“Ok, I don’t have time to argue. If you’re not gonna be of help, stay out of the way” she snaps, which makes your eyes widen in shock.

“I’ll drive Pietro” you mutter, going out of the room.

You wait for him in the backyard, throwing Sparky’s ball and relaxing when he gets tired and sits next to you. At least someone in this house still likes you.

“What happened now?” Pietro asks from the backseat, and you shrug your shoulders, starting the car.

“She’s just in a mood. I guess it’ll pass”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Come on, no one can stay angry for that long”

Can she?

“Y/N, she hasn’t spoken to our mother in three years because of what happened with Dad” Pietro says.

“Ok, but she lives in a different country and this was a very serious subject…” you try to excuse her.

“Listen, I love Wanda, but it’s hard for her to let go of things. Unless you push a little. Mom’s giving her space, but you live with her and you shouldn’t be hiding forever. We all make mistakes”

“Well, look at you, being a couples counselor and all. You have a backup plan in case snowboarding is out of the picture” you say, opening the door for him.

In a split second, you decide to drive back to practise. Even if Wanda doesn’t want to see you, you want to be there for the boys.

To your surprise, Wanda is laughing alongside a tall man, her hand going to his arm. You walk around the field, standing next to other parents and looking over at her.

They’re both engaged in conversation, standing a bit away from the crowd. Wanda only notices your presence when Billy runs by and waves at you.

“Hey” she walks over to you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll pick up Pietro in a bit, I just wanted to see the kids play”

“Yeah, that’s fine”

“So, who’s that?” you say, referring to the man she was talking to.

“Oh, he’s Richard. His son joined recently”

“No missus?”

“They’re separated. So, you know, sometimes he’s here and sometimes she is the one driving Daniel”

“Nice. Glad they make it work” you comment. Tommy waves at you because he’s having issues with his shin guard. “I’ll go”

You jog to him, smiling as you walk past Sharon.

“There you go, kiddo” you ruffle his hair, encouraging him to go back into the field.

“Friend of Wanda’s?” a voice says and you turn around. The so called Richard is smiling at you. “She’s great”

The way he says great makes you want to punch him in the face.

“Yeah. She is”

“Do you know if she’s dating anyone?”

“Me” you say, frowning at him. “Why? Wanna sell us a time share or something?”

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry” he turns red. “She didn’t mention you at all”

“Huh. Funny. Just moved in together, it probably slipped her mind” you say, offering your hand. “Doctor Y/L Y/L/N, nice to meet you…”

“Richard”

“Dick” you say, punching his arm a little too harsh as you walk away. “Pleasure”

Asshole.

“Your friend’s nice” you mutter, walking past Wanda. “I’m picking up Pietro”

She didn’t mention you at all.

Funny, you can’t shut up about Wanda but she forgets you exist when someone new shows up.

Fine, whatever.

“What now?” Pietro says, sighing. It must be written all over your face when you go back to take him home.

“Nothing! I didn’t say anything” you defend yourself.

This time he doesn’t push it, probably because he’s too tired from the physical exertion.

You help him out, walk Sparky and then, once the kids are back, spend the rest of the afternoon with them going over homework. Whatever it takes to be away from Wanda.

During dinner, you stay focused in your food and only speak when the kids ask you something.

“Are you gonna be home this weekend?” Billy asks and you nod, smiling when he gets excited.

“Yeah, buddy. Wanna do something fun? We can go catch that movie you wanted”

“Oh” they both turn to look at each other. “We went yesterday with Daniel and his dad”

“Mom told us you wouldn’t have time to go to the movies” Tommy apologizes, looking sorry for something that’s not remotely his fault.

“We can go do something else, kids. Anything you want” you promise, smiling at them.

“Did Darcy like the cookies?” Wanda asks, trying to asses how pissed you are.

“Sure” you mutter, looking anywhere but her. “You know what, I’m not that hungry so I’m going to start cleaning the kitchen”

As you leave, Pietro starts to speak Sokovian in what you think is a reprimand, but who the hell knows.

Everyone else finishes their food and you clean everything, being deliberately slow to avoid Wanda. But there she is, leaning against the counter while you load the dishwasher.

“Wanna come to bed?”

“Nope”

“You don’t have a leg to stand on, Y/N. I was just being nice to Richard”

“He didn’t know about me” you snap, turning to glare at her, “And he wants to ask you out, so don’t let me get in the way. Maybe your next outing should be without the kids”

“It hurts, doesn’t it?”

“I never once hid you. Everyone I work with knows about you. Everyone I meet, that’s the first thing I tell them. My girlfriend and my kids, because I love them. And I love you”

“It’s just hard for me not to…”

“Not to what?”

“Not to hate you! For hurting me. For lying” she says, looking away.

“That’s fair. If you want to hate me, by all means, Wanda. But then be honest if you think this will always be the case and let me go. Because right now? It hurts a lot more to stay than to walk away”

She bites her lip, fidgeting with her hands as you walk past her.

As you’ve done every night for the past week and a half, you lie down on the couch, wondering if things will ever get better between you.

—

The weekend was nice, if only because you got to spend time with the kids. You asked Wanda if she wanted to join once, more out of politeness than genuine desire for her to come along.

The first time she made an excuse about having to work on the book. So you went to the mini golf course, the arcade, to get some pizza and then buy a couple of videogames.

Billy and Tommy were very happy and that’s all that mattered to you.

On Sunday you went grocery shopping, turning a blind eye when they sneaked a couple of chocolates. There were some nice flowers, so you decided to get them, just to have something that made you smile.

You weren’t planning on sticking around for dinner, having a night shift. As you’re having a snack in the kitchen, scrolling through your phone, Wanda walks in, unsure if she should say something to you.

She’s very aware that with her hot and cold attitude she’s done her share of damage to your relationship.

Wanda’s never been good at forgiving people.

“You’ll spoil your apetite” she tries to joke when she sees you eating a couple of cookies.

“I have a night shift” you smile, briefly looking away from your phone.

“The flowers are nice”

“Yeah, I liked them too” you agree.

Your girlfriend wanders around the kitchen, trying to come up with something that can be remotely interpreted as a peace offering.

Looking at the calendar, she notices a circled date two days from now.

“Did we have plans for anything?” she asks, trying to remember what the date means.

“It’s ten months since our first date” you say, looking away.

“Oh. Ten months? Time flies”

Yeah, it does. Not in a million years would you have guessed that things would go so bad in the course of a few weeks.

Even the ring you were so excited about is now stored away in a box in the garage.

“We should do something” Wanda says. “We could go to dinner to that restaurant you like”

“If you want to” you say, unsure if her mood will be the same two days from now. Hell, maybe she’ll go back to hating your guts by then and it will be an awkward dinner.

“Yes” she hurries to say, standing in front of you when you get up to wash your cup. “I’d want to… I think I’d like to just… talk like we used to. You know?”

