please-destroy

[please-destroy]

Acting Fine

Scarlett Johansson x Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

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It wasn’t your first acting job, but from the nerves you’d felt since the first day of filming, it might as well've been.

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You were playing the second lead role. It was a huge opportunity and one that you were terrified to mess up. The fear hung over you sometimes during your scenes. Luckily, your scene partner couldn’t have been kinder. The movie was primarily a two-hander, with you acting opposite Scarlett Johansson.

When shooting started, the anticipation of acting alongside Scarlett did nothing to help your nerves. 

But Scarlett hadn’t been anything like you’d expected. 

Though she was always in a rush, she made time for you. Murmuring small talk as you watched playbacks on the monitor together. 

The director was an emotional type, often cutting scenes early to shout about what he didn’t like. You found yourself dreading his input so much that every new scene made you nervous. 

Scarlett didn’t take his outbursts lying down.

She began carefully, only cutting him off when his rants got too loud. Soon, she became more direct. She never raised her voice, but after one particularly harsh comment was aimed at you, she took your hand in hers and led you immediately off set. 

At first you’d been so grateful for kindness. But then you felt mortified sitting in her trailer, the director’s pointed criticism burned into your skull. 

Scarlett had touched your arm softly, commanding your attention easily.

‘Don’t let that asshole bring you down.’ She told you seriously, her eyes searching yours to make sure you really heard her.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. When you walked back to set, Scarlett’s hand rested reassuringly around your waist.

After that, the two of you became increasingly like friends. 

Scarlett stopped answering any phone calls during your time together in hair and makeup each morning. She’d sit down and turn her phone over purposefully on the counter in front of her. You would talk together as you eased into the morning, including the makeup artists in silly wandering conversations. You couldn’t believe how smart and funny Scarlett was, how friendly and kind she was with you.

Other days, when the morning felt painfully early and Scarlett brought with her a feeling of quiet exhaustion, you’d keep purposefully silent, letting her close her eyes when she could. Soon, you learned to fill the time by playing music unobtrusively from your phone, waiting until there was a song that she liked enough to laugh and make a comment about.

Before long, you were curating playlists just for those mornings.

You ate lunch every day together too. There was a standing invitation for you to come and eat with Scarlett in her trailer. She was rarely there for long. Sometimes she flitted in and out, phone always glued to her ear. The snippets of conversation always sounded painfully dull. You had a feeling it was legal jargon for a contract negotiation.

Her hand would brush your shoulder sometimes in passing, shooting you an apologetic smile as if being stuck on the phone wasn’t her typical lunchtime experience

You didn’t mind really, you appreciated the kindness of her invitation. You’d felt so isolated at the start of this shoot and even if she was too busy to talk, it was nice to have Scarlett’s company around. 

You did wonder when she found time to eat.

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You never had much to do on Sundays. It was the one day that you could be sure you didn’t have to film on. You were filming close to a small town and you didn’t know anyone who lived near the set. It felt strange to sit in your rental house with nothing to do after the manic energy of the rest of the week.

Sometimes, you considered calling or texting Scarlett, but you always hesitated. You knew there was a line between her kindness to a new co-star and actual friendship. You weren’t sure where you stood. 

She also seemed busy enough without you bothering her. You thought about the long legal sounding calls, probably for a new movie. You wished a little morosely that you were also having serious contract negotiations for a new starring role.

No matter how dull your Sunday had been going, you still didn’t appreciate the knock at the door just after lunchtime. The scene you were meant to be performing the next day had been completely rewritten. Though the majority of the rewrites were for Scarlett’s character, the tone of the scene had completely changed.

You spent most of the evening, and a good part of the night, trying to get to grips with the unexpected changes.

You could barely stifle your yawns in the hair and makeup trailer the next morning. The stylist caught your eye sympathetically in the mirror as you checked over your sides again. You knew you had it, but you still felt a shyness about acting with Scarlett that could throw you off.

Scarlett only arrived in the hair and makeup trailer an hour after you. She rushed an apology to the stylist, whose lips were pressed in obvious annoyance. She didn’t even glance at you, her head immediately buried in the new script.

You felt a pang of sympathy, Scarlett seemed busy enough without her only day off being interrupted with script changes. The stylist tutted loudly and Scarlett startled in her chair.

‘If you’re not going to sleep enough, then you shouldn’t come in late.’ The stylist chided her. ‘This is going to take an extra hour easily.’ 

Scarlett’s eyes closed at her words and you saw a flash of annoyance and then a wave of exhaustion. The awkward tension in the room only increased when she didn’t reply. You tried to jump in and help.

‘I’m done already.’ You pointed out, omitting the fact that it had been much faster because you’d been the only actor for the stylists to focus on.

‘Maybe we can shoot my solo part first.’ You suggested, rising out of your seat as you spoke. Scarlett let out a quiet sigh of relief and met your eyes. You gave her a small smile, unable to miss the dark circles underneath hers. A secret piece of worry caught in your chest.

‘I’ll see what I can do.’ You promised her as you moved to the exit. Your hand touched her shoulder familiarly as you brushed past her chair. Scarlett nodded quietly. You heard the small ‘Thank you’ from behind you just as you left the trailer.

The director wasn’t pleased by the change of plan. You weren’t pleased to be working with him either, especially without Scarlett as a buffer. You held it together. The work was intense and you couldn’t afford to lose your focus. The director barely spoke as you filmed take after take. You felt a sense of grim satisfaction, knowing that meant you were doing a good job.

When Scarlett finally arrived on set, you were flooded with relief. You gave her an eager smile that she didn’t return. You noticed immediately that, despite the stylist’s best efforts, Scarlett still looked exhausted.

She coughed hoarsely as she walked across the set. The sound echoed loudly enough that the heads of the crew, preparing for the next take, turned around. Scarlett looked embarrassed. The director clapped his hands in sarcastic celebration.

‘Finally.’ He announced pointedly. Scarlett looked flushed but she didn’t react otherwise to his comment. Her eyes flickered down to the script still gripped in her hands.

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You waited beside Scarlett as the crew prepared for the shooting of the dialogue scenes. You stayed quiet, it was obvious Scarlett didn’t want to talk. Her eyes pored over the script with careful scrutiny. She coughed once or twice, trying to mute the sound and failing miserably. You noticed the way that her eyes would close for long moments as her mouth still mumbled the words. You felt awful for her. Her phone vibrated several times, she declined the call each time.

When they were ready for you on set, you walked over together. You squeezed Scarlett’s shoulder again before you moved to your spot. An assistant ran over quickly to take the script still clutched in Scarlett’s hand. Scarlett coughed awkwardly into her elbow and you wondered how her voice was going to sound if the hoarseness of her cough was anything to go by.

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The scene could not have gone worse. Scarlett’s opening speech faltered almost instantly. After barely a line of dialogue, she hesitated in a way that was clearly not in character. 

The director’s barking call of ‘Cut’ was immediate. Scarlett’s eyes closed again at the sound. You’d been right about her voice, there was a scratchiness to it that you were sure would stand out sorely in the final cut of the movie. You shuffled nervously on your mark.

The second take was better, but only barely. Scarlett nearly made it to the end of her opening monologue. Your heart leapt as she got closer to the last words, marvelling at the way she had pulled it together. She’d elevated her volume slightly, almost obscuring the hoarse voice.

She confused the last two lines. The atmosphere in the room plummeted, and you saw the embarrassment flood Scarlett’s face too. 

Before the director could even call ‘Cut’ again, Scarlett caught the assistant’s eye and beckoned them over. They moved obediently and handed her back the copy of the script. Scarlett’s eyes wandered the page hurriedly and you wondered if she was really taking it in.

You could feel the director’s foul mood from behind the monitor. Scarlett’s facade of calm was admirable. 

‘Let’s try again.’ She called with a confidence that sounded genuine. 

This time Scarlett only made it past the first line before an awful round of coughing interrupted her. Concern for her really fluttered through you now. You stepped off your mark instinctively, reaching to touch her elbow comfortingly. Scarlett straightened automatically at your touch.

‘Hey.’ You murmured, feeling a bit out of place trying to reassure Scarlett Johansson. ‘You okay?’

‘Yeah.’ She muttered, wiping the tears from her eyes that the coughing fit had elicited. 

‘Fuck, I’m sorry.’ She said more loudly, addressing the crew at large. ‘It’s just one of those days.’ 

Your eyes scanned the room too, stopping when you spotted a mini fridge filled with bottled water. You headed over immediately, hoping some water might help. You bent down to open the mini fridge door at exactly the wrong time. You turned around to the sound of raised voices and saw the director now standing next to Scarlett, arms thrown wide as he yelled. 

It wasn’t surprising to watch Scarlett walk off set in response. It was awful to see her obvious tears rolling down her cheeks. You moved to follow her, feeling immediate solidarity with your co-star.

You only hesitated when you heard the Director address the set.

‘When her temper tantrum is over, we’ll start up again.’ He announced loudly. You could hear the crew’s immediate grumblings but you didn’t bother to stop and find out if it was for the injustice of his comments or the inconvenience of the delay.

You knocked on Scarlett’s trailer first. There was no answer. You called her name carefully, sure that she could hear you. Her continued silence made you nervous. You didn’t know what else to do. You asked her to give you a call or text and retreated back to your own trailer.

Scarlett did neither.

It was two full hours before anyone knocked on your trailer. The message they delivered was brief. Scarlett was refusing to work until tomorrow. 

You tilted your head in disbelief at the phrasing, knowing her decision was more justified than the blunt sentence indicated.

The outcome was the same either way. The crew were already heading home. In fact, by the time you left your trailer, it was apparent that you were one of the last to leave. You hesitated when you recognised one of the few other cars still in the lot.

Scarlett hadn’t left yet. You acted on instinct, hurrying back to her trailer. You knocked on the door and turned the handle without waiting for a response.

It swung open surprisingly. The first thing you noticed was Scarlett’s handbag and car keys sitting on top of the table, looking like she was just about to leave for home. 

Then, you saw Scarlett curled up on a small couch over to the side. Her head was elevated on the armrest. Her eyes met yours immediately. 

Worry rushed over you. 

‘You okay?’ You asked, feeling shy at seeing someone that you admired looking so unexpectedly small. You hated the obvious self consciousness with which Scarlett answered.

‘Yeah.’ She muttered with barely any voice left at all. ‘Just needed a minute before driving.’

You nodded in understanding, feeling another wave of sympathy for her. 

‘I’ll drive you.’ You determined confidently.

Scarlett assessed your expression.

‘You don’t have to.’ She pressed carefully. 

‘I know.’ You assured her, reaching out your hand for her to take. Scarlett took it with the briefest hesitations, before letting you help her to her feet. You didn’t comment on her slight unsteadiness. You didn’t let go of her hand as you walked together back to the car lot.

Scarlett’s hand felt warm in yours. You were surprised by the tightness of her grip. You led her gently over to the car, sensing that she was somewhat disorientated. You wondered how little sleep she’d had.

You inputted her address into your GPS and started moving. Scarlett’s eyes shut at the motion of the car. You did your best to drive extremely smoothly, casting worried glances over at her. 

Ten minutes into the journey, Scarlett’s phone rang again. You blinked in surprise when she actually answered, even though she could barely keep her eyes open.

Her side of the conversation was tense and stilted. The phone call was obviously a continuation of an ongoing argument. She didn’t say goodbye at the end. Instead, she sighed quietly and hung up the phone. You didn’t speak, knowing you shouldn’t have overheard the little that you did. 

‘I’m sorry you had to do this.’ Scarlett said at last when you pulled into her driveway. You shook your head softly. 

‘I don’t mind.’ You assured her. Scarlett nodded tiredly and you could tell she’d barely heard your response. She opened the car door and unbuckled her seatbelt. The urge to get out with her was overwhelming.

‘Are you going to be okay tonight?’ You called out suddenly, surprising even yourself with the obvious worry cracking your voice.

Scarlett paused and turned to give you a weak smile. 

‘I’m always okay.’ She said quietly.

You felt yourself frowning with concern. 

‘I’ll come by to pick you up in the morning.’ You told her.

‘You don’t have to.’ She responded, as she stood up slowly. ‘I can get a taxi.’

‘I insist.’ You murmured, knowing that you’d be worrying about her until then anyway. Scarlett just nodded, looking too tired to continue speaking. 

You drove back to your rental, thinking the whole time that you were leaving the place where you should have stayed.

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The next morning was not pleasant. You’d barely slept, feeling uneasy about the way you’d left Scarlett. You were due on set by 5am, and you ended up leaving for Scarlett’s even earlier than you needed to. You convinced yourself that you’d wait in the car until it was closer to the right time. 

You changed your mind when you saw her house. 

The ceiling lights in the front rooms shone brightly through the bare windows. The blinds had not been shut. You couldn’t see any sign of Scarlett inside. It looked eerie, lit up like a carved pumpkin on Halloween. 

You left your car and hurried up to the house feeling really worried. You’d rung the doorbell for the third time when the door finally opened.

To say Scarlett looked run down would have been to put it kindly.

She looked worryingly pale and her dry, chapped lips stood out uncomfortably. You blinked in confusion at the stark difference in her appearance from just last night.

Scarlett barely had a chance to look at you, before she was doubled over with a coughing fit that shook her whole body. You reached out and rubbed her back instinctively as each cough wracked through her.

‘Jesus Christ.’ You murmured quietly as Scarlett finally straightened up. You could see that even this motion was somewhat painful for her as she winced. Your hand stayed resting on her back, still rubbing comforting circles without thinking.

‘Am I late?’ Scarlett asked you in a rough voice. Her eyes glanced down at her watch worriedly. 

‘Yes.’ You replied immediately. ‘Late for bed. You need to rest.’

Scarlett gave you a withering look that was undermined by the somehow even dark circles under her eyes. 

‘I have to go to work.’ She rasped out again, and you could hear her fighting another cough. 

‘Fuck that.’ You told her seriously, arm moving around her shoulders as you led her back into her own house. 

Scarlett pressed against you automatically and you weren’t sure if it was for your warmth or your comfort. She started to resist when you aimed for the back of the house where you assumed the bedroom would be.

‘No.’ She insisted as she forced you both to stop. ‘I just need some breakfast and I’ll be fine.’

You hesitated and she seized the opportunity, turning to head back to the main front room. You acquiesced in part, insisting she sit on the sofa.

You noted the empty coffee mugs littering the various tables in the room. The smell of stale coffee was obvious in the air, as was the fact Scarlett had resisted getting any sleep last night. 

‘Why did you stay up?’ You asked, half in chastisement. Scarlett sighed and leaned back against the sofa. Her eyes shut with obvious relief at the moment of stillness. 

‘Had to make a call.’ She muttered as you headed through to the kitchen, ready to find something she might be able to eat. 

‘In the middle of the night?’ You asked curiously as you filled up a glass of water first. With the cough and all the coffee, you had no doubt that she was dehydrated. Her chapped lips scared you.

‘Had to call Europe.’ Scarlett answered with a sigh, eyes still closed. You hesitated in the privacy of the kitchen. You knew her husband was in France, she’d mentioned it during your first day on set. 

‘How was the call?’ You asked tentatively, aware it wasn’t your business. You opened her fridge as you waited for her answer. There was nothing inside except a single box of takeout leftovers. You bit your lip in concern.

‘Not good.’ Scarlett replied very, very quietly. This time you could tell the lack of volume had nothing to do with her sore throat. You carried the water back through to her. You were in time to see her wiping her cheeks subtly. You sat down next to her, placing the glass of water into her hand.

You didn’t acknowledge it, but you were sure that even leaning over to pick it up from the coffee table would have taken a lot of effort from her right now.

‘There’s nothing in your fridge.’ You commented to Scarlett quietly, bumping her knee lightly with your own.

Scarlett watched your movement and then took a short drink of the water. Her eyes stayed trained down at your touching knees.

‘I haven’t had time.’ She told you and her voice cracked. You moved your arm around her shoulders and gave her a side hug. 

