I want to be defined by the things that I love ♡

Sam was asleep with his head tipped back against the wall. Steve sat across from him, pretending to read the mission report on his tablet even though his eyes had closed at least three times already. Clint was busy picking dried blood from beneath his fingernails with a look of complete boredom.

You had every intention of staying awake.

Really.

It wasn’t that the mission had been particularly difficult it was just… long. Twelve hours of surveillance, a fight that lasted far longer than anyone had planned, and the adrenaline crash that always came afterward.

Your eyelids grew heavier.

Across from you, Natasha watched quietly, pretending not to notice.

“You should sleep,” she said, her voice low enough that only you could hear.

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve said that three times in the last ten minutes.”

“I am.”

“You just blinked for about fifteen seconds.”

A tired laugh escaped you. “Wasn’t that long.”

“It was.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but another yawn betrayed you.

Natasha’s lips curved into the smallest smile.

“C’mere.”

You frowned. “What?”

She patted the empty space beside her.

Your brain was too exhausted to question it. You shuffled across the narrow cabin until you were sitting shoulder to shoulder.

“Happy?”

“Mhm.”

You leaned back against the seat, determined to prove that you wasn’t actually tired.

Less than a minute later, your head tipped sideways.

It landed gently against Natasha’s shoulder.

You didn’t even notice.

Natasha glanced down at you, expecting you to jerk awake and apologize.

Instead, your breathing slowed, your body relaxed, and within moments you were completely asleep.

She smiled to herself.

Without saying a word, she shifted just enough to make you more comfortable, careful not to wake you.

Across the cabin, Clint looked up.

His grin was immediate.

“Oh,” he whispered.

Steve followed Clint’s gaze, then smiled knowingly before setting his tablet aside.

No one said another word.

For the rest of the flight home, Natasha didn’t move an inch.

Even when her shoulder started to ache.

Even when the quinjet hit turbulence.

Even when Clint quietly offered to swap seats so she could stretch.

She only shook her head once.

“No,” she murmured, never taking her eyes off you.

Tears soaked into the pillow beneath your head, the feeling of the damp fabric beneath you was uncomfortable, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care enough to move. 

Time was still racing on- you heard Natasha moving closer towards you, felt the dip in the bed at she sat beside your pathetic, unmoving form- but it felt like you were floating above it all. Existing outside the flow of time. Stuck, frozen in one place as the world moved on around you. What did it matter? What was the point? 

It’s addictive the minute you let yourself think, the things that I say just might matter to someone. 

“What can I do?” Natasha asked, her voice was gentle, but it echoed as shout in your head, shattering like glass in the silence of the room. Her gaze was fixed so intently on you, analysing your face as she waited for your answer. Some might see her expression as being overbearing, but you knew that it was just her way of showing that she cares. She was looking for any signs that you might be lying about how you feel and what you need. That was, if you decided to answer. 

She hoped that you were going to talk to her. 

Communicating ugly feelings to each other was something that you had both been trying to work on together. It wasn’t something that came easily for either of you.  

Scanning your body language and expression, she was searching for signs of any added discomfort that she might be causing you, unknowingly. As she would do on a mission, she honed her focus, ready to take in all the necessary information so that she could use it to complete her mission. Helping you feel better was her current mission. 

Just the thought of her love and care brought a fresh wave of tears to the surface, once again spilling down your cheeks. For so long you questioned whether you deserved kindness being shown to you. Here Natasha was- showing it to you unconditionally, despite you showing vulnerability. It was something that you wouldn’t think twice about if it was happening to someone else, you would never judge anyone for wearing their emotions on their sleeve. Yet when it came to yourself, you just felt like a burden. Like you were forcing your problems onto others by opening up. 

“Hug please” you managed to sniffle out through the sobs that tore out of your throat. Despite everything, you desperately craved the care of another person, of Natasha. The moment she spoke, you felt your walls beginning to crumble. 

I hope someday, somebody wants to hold you for twenty minutes straight. All they do it wrap you in in their arms and hold on tight without an ounce of selfishness to it. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” There was a time when Natasha would have panicked seeing you like this, thinking that she wasn’t good enough to comfort you, when all she had ever brought other people her whole life was pain. Back when all she knew was suffering and manipulation. Now, Natasha didn’t waste a moment before taking you fully into her arms. She was under the duvet with you, pulling you up slightly in her hold so that your cheek could rest against her chest as she leant against the headboard. One hand wrapped around your waist and the other found the back of your head. 

The new position and touch began to ground you, tethering you to reality and halting your ascent away from yourself. Once limp in her hold, you now clung onto her, fingers desperately digging into the fabric of the faded jumper she wore. Yet you were still struggling to calm down. Erratic, sharp breaths were all you could manage right now, and it felt as though you couldn’t get enough oxygen to fill your lungs. 

Noticing this, Natasha slowed the pace of her own breathing down, finding a steady pace that you could follow. 

“Breathe with me, baby.” She murmured against your head. 

Inhale for three. Hold for three. Exhale for six. 

She breathed, slow and purposeful. The mellow instruction easy for your cloudy brain to follow and the exaggerated breaths gave you something consistent to focus on. Something other than the complete hopelessness you had been feeling. Your head moved with the rise and fall of her chest, and you could feel the rush of air leaving her lungs against you. 

Inhale for three. Hold for three. Exhale for six. 

The hand resting on the back of your head began to stroke lovingly through your hair. Her hold on you never once faltered. As your breathing slowed, you felt your mind coming back to you. Sinking into her embrace, you allowed your muscles to relax, releasing some of the tension that you had been holding. 

“You matter to me. So much.” Natasha whispered, maintaining the newfound serenity of the moment. The quiet after the storm. Reading you like an open book, she always knew the right thing to say. You squeezed her tighter in response, nuzzling your face into the comfort and safety that she always gave you, and always would give you, for as long as you might want it. 

Things might not have been completely fixed, but they were a little better. And you knew that it would carry on getting better, if you had Natasha by your side.