Of course you do. That’s all you’ve wanted since this nightmare began but every time you think you’re making progress she pushes you away. And you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“Ok. I’ll make the reservation” you agree. “I have to go now. Have a good night”

“Have a good shift at work”

You go up to take your bag and say bye to the kids.

“See you Tuesday after school”

“You promise?” Billy says and you nod, offering your pinky. He links it with yours and you both laugh.

“Be good, kiddos”

At the door, Wanda’s waiting with some food.

“In case you get hungry”

You nod, taking the container and smiling as you walk past her.

Wanda wishes she had the courage to go after you and kiss you. But all she does is watch as you drive away.

—-

“Where’s Belova?” you say, annoyed. She’s supposed to be here and it’s only you and Kate in the ER.

“She said she had a family emergency. And that she’d tried to be here early in the morning”

Right. You can afford to skip a night shift if your mother is a reknowned surgeon.

“Well, go get some rest and if anything urgent comes up I’ll let you know” you say, not feeling very tired.

The brunette nods, grateful for the chance to sleep. Ever since Yelena joined you, she’s been staying longer in the hospital to get whatever cases she can get. You appreciate her commitment.

For once, it’s an easy shift. The worse that comes is a group of college kids that are drunk, one of them breaking his nose as he fell.

“I’m kinda hungry” you tell Barnes as you finish up with the young man.

“Go, I’ll stay here”

“Would you like to join me? I have plenty of food” you offer, suddenly realising you’ve never spoken to Barnes beyond work. He thinks about it for a second and then nods.

“Sounds nice”

You take it as an acheivement, going to a break room where you split Wanda’s lasagna in half, while Barnes comes back with a couple of sodas.

“Thanks… sorry, I call you Barnes, but is there other name…?”

“Bucky” he says, sitting down.

“Alright. Bucky” you nod, following suit. You both eat in silence for a moment.

“You’re a good cook”

“That’s my girlfriend. I can only do some decent pancakes” you admit.

“Oh, is that the woman that came the other day?” he asks and you nod, surprised that he noticed.

“Yeah, that’s her” you say, suddenly remembering everything that’s happened in the past weeks. “She has two kids”

“I like kids” he says, which makes you chuckle. He raises an eyebrow, amused. “What?”

“I’m sorry, but you’re always so serious. I can’t imagine you with kids. I’m being rude” you mumble, watching as his smiles widens.

“Nah, I get it. I’m just not good at making friends. And it feels like everyone knows each other already”

“I’m sorry, I guess we should have made more of an effort to include you” you nod, thinking that it must be awful to be left out. “Tell you what, we’ll all go out for drinks one of these days. There’s a bar close to the hospital”

“Maybe”

“There’s a pool table” you insist and he smiles.

“Ok, yeah” he finally relents and you celebrate. Once you’re done with the food, he hands over a chocolate bar. You appreciate the gesture, and munch on it while holding back a yawn.

“Go get some sleep, I’ll page when there’s something” Bucky says.

“Thanks. This was nice” you pat his shoulder, happy that you got to speak to him.

You’re paged a couple of times but manage to get a few hours of sleep.

The next time someone calls you is to go to the third floor, to a conference room. Of course it’s Melina Romanoff.

“Yes?”

“Oh, good, you’re here. Have a seat, please” she speaks, completely indifferent to your mood.

“I have work” you refuse the offer, but she’s clearly not speaking until you do as she says. You sigh, relenting. Maybe she’s about to rip you to shreds for being an ass to Yelena.

“You know what I like?”

Dancing in the moonlight like a witch?

“No, not really”

“Honesty. Someone who doesn’t care about anything other than the truth. And skills” you remain impassive and then she takes off her glasses, smiling at you. “All those things you said about Yelena are true. She has great potential, but she’s missing the drive. It’s about consistency. And hard work”

“Yeah, and yet she skipped the night shift”

“That was my bad. Her father is in town” she says, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Anyway, the people who have worked for me are always too afraid to tell me the truth. Because they want me to like them. But not you. Which is why…”

Melina extends a letter. An offer letter to be the Head of Trauma at Romanoff Medical.

“I’m not interested” you say, noticing the pay is triple what you currently make.

“And why’s that?”

“My family’s here”

“Hum, I see. We can arrange for relocation. You’ll have enough money to buy a beautiful house”

She’s probably referring to the sign up bonus you get if you accept the job.

“Wanda would never want to move. I appreciate the offer” you hand back the paper and she stops you.

“How long have you been with this girl?”

“Ten months”

“And it’s good? There’s a future?” she insists.

“Maybe”

A month ago you would have said that absolutely there was a future. Now, it’s very uncertain.

“Ok, well… sometimes we have to make choices. This is one of those times, Doctor Y/L/N. You work for Romanoff Medical and everyone will know your name. They’ll try to steal you and I’ll double your pay at some point to get you to stay”

“The money isn’t…”

“It should be. Because you’re good at your job, one of the best I’ve seen. At least take the letter and read it carefully. We’re going back to Boston tonight but call me if you change your mind”

“Thanks” you nod, hearing your pager. You fold the letter and put it on the pocket of your lab coat, finding Kate in the ER struggling with a doppler ultrasound.

You smile at the pregnant woman that is waiting, looking worried.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Y/L/N. What brings you to the ER today?”

“I’m having some pain, and contractions but we’re only at 35 weeks. It can’t possible be…” the woman says.

“We’re having twins, boy and girl” her husband explains.

“Congratulations” you smile. “Twins are fun. You’ll have to get two of everything for Christmas, though”

“Do you have twins?” the woman asks, trying to forget about the pain.

“Two boys. Here” you check for the heartbeats, but notice the woman’s water broke, blood mixed with the fluid. “We’re doing an emergency C-section. Don’t worry, we’ll take great care of you and your babies”

Kate pages OBGYN and Maria for the delivery of the babies.

“Everything will be fine, Miss Hardwick” you say, introducing the surgeons. “Your husband is on his way to the OR, the nurses are helping him scrub in”

“Tell me about your boys” she asks when the procedure begins. You smile, looking at her.

“Well, Billy likes science and art. So I don’t know if he’ll be a scientist or an artist like his mom. Tommy is really fast, the fastest boy in the soccer team”

“Two moms?” the woman says and you tense up, unsure if she’ll have a problem with it. “Your house must be very clean”

Maria and you laugh at that.

“You know, it is. But she does the cooking and I try to keep everything neat, and help with homework and taking out the dog”

“Honey, I think I want to be a lesbian” the woman says, and her husband looks around.

“It’s just the anesthesia talking, she’s joking” you calm him down, smiling.

After an hour of surgery, you admire the new family, though the babies will have to spend a few days in the NICU.

“Thanks, Maria” you smile at the woman as you scrub out. “I’m glad they’re all ok”

“We just need to be careful with the post op, can your team handle it?”

“Yeah, of course” you say.

Yelena finally shows up, with a million apologies about how her dad surprised her with a visit from Russia. You decide her punishment should be sticking to the Hardwick’s post op.