‘Why didn’t you tell someone?’ You asked her quietly.

You felt Scarlett shrug. 

‘Who was I meant to tell that to?’ She answered a little harshly. 

You bit your tongue on your first suggestion of her husband.

‘You could have told me.’ You said instead, trying to sound lighter than you felt.

 ‘I’ll get you some supplies later.’ You promised. Scarlett didn’t say anything, but she shifted slightly and her head rested on your shoulder. When she leaned against you, you felt her exhaustion as if it was your own. Your arm tightened around her.

‘I don’t know how I’m going to get through today.’ Scarlett admitted after a moment.

‘You’re not.’ You told her, with a certainty that you were only brave enough to pretend to have. ‘There’s no way you’re going to set.’

Scarlett huffed pointedly next to you, but the sound was lost as she choked on an unexpected cough. You rubbed her back soothingly again as she suffered through another round of coughing. You only continued speaking when she’d had another sip of water.

‘If you insist on going to work today. Then I’m going to call in sick.’ You informed her determinedly. ‘They’ll just send you back home again.’

Scarlett faltered obviously at your threat. 

‘That’s ridiculous.’ She muttered harshly, leaning forward and pressing the heels of her hands against her tired eyes. 

‘What’s ridiculous.’ You responded, feeling more confident with every decisive choice you made. ‘Is that you’re not currently lying in bed.’

You stood up then and took hold of her hand like you’d done the evening before.

‘Up.’ You commanded simply. Scarlett tried to pull herself up with your help. Her grasp was weaker than you expected and she fell back against the sofa. 

You didn’t pause to let the moment turn embarrassing. 

Instead, you sat down next to her again, placing her arm over your shoulders before standing up together. You had a feeling that you were supporting more of her body weight than she was. Scarlett moved slowly with you as you finally led her to her bedroom. 

She sat on the side of the bed and you both worked efficiently. You to remove her shoes, and Scarlett to remove her bra. 

She was already in a loose t-shirt and leggings and so, as soon as you took off the second shoe, Scarlett shifted over to lie down in the bed. She lay on her side and faced you. You moved to bring the covers over her, brushing a piece of her hair away from her face.

‘You’ve been trying so hard.’ You told her sincerely. ‘You’re allowed to sleep for a bit.’

The heaviness of Scarlett’s blinks told you that she barely needed your words to convince her. You left the room quietly, returning a moment later with a fresh glass of water. Scarlett’s deep breaths told you that she was already asleep. 

You made the call just outside the front door, when you informed the set that you wouldn’t be coming in. The last thing you wanted was Scarlett to overhear. You barely felt the nerves that would normally have swamped you for causing such an inconvenience.

Your answers were short and to the point. You exaggerated, telling the crew member that you’d caught whatever Scarlett was ill with. They told you the director would likely call you both later. You already knew that you wouldn’t pick up that call.

After that, you checked back in on Scarlett. The sun had finally risen and so you moved to shut the blinds properly in the room, making sure that it stayed cool and dark.

Scarlett didn’t stir at your movements, her face pressed peacefully against the pillow. 

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You drove to the supermarket after that. You hurried around quickly, slightly nervous at being spotted by someone from the crew. You grabbed generic items, feeling that an assortment was your best chance of buying enough things that Scarlett liked. 

You reentered the house silently, expecting Scarlett to still be asleep. You nearly jumped out your skin when you found her pacing back and forth in the living room. 

Her phone was in her hand and she was talking harshly into it, her other hand pressed in frustration against her forehead. Scarlett glanced over at you and you saw the turbulent emotions playing out on her face. Unlike earlier, she looked wide awake. 

You hurried through to the kitchen, trying to be unobtrusive. You felt sure that she was on the phone to her husband and you felt guilty for being as involved in her private life as you already accidentally were.

You didn’t hear Scarlett enter the kitchen at first. You only startled from organising the fridge when you heard her take a ragged breath. You spun around on the tiled floor and met her gaze. 

Scarlett’s arms were wrapped around herself and she was obviously trying not to cry. Like the day before, you were struck by how small she looked.

‘Well, that’s my marriage over.’ Scarlett whispered hoarsely. You felt yourself moving automatically across the kitchen and pulling her into a hug. Scarlett started crying hard as soon as your arms were around her. You stood together quietly. You didn’t know what to say.

It was a few minutes until Scarlett took a step back. She blinked back more tears and you caught the way her bottom lip trembled slightly.

You didn’t expect her next words, and you didn’t think Scarlett expected to say them either.

‘Now, I don’t have anyone.’ She mumbled, eyes darting down to the floor. Your hands moved to brush her bare arms soothingly.

‘That’s not true.’ You tried to assure her. ‘What about your daughter?’

Scarlett looked back at you for a long moment, but she didn’t speak. Suddenly, the realisation settled in you. You hadn’t described her support system, instead you’d described her main worry. 

You saw the anxiety roll across her face at the mention of her daughter and felt awful for saying the wrong thing.

‘And you’ve got me.’ You told her hurriedly. Scarlett’s expression flickered with polite scepticism at your words. 

‘Really.’ You insisted, knowing with certainty that you meant your promise. You’d had a crush on Scarlett since the first day on set, but now that you knew her, you liked her so much more than you could articulate. 

Scarlett regarded you carefully for a moment and you stared patiently back into her eyes. You observed the exact moment that she chose to believe you, and watched as a hidden tension bled away from her shoulders. 

You moved forward to hug her again quickly and then you took her hand. 

‘Come on.’ You insisted quietly. ‘You’ve got to get some more sleep.’

This time, when Scarlett lay down in bed, you saw the repressed anxiety in her expression as you moved to leave the room. You paused in the doorway.

‘You want some company?’ You asked quietly. ‘I can stay in here for a bit.’

It was the hesitation before Scarlett’s polite refusal that made you try again.

‘I can play a game on my phone.’ You suggested carefully. ‘I could use a bit of time to relax too.’

This time all Scarlett did was nod in agreement. You kicked off your shoes and sat up in the bed next to her. You tried to keep your eyes on the phone screen that you mindlessly scrolled on. 

You focused on keeping your breathing relatively normal, aware of how close you were to hyperventilating at the intimacy of the scene.

Scarlett’s body curled in on itself suddenly as more hoarse coughs wracked through her. You rubbed her back worriedly.

‘I’ll be back in a second.’ You promised when they finally died down.

You returned with the cough syrup that you’d purchased earlier. Scarlett took the medicine gratefully.

‘I’ll pay you.’ She mumbled as her head found the pillow one more time. You ignored her comment, knowing for sure that you’d be dodging any and all attempts she might make to do that. You sat in the bed next to her again. 

This time, you heard her breathing even out almost immediately. You smiled to yourself when you heard her snore quietly beside you. You tried halfheartedly to pay attention to a silly game on your phone. You weren’t tired at all yourself, even though this had easily been one of the strangest days of your life.

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It was an hour later when you heard Scarlett wake up next to you. She spluttered slightly and you realised that she’d woken up with another coughing fit. She forced herself to a sitting position as she tried to catch her breath. She turned to you and you caught the panic and disorientation in her eyes. 

‘You’re okay.’ You told her immediately and your hands touched her shoulders. Scarlett nodded and took in another long shaky breath.

‘Sorry.’ She muttered embarrassedly, looking purposefully away from you. ‘This is so unfair for you-’

‘You’re not on your own.’ You interrupted her suddenly. Your eyes searched hers as you made sure she’d really heard you.

‘I promise.’ You added a little shyly. 

For the first time in several days, Scarlett smiled.

[please-destroy]

The Morning After (The Night Before)

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

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The first time you met Natasha was hard to forget. 

You were sitting on the sofa, shoulder to shoulder with Wanda. She’d invited you to this party, promising it was lowkey. 

Maybe this was Wanda’s idea of lowkey.

Sweat was trickling down the small of your back. Avengers reconnected with each other all around you, like a family reunion for the super-talented. Raised voices, friendly backslaps, an open bar. Confusing card games and stories shared with knowing smiles.

You were grateful to be sitting down. Wanda was your only anchor in this unfamiliar sea. At least, she was a good anchor. 

Every few minutes, she turned to you with a raised eyebrow and a half smile. You returned it shyly, reassured by how strange she clearly found this environment too. 

You’d become friends at your local college, taking a course together and becoming partners for a project. 

Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, was perched on a dining chair that didn’t fit the rest of the furniture. She looked almost comical, tall figure bent forward on the spindly chair. She was asking Wanda the usual generic questions about her studies, voice pitched just loud enough to be heard over the cacophony around you. 

Wanda mumbled her answers with a teenage disinterest that you’d never noticed from her before.

You didn’t speak up yourself, letting Pepper’s gaze pass disinterestedly over you. Wanda had told you some things about the Avengers; particularly about Stark Industries. You held a wordless solidarity with your best friend. You knew how little she wanted to be in the same room as the CEO, or Tony Stark himself. 

Wanda clinked her glass with yours. You smiled secretly, clinking yours right back. When you next looked up, Pepper had left the rickety chair. You shrugged at Wanda and she grinned back at you. 

‘Maybe we can escape soon.’ She promised you, with a hopeful lilt to her voice. You let out a shaky breath, acknowledging your heightened nerves. 

Wanda twirled a piece of your hair with tipsy affection. In one clumsy motion, she got to her feet. Your eyes trailed after her, then averted themselves embarrassedly. Wanda was all legs, and her dress was short. 

Her hand touched your shoulder to steady herself.

‘I’ll get us some more drinks.’ She mumbled, ruffling your hair in a gesture too messy to be completely intentional. 

‘Good luck.’ You wished her dryly, certain she would not be successful in carrying two full glasses back to you.

As Wanda walked away, you sank back into the leather sofa, trying to fade into obscurity. No one was near you, and you revelled in the private moment to feel completely out of place. 

You tried to look surreptitiously around the large, open room and the furnishings that dripped with subtle wealth. Then, after a small hesitation, you tried to look most subtly of all at Natasha Romanoff. You gave a sharp inhale. She was already looking at you. 

Her eyebrow raised in acknowledgement and a small smile played on her lips. She was standing on the indoor balcony by the grand staircase, half turned away from the party. 

Everything about her body language told you not to approach. Everything about her expression made you walk forward. 

Maybe you were drunker than you realised. Natasha was dressed in a low cut black dress. You tried not to look, but you knew she caught your darting glance from the way her lip curled. 

As you walked, you saw Wanda sitting by the bar. Pepper was sitting next to her. Wanda looked moodier than ever as Pepper patiently plied her with a glass of water. 

You forgave yourself for your brief abandonment of Wanda. You focused instead on not tripping over your own feet.

The noise of the party felt much more dimmed in this corner. You cleared your throat nervously, but Natasha beat you to it. 

‘Who the hell are you?’ She teased, leaning back against the balcony.

‘I’m a friend of Wanda’s.’ You whispered, suddenly scared despite her light tone.

‘Hi friend of Wanda’s.’ She intoned playfully, letting your awkward introduction linger. Your cheeks burned with shyness. You tried to think of something to say. 

Natasha beat you to it again. 

‘Can you get me a drink?’ She asked, voice tipping into a much colder tone. 

‘Oh.’ You stumbled, running your hands nervously through the hair that you realised Wanda had left messed up. ‘Yes, of course.’

Natasha took a step forward, her hands touched your shoulders. She leaned forward and your heart stopped.

‘I’m kidding.’ She murmured, her closeness sending shivers across your skin. 

‘Let me get you another.’ She nodded down at the empty glass you’d brought with you. 

Her fingers brushed your skin as she took the glass from you. Hot, sudden attraction flooded you. 

Natasha had already begun to walk towards the bar, when you heard yourself call after her.

‘Thank you.’ You said, voice hoarse. 

Natasha’s expression shifted minutely in surprise. The smile she gave you now was tentative.

‘Of course.’ She murmured, barely audible. 

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Hangovers are horrible.

Other people’s hangovers can be funny.

‘Shut up.’ Wanda moaned distantly, from inside the bathroom.

‘Karma.’ You called back laughingly, cleaning up the takeaway wrappers that littered Wanda’s bedroom.

‘It’s not karma, it’s food poisoning. That kebab was bad.’ Wanda called back pitifully. Your lips twitched when you heard the strange musical sound of her rings hitting the porcelain edge of the toilet.

In the early hours of the morning, Wanda had tried to finish her drink faster than Clint Barton. When you’d advised her against this, she’d clumsily put her hand over your face and told you not to be so boring.

‘Karma.’ You sang back with unapologetic malice. 

You reached for the glass of water on the table and carried it through to the bathroom. You touched Wanda’s shoulder sympathetically as you stood next to her. Wanda leaned her face miserably against your forearm, letting out a sad whimper.

You regarded her thoughtfully, brushing a few sweaty strands of hair away from her face.

‘I can hunt for painkillers, if you think you can keep them down?’ You offered at last. Wanda gave a longing sigh, eyes closed. You had your answer.

You padded through the halls of the Avengers Compound in your fluffy socks and a borrowed set of grey sweats. Your hangover was minimal, but you’d still decided not to face a grim reality by looking in the bathroom mirror.

The Compound held the same eerie quiet as it had when you’d stumbled back the night before. Now, your heart rabbited erratically in your chest, filled with the suspense of waiting for the silence to break.

At last, you made it to an infirmary type area. The lights were dimmed and you heard the distinct lack of any voices ahead of you. 

You wandered past complex medical equipment, feeling a little like the last survivor of the apocalypse. Finally, you found a large cabinet and opened it hopefully. Hayfever tablets, condoms and painkillers. The trifecta of everyday life savers. 

You rummaged through the various options, looking for the brand you knew that Wanda preferred. Out of nowhere, a hand touched your shoulder from behind. You jumped out your skin, tasting your thundering heart in your mouth as you whirled around in panic.

Natasha Romanoff stood behind you, casually dressed with an even more casual smile on her face. She lifted her hand and gave you a small wave.

‘Hi.’ She greeted you, eyes glittering with amusement. ‘So, you steal medical supplies?’ 

‘No.’ You stuttered out with conviction. Your face heated uncomfortably under her steady attention. ‘They’re for Wanda. She has karma, I mean a hangover. She has a hangover.’

Natasha’s head tilted at your confused ramble, her smile grew wider. 

‘Well, I’m here for Clint.’ She clarified easily. ‘He looks like a binge drinking PSA.’

‘Right.’ You nodded too enthusiastically, turning back to the cabinet and clumsily fetching another packet. 

You offered them out to her, cursing the way your hand trembled slightly. 

Natasha looked at your outstretched shaking hand for a long moment. For a horrible moment, you thought she was going to refuse to take them. She met your gaze at last, her eyes softer than they’d been before. 

‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’ She said quietly, voice rasping. Her fingers brushed your skin as she took the packet. Despite your best efforts, you shivered obviously. 

Hurt flickered across her face, disappearing after barely a moment. Natasha’s smile became tighter. 

‘When you’ve helped out your girlfriend, come find the kitchen.’ She suggested calmly. ‘I’ll show you the coffee machine.’

You nodded silently again, somehow even more drawn to Natasha than you’d been the night before. 

It was only as you walked back to Wanda’s room, that you realised Natasha’s assumption that you’d forgotten to correct.

Wanda grabbed the painkillers from your outstretched palm as if you were offering her a lifeline. You mumbled something about seeing Natasha and the prospect of coffee. You watched Wanda’s eyes light up greedily and she pushed you feebly back out the door.

You lingered in the hallway for several minutes, before finding the confidence to head to the kitchen space that you’d passed earlier. 

Natasha was waiting for you inside, standing by the large coffee machine that stood on the kitchen counter. An empty mug waited on the counter. You noticed the way her fingers tapped a nervous beat on the ceramic, before she caught sight of you. You watched any tension forcefully bleed away from her shoulders. The same cocky smile graced her lips. 

You wondered how anyone could look so beautiful, so flawed, and so perfect all at once. You cleared your throat.

‘I’m not dating Wanda.’ You stated casually, letting a borrowed confidence fill your insides. You took a step forward and Natasha’s eyebrows raised in muted surprise.

‘But, I think I’d like to date you.’ 

Natasha’s smile was small and surprised, her eyes suddenly soft with delight. 

Then, she pulled her face back into something  ore severe. 

‘If only you’d brought me that drink when I asked.’

You grinned back, a spark of something glowing in your chest. You watched the secret amusement flickering behind her eyes.

‘I can fix that right now.’ You told her cheekily, walking over to the coffee machine. ‘But you’ll have to tell me how you like it.’

‘With messy hair and grey sweats.’

You rolled your eyes, turned to the coffee machine and let her watch your cheeks heat. 

[please-destroy]

When The Deal Goes Down

Natasha Romanoff x Reader Word Count: 51k

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Full List of Chapters:

Chapter 1: Trust and Sunglasses

Chapter 2: Romance and Borscht

Chapter 3: Dreams and Musical Numbers

Chapter 4: Redemption and Child Stars

Chapter 5: Companionship and Penguins

Chapter 6: Reflection and Deep Breaths

Chapter 7: Revenge and Sunrises

Chapter 8: Rockstars and Happy Meals

Chapter 9: Jealousy and Waterfalls

Chapter 10: Resolutions and Rewards

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Indulgent Video

[please-destroy]

When The Deal Goes Down

Series Masterlist

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Chapter 10: Resolutions and Rewards.

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Part 1. 

The crisp heat of the day had slipped into something much more mellow as you walked back to the old house with Natasha. Natasha radiated satisfaction when you held her hand, interlacing your fingers loosely. 

You didn’t speak as you traipsed back along the forest path. Natasha pressed into your side as the coolness of the trees permeated the air again. You breathed easier with her arm brushing lightly against your own. 

Peace had settled between you purposefully. You recognised the silent efforts that she was making; the way her thumb rubbed circles on your palm. 

You turned to look at her and Natasha’s answering smile was ready and gentle. You caught the vulnerability hiding in her eyes.

You had been hurt by Natasha, but Natasha had never meant to hurt you. The taut nervousness lining her jaw only emphasised it. 

Natasha’s actions had always been well intentioned, her love had always felt earnest. It was you who had fallen in love and continued to expect more than she’d ever promised to give. 

You remembered the one time when she’d hurt you the most. Natasha had only seemed confused. She’d only been trying to help with your training when she’d pushed it too far.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat. You replayed the moments before she’d left you alone in the throes of panic. Natasha had been small and uncertain. She’d tried to backtrack what she’d done wrong. Your pain had distorted the misunderstanding. 

Today, you’d seen Clint and Natasha alone together in the house. Today, you’d repeated the same mistake.

You ran your own thumb over hers and Natasha calmed at your soothing touch immediately. Natasha’s sensitivity to you was heightened like a nerve ending.

When you reached the clearing at the edge of the forest, Natasha stopped in her tracks. Her face turned stoic as she observed the house, loose strands of her hair flickering in the light breeze.

It took you a few more seconds to realise what was different about the scene. 

There was no convertible parked in front of the house anymore.

Finally, Natasha swore under her breath and you let her lead you over to the front of the house. You ascended the stairs to the front deck and, together, saw the note taped to the red door.

‘Hope you can read this and don’t still have your heads up your asses. Gone to store, back before sundown.’ 

Natasha unstuck the note and turned it over. There was a small cross in the corner of the paper, and her shoulders relaxed minutely. You assumed it was the signal that the note had been written by Clint without outside coercion.

Natasha looked at you then. There was a second’s pause before you realised that she was awaiting your reaction. You smiled softly and watched her relax further. Your earlier awareness grated at you. She observed you like you were precarious.

Natasha opened the front door and walked through. You followed wordlessly into the open space inside. The wooden floorboards creaked expectedly and sunbeams caught themselves on flecks of dust in the air. 

Natasha headed through to the kitchen and you found yourself watching the lightness of her step. Her fingers trailed along the side of the staircase as she passed it. 

When she arrived at the large oak kitchen table, she turned back to you. Natasha’s mouth opened slightly to speak. 

You didn’t stop walking. 

Her mouth closed as you moved in front of her.

Natasha leaned back against the edge of the table as your hand slipped under the hem of her summer top. You touched her bare waist. Her soft skin was warm under the brush of your fingers. The familiarity of her body was like a blow to the chest. You wanted to feel it again and again.

Natasha’s eyes were turning a darker green as she watched you, it reminded you of the forest you’d just left. A smile stretched slowly across her face as she scanned the intent in your eyes. You moved even closer. 

You were starting to be more certaint of Natasha’s reactions. You understand her smile. That it was for successfully keeping you happy as well as being happy herself. 

Her nose bumped yours lightly and you knew it was on purpose.

‘Kiss me then.’ Natasha whispered, and you could feel the vibrations of the dare between you. Her fingers hooked onto the front of your shirt and she tugged lightly.

You fought a smirk as you finally pressed your lips to hers. Natasha’s legs parted meaningfully and you pressed yourself closer.

Her thighs held you in place as she moved forward into the kiss. There was the familiar heady rush from Natasha’s touch. Your fingers tangled in her hair and Natasha moaned in response.

The air settled further as you remembered each other slowly. Natasha tasted like comfort and secret moments. You savoured the feeling of her pressed up against your front. 

You felt the deep bone ache suddenly; the memory of nights spent without her. In response, you kissed her harder, imagining instead a future where you both stayed. Sharing movies in the evenings and breakfast every morning.

You let the aching memories float away with the resolution to do better, to love her better.

When your kiss broke, Natasha bumped your nose again. Her fingers crept up to your face and she pressed the pad of her forefinger softly against your cheek. You grinned in response and watched her satisfaction as she felt your smile widen beneath her fingertips.

Already, the scene felt golden like a perfect memory. 

Natasha’s hand slipped from your skin and you caught it with your own. 

You knew an apology might kill the atmosphere, but you had to make it anyway.

‘I really am sorry.’ You began, watching the surprise and caution return to her expression.

Natasha’s head tilted now and you knew she was unsure. You squeezed her hand.

‘I love you as you are now.’ You emphasised, keeping your smile warm like embers. ‘There’s not a condition to that and I shouldn’t have made you feel otherwise.’

Natasha glanced away from you and you could feel her dislike of the mirror you’d held up to the both of you. 

A quiet moment passed between you, filled with only your shared breaths.

Then, slow and deliberate, Natasha squeezed your hand back.

Part 2: Something in the air.

Slowly Natasha slid off the edge of the table and you found yourself backing up accordingly. Her hand loosened in yours, but she didn’t let go. It was up to you to keep hold as she headed through to the living room.

Someone had clearly once intended to unpack this room and then bailed midway. There was a filmy layer of dust settled over the half-empty cardboard boxes that rested on the cracked leather sofa and overstuffed armchairs. You stilled in the centre of the room. The long, light curtains floated behind you as a breeze tugged at their edges.

Natasha’s fingers slipped from yours as she moved over to one of the boxes. She turned her back to you as she began to rummage inside. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the gentle curve of her back. You caught a glimpse of her skin as the clingy top rode up to her waist.

You resisted the urge to run your fingers all the way up to her shoulders. To try and fit a lifetime of love into every moment.

Instead, you tried to plant your feet into the floorboards.

You’d wondered before if Natasha was magnetic, now you decided that she was electric.

At last, she selected a vinyl record, still in its sleeve. She turned around and held it out to you, as if seeking your approval. Natasha’s loose hair spilled over the front of the record as she looked down at the cover too. 

The woman on the cover wore only a knitted sweater and leather boots. You let out a suggestive hum. 

‘Is this a fantasy of yours?’ You teased. Natasha rolled her eyes. Then, she bit her lip.

Her indecision was brief but unmistakable. Resolve settled her expression.

‘Dance with me?’ She asked simply. You caught the rehearsed note to Natasha’s tone. She exhaled slowly and her careful composure told you everything about her nerves.

You made a humming noise. 

‘Natasha Romanoff.’ You said her name slowly, letting yourself enjoy the act of saying it. ‘Are you finally asking me on that third date?’

Natasha rolled her eyes again, but now you could see the shyness she was trying to hide.

You took her hand slowly, letting your thumb brush the side of her hip meaningfully.

‘Yes please.’ You answered simply. Natasha nodded with quiet satisfaction, before turning to the dusty record player on the side table. It seemed to be the only thing plugged into an outlet in the whole room. Clint’s unpacking priorities were evident. 

You both jumped at the needle scratch as the record began to play.

The crackly music filled the room and Natasha started swaying from the outset. Your hands rested at her hips and she turned to face you. Natasha's eyes stayed fixed on you as she moved her hips just to make your hands sway. 

Your heart caught in your throat. You understood the base desire in her stare. 

Natasha interlaced her fingers with yours and started to direct your movements in time with the music. You followed obediently, realising that you’d forgotten how to do anything except breathe and stare at her. 

This time, when Natasha moved her hips, she did it with emphasis. Her eyebrow arched and you made a point of imitating her motions exactly.

Natasha smirked with satisfaction as the song’s rhythm sped up slightly. 

‘Good girl.’ She teased you lowly and you raised your own eyebrow.

‘What would you know about those?’ You taunted her as you moved Natasha’s arms around your neck, bringing her closer to you.

‘I know they get rewarded.’ Natasha hummed out, bringing her lips to your cheek. Her breath on your skin was almost as hot as her words.

The short song ended and an unfamiliar one picked up suddenly.

‘Fuck.’ You moaned as Natasha began to kiss below your ear, her fingers twisting in your hair and holding you steady. 

You tightened your hold of her hips and, as your nails dug in, Natasha pressed herself closer against you.

‘Rewards.’ She mumbled out distractedly.

You tried to clear your rapidly clouding head, bliss washing over you like a fine mist.

Natasha’s tongue moved across your bare collarbone and her teeth grazed your skin. You started panting. You glanced around automatically, feeling slightly exposed next to the large windows. 

Natasha sank to her knees in front of you. She looked right up at you and your fingertips touched her cheek unsurely. Her eyes sparkled with the stray sunbeams stretching in from the window. 

Your shorts were dragged down to your ankles and her tongue found you. When you gripped her hair tightly, disoriented by the feel of her between your legs, Natasha hummed as she pressed her tongue harder against you.

Her promise of rewards got stuck in your head like a scratchy record.

You swore hoarsely and Natasha’s fingers slid over your folds.

When you came onto her fingers, Natasha’s satisfaction was obvious.

.

She dragged your shorts back up your legs and buttoned the front clasp with a strangely tender focus.

You offered to return the favour but Natasha shook her head simply.

You felt self conscious at the imbalance, but you didn’t push the point.

For a moment, Natasha stood beside you, resting her head on your shoulder. Then she turned away to put the vinyl record back into its sleeve.

You'd barely come back to yourself completely when you realised that Natasha was starting to retreat in on herself.

When you tried to catch Natasha’s gaze, she looked away. She pretended to re-organise the cardboard boxes that's she rifled through earlier. A lump caught in your throat as you tried to think what to say.

Then, Natasha took a hesitating step towards the door and you found yourself propelled forward.

You touched Natasha’s shoulder and she froze in her tracks.

‘Are you okay?' You asked, wishing that you had better words.

Natasha’s eyes closed, her lips parted as she breathed softly. 

Her hand covered yours on her shoulder. 

‘You make me feel like an idiot.’ Natasha confessed suddenly. Your eyebrows raised in surprise. Natasha and idiot were two words that didn’t belong in the same sentence.

‘And you make me feel helpless.’ Natasha continued, her tone flitting between bitter and resigned.

She opened her eyes and looked at you purposefully. She blinked twice at the sudden influx of light. Your focus redirected to her eyelashes and your heartbeat stumbled. 

‘I feel like I’m drowning when I’m with you.’ She whispered. ‘But, I love it anyway. I love you.'

Now it was your turn to close your eyes. You considered everything. The playback reel of your relationship started rolling for the half second you allowed yourself. You opened your eyes and met Natasha’s nervous gaze. 

Her shoulders were tense. She was clearly bracing herself. Again, you felt precarious under her regard.

‘But this is all so new for you.’ You realised simply. Natasha’s eyes widened. You watched her breathing stop. You could feel her counting down the seconds.

You let out a slow breath.

‘Okay.’ You agreed. ‘I think you’re right. We need to take the pressure off.’

Natasha’s face relaxed at your even tone. Her breath hitched with relief and you knew that she’d been expecting a different response from you.

She nodded wordlessly and her hand squeezed yours. You felt her settle under your touch. She turned again towards the door.

‘Thanks for telling me. I'm glad you told me.' You added carefully, just as Natasha was about to move away. Her head snapped back to you. The blunt surprise that flashed across her face would have been funny if it wasn’t so endearing. 

You gave her a reassuring smile and Natasha gave you the most hesitant one in return. You didn’t tell her that you loved her again. But you knew she could read it in your eyes anyway. 

It didn’t matter. You couldn’t hide it if you wanted to. Natasha’s smile became steadier. 

‘Where are you going?’ You asked curiously.

‘To check the closet in the hall.’ Natasha answered readily and her fingers tapped against her thigh. 

‘I think that’s where the fishing tackle will be.’

Your mouth opened in complete surprise at her answer, and with a burst of electricity Natasha laughed openly at your response.

‘How else are we going to eat?’ She asked you teasingly.

You huffed a breath.

‘I happen to know there’s a McDonalds only a few hours from here.’ You muttered with faux mutiny.

‘There’s a lakeful of salmon much closer than that.’ Natasha’s voice rasped slightly with assuredness.

You nodded in acquiescence to her point.

Natasha gave a playful hum.

‘I guess you better come along too.’ She pretended to think aloud. ‘Fishing is an important life skill.’

You grinned widely, unable to help the burst of excitement in your chest.

‘Just one thing before we go.’ You moved over to Natasha again. Her stare focused on your lips. You knew what she was expecting. You waited until you were close enough for her to feel your breath on her lips.

You dropped to a crouch in front of her. Natasha’s hand touched the top of your head automatically. You glanced briefly upwards and saw the flush of her cheeks. You’d taken her by surprise but you could tell that she liked it.

Studiously, you brushed away the lingering dust marks that had coated her knees since she’d knelt on the wooden floor.

When you rose to stand next to her again, Natasha gave you a very pointed eye roll.

‘Tease.’ She commented drily. You winked, unable to resist the ridiculous flirting.

‘In your dreams.’ You replied, as you followed her back into the hallway.

Part 3: These Boots.

There wasn’t much in the closet, except an oversized green jacket, that smelled so strongly of fish that you nearly retched, and two pairs of rainboots. Natasha didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest. She informed you that this meant there would likely be a fishing hut out by the lake. Clint was predictable that way.

You walked through the long grass of the backyard together, through the old gate at the far end and onto another dusty path that led through some looming trees.

Natasha walked ahead of you, a half skip in her step as she continued to turn around and walk in reverse in front of you.

She’d tied her hair up again and her ponytail swung every time she turned to look at you. 

Each time your eyes met, you smiled wider. Soon, you realised that Natasha was turning back just to watch the effect she had on you.

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, even if you couldn't help your smile. Natasha’s answering grin was victorious. All the pressure of keeping you here seemed to have floated away. Her arms stretched unabashedly into the air as she kept walking. 

You didn’t force a conversation and neither did she. The quiet rustle of the trees surrounding you was more than pleasant enough. 

It was the near silence of the walk that helped you hear it so immediately.

At first, Natasha was humming something nondescript. The sound of it grew as she kept walking. There was a challenge in her eyes when she next turned around to you, daring you to comment on the tune.

All you did was raise your eyebrows. It was the song that you’d listened to that night in the car on your first date. The same song from the movie you’d watched together in the Common room surrounded by the rest of the team.