“This was a high risk pregnancy. You’re gonna be checking up on her by the hour, no excuses. Can you handle that?” you say.

“You got it”

“Good. You’re also on ER duty, since I’m sending Bishop home. She just pulled off a 36 hour shift and three surgeries” you grab your charts and turn back to look at her. “Better catch up, Belova. Right now, you’re way behind”

Hoping the rest of the day can be better, you instruct her on how to work the ER and she seems to be eager to follow your instructions.

A little too eager, as Yelena hurries to pull out a knife from a man’s leg and getting you sprayed with an alarming amount of blood.

“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry” she says, being pushed out of the way by Barnes so he can fix the mess.

You wipe your face and arms. Well, it’s been a while since you’ve had that happen.

“What did you do wrong?” you calmly ask Yelena.

“I… I didn’t take X-rays. Or his BP”

“Yeah, make sure that doesn’t happen again” you say, tired of being too hard on her. It’s clearly not working. “Stitch him up, I gotta get changed”

Cleaning up proves difficult when you don’t have a change of clothes in your bag. This is what you get when you’re in a hurry to leave.

“Don’t” you warn Tony when the elevator doors open and he watches your bloody scrubs.

“Fine. I won’t say I told you so”

“Screw you, Stark”

“Romanoffs! Evil!” he says as you roll your eyes, walking to your car.

Wanda’s reaction is a little different when she sees you come in.

“Oh, my God! Are you ok?”

“Not my blood” you reassure her. “I forgot my other scrubs. I’ll take a shower and throw these away”

“You got some on your lab coat too”

“Damn it” you raise your elbow. That’s gonna be a bitch to clean.

“Leave it, I was doing laundry tomorrow” Wanda says and you nod, smiling.

“Thanks”

Worrying about the mess Yelena could make while alone in the ER makes you hurry up, taking a quick shower and walking out of the bathroom in your underwear, jumping around as you put on your pants.

“In a hurry?” Wanda asks, eyeing you curiously.

“Yeah, she almost got someone killed while I was standing there. Wanna guess what happens if I leave for more than an hour?” you huff, looking for a new pair of sneakers. “Hey, how was it when the twins were born?”

“What do you mean?” Wanda tilts her head.

“I don’t know, we delivered twins today, and it made me wonder, what happened when Billy and Tommy were born, ya know? Was your family there? Did Pietro cry? All that”

“Oh, that’s a long story” Wanda smiles. You stand up, ready to leave and she leans forward. “Why don’t I tell you over dinner?”

“I’d like that” your heart flutters at her beautiful smile. She kisses your cheek.

“See you later”

“Bye, love” you smile, feeling like something’s changed between you two.

Hopefully, for the better.

—

Love: Happy ten months to us.

Love: I love you, detka

You smile at the text you got from Wanda right at midnight.

“It’s feeding time, wanna help?” Maria says as you stand outside of the NICU, watching their oxygen levels and temp.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, come on”

You both change into special gowns and cover your heads and shoes to avoid contamination. One of the nurses hands you the little girl and you begin to feed her, amazed at how strong she is in spite of being a preemie.

“You’re a natural” Maria comments and you laugh, while the baby wraps her entire hand around one of your fingers.

“Oh, man. It’s happening again. I’m catching baby fever. How have you managed your entire career, Maria?”

“Well, dealing with Carol is a lot like having a kid” she jokes and you both laugh.

Feeding time is over too soon for your liking and you’re honestly thinking you’ll come back before your shift ends just to enjoy this a bit longer.

And then Yelena walks in the room.

“Belova, you’re contaminating everything”

“Mrs. Hardwick is crashing”

“What do you mean, crashing?”

You run out of the NICU, hearing the code blue over the speakers. By the time you get to the room, Bucky is working with compressions. You spring to action, asking for medications and taking over CPR.

“Talk to me, Belova”

“We have a pulse” she says, not taking her eyes off the monitor.

“Ok, let’s do blood work and an ECG. Did you do the post op, Yelena?”

“Yes!”

“Every hour?”

“Every 45 minutes! Y/N, you have to believe me, I did everything. What about? Ok, I know I’m just an intern but I’ve read about peripartum cardiomyopathy?”

“It was a high risk pregnancy. We need to get those lab results to rule it out. The bad news is…”

“That in critical cases, a heart transplant is the only way. And there’s a high rejection rate” Yelena says, and you nod.

“Very good. I wish I could say you’re wrong, but it’s not the case”

The results aren’t good. Neither is your chat with Mr. Hardwick, who’s facing the potential loss of his wife and their children are still in the NICU.

“What are our options?”

“We can start with beta blockers, diuretic, other treatments. If it’s not good enough we will have to consider a heart transplant”

“How long will that take?” he says, desperate.

Your pager interrupts you. Her room again.

“Wait here”

But of course he doesn’t.

“She’s crashing again. Charge to 200”

“We have to do something now” Maria says, helping you with compressions.

“LVAD. It can be a bridge treatment for medical management or heart transplant. Page Ross” you turn to one of the nurses.

“He’s out”

“Then page him and tell him a woman is dying”

“He’s not in the country” Bucky clarifies.

“Alright, whoever’s available in Cardio, Jesus. Is that so hard to find? We’re not wasting any time, tell them to meet us in the OR…”

“Doctor Bernard is two hours away”

“Not good enough” you yell, feeling desperate. All you see is a woman with twins, like Wanda, who needs to see her babies grow up.

“Natasha’s still here” Yelena offers and you nod without hesitation.

“Call her”

The adrenaline makes it seem like it’s been a second since you began to prep for the surgery, and Natasha walks in, ready to go.

“An LVAD can be a temporary solution. But she needs the transplant. My mother is already calling UNOS”

“Ok, let’s begin” you nod. You stand opposite to Natasha, doing everything she asks.

Her movements are calculated and precise. You find yourself looking in awe at her skill.

She was born to be a surgeon.

“There’s a heart in Boston. You need to go now” Melina says when you’re almost done. Tony is right behind her. Seems like everyone wants this case to have a happy ending.

“I’ll go” you and Natasha say at the same time.

“Take the jet” Tony says. “Mine, not Romanoff's”

“Yeah, ok” you look at the clock. You have twelve hours for dinner with Wanda. “Let’s just wrap up before dinner, or my wife will be mad”

“Wife?” Maria says and you look up.

“Girlfriend. Sorry, my mind was elsewhere” you mutter, shaking your head.

“I didn’t know you’d propose. Congratulations” Natasha says, looking at you over her surgical mask.

“Not proposing… Not anytime soon at least, things haven’t been so… nice” you say, focusing on the LVAD.

“I’m sorry” Natasha says, and for the first time, it seems like she means it.

“Not your fault. Not all of it, at least” you joke in a low voice so only Natasha can hear.