Slowly, Natasha stopped humming and started to sing the words instead. Her voice was light but rasping. It seemed to float through the air to you. 

You felt it catch a sweet spot in your chest. You tried to lock in the feeling. 

You never thought you’d hear her voice like this.

Natasha tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and winked at you as she kept singing. She glanced down to her rain boots, then back at you. The piece of hair came loose again but Natasha didn't seem to care.

Her eyes were full of a teasing dare.

You knew she was trying to tempt you to join in the song. You grinned widely but didn’t take the bait. You wanted to remember the perfect sound of her voice, warm like the day’s constant sunshine. 

‘I loved it.’ You told her simply when she finished her rendition. Natasha’s smile turned shy and you knew she was trying to hide a feeling of delight.

‘You really liked that movie, huh?’ You asked, enjoying the drifting lightness of the mood. ‘I should have known you’re a rom-com girl.’

The trees had parted and the lake appeared starkly in front of you. You didn’t care. Natasha was more interesting than the sudden view.

‘Nope.’ Natasha told you succinctly. ‘Guess again.’ 

‘Oh, of course. You and Clint like watching war films together, don’t you?’ You hazarded a wild guess, maintaining a facade of confidence. As you spoke, you lengthened your stride slightly so that you could walk closer to her. ‘You’re like two old men. I bet you talk about all the military tactics.’

'No.' Natasha corrected again huffily, though her pace slowed to match yours and her hand found its place in yours, swinging absentmindedly between you. ‘Sometimes, we watch James Bond too.’

You couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up at her defensive answer. 

Natasha play-acted at being insulted for a few moments longer, her pouting expression at odds with the way her fingers interlaced with yours.

By the time you’d arrived together at the edge of the lake, your laughter had diverged into sudden bursts of mirth whenever you caught sight of her exaggerated pout. 

You spotted the anticipated old wooden shed not too far along the lakeside. Between the shed and yourselves was a wooden boardwalk that led out into the water.

It was just as you walked past the boardwalk, that Natasha planted her feet abruptly in the ground. Her sudden stop pulled you back towards her. Your laugh caught in your throat as you paused questioningly. 

‘I thought I told you to behave.’ Natasha complained, dragging her fingernails lightly down the side of your neck as she reminded you of her words in the house. 

You grinned automatically at the flirty tone.

‘I’m on my best behaviour.’ You promised teasingly, moving in for a light kiss. ‘I remember my last reward very well.’

‘There’s nothing funny about me liking spy movies.’ Natasha informed you a moment later and your stomach tensed automatically against the urge to laugh at her serious tone. 

The humour dissipated as you caught the slight insecurity in her words.

‘I know.’ You soothed, your hand touching the small of her back. Sometimes Natasha looked at you as if you were the biggest mystery of all.

For all the heartaches, all the headaches and all of the future that you were still to figure out. You wanted only her.

‘I love you as you are.’ You reminded her again, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. Natasha smiled softly.

 ‘I haven’t seen many Bond movies.’ You continued, moving your hands absentmindedly to touch her cheeks ‘Maybe later, we could do a movie marathon?’

As you continued walking towards the old shed, Natasha lifted your hand and draped it over her shoulders. These silent requests for affection would always make your heart thud with a secret thrill. 

‘Fine.’ She agreed suddenly, as if she'd been considering it until then. You grinned at her decisive attitude. 

‘But, we have to start with the Roger Moore ones.’

‘Oh, of course. We’re not animals.’

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A/N: Thank you very much for reading this story. If you've made it all the way to here, I can't quite believe it. I wrote this story in the height of lockdown, missing my (then) girlfriend desperately. It's the first story that I ever wrote about Natasha.

Now, when I look back through it, all I can see is my wife. She and I are hidden within all of this, in ways I couldn't see at the time.

For example, she is singing This Will Be An Everlasting Love behind me right now.

Thank you again.

[please-destroy]

When The Deal Goes Down

Series Masterlist

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Chapter 9: Jealousy and Waterfalls

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​​Part 1: Finding Warmth

You became quieter with every hour that Clint drove along the dusty roads. Natasha mirrored you as always, it was barely afternoon and you didn’t have the energy. As you stared out at the endless fields, you found yourself holding tightly to the hope that he really was driving you somewhere special.

When Clint finally pulled off the main road, decelerating efficiently as the car trailed along a winding track that’s destination was obscured by a line of trees, you wondered if that hope had been misplaced.

The atmosphere in the car felt tired and awkward, the journey had gone on too long. The mood had been disrupted too often. Clint had turned off the radio a few miles back and Natasha hadn’t even complained.

The divergence into the forested area had an immediate impact, the air felt suddenly cool and clammy. You looked up doubtfully at the towering trees on either side of the dirt track. Natasha’s hand brushed along the top of your outstretched one as the scenery changed. Her touch felt as cool as the air.

You still didn’t know how to look at her. Something inside you felt unsettled.

‘How much farther?’ You asked Clint, knowing your lack of enthusiasm was obvious in your voice. 

‘Still a few more miles.’ He told you in a neutral tone. ‘Maybe half an hour.’

You glanced over at Natasha automatically with this new information. She’d curled her knees underneath her several miles back. You knew it had been to mirror your own quiet distancing in the backseat. It had worked, she felt a million miles away. You glanced down at her bare arms and thighs, left exposed by her summer top and denim shorts. 

You fumbled at your feet for the sweater that Clint had removed much earlier in the journey. Your thumbs rubbed the soft texture of it and you tried not to think about the loneliness of watching the sunrise that morning. That you had been alone and she had been with Clint.

The memory felt tired and stale already, you took a breath and tried to move on. You turned to Natasha, who was openly watching you.

Her expression was cautious, her head tilted. She waited for you to make your first move. You remembered her hesitancy on the first night that you’d driven together. Something in you softened all over again. 

At the time, you’d attributed her caution to her role as a spy. Now, you could see that it was etched into so many pieces of her. Natasha was just inherently careful. You gave her a gentle smile.

‘Cold?’ Natasha asked lightly, keeping her eyes locked with yours. Her hands rested in her lap, highlighting again the careful distance between you. 

You held out the sweater wordlessly. You felt all at once that there was too much to say and nothing at all. Her eyes searched yours as if to understand your intent, her head tilted slightly. You kept focused on the way her hair shimmered with the dapples of sunlight filtering through the treeline.

Natasha’s fingers trailed over your knuckles when she reached to take the sweater. The touch felt perfect and familiar, and then it felt wrong. You remembered her eyes regarding you earlier as a stranger. You wished abruptly for the interaction to hurry up.

Natasha sensed it immediately. She pulled the sweater over her head with a nervous energy that didn’t suit her. The tension inside you broke all over again as you watched her tug the hem down, before reaching up to smooth her mussed hair.

You moved to touch her exposed thigh. Natasha’s breathing froze on an inhale as you leaned forward slightly. You pressed your palm against her leg, trying to feel connected again to a woman who you knew you loved but didn’t know if you trusted.

Natasha’s breath hitched slightly. You looked up at her. Loss was written in her eyes. A feeling of injustice bubbled up inside you. 

She was always waiting for you to leave. But she was always leaving you behind.

Love and anger confused themselves and you moved forward abruptly to kiss her. Her lips caught yours but the action felt stilted from the moment you pressed yourself against her. Your hesitancy was stronger than you’d realised. Natasha exhaled softly as you shifted back in your seat and you could hear the disappointment in the sound.

You wished, more than anything, to not feel so confused. Natasha’s hands fell back to her lap and you found yourself looking at them. The sleeves of Clint’s sweater covered the heels of her hands. 

Natasha adjusted herself now, tucking the edge of the fabric over her knees too. 

It made her look small, like she was drowning in the oversized piece of clothing. You fought an urge to close your eyes. The world felt heavy and light.

Maybe Natasha saw the conflict on your face. Her hand reached out to touch your shoulder and she looked at you with a quiet determination. 

For the thousandth time, you wished that things could be easier.

Her hand felt like the last heaviness you could tolerate. For a moment, it felt like your chests were rising and falling together. A ghost of panic caught your lungs and you breathed through it slowly. 

You let yourself fall into the offered embrace. Natasha’s arms wrapped around you familiarly. Your forehead rested on her shoulder. You breathed her in. She smelled like Clint. 

You tried not to think about it. 

Natasha hummed the tune of a song that had been on the radio earlier. Her arms tightened around your sides. You felt enveloped in the fabric and, for a moment, you stayed completely still. 

You drew your legs underneath yourself too. You shifted slightly so that your head rested more naturally on her shoulder. Natasha’s head tipped against yours carefully. You felt the rise and fall of her chest and you tried to follow the same rhythm. You wanted to lose yourself in the feeling of being surrounded by her.

You wanted to believe in this more than you did. You wanted to try and build it back up again. But Natasha had been haunting your dreams since you’d met her. You were slowly learning to stay cautious.

Clint started to hum along with Natasha in the front seat. You startled slightly at the reminder of his presence. You didn’t like the churning feeling that his proximity brought you. You tried to hold onto the relief that Natasha had a family. You had seen enough of her quiet loneliness, the constant shadow to the brief moments where you made her feel loved.

But, every time you thought of her obvious bond with Clint, the tie between you and her felt weaker. 

A large bird startled from one of the trees just ahead of you, it swooped low over the road as it flew away.

‘Must have heard Clint’s voice.’ You mumbled quietly. The humming faltered and Natasha huffed out a laugh. Clint’s out of tune voice grew purposefully louder and you angled your head on Natasha’s shoulder so that you could eye him in the rearview mirror. The side of your mouth twitched into a half smile, Clint’s eyes danced with a kind of mischief as he continued to fail at carrying the tune. You felt like a liar.

There were two gate posts just ahead, and as the car sailed through them, you noticed the winding road disappearing. Now, Clint followed along a new dirt track that was barely the width of the car. The trees began to thin out in front of you. 

Natasha untucked her legs from the hoodie, stretching them out slowly in front of her. Your eyes trailed along the length of them. You couldn’t stop wanting her. That much was clear. You didn’t even know how to try. You straightened up as the building came into view.

Clint pulled up outside the large wooden house. Despite its isolated location, the house seemed immediately welcoming. The exterior looked weathered and there were comically large windows that framed either side of the red front door. 

Part 2: Burning Hot

You stepped out of the car with Natasha’s hand in yours. You caught the tilt of her chin as she glanced upwards at the house too. Her brow furrowed in careful thought. Clint leaned against the car door as he watched Natasha look up at the house.

The occasion felt momentous but you weren’t sure why.

‘Have you ever been here before?’ You asked Natasha, trying to gauge the situation. A small bitterness at forever being out of the loop festered inside you. It already felt like an old wound and you tried to ignore it. It was starting to feel like a sore that would never go away.

‘No.’ Natasha said, and her phrasing sounded careful. Her eyes darted over to Clint. ‘But I think I’ve heard about it.’

You followed her gaze and caught Clint’s brief nod. You swallowed down the feeling again. Suddenly, you wanted to drop her hand. A tightness filled your chest and you looked back at the house.

You could feel Natasha’s eyes still on Clint’s. The tight feeling started to burn. 

‘Are we going inside?’ You asked in a controlled voice. Natasha’s hand lightened its hold of yours and you recognised her subtle response to your tone. It still stung unfairly.

No one answered for a minute. You turned again to interrupt the silent conversation occurring between them. Clint’s eyes darted to you.

‘I wanted to show Natasha something inside.’ He told you slowly and you heard the obvious subtext. You nodded, swallowing the embarrassing lump in your throat. This was all starting to feel too hard, the hours left in this day seemed to stretch before you. 

Your hand slid completely from Natasha’s as you took a step to the side.

‘Shouldn’t be too long.’  Clint informed you matter of factly. Abruptly, you hated the confident way he leaned back with his arms crossed. ‘We can meet you in the backyard?’ 

You nodded again, feeling a little like a parent in a custody arrangement. Jealousy flared up inside you when Clint moved closer to Natasha. Your hand touched the small of her back automatically. You didn’t know if she stiffened at the possessiveness of the gesture, or at yet another mixed message from you. 

They climbed the steps into the house and you headed around the side of it, finding a wrought iron gate that brought you through to the backyard. 

With the exception of the wooden deck that hugged the side of the house, the backyard closely resembled a meadow. Without any more trees for shade, the heat of the day had returned in full force. You tried to blink away the blinding sunlight as you walked forward.

You went to sit on the steps of the decking. The wood felt burning hot to your touch. Your eyes closed automatically at the overwhelming heat that surrounded you. Your mind filled immediately with only Natasha. Your first thought, as always now, you remembered the moment when she had fallen from that ledge, slipping out of your desperate grasp. 

Then, your mind took up a new image.

Natasha’s eyes in the car. The bright sunlight making them sparkle. Then, the unexpected coldness of them. Your certainty that she was going to leave you. 

Your hands braced themselves on the hot deck.

You felt like your palms were blistering but you didn’t care. She’d looked at you like you were a stranger. You couldn’t unsee it.

You couldn’t catch your breath. It was far too hot. You forced yourself back to your feet. You paced along the edge of the deck. You didn’t want to be here anymore. You didn’t know how you could leave.

You glanced back at the house. It looked like a postcard. You saw them suddenly. The old white window framed them perfectly. Nausea rolled through you. 

Natasha was still wearing his sweater. Her face was pressed against his shoulder, Clint’s arms were around her back. Time slowed down as you watched him kiss her forehead. 

You felt like a shadow as you stood there. You could have been invisible for all it mattered. 

Natasha’s head moved to rest on Clint’s shoulder and her face turned in your direction. You took your own advice and flickered briefly invisible. 

Natasha looked through you. You saw her lips move as she replied to Clint. His arms tightened around her in response.

Your heart pounded but your chest felt empty. Conflicting emotions ran through you with less and less coherency. You wanted her. You wanted to run away. 

You thought she’d left you and chosen to come back. But she’d never really been there in the first place. Not completely. Your thoughts kept spiralling. You looked into Natasha’s eyes as they scanned slowly over the backyard. You had to let her go. You knew for certain that this was too hard. It was always going to be too hard.

Loving someone like this and waiting for them to leave again, it would drown you.

You turned and walked back down the wooden steps. You flickered back to visible a moment later, too preoccupied by your own mind to hold the illusion. The long grass brushed against your ankles, you could feel the jaggedness of the weeds as they caught on your skin.

Clint called your name. You used your hand to shield your eyes from the sun when you turned around to look at him. He raised his hand to beckon you over. 

You tried to temper the frustration that you felt at his presence. You wanted to be him more than anything. The person who had given her family. You were being selfish and they were being unfair.

You ascended the decking again and saw Natasha standing just behind Clint. She was leaning against the door frame, clearly choosing to stay in the cool shade. She tried to hold your gaze but you looked away.

‘What’s the plan?’ You asked Clint tensely. You felt trapped by the isolated location and now all you wanted to do was get through the rest of the day. 

Clint looked at you for a long moment. He sighed carefully, and you felt a strange spike of fury when you realised he was expressing disappointment in your attitude. You held your tongue, biting down on the emotions that you would only fail to articulate.

Clint took a step back and his hand found Natasha’s shoulder. Her gaze still hadn’t wavered from you. You tried to ignore her. A different kind of heat prickled at the back of your neck when she watched you so carefully.

‘There’s a waterfall not far from here.’ Clint directed at you neutrally. Your eyes lingered on his hand on her shoulder. You tried and failed to push down the inevitable bitter feeling. You wondered how easily Natasha could read it on your face.

‘Okay.’ You agreed, trying to match his even tone. ‘Let’s go there.’

Clint shook his head slightly and your attention returned fully to him. 

‘No.’ He determined with an air of authority. ‘You two can go. I’ll stay here at the house.’

You didn’t expect to snap until you did. You heard a kindness in his voice that made you want to scream. As if Natasha’s time was a gift that he was good enough to give you. 

Now, you knew you had to leave.

‘No. You two can go.’ You replied firmly. ‘This is your day. I’ll go for a walk somewhere else and meet you back here later.’

Your words sounded pathetic but they were the best you had. You didn’t turn away until your eyes had met Natasha’s for the briefest moment. You recognised the betrayal you saw there. You were feeling it too.

Clint called your name as you walked away. You ignored him. Holding everything in was the only way you were going to survive this.

You didn’t have anywhere to go but you kept leaving anyway. 

There were two paths to choose from at the wrought iron gate. You took the one that led you away from the direction from which you’d arrived. The path ahead weaved itself between large trees that seemed more rooted in place than you would ever be. 

The path was fairly well worn, you didn’t care where you were going and you followed it without thinking. The injustice of feeling like the third wheel rose and died over and over again in your chest. You thought of all the times you’d wished for Natasha to feel loved. You hadn’t meant this. You were being selfish but you felt like your heart was breaking. You’d seen her in his arms.

You wondered if Clint still spoke to the mother of his children. You hadn’t asked. Your mind conjured domestic scenes like the one you’d watched in the house. Two kids running around behind them. You hated having these thoughts. 

The path split in two again as it was forced to divert around a giant tree trunk. You slowed down as your eyes caught on the jagged pattern of the bark. You stilled completely as you raised your fingers to trace the lines of it. 

A lump got stuck in your throat. You knew you were going to have to leave her. 

You’d been trying to build something from the ground up but Natasha already had a tower for herself.

Part 3: Fresh Air

You heard Natasha call your name and your heart settled. A weight lifted from you and you weren;t sure why. You didn’t know if it was from the sound of her voice or the certainty in what you knew you had to do..

You turned to face her. You met Natasha’s stare. She looked small, still some distance away from you. Her eyes felt like home but the stabbing ache of impending loss was uncontrollable.

You weren’t surprised when she recognised your intent.

‘It’s over.’ Natasha spoke aloud, eyes tracking your face as she read your decision there. 

‘You need him.’ You said hoarsely, voice tight. ‘You don’t need me.’

You saw realisation dawn on Natasha’s face before it twisted with abrupt anger. Her hand raised in an aborted gesture and fell back to her side.

‘Fuck you.’ She said in a low voice. She seemed to be getting smaller in front of you.

‘It’s the truth.’ You said, fighting the strange need to crumple in on yourself. You gripped the tree trunk beside you, letting your nails dig into the harsh texture.

‘Do you think I want to need him?’ Natasha’s voice rose in pitch, hurt lacing her words. ‘That was the best thing -’ She cut herself off. 

The pause felt elongated as you watched her swallow, watched the way her chest stuttered with each breath. Your thoughts paused too, until all you knew was your heart beating and the distance between you. 

‘That was the best thing about you.’ Natasha continued quietly and you could tell she was fighting to keep her voice steady. ‘I didn’t have to need you.’

‘I know I’m being selfish.’ You said calmly, trying to convince yourself that you were ready to leave her. To really end this. Natasha’s eyes flashed again with betrayal at your soft tone. 

‘I want you to have a family more than anything.’ You promised her. And saying the words aloud made your eyes fill with tears. ‘I just can’t watch him hold you like that and give you children to love. I just can’t. I want you to have those things, but I can’t watch someone else give it to you.'

Your hand fell from the tree trunk. You felt the heaviness of everything try to drag you to the ground. You lowered your eyes to the worn path, noting the small twigs that littered the space between you.

‘You are an idiot.’ Natasha informed you a moment later. Your eyes flitted back to hers, your chest ached unbearably,

‘I know.’ You mumbled, because you did. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You don’t even know why we’re here.’ Natasha accused you now, tone bristling in a way that you didn’t understand. ‘You never even gave me a chance to explain.’

Your head tilted in confusion. You pressed down on the desperate, stupid hope that your relationship might withstand this. Natasha started walking towards you. You stayed frozen by the tree trunk. As she passed you, Natasha’s hand brushed your own. A clear invitation to take her hand.

You didn’t react, instead you willed yourself to ignore the desperate wish that Natasha might still make it all okay. 

You watched Natasha’s jaw tense at the rejection, but she kept walking, and you knew that she wanted you to follow her, so you did.

You wondered at her ability to navigate a path that she’d never been on before. Your eyes trailed her curves as you walked behind her. You missed her body with a separate, longing kind of love. Forest light dappled along her bare arms as it broke through the tree coverage. Clint’s sweater was gone, you breathed more freely.

You heard the waterfall before you saw it. The path twisted sharply and soon you could see the source of thundering noise. Natasha slowed down as the sound of it began to overwhelm everything else. When she turned back to you, the gushing water framed her face perfectly.

You wanted to hold her hand now. You felt empty of anything but the longing. You shouldn’t have followed her. You didn’t know how you could leave her now.

Strands of hair blew in all directions across Natasha’s face, she ignored them. 

‘This is where Clint proposed to Laura.’ She told you calmly. Her eyes met yours pointedly as she emphasised the woman’s name. 

‘Clint has given me the best parts of my life.’ Natasha continued bluntly. ‘But he never told me where he proposed to her. Said I didn’t need to know.’

She shrugged, the false casualness of the gesture undermined by the tension emanating from her.

‘Now I know.’ She said simply. Her eyes darted to the side automatically and you watched as she fought her own instinct, bringing them back to focus on you. ‘He said it’s the most romantic place he’s ever been. He said he never wanted me to come here until I’d get it.’

Natasha’s breath hitched and her hand touched her stomach. You wondered if she was trying to hold herself together. A deep shame wormed its way into you. Guilt clung to your skin and, somehow, you still couldn’t bring yourself to touch her.

‘I’m sorry.’ You said quietly, because you always seemed to be ruining her day.

Natasha covered her face briefly with her hands, the motion making her curl in on herself. She looked so completely like the woman you loved. 

‘I love you.’ She told you, her voice cracked.

There were tears staining her cheeks, her beautiful eyes hurt to look at.

‘Don’t leave me for this. They’re the only people I have.’ Natasha’s voice broke suddenly. Every breath stuttered with a sob she was holding back. 

You kept fucking this up. You had been so wrong.

‘You love me.’ You repeated. The words didn’t taste as you’d expected. Natasha nodded silently, her shoulders almost slumped with exhaustion.

You walked over to her in one quick motion. Without her voice, all you could hear was the rushing water. You took her face in your hands as you kissed her, tilting her face gently towards you. 

When your lips met hers, you made a vow in your head. 

No more complicating the best thing that had ever happened to you.

You started crying too when you felt the gentleness of her touch. You recognised it now. You could call it what it was.

Natasha loved you.

The water thundered around you. Natasha’s breaths sounded just as loud. Her hand trailed absentmindedly up and down your arm. 

It was Natasha who broke the kiss. Her head sought your shoulder and you recognised the request for comfort. When your cheek brushed hers, you felt her tears mixing with your own.

‘I love you as you are.’ You affirmed softly, hoping she could hear the apology behind your words. Natasha’s arms wrapped around you tighter. You felt her lean into you. You felt yourselves sway slowly together. Your mind flashed to her in Clint’s arms. You didn’t have to push down the feeling this time; it settled on its own.

Natasha was right. It wasn’t a comparison that needed to be made. Natasha wasn’t one thing to everyone. She shouldn’t have to be. You trusted what you had.

You thought instead about the future. About a shared first dance in front of the people who loved her like family.

It took another minute before Natasha moved away. She unfurled herself slowly from your chest, adjusting slightly, so that your arms stayed around her shoulders as you both turned to face the waterfall.

Natasha’s arm slid around your waist and she pressed herself into you in a way that felt somehow more direct than even her words had been. You breathed together as you both watched the ceaseless motion of the water.

It was Natasha’s hand that moved first. Her palm slipped from the small of your back down to feel your ass. You felt her wait for you to respond. The last tension in the air was replaced by a sudden levity. You felt her eyes glance over at you in anticipation. You kept your face straight, staring seriously over at the waterfall.

You slid your hand under her arm and around her front. You squeezed her breast purposefully.

Natasha looked down at your wandering hand as it rested on her chest.

‘Touché.’ She murmured drily. You leaned over to kiss her cheek.

‘I love you.’ You reminded her easily, because you were never going to stop.

[please-destroy]

When The Deal Goes Down

Series Masterlist

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Chapter 8: Rockstars & Happy Meals

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Part 1. Move Your Ass

Clint had not been understating the length of the drive ahead of you today. Your early start only made the journey feel even stranger as you blazed a trail along long empty roads in the emerging heat of the morning. The sun beat down uncomfortably on the back of your neck and the painful heat began its battle with the cool breeze that the open top car ensured.

The route was unsurprisingly unfamiliar to you. You tried to take the monotony of the tarmac as a positive sign that, wherever you were heading, Clint had deemed it worthy of such a boring drive.

Natasha had laid claim again to your left arm, pulling it over the passenger seat and holding it to her chest. While the start of the summer heat was making you drowsy, Natasha’s energy ebbed and flowed, as if the rays from the sun occasionally caused a spark inside of her.

After the chest ache of missing her, you bathed in the security of knowing she was at least close to you. As Natasha kissed along the inside of your forearm, you sensed a mirrored feeling from her. With every kiss, she told you that she hadn’t expected you to be sitting in this car, nor could she be more pleased about it.

A new song rolled out of the speakers and your lazy thoughts halted for a moment as you glanced between the pair in the front seat, awaiting their verdicts. 

So far, every new song had been a conduit for increasing the conflict between Natasha and Clint. Though it had been your only real form of entertainment on the journey, it was still surprisingly tense. 

Usually, upon hearing the opening bars of the cheesy love song that inevitably played, Clint would try to change the station back to his preferred classic rock. Then, with perfect precision, Natasha would deflect his fingers on their way to the dashboard, all while ensuring that the volume moved up another notch.

Natasha’s methods meant that your eardrums had been under duress for many miles already. 

You tensed this time, anticipating the volume to increase yet again when you recognised the tune of ‘I’m a Believer’ by the Monkees.

For once though, the reaction was coordinated and consensual. Clint went straight for the power button just as Natasha whirled the volume dial down to nothing. The music was cancelled immediately, leaving you all with the buffeting sound of the wind instead. Clint barely repressed his shudder.

‘Not a fan of the Monkees?’ You asked curiously. Your voice sounded strange after so long, any attempt at speaking had been abandoned when the music had reached a certain decibel. Natasha’s fingers moved away from the radio, she stroked up and down your outstretched arm from her position sitting directly in front of you.

‘Not since Budapest.’ Clint muttered darkly, his tone inviting no further questions.

You smirked at the general absurdity of conversations like these, trying to bury the longing of actually knowing what the obscure comment meant. 

Your mind was quickly diverted back to Natasha when you felt her nails make a light trail on your warm skin. Her touch elicited a corresponding shiver that shot all the way up your arm and then down your spine. In the same instant, you felt a kick of longing for Natasha right to your chest. 

Somehow, impossibly, Natasha still wasn’t close enough for you to feel completely certain that she was really back. An image of her leaving replayed on a loop in your mind’s eye and you tried to blink it away from behind your sunglasses.

You attempted to restrain your strange anxiety, knowing it came from fears that Natasha had already apologised for creating. You worked to ignore the sensation, trying to surrender yourself instead to the relentless heat that the air was now thick with. It was only your quiet sigh that made Natasha’s head swivel immediately around to view you.

You moved yourself backward, leaning against the back of your seat. Your action was effective in sliding your hand away from Natasha’s chest and out of her grip. 

Natasha’s response was instant. She used the tips of her fingers to quickly catch the ends of your own, preventing you from leaving her hold altogether. She dug her nails in slightly, holding on determinedly and refusing to let you lean fully back. Natasha stared at you obviously from behind the sunglasses.

‘No.’ She commanded, as if your body language had been a statement open to rejection. 

You lifted your sunglasses, affecting a laziness that you weren’t calm enough to really feel.

‘Can’t I just miss you from the backseat?’  You asked, the words coming out like a second sigh. 

You tried to look at Natasha, eyes squinting in the bright sunshine. You caught her smile that turned into a pout when she read your expression.

‘No.’ Natasha repeated firmly. She took your hand more solidly with her own and turned fully to face you, her knees moving to rest on her seat. 

You didn’t see her next move coming. 

Natasha knocked her shoes off her feet with her free hand, before standing up on the seat.

Her grip on your hand tightened, her only point of steadiness in the moving car. To Clint’s credit, the car didn’t even swerve at Natasha’s antics. Still, he used a litany of curse words under his breath as he started to very gently slow his speed. 

‘Move your ass Tasha, you’re blocking the rearview mirror.’ He addressed her directly.

‘Please, be very careful.’ You countered Clint’s message automatically, fearing Natasha doing anything too reckless. Natasha gave you another amused smile and you wished you could see her eyes behind the sunglasses, to see how secure she felt with her insane idea. Natasha was probably the best judge of her own physical capabilities.

In a swift movement, her leg slid through the gap between the front seats. Despite the focus you were giving the hand you held, your eyes couldn’t help but follow the length of her leg, bare except for her short denim shorts. You looked back up to the pair of sunglasses and gulped. Natasha’s smirk was familiar and teasing. 

Suddenly, the joy of having her and the pain of once losing her battled again inside you. It made you want to cry.

Natasha used Clint’s headrest to swing herself around into a seated position directly behind him. The movement was smooth, carefully crafted like ballet. The car continued to fly down the tarmac and you blinked at her in delayed awe.

Natasha made a show of sitting formally in her seat, hands resting neatly in her lap. You caught Clint’s more frequent glances in the car mirrors, obviously highly aware of the assassin sitting quietly in his blindspot. The formal way that she held herself was clearly an act, you caught the tilt of her head as she glanced over to see your reaction. You sensed her quiet assessment masked beneath the levity of her actions and knew she was aware of your conflicted mood.

‘Hey.’ You grinned, choosing to act on the easy happiness that you wanted to feel. You flipped your hand palm up and placed it obviously between you. You looked down at it and then back at Natasha. You lifted your eyebrow, trying to keep the constant ache for her to be closer to you unassuming.

Natasha studied you carefully and you knew abruptly that she saw everything. She slid along the backseat in a single motion. You moved your hand, but not fast enough to miss brushing against the small of her back. Every touch of her ached a little.

She twisted in another smooth motion, lifting herself a half inch off the seat as she found her new position. Again, you were reminded of the poise of a gymnast or dancer. 

Now, Natasha’s legs stretched themselves out along the rest of the backseat and her ass landed with a fairly elegant thump on your lap. Both of your hands met each other as they slid around her waist. The satisfaction of having her pressed into you consumed you for a moment. Now, it was a good ache.

The sun was blocked by Natasha’s figure, allowing your eyes some reprieve from the bright glare. The incessant heat finally receded, along with that pain from not having her in your arms. 

Sitting in your lap, Natasha was much taller than you. She hooked one finger on the collar of your top and you let her light tug pull you forward until you’d buried yourself in the crook of her neck. Another arm wrapped around your shoulders. There was a firmness in her hold that mixed with the gentleness of her touch. 

There was no way to describe the meanings of the touches and movements, they were small and entirely unspoken gestures. But, you understood each other perfectly. 

You let the world be dark as you stayed pressed against her. You felt the pressure of her lips on your hair. 

You wished again that you could become the way you felt in this moment, so intrinsically tied up in her.

‘I feel like today is a dream.’ Natasha murmured after a while. In response, you kissed the bare skin that your lips were already touching.

‘Okay.’ You murmured back a moment later, because everything was. 

Clint turned the radio back on, and ‘Sweet Caroline’ played perfectly into the moment. Then there was the static crackle as he adjusted it back to classic rock. Natasha’s disinterest in his actions reassured you strangely. You held onto that hope of one day being as much her family as he was.

‘Fat Bottomed Girls’ blasted out suddenly as Clint adjusted the volume back up to obnoxious levels. 