“Jerk” she says, but there’s no malice in her tone. “We’re done here. I’ll leave instructions for the post OP while we get the heart”

“Jet’s waiting” Stark confirms.

“Thanks, Tony. You’re my favorite nepo baby” you smile, taking off your gloves.

—

It’s all a blur. People greet Natasha, and it feels like the entire room stops when she walks in. Of course, her family owns this place.

In Stark Hospital, she’s a guest,

Here, Natasha’s the boss.

One of them, at least.

“This is Doctor Y/L/N, scrubbing in with me”

You feel a little intimidated, at the sheer size of the hospital. Twice as big as the one you work at. So, maybe that’s why Tony doesn’t like them that much.

Men and their obsession with size.

“You should see the ER” Natasha says when she catches you looking around the facilities.

“Maybe some other time. Let’s get our heart”

“Now I think I just owe you a pair of lungs” she jokes and you laugh, remembering the time she went to Westview.

Everyone’s ready for the organ harvest but Natasha takes a deep breath, approaching the woman in the operating table.

“You’re about to save a mother’s life. We hope she can see her children grow up. Thank you”

With that, she turns to nod at you.

Again, you are in awe of her technique, even if it’s your third surgery together. You realize the first time you hadn’t noticed because you were too busy joking and admiring her green eyes.

Yeah, the damage to your relationship wasn’t Natasha’s fault at all.

I’m such an idiot.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah, just worried”

“About being late for dinner?”

“Among other things” you say, avoiding her stare.

“Well, we’re done here. Let’s get back to Westview”

—-

This is the third time she calls you. Wanda looks at her phone, worried that something might have happened to you.

She decides to call the hospital, but it’s Kate who answers the ER line.

“Kate, hi. Is Y/N ok? She hasn’t called or texted” Wanda says, holding her phone between her cheek and her shoulder, getting the laundry ready. She picks up your lab coat, and a sheet of paper falls.

An offer letter.

To work with the Romanoffs.

“Hi, Miss Maximoff. She’s on her way back from Boston. Her and Doctor Romanoff…”

“She went to Boston? With Natasha?” Wanda stops reading the letter, catching up to what Kate is saying.

“Well yeah, we had a…”

“I have to go” Wanda hangs up, dropping the phone.

She reads the letter one more time before crumpling it in a ball.

—

It’s been a while since you had such an intense shift. I mean, sure, maybe fishing Yelena out of the water was hard, but this was one of those cases that had the entire hospital on edge.

Mrs. Hardwick is in post OP with a new heart, and her twins are getting stronger by the hour. You desperately hope there’s a happy ending.

Also, you made it in time for dinner, with some actual time to shower.

“Hey” you greet Wanda when you walk in. She’s sitting in the dining table, glaring at you.

“You have a lot of nerve to show up”

You’re about to ask what’s wrong when she throws a ball of paper your way. Of course, the offer letter.

“Wanda”

“No, don’t even start. You broke your promise. Why were you in Boston? Looking for a new place?”

“Jesus fuck, Wanda!” you shout, exhausted. “I was in Boston for a heart transplant so a woman who just had twins can live. I mean, a mother could have died, her babies are still in an incubator and you are worried about a job I’m not even gonna take? Get a fucking grip!”

“Don’t talk to me like that. You said that you were done speaking to her, that nothing was happening. And now this?”

“Her mother made the offer that I rejected because my family is here. As for the surgery, well, yeah, I broke my promise for a good reason. What was I supposed to say? Sorry, your wife will have to die because my girlfriend is paranoid?”

“Don’t you dare call me paranoid when you kissed her, not to mention all the times you were calling her Professor Romanoff, or how you always talked about having dinner or going out”

“How do you…?” it takes a moment and Wanda licks her lips nervously, looking away. “You went through my phone”

“What else was I supposed to do? Here she is, this stunning woman that is offering you so much thrill and excitement while I’m nagging you about taking out the trash. And not only that, but a chance at a better life too”

“So you went through my phone and my stuff. That’s great, Wanda. Very healthy and mature” you run your hands over your face, resisting the urge to kick the wall. “I would never sign that stupid contract, in a million years. Our life is here, but no matter what I do, you always doubt I’m committed”

“You’ve been lying to me for weeks and I’m the bad guy” Wanda says, looking defeated. “Is that all you have to say? No apology for hurting me? For betraying me?”

“I apologized over the kiss. I kept my promise and yeah, I broke it to save a life. Natasha’s on a plane back to Boston, and she’s never coming here again. But if you can’t trust me…” you sigh, and wipe the tears that roll down your cheeks. “If you don’t trust me, I don’t see how we can do this. Because then the issue isn’t Natasha. It’s us”

“You’re right” Wanda says after a beat of silence. You relax at her words, thinking the fight is over and you can talk rationally about it. Her next words hit you like a brick wall. “I don’t trust you. And I don’t think I ever will again”

Wanda stares at you, until you look away and sigh.

“Then what? The kids…”

“They are my children. I should have never involved them, that was my mistake and it is one I’ll never make again. We’ve been doing good our whole lives, just the three of us. It’s best if you leave us alone. We will be better”

We’ll be better without you.

“I should go” is all you say, closing the door behind you.

—-

Bucky leaves the hospital, sighing. What a day. He even stopped by the NICU to see those cute babies.

He’s about to get on his motorcycle when he spots you, sitting in a bench.

“Hey. Came to check on your patient?”

“Yeah. And talk to the Chief” you sigh, looking at him. “How about that drink we talked about?”

“I’m kinda tired”

“You sure? Because this is the only chance you’ll get”

“What do you mean?” he asks, noticing the tear that rolls down your cheek.

“Where’s Mom?” you ask them, and they turn to look at each other.

“She was arguing with uncle Pietro”

“I’m sure it’s fine” you say, placing the food in front of them. “Let’s eat and practise your presentation for Biology”

“Ok” Billy agrees.

For a little while, everything seems normal until Wanda walks in, looking ready to kill someone.

“It’s absolutely useless speaking to him” she says, walking past you and into the kitchen. You follow her, leaning against the wall.

“What’s wrong?”

“He wants to go back to snowboarding. Risking his life for what? Some likes on instagram and sponsorships? You almost died trying to save him and here I am busting my ass cleaning after him. And he wants to die”

“Why don’t I talk to him? You try to calm down and eat something. The kids were worried about you”

“I’m not hungry” she shakes her head, but accepts your hug, leaning her head against your shoulder.

“Just try, for me?”

“Ok” she nods, kissing your cheek. You smile, and take your dinner out in the backyard, where Pietro is throwing a ball for Sparky.

“My answer’s still no” he says when you drag a chair and sit next to him.

“I didn’t say anything” you shrug your shoulders, offering Sparky a piece of your chicken. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not quitting sports”

“Ok, that’s fine.”