Without hesitation, your hand moved down to squeeze Natasha’s ass purposefully. You knew she could feel your silent hysterics as you laughed quietly against her neck. In response, her finger at your collar pushed you back a little and Natasha slipped her sunglasses off to direct a reprimanding stare at you. You wondered at her ability to infuse moments like these with just the right amount of theatricality. Your laughter only increased.

Tears started to roll down your cheeks as the laughter broke entirely free. The bass line of the song continued to thump through the car. Natasha graced you with a smile that you knew was for you, rather than for the irony of the song. Still, you let your hand rest meaningfully on the curve of her ass, delighting in the joke.

‘Fat bottomed girls you make the rocking world go round.’ Clint’s hoarse voice half yelled from the front of the car, his own head nodding to the music.You tried to catch a breath, feeling like you might have cracked a rib. 

When you finally inhaled enough to fill your lungs, Natasha looked away. She glanced nonchalantly around as if enjoying the view of the fields on either side of the road. 

You looked curiously up at her abrupt change in attitude until you felt the roll of her ass as she ground herself into your lap. You watched the muscles in her thighs clench with her coordinated movement. You choked on your first deep breath. Natasha’s tongue poked between her teeth as she grinned in satisfaction. 

She moved to kiss you slowly now, the slight tease in her smile telling you to be expectant of one hell of a kiss.

Her lips touched yours and her tongue slid into your mouth. Her hand behind your back clenched your shirt. You kept your hands clasped around her middle as she turned in your loose hold, a knee resting on either side of you as she sat back down facing you, resting on your lap. You groaned against her lips.

The music cut off abruptly as Clint spoke up.

‘Do you fucking mind?’ He began his reprimand. 

Natasha, impossibly, kissed you with even more intent, as if trying to block out all distractions using only her tongue. It was nearly successful, but, as always, the thought of Clint reminded you of that golden look Natasha had held when she’d told you about their saved date at the top of the rock climbing wall.

You tapped Natasha’s waist twice with a single finger, knowing your unspoken communication would succeed in conveying your feelings.

Natasha moved back, looking regretfully at your lips and your decision. She kissed you chastely one more time, before adjusting back to her previous position with her legs stretched along the back seat.

Her calm acquiescence to Clint’s demand was undercut by her muttered words.

‘What a fucking cockblock.’

Clint snorted very loudly and you leaned forward automatically to hear his comeback, knowing these tiny comments were often the best insights into Natasha’s past.

‘You’re one to talk.’ Clint intoned meaningfully.

Natasha rolled her eyes and glanced over at your rapt attention knowingly, acknowledging your curiosity with a smile. It made you feel warm, to realise that her fears over having you know her better had somewhat lessened. Small steps forward.

‘You get drunk for one Christmas.’ Natasha muttered drily, shaking her head and smiling down at her lap resting on top of your own. ‘And they never let you forget it.’

You tilted your head with confusion, a soft smile easing onto your face. Your hand rubbed peaceably against the small of Natasha’s back.

‘You were out trying to pick up girls on Christmas?’ You addressed the question to Clint, though part of you couldn’t help but leave it open for Natasha too.

There was the briefest of pauses before Clint’s answer. The sort of thing you only noticed after dating someone like Natasha.

‘No.’ He said in a carefully casual tone. ‘Natasha was the only one single, but there was an opportunity for me to get laid.’

You recognised that tone. Natasha used it too. He’d told you the truth but he’d obfuscated something important. Unlike with Natasha, you didn’t let yourself get hung up on it.

‘And what about you, did you get laid on Christmas?’ You teased Natasha, curiosity pushing you to ask a question you weren’t sure you wanted the answer to. Needless jealousy flooded your chest at even the thought of it and you swallowed obviously. Natasha looked amused and you watched her smile widen in delight.

She lifted a finger and pressed it against your chin, the tip of it touched your lower lip.

‘You’re jealous.’ She stated. You pouted slightly at the accusation and her finger caught more of your bottom lip. Natasha moved her hands then to brush against your cheekbones and she kissed you firmly in lieu of any answer. You smiled a little dazedly, it was more than enough.

‘Let’s invite my girlfriend for the day out. That’s all I really want this year.’ Clint made a poor imitation of Natasha’s voice, pitching it way too high. 

‘I’m not her girlfriend.’ You corrected quietly, feeling an embarrassed heat on your cheeks. That had been the one real knock to your confidence in the time of Natasha’s absence. You’d had that impression brutally corrected by the reality of her leaving.

Natasha pressed your face slightly and you looked up at her, hating the vulnerability in your expression. There was something like determination in her eyes.

She tilted your head up to entirely face hers. 

‘You are mine.’ She said simply, staring right into your eyes. ‘And I am yours.’ She kissed you once more. You’d lost count of the kisses you’d exchanged with Natasha, but this one was different all over again. The huff of her breath on your lips, the dragging of her teeth along your lower lip. The way her nose bumped yours. The way she made your sigh turn into a moan as she moved her hand, lying it flat against your lower abdomen. You felt every part of her love in the way she touched you.

There was nothing but her. She was right.

Part 2: Happy Meal

When you broke apart, you smiled at each for a long moment. You decided to make a show of putting your hands behind your head and leaning back against the headrest, indicating your intent to nap. 

Natasha lay down proper now, head facing up from its place in your lap. There wasn’t enough room for her legs to stretch anymore, but still she looked perfectly at ease. Your eyes closed and your fingers tangled in her hair, appreciating the reassurance that the physical contact gave you. The motion of the car felt like the ocean rocking and soon you wandered into half dreams about boats at sea.

You weren’t sure how much time passed while you relaxed like that. It wasn’t long enough for Natasha to inevitably get restless though. Clint had the decency to lower the volume of his radio, humming quietly and looking out without complaint at the neverending road. 

You felt your stomach rumble and held your breath, peeking down at Natasha, hoping impossibly that she might not have heard. The stillness of her expression ended when she opened one eye, looking up at you suspiciously.

‘You’re hungry.’ Natasha informed you. 

‘A little.’ You admitted. ‘I didn’t plan snacks, this was all quite unexpected.’

‘You should have had breakfast.’ Natasha admonished you, though her voice cracked. You heard the hesitation in her statement. You stared at each other for a long moment, knowing you were thinking the same thing. Breakfast was the shared part of your routine that had been the most consistent, until it hadn’t. 

Like her voice, Natasha’s face cracked into an expression of raw guilt.

You tilted your head, placing your hand gently on the side of her face.

‘Well, you can make it for me tomorrow.’ You murmured quietly, not entirely sure why you didn’t want Clint to hear this part.

Natasha’s hand covered yours and she closed her eyes desperately as she held your hand firmly against her cheek. 

‘It’s a promise.’ She replied when she next opened her eyes. You squashed the smallest of doubts and chose to believe her completely.

A moment later, Natasha sat upright with frightening abruptness in a motion resembling a reawoken corpse in a horror movie.

‘Clint. We have to get food.’ She demanded, and this time it lacked the undercurrent of humour that was typical in their interaction. ‘(Y/N) is starving.’

You rolled your eyes, directing your face at the rearview mirror. Clint grinned back at you through the reflection. 

‘There’s a drive thru in a couple of miles.’ He answered readily. ‘I’m a little hungry myself.’

Natasha grumbled something that you didn’t catch as she lay back down in your lap. 

You hummed a questioning sound and she caught your gaze. 

‘McDonalds is going to have to grill a whole cow before Clint is satisfied.’ Natasha repeated quietly for your benefit.

‘Yeah?’ You replied cheekily. ‘And what would satisfy you?’

Natasha made an exaggerated show of stretching, moving so her arms were almost reaching out of the car.

‘Maybe, I’m already satisfied enough.’ She told you, and the sincerity of her words undercut the playful tone.

‘Yeah.’ Clint called from the front seat. You groaned internally, sensing his intent already.

‘Natasha doesn’t need a hunk of cow to be satisfied. She just needs with a nice pair of tender -’

Natasha’s heel slammed so efficiently into the back of his chair, that the word ‘breasts’ was lost in an ‘oof’ sound.

Natasha returned to her upright position behind Clint’s seat as he slowed down for the exit to the McDonalds.

You’d never been one to think much about your appearance, especially not since you’d joined the Avengers. However, as the car rolled through the McDonald’s parking lot, you were extremely conscious of the image that the three of you presented.

The classic convertible with the roof down, your heads nodding rhythmically to the rock music, the expensive sunglasses. Even your arm draped easily across Natasha’s shoulder as you pressed yourself closer to her.

You weren’t sure if you were giving off cool or lame vibes. Either way, it was probably in the extreme.

Clint’s fingers tapped patiently on the steering wheel as the car crawled along to the speaker for placing orders. He listed out your collective wishes of Big Macs, chicken nuggets and plenty of fries. The returning voice held a noticeable amount of curiosity, enough to tell you that the staff had already spotted your unusual appearance.

You took the opportunity of Clint’s distraction and the car’s slow pace to lean forward, darting quickly and efficiently to change the music station back to Natasha’s original choice. Clint cut off mid speech and swivelled around to give Natasha a murderous glare. His reaction held the implication that your actions had actually been premeditated by her. Natasha’s answering grin was so convincing in its smugness, that you almost believed his accusation yourself.

The disembodied voice from the speaker stuttered when Natasha turned in her seat to reward your initiative with a kiss. You could imagine the employees inside with their eyes on the CCTV. You decided easily that you didn’t care.

Before Clint could finish his part of the order, Natasha broke away from you abruptly. You fought a pout as her hand gripped your shoulder firmly, keeping you in place and signalling her plan to return soon. She leaned forward to address the drive thru speaker that was parallel to Clint’s shoulder.

‘Hi there. My friend’s too embarrassed to ask.’ She began in an accent not quite her own and with a familiar enough tone of innocence to make you and Clint tense, you with anticipation and him with wariness.

‘But he loves to play with the Happy Meal toys.’ Natasha informed the speaker brightly.

‘I know that he ordered the Big Mac, but is there any chance…’ She trailed off questioningly, sounding very hopeful.

‘Oh, of course.’ The employee replied, in a sympathetic voice that conveyed just how weird they now thought Clint was.

‘Thank you so much. He’s such a big fan of Paw Patrol.’ Natasha added sweetly, before turning back to you, planting three quick but soft kisses on your lips.

It was these antics that finally settled you into the prospect of the day out with Clint and her. The pointlessness of her chaotic intentions made you think of a cat knocking things off a shelf without rhyme or reason. This Natasha was endearing and familiar to you. You enjoyed the attractiveness of the little sparks of mischief that glinted in her green eyes.

Clint muttered something about trying to be a nice person and this being his fucking reward. At this point in the journey, you knew him well enough to tell he was still barely embarrassed. 

As you watched Natasha slide a hair tie off her wrist, you suddenly felt entirely separate from both of them. You also realised how far you’d detached from society in general since joining the Avengers. The nonchalance this pair always had came from a certainty that they could survive in any situation, that they had survived in any situation. It made them both impressive, but it also made them both profoundly unlike yourself.

Natasha tied up her hair then, leaving her shoulders bare, except for the straps of her tank top. You watched the back of her neck thoughtfully, a sudden self awareness creeping up on you.

You weren’t built to be the person sitting in this car, you were meant to be the person serving them at the drive thru. 

The rush of imposter syndrome almost made you want to jump out the car. You wondered if the McDonald’s staff could see the stark difference between the other two and yourself. A weird shame built up in you, rising fast like bubbles in a soda.

You worried if you looked out of place sitting next to Natasha.

Natasha was still tying her ponytail when she turned around. Nothing in her face told you that she’d read your anxiety. But, when she eyed your summer outfit meaningfully and winked, you felt a warm comfort like your fears had been addressed simply and succinctly by her. 

You remembered how to breathe again, and a smile came back to you. You reminded yourself of the truth that kept you in this car.

Natasha had made the choice to come back to you. 

Clint drove around the side of the building, stopping under the ‘Collect Your Order’ sign. The young woman behind the glass pane looked at the car and at the three of you with expectancy, clearly having heard about you in advance. You finally removed your own sunglasses, feeling disingenuous with them on.

The girl handed the two paper bags of food over wordlessly, eyes still assessing the scene in front of her. Clint passed you one and threw the other casually onto the seat next to him. Unsurprisingly, it landed perfectly upright. 

Natasha rummaged immediately through her bag as you handed it over. It jarred with your expectation, you’d never thought Natasha would clearly signal to anyone that she was so hungry. 

It was only when Natasha’s hand plunged into the paper bag and withdrew a blue toy dog, that her actions made any sense.

She bit her bottom lip in a perfect expression of concern, shaking her head worriedly. In one smooth movement, she’d pulled the handbrake on the car, preventing Clint from beginning to drive away.

For the first time ever, Clint turned to look at you both with real alarm.

‘I’m so sorry to be difficult.’ Natasha said to the assistant, her false accent still intact, frown lines appearing on her forehead.

‘But, my friend was really hoping to get the pink one. He’s a big fan of the show and Skye’s his favourite.’ Natasha’s hand slipped off the handbrake and rested familiarly on Clint’s shoulder. 

The employee poorly repressed her snort, glancing quickly over at Clint.

The tendons in Clint’s neck visibly stood out as he kept his mouth shut and stared forward through the windshield, clearly anticipating it as the best way to hurry this social interaction to an end.

‘He likes her little goggles.’ Natasha told the girl easily, gesturing at the sunglasses resting on the top of Clint’s own head. Clint’s head snapped back again to look murderously at Natasha, promising retribution.

The girl handed over the pink toy a minute later. Natasha stayed still purposefully, letting the awkwardness force Clint to reach out and take the toy instead. 

He pushed the handbrake down angrily and you finally sped off at an alarming speed. You tried to balance your soda drink between your knees, the ice clinking inside at the fast acceleration.

Part 3 - Finding Family

‘I’m going to enjoy destroying those bits of plastic.’ Clint muttered furiously, throwing the pink toy onto the seat alongside his order.

‘Keep them.’ Natasha replied, sounding unaffected by his tone. Her hand still rested on his shoulder, you watched her squeeze it meaningfully.

All at once, the tension in the air deflated, lifting away the heavy feeling that had settled over the car. You glanced at each of them in turn but neither looked at you. As he returned to the straight open road, Clint swiveled around to face Natasha briefly.

You watched as they shared an unspoken look of understanding. Just as you had at the drive thru, you felt the clear distinction between the pair of them and yourself. 

You tried to sip your soda and not feel for the first time that you really were intruding on their special day trip.

When Clint turned back to the road, Natasha threw the blue figurine onto the front seat; it landed perfectly next to the pink one.

‘Thanks.’ Clint muttered and now nothing made sense to you. The context clues you’d been given felt as unrelated to each other as pieces from separate jigsaws. You continued to glance between the two of them subtly, trying to figure out what was going on. 

It was only when your gaze settled thoughtfully on the toys again, that the realisation came to you.

‘Oh my God Clint, do you have a kid?’  

Clint’s foot hit the brake so abruptly at your exclamation that you almost certainly got whiplash. He didn’t bother signalling as he pulled the car roughly over into the dirt at the side of the road. 

The horns of the cars behind you blared obnoxiously. You pressed on despite your shock at his reaction, now feeling certain that you were correct. Your hand lightly squeezed Natasha’s thigh as you continued.

‘Is that where you were when you went MIA? Do you have visitation days or something?’ You asked curiously.

Immediately, you tried to picture Clint as someone’s father. You thought of his protectiveness, even occasionally towards yourself, and the pieces in your mind fell even further into place. Clint was a man that worried like someone who had plenty of people to worry about.

You heard Clint’s sharp breath, but it was the controlled quiet of his tone that brought your attention completely forward.

‘You told her.’ He accused in the lowest of voices. You turned to Natasha as you realised his words were directed at her. Natasha’s face had never shown such abject fear or distress like it did now.

‘No.’ She said quickly, and you could practically hear her rapid heartbeat in her voice. ‘Never.’ Natasha emphasised the word like it was an oath. You realised that maybe it was and the sight of her fear gripped your heart too.

‘I - I just guessed.’ You mumbled out, your excitement and curiosity now long gone. You had already been sweating from the incessant heat but now you could feel yourself start to shake too.

You tried to catch Natasha’s eye, hoping you could convey an apology to her with  a look. She didn’t acknowledge you at all.

Clint nodded, still twisting in his seat as he carefully studied Natasha’s expression. His face returned slowly to a more neutral expression but the panic in Natasha’s eyes didn’t let up.

Clint glanced at you now, and his open assessment resembled Natasha’s guarded gaze far more than his own typical stare. You let him study you, trying to force yourself to stay calm.

‘I can forget everything, if you want me to.’ You finally said, your voice sounding higher pitched than usual.

Natasha finally turned to stare at you too. You’d been an idiot to think you’d catch some reassurance in her expression. She looked at you like you were about to become a stranger to her.

There was suddenly no doubt in your mind that if Clint decided to leave you at the side of the road right now, Natasha would back him up. Her stare was unflinching, and it was closer to that of a predator than the Natasha you had thought you knew.

You realised how little her promises to you meant when they stood up against any prospect of losing Clint. You knew it was an unfair comparison but nonetheless it stung.

‘You can’t forget something that easily.’ Clint replied to your suggestion stonily and an illogical concern for your own safety started to linger uneasily in your mind. You wondered what extreme he would be willing to go to, to protect his children. Losing Natasha all over again was starting to seem imminent, your heart pounded.

Then, Clint sighed once and swore loudly, hand suddenly smacking the side of the steering wheel. Natasha barely repressed an automatic flinch at his movement.

‘I have two children.’ He said at last and the threat in his tone was obvious. ‘I don’t care if your loved ones are being tortured in front of you. If you ever tell that fact to another living soul, I will hunt you down and kill you like a dog.’

You wanted to cry, the entirety of this morning feeling overwhelming in itself.

‘Okay.’ You whispered and watched as Clint signalled before moving to rejoin the highway. 

The three of you sat in silence, missing the brashness of the loud radio from earlier. You felt like an idiot, not realising the wasps nest until you’d walked right into it. Natasha still didn’t look at you and you removed your hand from her leg awkwardly. You felt sure she was wishing you weren’t in this car.

You sunk back against your seat. Another minute passed in awful silence before Clint reached out to grab his burger from the paper bag on the passenger seat. He glanced back at you, ever the model of unsafe driving. 

‘Don’t you have any questions?’ He asked bluntly.

‘Uh.’ You stumbled out in surprise. ‘I don’t need to know anything, that’s okay.’

Clint rolled his eyes and took a bite of his burger.

‘You know now.’ He said with his mouth full. ‘You can ask.’

‘Is that the best idea?’ Natasha muttered under her breath. She glanced at you as if you were someone unfamiliar. Hurt stabbed you like a knife in the gut, hating the thought of Clint trusting you more right now than Natasha did.

You tried to regain an appearance of calm, knowing you wouldn’t be escaping this car, or even the backseat, any time soon. You glanced away from Natasha and spotted the toys that had sparked your realisation in the first place. A second wave of understanding swept over you.

‘Oh.’ You said dumbly. ‘Of course. They’re your family too.’ You spoke to the car, but your eyes moved back to Natasha.

There was more silence and several expressions flickered across Natasha’s face without settling.

‘Yes.’ Clint said simply after a second. ‘They are.’

And then, like that, everything about Natasha made a new type of sense. Clint had given her a surrogate family. She hadn’t been fearing your interference in her relationship with Clint. Natasha had been trying to protect his kids, just as much as he had. 

Your mind flashed back to watching the lions with her at the zoo. Absurdly, you pictured her protecting her cubs.

The hurt feeling lessened immediately and now you were left with only residual shock from the turbulent emotions that you’d experienced since the drive thru. 

Natasha not trusting you with this secret was not surprising. You decided with certainty that you loved her even more for keeping it private.

‘You’re an Aunt?’ You asked, trying to imagine Natasha with the title.

Natasha blinked and gave you a suddenly nervous wide eyed look in response to your suggestion. The vulnerability in her eyes struck even harder after the cold stare of just moments before. Before she could answer, Clint spoke up again from the front seat.

‘Yes.’ He said, voice filled with obvious pride. ‘(Y/N) meet Aunty Nat.’

The side of Natasha’s mouth twitched automatically at the name. You placed your hand over her own where it rested in her lap. You swallowed, knowing you couldn’t take a rejection. Natasha squeezed it firmly.

‘Nice to meet you.’ You said seriously, looking her straight in the eye. Somehow, despite it all, the three of you still ended up grinning.

[please-destroy]

When The Deal Goes Down

Series Masterlist

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Chapter 7: Revenge and Sunrises 

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Part 1: The Weight of It All

Love is the sort of feeling that rests on top of your heart. When you picked yourself up from the ground, you felt your heart ache with the crushing weight of it.

Physical exhaustion clawed at you, your lungs stung with the after effects of the panic. You crawled into your bed and let the aches compound inside you. You didn’t sleep, just letting yourself sink into the heaviness.

Jarvis only spoke once, a few hours later, to relay Tony’s message that he was making dinner.

You went to the common room without much hesitation, the stab of hunger creating a numb resolve to keep going. 

You scanned the open space as soon as you entered it. Natasha was not here, you were certain.

The counter was littered with Chinese takeout boxes, explaining how Tony had produced something edible. Pepper was over on the sofa, a glass of wine next to her on the side table. Bruce and Tony stood shoulder to shoulder at the breakfast bar, filling plates generously.

Bruce glanced up first.

‘Just in time.’ He grinned, nodding at the food.

‘I ordered you that chicken thing.’ Tony told you with a roll of his eyes, gesturing lazily at one of the tubs.

Your smile was a mask, trying desperately not to reveal your weak spots to the room. You felt your feet move you across the room.

Tony caught your expression and you saw the subtlety of his sympathy reflected back at you.

‘SHIELD mission.’ He stated, but you could tell it was more of a question.

Your head tilted automatically.

‘You mean Steve?’ You queried back. ‘That’s what I heard too.’

‘No.’ Tony sighed at having to explain the obvious. ‘I mean your girlfriend. She sped out of here earlier like Fury had clicked his fingers.’

The gut punch feeling of betrayal was unexpected.

‘She’s not my girlfriend.’ You corrected, your voice sounding strange to your own ears.

You focused on filling your plate, knowing you wouldn’t be able to taste anything you chose. Your mind buzzed like a swarm of insects, it kept you in a haze separate from the others. You sat quietly next to Pepper. With Steve away on his mission, Bruce had hijacked the TV remote. The travel show could have been in a different language for all you could comprehend it. A silence endured from the others, telling you plainly that they were aware of your mood.

Later in the evening, Pepper’s hand moved gently onto your shoulder.

‘Natasha is the most competent person I’ve ever met.’ She told you seriously. ‘She’s going to be fine.’ 

You didn’t clarify that Natasha wasn’t on a mission. They’d find out tomorrow, or whenever Shield next checked in. 

Abruptly, you felt the heaviness all over again. You shrugged away from Pepper’s hand and left the room. You cried when you saw Natasha’s book still sitting on your nightstand. There was something about her carefully placed bookmark that made everything crumble again.

The team figured it out the next day. You didn’t speak about it and they didn’t ask. You overheard them a few times. You learned Maria wasn’t concerned about Natasha’s location, despite her not being on Shield’s official radar.

You were lonely, but there was no company you wanted except Natasha’s. 

You watched for July 12th on the calendar. You wondered if Clint would come to the Compound in search of Natasha, or if he was the only one who had her new address. You already expected the answer, a weird twisting jealousy building inside of you. It mixed with the hurt, making a pit in your stomach.

You still studied Russian. You pretended you were crying over the verbs. 

July 12th was a Saturday. The night before, Steve had returned to the Compound. The mission had been successful. 

When he entered, he walked straight across the common room floor to you and gave you a careful hug. It was almost more embarrassing than the obvious sympathy on his face. You appreciated the gesture, recognising Steve now as a real friend. 

A new worry floated inside you that you would have to move out so that Natasha could return to the Avengers. You didn’t have the courage to talk about it with anyone. You had no doubt what Fury’s priorities would be with the team.

You didn’t sleep that night, it felt like Natasha had etched the date into your mind. You thought about those last conversations with her more than you wanted to admit. Maybe this date was just the last thing from her that you had to hold onto. You’d hidden her book in your nightstand drawer, but you still avoided her side of the bed. 

As your room filled with grey light, you moved like a ghost to the common room. You dragged a bean bag over to the large windows and sat, watching the dawn bring in the day that you’d been unable to help fixating on. 

You stared at the blinding, burning, orange glow as the sun lifted above the treeline. Soon, the shape of the sun was tattooed onto your eyelids whenever you closed your eyes. There was something about the day arriving that filled you with a sudden lack of urgency. You considered going back to bed, sleeping away the certainty that Natasha was having a good day today without you.

Part 2: Sunrise

A lone car snaked along the Compound’s wandering driveway. It was a classic convertible with the roof up. Your heart stuttered. You blinked desperately, trying to clear your vision enough to see who was driving. You hated your eyesight for not being superhuman.

As the car rolled to a halt at the entrance, you stood up as if the driver could enter directly onto your floor. Your hands were shaking as you pressed them against the glass pane, trying to look directly down at the front doors to the Compound. You could hear the car’s engine idling now, but you couldn’t see the occupants, obscured by the veranda below you.

You moved your hands to your neck as you felt a rush of sudden anxiety, letting your nails dig into your skin.

For the first time in a long time, you jumped when Jarvis spoke out of the air above you. 

‘Good morning (Y/N). Your presence is requested in the front lobby.’ His voice was typically calm, giving nothing away.

‘Who’s there Jarvis?’ You rushed out the question in one breath, flattening the urge to demand if it was her.

‘It is Agent Barton waiting.’ Jarvis confirmed helpfully. 

The weight on your heart got heavier with the growing feeling of real worry. Jealousy of Clint had been nothing compared to the concern that Natasha was truly gone AWOL. If Clint still believed that Natasha was here, then no one had spoken to her since she’d left the Compound. You felt like you’d chased her out of her home.

You tried halfheartedly to fix your hair in the elevator, the mirrors inside making you aware of how unprepared for company you were. When the doors opened, you headed straight to where Clint stood by the desk.

‘Have you spoken to her?’ You called out, the awkwardness of seeing him marred by your rising concern. 

‘Yes.’ Clint’s reply was flat and neutral.

It sucked the panic out of you in an instant. Still, you didn’t settle into any sort of calm, only increased concern for Clint’s unexplained presence in the Compound. You no longer knew why he’d sought you out. Your arms crossed instinctively, trying to brace yourself subtly.

‘She’s in the car.’ Clint jerked his head at the entrance. 

Your head twisted immediately and your mouth dropped as your eyes found the parked car. You could see the outline of Natasha in the passenger seat. 

You forced yourself to turn back to Clint and closed your mouth quickly. 

‘Why?’ You asked hoarsely, gripping your arms tighter as you felt shakes start to run through you. You were caught up in the shock of seeing her. The instinctual concern for her whereabouts faded almost immediately after all that build up. Now you found yourself aching at your proximity to Natasha.

‘I made her come here.’ Clint spoke bluntly. With your heightened awareness, you saw his fingers twitch a little. Briefly, you wondered if he always wished for a bow and arrow in tense situations.

‘She needs to talk to you.’ 

‘She is still sitting in the car.’ You replied suddenly, harshly. Abruptly, you hated Clint for taking it upon himself to be the messenger that Natasha obviously didn’t want. Your eyes trailed back to the car. You felt sick with want for someone who didn’t want you.

‘It’s not that simple.’ Clint started to speak after a pause. There was a carefulness to his tone that you hadn’t heard before. ‘Natasha doesn’t think that you want to see her.’

‘Clint. She left me.’ Your voice caught on the words, eroding their bluntness. You felt ashamed to let your hurt show in front of him. 

Clint ignored your words.

‘Come to the car?’ He asked you instead.

You stared at him for nearly a minute, trying to decide if you hated him or the situation. Eventually, you took a single step towards the front doors.

‘Finally.’ You caught his under-the-breath mutter as he turned to leave with you.

As you got closer to the car, you forced your eyes to trail along the ground. Your steps slowed and soon you were dragging your feet as you fell behind Clint’s stride.

You looked up only when Clint’s feet stopped abruptly in front you. You found her instantly. Your eyes locked with Natasha’s in a heartbeat. Her eyes had widened as they met yours and her stare was intense. She looked like a deer caught in headlights.

‘Told you, she’d want to speak to you.’ Clint said to her drily, before settling back into the driver’s seat. 

Natasha scrambled out of the car with none of her usual grace. She shut the car door and froze again when she met your unwavering stare. You saw her fingertips pressing harshly against the passenger seat window. Part of you wished that there wasn’t a car and an Avenger between you, the other part knew it was the only reason you could stay standing.

Your arms crossed again. The gesture was obviously a way to brace yourself, but you needed it too much to care. Natasha’s eyes tracked the movement and you could see her assessing all of your body language carefully.

‘Why are you here?’ You forced the question into the uncomfortable silence, your nails digging into your forearms.

As soon as you spoke, you could tell immediately that Natasha wanted to run. Her eyes darted around instinctively, looking for an escape route. Your heart thudded horribly with the certainty that Clint had been lying. Natasha did not want to be here. She didn’t want to be near you.

You took a step back from the car, resigned to the heaviness in your heart.

‘Stop.’ Clint’s barking command was jarring. You both jumped a little at his voice, wearing matching expressions of alarm.

Clint stepped back out of the car. He gave Natasha a murderous glare before turning back to you.

‘She’s been heartbroken for a week.’ He informed you plainly. ‘And she’s sorry for what she did.’ 

Clint gave Natasha a long look, waiting for her to join in. Natasha looked like she’d forgotten how to speak. Her mouth opened and shut once, and you caught the subtlest of head shakes at Clint.

Clint sighed once and turned back to address you.

‘The real question.’ He began. ‘Is, do you still want her?’

The tension you’d been taut with, loosened in surprise at his words. Your arms dropped quickly to your sides and you let out a long breath that you hadn’t realised that you were holding.

‘Of course I still want her.’ You told Clint directly.

You looked back over the top of the car. Natasha looked scared.

‘Of course, I still want you.’ You told her with certainty. 

You felt pulled towards her as you moved around the hood of the car. When you opened your arms, Natasha walked straight into them. Her arms wrapped around your neck and her face buried into your shoulder. The sudden lack of loneliness was startling.

You wrapped your arms around her tighter. A piece of the pain from watching her fall, fell away. After a moment you straightened up, though Natasha’s head stayed on your shoulder. She was silent but you could feel the hot tears soaking through the fabric of your top.

‘I’ll always want you.’ You mumbled. The warmth that you’d lost so abruptly, trickled back through you slowly. Every drop of it felt more special for its absence. You didn’t know how to tell her that you wanted to be her family. 

‘I’m glad you’re home.’ You said instead. You looked at Clint and silently apologised all over again for the bad blood. He glanced pointedly at Natasha and you nodded your understanding. 

That’s what it was all about.

Part 3: Revenge

A minute later, Natasha moved back to face you. You held her hands in yours, refusing to let go as you used your thumbs to brush the tears from her face.

‘Hey.’ You remembered with a sudden soft smile. ‘It’s your special day, right? What do you want to do?’

Natasha kissed you. 

She tasted salty from the tears. Her lips were fuller and softer and sweeter than you remembered.

‘I’m sorry.’ Natasha’s voice was husky when she spoke. She looked haunted with the things she was apologising for.

You didn’t tell her you forgave her. You didn’t ask her not to leave again.

‘You came back.’ You told her, feeling hesitant with your words. ‘Please always come back.’