“It’s gonna be fine. What happened that day was a freak accident. Lighting doesn’t strike twice”

“I mean, I guess. Except it absolutely can happen again. Listen, if this is your life calling and everything, I get it. Just try to understand your sister. What would you feel like if the roles were reversed? If she got seriously hurt”

“What would you do if you couldn’t perform surgery again?”

“I’d go insane” you admit. “I’m not telling you to quit. I’m just telling you to understand Wanda’s point of view. Plus, you still need to start physical therapy.”

You sit in silence for a while, eating and looking at the sky.

“I’m hungry” Pietro admits, and you laugh.

“Come on, let’s get you some food”

As Wanda prepares his dinner, you take the kids upstairs. They ask you a couple of questions about the model of the heart you helped them build with clay until they’re both yawning.

“Sleep now, boys” you close the door, watching with a smile as they’re already snoring.

Wanda is still cleaning the kitchen when you join her, and she smiles at you.

“Thank you. He’s being less stubborn now. Wants to start therapy next week”

“My pleasure. I’ll finish cleaning, go to bed” you say, kissing her temple. She squeezes your arm in thanks, but turns around as she remembers.

“Could you take out the trash?”

“Huh? Yes. I’ll do it, no worries” you answer absentmindedly, looking at your phone.

You spend a lot of time on your phone lately, Wanda thinks.

After cleaning up, you sit and practise for your own test tomorrow. Natasha told you they’ll begin to implement her mother’s technique at the hospital and you want to scrub in.

For that, you need a bunch of grapes and a sowing kit. Everytime you finish a set of stitches, you send a picture to Nat and wait for her feedback.

Nat: That one’s perfect.

You smile at that, proud of your work. You’re so busy texting back that you don’t hear Wanda come in.

“Did you take out the trash?”

“Oh, crap. Let me do that right now” you put your phone down and remove your gloves.

“Who are you talking to?”

“What?”

“I’ve been waiting for an hour for you to come to bed, and it seems like you’d rather be texting. Is it her?” Wanda says, clearly upset.

“Wanda, come on. I was practising to scrub in this week. It would be a pretty big deal if they pick me to be in the surgery”

“Please, it’s so obvious that woman will let you in just because she has a thing for you” Wanda scoffs.

“Oh, so you’re saying I can’t get in because of my skills?”

“That’s not even… you know what? Don’t come to bed”

“What?” you turn to look at her, frowning.

“You can sleep on the couch” she says, leaving the kitchen without looking back at you.

Un-fucking-believable.

Fine, whatever. You’ll sleep on the fucking couch.

You clean up your mess and finally take out the trash, going to your car for a cigarrette and a lighter.

As you sit in the porch, another text comes from Natasha.

You decide it’s faster to call her.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” she jokes.

“Nah, I was kicked out of the bedroom”

“What did you do?” Natasha asks, clearly amused.

“Why do you assume it was me who did something?” you want to sound offended, but after a beat of silence, you admit the truth. Or part of it. “I forgot to take out the trash”

“That’s not so bad”

“I guess not. But whatever, I’ll manage for tonight. Got a doble shift ahead of me tomorrow”

“Sorry, if I was there I’d be more than happy to take you in” she says in a low voice and you don’t know exactly what to say to that.

“When do you get here, by the way?”

“My flight lands at seven thirty”

“Want me to pick you up? We can have breakfast and then go to the hospital” you offer, feeling better at the prospect of having plans to catch up with Natasha.

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you”

“Not at all, I’m happy to play the part of private driver”

“Will you hold a sign with my name like they do in the movies?”

“I’ll try” you laugh, looking behind you. “Alright, I’ll go get some sleep. Night, Nat”

“Night, Y/N”

Pulling out a blanket and a cushion, you lay down, sighing and trying to get comfortable. A few minutes later, you can hear Wanda going out of her study, and you stay still, hoping she won’t come looking for you.

Truth is, you don’t want to talk to her right now either.

Not after she kicked you out of the room for something so insignificant.

So, you close your eyes and try to let go of the hurt.

Tomorrow will be better.

—

Next morning, you get up at break of dawn to get changed and pack your bag for the next 48 hours. Honestly? You’re happy to be at the hospital for two days.

“Want some breakfast before you leave?” Wanda offers when you walk in to get changed, and by the looks of it, she didn’t get much sleep last night.

“I’m fine” is all you say, looking for your scrubs and your phone charger.

“Y/N” she calls as you’re about to leave. You turn to look at her reluctantly, eager to just walk out of the room. “Have a nice day”

“You too” you say, without any emotion, going down the stairs and straight to your car.

The ride to the airport lets you clear your head, and you feel a lot more relaxed when you go down to wait for Natasha.

It’s not long before you spot her, walking out and looking flawless.

“My apologies in advance” is all she says as you approach her, and you look confused.

“What do you mean?”

“Natalia, wait for me! You’re always in such a hurry” a blonde woman, younger and shorter than Natasha comes right behind her, carrying three very big suitcases. “Are you our Uber?”

“Yelena!” Natasha scolds, switching to Russian. “I’m sorry, my sister has no manners”

“Hey, no worries, it’s not the first time I’ve had siblings fighting in a foreign language” you smile, introducing yourself to Yelena.

“Nice to meet you. Thank you for picking us up”

“Are you staying for the whole month?” you comment, struggling with Yelena’s bags.

“Yes, my mother arranged for me to spend some time learning at Stark’s Hospital. I want to be a Trauma surgeon and Natasha said they have the best one she’s ever met”

“Did she say that now?” you laugh, as Natasha blushes and gets inside the car.

“Why? Do you know them?” Yelena sits on the back seat, unlocking her phone to find the address of her new place.

“Yeah, they’re ok I guess” you joke, making Natasha roll her eyes.

“It’s Y/N, you dumbass” Natasha clarifies, which makes Yelena groan and curse in Russian.

“Hey! That means bitch” you recognise it.

“How do you know it?” Yelena asks.

“My girlfriend and her brother are always saying it to each other. Living together has regressed them to their teenage years” you lament, trying not to think about them.

Yelena is restless in the backseat, asking you to change the music until you give up and hand over your phone so she can play whatever she likes.

“Have any siblings?” Natasha says, massaging her temples.

“Two half siblings but I don’t really speak to them”

“Lucky”

“Natalia, that is so rude” Yelena mutters, singing along to American Pie. “I’m hungry, can we get food before going to the apartment?”

“We’re having breakfast and then going to the hospital. That’s what grown ups do, they work even if they had to fly in the middle of the night”

“Fiiiine”

As you park, Yelena jumps out, because she wants to sit on the second floor with a view to the promenade. You wait for Natasha, and walk inside with her to the restaurant.

“So, I take it I have a new student?”

“I’m so sorry. Fury was supposed to ask you first but she’s just so damn impulsive. Please don’t feel like you have to help her in any way”

“It’s fine. I’m guessing your mother’s behind it? I don’t want you to get in any trouble. And Kate could use some friendly competition”

“I really appreciate it” Natasha smiles, and you both sit while Yelena looks out the balcony, taking pictures of the sunrise.

Yelena asks you questions about your background and work experience. You think it’s just curiosity as she’s starting her residency soon, but Natasha can tell Yelena is doing a job interview in her own sneaky way. She’s always so outgoing and charming that people have a hard time believing she can be a little shit.

“Have you ever been to Boston?” the younger woman asks and you shrug your shoulders.

“No, never been”

“You’d love it, it’s so pretty, and our hospital has one of the best Trauma centers in the country. Of course, the issue is finding the right person to run it, right Natasha?”

“I guess”

“Oh, I didn’t know you had an opening” you comment for the sake of conversation.

“Well, yes, actually. Didn’t Natasha tell you? We’re actively looking for someone” Yelena says as if it’s such a big coincidence. “You wouldn’t happen to be interested in it?”

“Sorry to say, my girlfriend would not want to move to Boston. But if I know of someone I’ll send them your way. Who was your former head of department?”

“Rumlow. You know him?” Natasha says, wishing she didn’t. He was a pretentious ass.

“Yeah, he’s an asshole. We studied together and only one of us got to go to work at John Hopkins. Spoiler alert, it wasn’t him” you brag, making Natasha smile.

“Tell me more about your girlfriend” Yelena asks, which makes Natasha flinch.

“Don’t”

“I’m just being polite” she lies, and you have a feeling it is better to change the subject. So, you ask for the check, paying for the three of you and then driving to the hospital.

“I have to get ready for the next session. Behave” Natasha says, and then turns to you. “If she’s being bad, you have my authorization to kick her ass”

“Duly noted” you wink at Nat, walking towards the ER, where Kate is already waiting with some charts for your rounds. “Morning, Doctor Bishop. This is Doctor Romanoff…”

“Belova. I go by Belova” Yelena corrects you and you nod.

“Oh, that will make it less confusing. She’s gonna be working with us for a bit. If you could teach her some of the basics of our ER I’d appreciate it”

“Oh… ok” Kate looks between you two, and then walks behind you. “Sorry, am I getting kicked out as your resident? Did I do something wrong?”

“Not at all. Yelena is here to learn, as are you. There’s enough to do for everyone, right?”

You keep an eye on their interactions, noticing how Kate is a lot more uptight in the  way she keeps the ER than Yelena. The blonde moves around the hospital like she’s been there her entire life and it doesn’t come off as pretentious, but as second nature. Her mother probably always dragged her daughters along while she worked.

But, by the time there’s an ambulance coming along, you see her go into professional mode, talking to the paramedics.

“Male, forties. Fell off a ladder, was conscious but had a seizure and BP dropped” Drax says, and you move the patient to a gurney.

“Bishop? Belova?” you question them as the patient has another seizure.

“I’d administer lorazepam and rule out skull fraction and hemorrhage” Yelena says, and you nod.

“Very well. He’s your patient now” you nod. “Once you get the results, page me and Neuro”

Kate looks a little hurt at that, and you sigh, watching as Yelena stabilizes the man and coordinates with Barnes.

“She’s just here for a little while. And you need to be on your toes. ER is all about speed, Kate. Don’t sweat it”

“Yes, Doctor Y/L/N”

You pat her shoulder, going to check Natasha’s class. It’s already started and you know the exercises as she gave you an overview before anyone else. So you lean on the door, watching as everyone practises the sutures.

“Care to join us?” Natasha says and you shrug your shoulders.

“I’m on duty. Looks like your sister got her first surgery”

“So soon? Who did she piss off to get it?”

“Just my resident. That’s ok, though, I’m sure next surgery will be Kate’s” you look at Darcy, giving her an excited thumbs up when she shows you her sutures.

“Speaking of which, Fury has told me he wants Bishop and your friend Lewis in the first surgery” Natasha says and you nod, trying to hide your disappointment. “I’m really sorry, I wanted it to be you, but he’s doing us a favor with Yelena and we have to give something in return”

“I get it. There’s always a next one, right? Plus, I’m happy for Darcy, she’s an excellent surgeon and I’m sure she’ll do great” you smile at your friend. In that moment, your pager goes off and you sigh. “Gotta get back to it. See you around, Nat”

“Wait” she leaves the skills lab, following you into the hallway. Her hand rests on your wrist and you turn around.

“What’s wrong?” you say when you catch the frown on her face.

“I’m sorry, for giving you extra work with Yelena. I didn’t think… I was just saying you’re a great surgeon. If I had known my mother would do this I…”

“Nat, come on” you squeeze her hand, stepping closer. “It’s no bother at all. I’m happy to teach her whatever I can until your mother finds someone else back in Boston”

“You’re too kind. I might owe you a nice dinner after all of this” she smiles, noticing you haven’t let go of her hand.

“I’ll hold you to that” without thinking, your hand travels to her elbow and you give her a light squeeze. “I really have to go now” you say when you’re paged again. “Good luck with the surgery tomorrow”

“Thanks”

You smile back at her as you leave for the ER, finding Kate in the middle of chaos, with an accident involving three people.

“See? You got yourself at least two surgeries” you smile at her, overseeing the work. Kamala is already there, helping Kate with everything she needs.

“Heard there’s someone new” she whispers to the brunette as they stabilize a patient.

“Yeah, she’s the youngest Romanoff. I’m now competing with medical royalty for the best cases” Kate huffs, but shuts up when she catches you staring.

“She could be the Princess of Genovia and I’d still make her work for it, Bishop”

“What’s Genovia?” Kamala asks, confused.

“You’re so young” you sigh, feeling like the crypt keeper all of a sudden. “Take them to imaging and page me when you speak to Carol. I have to check on Yelena”

When you scrub in, you find that Yelena has made her way next to Tony, pushing Peter to the back of the room. It seems like she has a real talent for getting what she wants without most people noticing.

“Doctor Y/L/N, nice of you to join us. I thought you’d be with the rest of sycophants at Romanoff’s masterclass” Tony greets you bitterly.

“Doctor Stark” you try to tell him that another Romanoff is holding the suction tube, but he keeps ranting.

“Honestly, I can’t wait for this stupid training to be over. We have to pretend that we’re impressed by this, really? Stark Hospital is one of the top teaching hospitals in the continent. I’ve had applications from Yemen to study with me. I think it’s time we show the Romanoffs what it looks like to be at the forefront of innovation”

“Tony, I really don’t think we should…”

“Ugh, I get it. Natasha is your type. Redhead, green eyes, you have a crush. But honestly, I’ve known her for so long and I can tell you, she can be real phony”

“Honestly, Tony, just shut your mouth” you plead, mortified at everything Yelena just heard.

The blonde looks at you, but she seems amused.

“I agree with Doctor Stark” she says. “Natasha can be annoying. But then again, she’s my sister”

You could hear a pin drop after those words. Tony looks at you and you shrug your shoulders. It’s not like you didn’t try to warn him.

“More suction, please” is all he says, and Yelena leans forward.

“Is that ok, Doctor Stark?”

“Yeah. Peachy”

—

48 hours and six surgeries later, you feel completely beaten and ready to pass out.

The worst part is that you don’t even know if you’re gonna get some decent sleep when you get back home. Wanda texted you a couple of times, and you tried really hard to act normal, but all you want is an apology for the way she acted.

Unfortunately for those who knew you, you had a tendency to hold a grudge beyond reason.

So, you’re once again stalling, smoking outside the hospital when Natasha pulls over.

“Hey” she smiles and you wave. “Didn’t know you smoked”

“Only after a hard shift. Want one?”

“I quit last year” she shakes her head, sitting next to you.

“Congratulations. I quit every year” you joke. “Heard the first procedure went great”

“Yeah, there was a great deal of enthusiasm. Made me less reluctant to be here. And I promise you’ll be on the next surgery”

“It’s ok, I’m happy to wait for my turn. Good things come to those who wait”

“Speaking of which, what are you waiting for to go home?”

“I don’t know” you shrug your shoulders. “I just wanted a moment to chill before going back to reality, ya know?”

“If for some reason you end up on the couch again, I have a spare bed in the apartment” she offers and you laugh.

“Thank you, Nat” you watch as Yelena finally goes out to meet her sister. “Have a good night, you two”

“Bye, Y/N. Thank you for a great first shift!” Yelena says, excited. She was working as much as you did and for some reason she’s not looking disheveled or exhausted.

To be fair, you’ve been doing this for more years than her.

By the time you get home, all of the lights are out except the one on the porch. Thinking it might be better to stay downstairs, you drop your bag and plop down on the couch, like you used to do when you were living alone and came back completely spent from grueling shifts.

After a few minutes you hear someone walking down the stairs.

“Y/N?” Wanda calls and you sigh.

“Hey”

“I thought I heard you come in”

“Yeah, sorry” you sit up, rubbing your eyes. “It’s pretty late and I didn’t want to wake you up. Go back to sleep”

“Did you eat something?” Wanda ignores your suggestion to go back upstairs, sitting on the edge of the couch.

“Nah, I’m exhausted. Maybe tomorrow. Sleep is all I want now” you sink your face in the cushion, hoping that’s the end of the conversation.

“Come to bed” Wanda asks softly, her hand pushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“You sure?”

“Yes. I can’t sleep without you” she admits in a low voice and you smile.

“Ok, then. Let’s go to bed” you stand up, allowing Wanda to lead you to your room, smiling when she settles next to you.

You’re practically asleep by the time your head hits the pillow, and Wanda admires your sleeping form, wishing she could know what’s going on with you.

“I love you” she whispers against your forehead as she places a small kiss there.

She wonders if that’s enough to get through this rough patch.

—

Hunger is what wakes you up. If your stomach wasn’t protesting the lack of food, you’d stay in bed for the next eight hours.

“Hey, you’re up” Wanda greets you when you walk in the kitchen.

“I’m starving” you say, going through the fridge and hoping Pietro didn’t eat everything again.

“Want me to make you something?”

“That’s ok. I’ll get some cereal” you reject her offer, though you are dying for some of her pancakes.

There’s a beat of silence as you start eating, and then Wanda interrupts it.

“Did you get to scrub in on that big surgery?”

“Nope. Guess Natasha doesn’t like me that much, huh?” you try to joke, but it comes off as bitter.

“So, we’re doing this” Wanda sighs, standing in front of you. You keep eating, looking down at your plate.

“Doing what, exactly?”

“Arguing over her”

“I’m not arguing. There’s nothing to argue about. I’m just mad and hurt because you made me sleep on the couch before a 48 hour shift over forgetting to take out the trash” you say, crossing your arms. Now you’re not even hungry.

“It’s not about the trash. It’s about how you’re constantly on your phone, or spend more hours in the hospital and how you walk  out of a freaking room with her” Wanda says, raising her voice.

“Wanda, she knows I’m with you. We barely talk about personal shit. Hell, I don’t even know if she likes women!”

“She likes you, and that’s enough for me to hate her and this whole situation”

“I have never, ever, given you a reason to doubt me or my committment to this family. I can’t control if she likes me, but what I can control is my own actions. And Wanda, I would never cheat on you. It’s not who I am” you insist. “This is the last time I will defend myself over this subject. You need to figure out if you can get over it or not, because it’s getting exhausting”

She looks at you, and you stand up, washing your dishes. As you’re about to leave the kitchen, Wanda calls for you. You’re surprised to feel her clinging to you, her hands around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry” she says against your neck. “You know how he lied to me. I guess I’m afraid it will happen again. But you’re right, you’re not him. I’m sorry, please, Y/N”

Her voice quivers as she keeps pleading and all of your defenses drop instantly. You turn around, hugging Wanda tight against your body.

“I’m here. I want to be here. I love you and the boys and this is the life I want. Don’t forget that”

“I know. I love you”

You give her a sad smile when you break apart, watching as tears roll down her cheeks.

“Maybe we could… let’s go out tonight. Have a date for ourselves. I’ll ask Laura to take the kids for the night or find a babysitter. I just want to be with you” she asks, leaning her forehead against yours.

“I’m down to whatever it is you want to do” you promise, kissing her nose. “So, we’re good?”

“Yes, detka. We’re good”

And for a moment, you truly believe this will be the end of it.

—

“Where are you going?” Billy follows you, while Tommy stays glued to his mother.

“Ask your Mom, bubs” you say, looking over at Wanda.

“We’re going to the ballet. Would you like to join us?”

“No” they both say, running out of the room.

“Are we really going to the ballet?” you say, trying to not sound disappointed. It’s not like you don’t want some time alone with Wanda, but you’re still pretty tired and if you sit in a theater for two hours you might end up asleep.

“Of course not. But I’m not telling you just yet” Wanda kisses your cheek, taking your hand so you both go down the stairs.

“Have fun tonight” Pietro waves goodbye, Morgan and the children busy with a videogame.

“Kids, come say bye to us” Wanda asks and the twins run to your arms.

“Love you. And you” you say, blowing a raspberry on Billy’s cheeks and then tickling Tommy.

“Love you too” they reply, giggling.

“Love you three” Wanda smiles, kissing them before taking your hand.

“So, when are you telling me… you’re kidding” you say when Wanda hands you a piece of fabric to cover your eyes. You scoff, but tie it, and lean in the seat of the car. “How did you know that my perfect date is to be kidnapped by a beautiful woman?”

“Well, you did tell me you like to be tied up” she jokes and you squirm in your seat. “Maybe some other time we’ll try that”

“Tease”

You try to picture the road Wanda is taking but after ten minutes you give up, leaning back and humming along to the beat of the music playing in the stereo. Thankfully it’s your Beatles playlist, as your father always made you listen to them.

“If I fell in love with you, would you promise to be true, and help me understand, cos I’ve been in love before, and found that love was more than just holding hands” you sing, making Wanda laugh. Of course you know all the lyrics by heart.

“You have a really nice voice. You should sing more”

“Pass, baby. Can I take my blindfold now?”

“Always so impatient” Wanda teases you. “Fine, we’re here either way”

Cheering, you pull the blindfold down, blinking a couple of times to adjust your eyes. Looking out the window, you can see the lights of the amusement park that is close to the peninsula.

“Oh my God! I’ve been wanting to come here for so long”

Ever since you moved to the city, you had planned to visit with Darcy but work always got in the way. You knew Wanda had come with the kids in the past and you always talked about visiting again.

“Come on, let’s go” Wanda takes your hand, and you eagerly follow her to the entrance. You walk around, pointing at all the things you want to try. Without realising, Wanda is leading you to the ride you absolutely do not want to get on.

“Nu-uh” you step back when she turns you to the Haunted House.

“Oh, come on! Please? I can never go because of the kids, and I love haunted houses. Plus it’s in a cart so we’re not gonna be chased by anything”

“People pay money to get chased?” you shout, jumping away when a group of teenagers are wheeled between the doors of the ride, screaming. “Babe, come on. I’ll do anything to skip this one”

“Please? It will be fun. Ok, not fun for you” she clarifies when you make a face.

“Give me one good reason” you challenge her. Of course, Wanda decides to pull you into a kiss, and it’s so good it takes your breath away.

“I knew being this gay would get me in trouble” you mumble while she celebrates her victory.

As you wait in line, you try to get a look at what’s inside and watch people who leave the ride, talking and laughing. They don’t seem traumatized or crying. That’s good, right?

“Ok, no, I want out” you plead the minute you sit down, and the woman operating the ride gives you a curious stare. That makes you settle, and you sink in your small seat, where your legs can barely fit.

The cart is sent through the tracks and you’re engulfed by darkness, still trying to figure out if the first thing will jump from the left or the right.

“Hell, no” you scream, feeling something in your head.

“It’s just rags, detka” Wanda eases your nerves, looking excited for the next scare.

Now that you’re also worried about whatever touches your head, you miss the dummy that pops out on your right, flailing while something that looks like sausages spills out of its chest.

“Gross AND anatomically incorrect” you shout at it.

“You’re so crazy” Wanda laughs next to you, until something else jumps from a coffin and scares her.

“Please let it be over, oh, God why are there red lights”

You are wheeled into a room full of weird looking creatures, and a spray of fake blood almost stains your clothes.

“Should have worn scrubs” you mutter.

There are a couple of typical jumpscares, like the plastic bat that falls from the ceiling, or the cackling witch that almost touches you with its decaying hand.

“Let’s never do that again” you say as soon as the cart stops, jumping out and looking all disheveled.

“Mmm, let’s try the one where you walk next time we come” she says instead and laughs when you look like you’re going to pass out.

“You’re being mean”

“I’m sorry, let’s do something you want now”

Roller coasters and other mechanical rides have never been your jam, so you walk towards the carnival games. You try your luck at the ring toss, balloon darts and the fishing game.

“Ok, last one” you say, pulling Wanda to the milk botttle toss. You’re determined to win something for her, though she insists she doesn’t need anything.

“Ok, that was very impressive” she says when you throw the ball and it knocks down the bottle at the top. The second ball barely touches the rest of the bottles and you sigh, changing your stance. Before throwing, you look at Wanda and place your cheek next to her face.

“Good luck kiss?”

Your girlfriend blushes, but kisses you and walks back as you get ready to throw.

“Babe, I did it!” you shout, lifting Wanda in the air.

“Very nice, detka” she laughs as you put her down, turning to check all the stuffed animals that she can pick from. “Oh, I want the capybara”

“You heard the lady” you say to the man in charge of the stand and he hands it to Wanda.

As you get some food, she pulls it against her chest.

“I love it”

“I love you” you smile, kissing the back of her hand.

There’s a lot to pick from, but you settle on hot dogs and fries, talking about the book and Pietro’s physical therapy.

“What about your surgery?”

“What surgery?” you say as you finish your own food.

“Do you know when you’ll scrub in?”

“Oh, no idea. I know they’re having another one tomorrow, but the Chief’s the one making the calls right now, so” you shrug your shoulders. “Alright, I’m done. Want to go on the ferris wheel before we head home?”

“Sure”

Wanda was a bit hesitant because of the height, but once you reach the top of the ride and enjoy the view, she decides it was totally worth it.

“I loved our date night, thank you” you say, noticing how she’s getting cold and offering your own jacket. “Here, baby”

“Thank you. I’m glad you liked it, even if I made you go into the Haunted House”

“Darcy must never hear how much I screamed” you warn her, enjoying how she scoots closer, leaning her head against your shoulder.

The view is breathtaking and you enjoy it in silence, until Wanda speaks again.

“Our first birthday here, mom and dad took us to one of these amusement parks. We had been in the US for some months and I think it was the first time I thought we could have a normal life”

“That sounds nice. I’m glad you had them to create good memories”

“Yeah, I wish my dad was around to see the kids grow” she sighs. “And if my mother wasn’t so stubborn…”

“Uh… your mom’s alive?” you blurt out, and smack your mouth shut, mortified. “Ok, that came out wrong. It’s just, you never mention her!” you stutter, while Wanda laughs.

“We had… a disagreement. After everything settled in Sokovia, they moved back to this small farm. It was the life they had always wanted. But my dad got cancer and he made mom promise she wouldn’t tell us. I was starting my job at the publishing house and he didn’t want to… I don’t know, worry us?”

“I’m sorry, Wanda”

“So, yeah, by the time we knew it was too advanced and we didn’t get to say goodbye. I’ve had… some resentment towards her ever since. I think we deserved to know” she looks away and you let her take time to calm down.

“I get it, it happens all the time. Sometimes patients want something that goes against their family’s wishes. It’s a fine line, between wanting the best for your loved one and giving them the freedom to choose”

“Yeah. I know Pietro speaks to her because he’s a mama’s boy. But she hates flying and I don’t feel like I’m strong enough to go back to Sokovia… there’s a lot of painful memories”

“Maybe one day we can all go. Or find a middle ground. Whatever you want”

“My mom would love you” Wanda says and you laugh.

“Well duh, all the Maximoffs love me”

“Especially me” she says, kissing you softly. You smile against her lips and break apart just as the ride ends.

You agree to drive back home, while Wanda plays music from your car console.

“You have a playlist titled W?”

“Yeah, those are songs that remind me of you”

The first song she plays is Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer.

“A classic, and so romantic”

“I need to see the entire playlist” she asks and you hand over your phone.

“The password’s the day of our first date” you say. Wanda melts at that, and she’s scrolling down to check out all the songs -her absolute favorite is This will be (An Everlasting Love) by Nat King Cole- when a text comes through.

Nat: Got you a spot at tomorrow’s surgery :)

Nat: So I think now you owe me dinner