Natasha nodded somberly, holding your eyes with her own.

‘Right kids.’ Clint said at last. ‘Get in the car before Shell Head does a fly by.’

You sat in the backseat directly behind Natasha. You both waited as Clint pressed the button for the convertible roof to fold down. Natasha rested her hand, palm up, on her shoulder and you reached out and met it with your own. She held your hand tightly, tugging your arm slightly as she moved to rest it just above her heart.

As the warm air blew across your face, you looked back up at the sun. It was impossibly more golden now, looming over you in the clear blue sky. Your heart still held the weight of your love. But you realised the heaviness wasn’t there to sink you. It was something safer now, something settled. 

Natasha turned slightly to kiss your hand, then she pressed her head softly against your arm. 

You hoped she felt the good kind of heaviness too.

As you left the Avengers Estate, Clint promised you a long drive. 

‘There’s a reason I hauled us out here so early.’ He told you without turning around, moving to turn on the radio. His nonchalance that you were here for the trip was reassuring. You remembered the reverence with which Natasha had spoken about the saved date.

Natasha slapped his hand away from the dial with reflexes too fast for your eyes to track. Clint just grunted, with that unbothered acceptance of Natasha’s attitude that he often had.

Instead, he stretched right over, opening the glove compartment in front of her. He didn’t stop accelerating. If it wasn’t an Avenger driving, you’d have been gripping your seatbelt and praying. 

He put on a pair of sunglasses with one hand, turning back to face the road and driving even faster. Natasha adjusted the radio until she found the station that you’d listened to on your first date. ‘Lovely Day’ by Bill Withers played out and she turned up the volume to an obnoxious level. Clint’s only reaction was to nod his head to the music. You decided he’d do well under torture.

You hummed to the music, knowing your voice would be drowned out by the speakers. Natasha also rummaged in the glove compartment. She handed a pair of sunglasses back to you before placing a pair on herself. You took the pair of aviators with good grace, feeling certain you wouldn’t suit them.

Natasha turned back, resting her chin by the head rest as she looked at you. She gave you a wide grin as she took in your face with the sunglasses. You smiled back, enjoying the return of her sunglasses look too. 

It felt like the sun hadn’t been out until today and now you were bathing in the glow of it. 

Your smile was still smaller than hers, but it was the smile that you kept only for her 

Natasha looked deeply satisfied as she turned her attention back to Clint.

‘Are we there yet?’ She teased delightedly.

Clint let out a groan between clenched teeth as he realised her intentions.

‘Don’t start.’ He warned lowly. He held little hope in his voice, clearly preempting the ineffectiveness of his command.

Natasha didn’t reply, instead she turned back to you. The song ended and a new one began. Natasha pulled silly faces at you as the guitar sound crackled out of the speakers. Her arms wrapped around her seat and she reached out, gesturing for you to give her your hand. You did so without hesitation.

Natasha started to drag her nails lightly across the back of your hand. You relaxed easily into her smallest of touches. You watched as she drew out little hearts over and over again. The tightness that had coiled inside you when she’d left, started to unravel. You heard the unspoken words behind every traced heart. 

The song faded out again, and there was a lull as the radio hosts started to speak. Natasha hummed a sigh and squeezed your hand once. Now, her thumbs started to rub slow circles rhythmically into your palm. Her careful focus on any part of you that she touched, filled you with love and lust all at once.

Natasha turned her head lazily back towards Clint.

‘How much longer?’ She asked with a sigh, affecting an air of boredom. Clint looked immediately like he was contemplating driving into a tree trunk.

Despite knowing their friendship held an equilibrium that would always balance out, you still tried to keep the peace.

‘Let’s play a driving game.’ You suggested optimistically. You caught Clint’s small shake of his head before Natasha bounced in.

‘Yes. Let’s play I Spy.’ She announced decisively, not giving Clint the chance to protest. ‘I can go first.’

You learned quickly that it was not the best game to play with actual spies. More often than not, Clint or Natasha would use acronyms or jargon to describe ordinary objects, leaving you entirely out of the loop. You didn’t share their aggressive competitiveness, but it was still a bit disheartening to realise that you definitely couldn’t win.

On your turn, Natasha gave you a careless once over behind her sunglasses and guessed your word immediately.

You groaned in frustration and regretted the time you’d spent carefully thinking of it.

You saw Clint direct a sympathetic head tilt at you through the rearview mirror. Natasha pouted her lips, miming a kiss at you in faux apology.

You forgot about the game instantly, leaning forward to take her up on her invitation.

Natasha’s fingers tangled through your hair to steady you in the moving car. Her light façade faded as she deepened the kiss. You could feel her intent as she took control. Your hand moved to her cheek, you tried to tell her you didn’t need this apology without words.

You broke apart with an abrupt change to the music. The radio station had been switched to classic rock and Clint’s smile was smug. Annoyance flushed Natasha’s expression then smoothed quickly back to one of calm indifference accompanied with a light roll of her eyes. There was no doubt she’d be winning the radio back.

She gave you a sly smile, aware you’d caught her planning revenge. She lifted up one side of her sunglasses and gave you a wink.

Your smile froze for a second as you realised just how in love you were.

‘Are we there yet?’ Natasha asked Clint a minute later, because sometimes opportunities for revenge are easy to find.

[please-destroy]

When The Deal Goes Down

Series Masterlist

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Chapter 6: Reflection and Deep Breaths.

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Part 1 - Clones and Horses

As the next week passed, you entered into a new routine with Natasha. There was a freedom and an ease that came with being able to be more yourselves in open spaces. The weekdays began to bleed together as your own schedule gained some consistency. There had been no more missions for Natasha either and you revelled in the peaceful magic of becoming each other’s shadows. Little things made your day, every day. You could see the same was true for Natasha. 

Natasha’s new hobby was undoubtedly reading, you gave her another book after she finished your copy of Jane Eyre. Ever since, and at the most unexpected moments, this new book would appear. 

During an extended Shield meeting, Natasha had huffed a sigh, propped her feet insolently on the boardroom table and started flicking calmly through the first few pages. Maria’s lengthy speech on the necessity of preparedness had faded resignedly at the sight of her. Natasha had ignored the pointed stares of the rest of the room, even Bruce clearing his throat, letting their disapproval roll over her like waves on rocks. 

The meeting had eventually picked up again, Steve soldiered on with the agenda for another hour. Natasha only acknowledged her surroundings in her private smiles shared only with you.

The next night, when Steve’s documentary on the history of the fax machine became impossibly more boring, Natasha had reached for the book again. She’d opened it, only a few pages in, and returned to her settled position on your lap. She turned pointedly away from the screen, leaning even more against your side as she quietly thumbed the pages of the book. Your hand stroked her hair patiently, her head laying heavier against your chest as the documentary dragged on.

Then, there were the moments that you held most affection for. Sometimes, in that sweet lull after sex, Natasha would take out the thick paperback from the drawer in her side table and start to peruse it leisurely, hair mussed out on the pillows. A finger would trail lazily up and down your naked chest, only leaving occasionally to turn the page. You tried to pretend like you weren’t watching Natasha reading. But, every once in a while, her eyes would slide over to meet yours and a delicate smirk would light up her face.

You knew Natasha was making a point of savouring the book and her reading of it. You liked to think it was because you had given it to her. There had been something very gentle in her surprised expression when she’d promptly returned your copy of Jane Eyre and you’d immediately handed her another. You’d had the book ready, letting your mind wander during workouts as to what she might enjoy reading about next. It wasn’t a book you’d already owned, Jarvis had arranged the shipping. You weren’t sure if Natasha had figured that out, but you wouldn’t be surprised.

A thoughtful, pleased expression would resurface sometimes as she carefully placed the book nearby wherever you settled for the evening. You let yourself believe that Natasha was trying to carry around a piece of you. You never took the pressed penny out of your pocket, so you were able to relate.

For all the times that you saw Natasha interestedly reading the book, she clearly wasn’t picking it up when you weren’t around. It had taken three evenings of your best faked nonchalance before she came across your first scribbled note. It was next to a small black and white illustration of the main character at a horse race. Next to one tiny figure of a horse, you’d scrawled.

‘Smells better than Clint.’

Natasha’s lips twitched immediately, repressing a laugh or a grin you weren’t sure. Her eyes sparkled as she found your anticipatory eyes already on her and you felt satisfied with your silliness.

You also felt relieved, you’d grown increasingly unsure of that joke over the past few days. You had expected some discomfort from Natasha, now that Clint’s absence from the Compound had turned from a few days into almost a full week. No-one seemed to know when Clint was going to return, and you watched Natasha surreptitiously, trying to spot some underlying tension about it.

You’d already felt the subtle shifts in how she interacted with the other Avengers. Sometimes when you were with her, you felt Natasha hiding slightly behind her bold gestures of intimacy with you in front of the others. You went along with them without question, but you could tell she was feeling increasingly exposed.

Natasha said nothing explicit about Clint, or the lack of him. She only moved to train separately from the rest of you, taking a midday shift in the gym that you didn’t have the luxury of choosing. 

You’d spotted her taking her phone down to the gym and had a feeling that she was using the isolation to give Clint a confidential call. You tried not to fixate on why she needed the privacy, labelling it firmly as another spy quirk Or, maybe Clint really did have his imaginary girlfriend to talk about.

Steve was still overseeing your fitness development and he’d recently taken your inability to meet Avenger’s standards in record time as his own personal failing. It wasn’t the most flattering assessment to receive, but Steve’s attitude did nothing to help either. He grew increasingly kind to you while you worked in the gym. You suspected that he now saw you as a remedial student needing extra care. Regardless, Steve took every opportunity in the gym to double down on his encouragement of you.

Yesterday, your tolerance had worn thin and you’d made a sound like a strangled scream when he’d reiterated extremely patiently how your posture when skipping (skipping) needed adjusting. 

Today, Steve had promised something new for you to try, but you were already feeling skeptical. You sourly decided that the best you could hope for was a shot on the rock climbing wall, usually only utilised by Clint or Natasha. 

You made the most of your free morning with Natasha, wishing to delay the impending gym session. Natasha had woken typically earlier than you, but for once had chosen not to leave the bed immediately. You’d come to consciousness with her hand playing absentmindedly with your hair. You had also surfaced back to awareness with a direct eye line on her breasts.

Natasha’s focus was on her phone, likely texting Clint with the rapidity of her one handed typing and half smiles at the responses. You alerted her to your presence by moving intently forward. Warmly kissing her breasts you allowed them to corrupt your vision fully. It set the tone nicely for the day.

Now, you stood together at the counter making breakfast, both of you imitating Pepper’s choice of avocado smash on toast. Jarvis hummed out some upbeat guitar music into the quiet room. Along with Pepper’s calm keyboard typing, it made for a peaceful ambience just waiting to be disturbed. You nudged Natasha’s shoulder with your own as you both waited on the toaster. 

‘Hey, Natasha.’ You murmured conspiratorially, already fighting against your own grin. ‘What’s green and goes smash? Me or the Hulk?’

You started to crush the avocado with your fork, laughing under your breath at your own joke. Natasha pressed her lips tightly together, but you could see a silent shake in her shoulders. Casually brushing a piece of her hair back behind her ear, you winked as you licked the fork clean. Natasha lost control with a peal of laughter that sent a pleasant shiver down you.

‘Ah excellent, our daily dose of Natasha’s clone doing a bad imitation of the original.’ Tony noted drily upon entering the kitchen area, hand dancing along Pepper’s shoulder on the way past to the coffee machine.

This was expected. Every morning, Tony made at least one new comment about the pair of you. You weren’t helping your chances with some of your recent behaviour, but his originality (even with Pepper’s moderating presence) was still remarkable.

You put your hands on Natasha’s hips, pulling them near flush against yours.

‘An offensive accusation has been made against you.’ You told her gravely. ‘You’re going to have to show me your belly button to disprove it.’

Natasha’s answering look told you that the only thing offensive was your terrible joke.

‘I’m serious.’ You insisted, guiding her hips so they swayed against you a little. ‘We could have a genuine case for libel against him.’ 

‘Actually, then it would be slander.’ Natasha informed you with a teasing smile, using her thumb and finger to play idly with the hem of your top.

‘Right, right.’ You agreed easily. You let your own hands slip down to rest on the curve of her ass.

‘So, we should get you somewhere, without any peeping toms.’ You glanced pointedly over in Tony’s direction, a cup of coffee now in his hand. ‘And I can help you evidence your case.’ You trailed a finger across her tank top, drawing a line across her front just below her navel. You glanced back up and caught her eyes as they darkened in response.

‘So, the two things that I have learned this morning.’ Tony announced loudly, breaking the moment entirely. ‘First, I have woken up in purgatory. Second, purgatory consists of you two enacting weird setups for pornos.’ He looked down at his coffee in mock disappointment. ‘It explains why this crap has lost its effect.’

‘Oh please.’ Pepper muttered from her seat at the counter, not looking thrilled at having her attention redirected from her laptop.

 ‘Tony, you just need to get more than four hours of sleep for once in your life.’ Pepper turned and looked directly over at you. ‘And you both need to get a room. I mean, seriously, it’s 9 in the morning.’

You nodded a little shamefacedly but Natasha looked unrepentant.

‘Tony.’ She called, eyebrow lifting mischievously. ‘Your girlfriend’s getting jealous.’

You caught her energy and felt braver too.

‘Tony’ You echoed. ‘Are you saying that you watch a lot of lesbian porn?’

‘Okay!’ Pepper exclaimed suddenly and with finality, moving to close her laptop and leave the kitchen space. Tony hurriedly intercepted her path to the exit. He looked at Natasha and you.

‘Out.’ He declared, pointing at the door. ‘Take your green mush and go.’

You could sense that you wore matching smirks as you both angled your way around the counter and left the room. One of your hands held Natasha’s and the other held your piece of toast. In the elevator, Natasha ran her finger slowly along the side of her mouth as she finished her slice.

You tried very hard to think about the elevator floor.

‘I should probably head straight down to the gym.’ You realised glumly. ‘I think today is another morning of Captain America’s Fitness Challenge for the Inept.’

‘Oh.’ Natasha purred a little. ‘That’s not fair. I bet it’s not so bad.’

You shook your head stubbornly, letting yourself be childish.

‘He’s too motivating.’ You whined. ‘Great job (Y/N). Keep it up (Y/N), Looking good (Y/N). It’s ridiculous.’

Natasha indulged you and your exaggerated impression of Steve. She shook her head in mock pity, though her eyes still twinkled. She lingered in the elevator even when the doors opened onto her floor.

‘You know, the other day I missed the punching bag entirely and nearly hit myself in the face. And Steve still told me he liked my attitude.’ You confessed, pouting slightly, growing self conscious as the story fell out of your mouth.

Natasha bit her lip and smiled at you.

‘Don’t worry, that’s cute.’

‘Yeah, thanks for that, Black Widow.’ You huffed, covering your face with your hands and feeling the heat of your cheeks.

‘I’ll see you later?’ You called out as she backed out of the elevator. 

‘Not if I see you first.’ Natasha winked at you and you could see her tongue between her teeth in her teasing smile.

When the elevator doors shut again, you felt, like always, that the sun had just walked out with her.

When you made it to the gym, it was notably empty. You’d gotten used to the absence of Clint and thus Natasha, but Steve wasn’t here either. You imagined running his morning laps of the Compound and envied his energy.

You took the unexpected opportunity and headed to the water fountain before he turned up. The last thing you needed was to have a coughing fit over some dry toast crumb caught in your throat.

You were drinking at the fountain with your back to the rest of the room, when two hands abruptly slipped onto your lower back and danced smoothly around your waist.

‘Motherfucker.’ You exclaimed, water splashing everywhere as you jerked at the touch.

‘Language.’ Natasha chastised in a deep voice from directly behind you. Your body automatically relaxed when you registered who it was.

It tensed again when you saw the wicked expectancy in her smile.

‘What are you planning?’ You asked, half concerned and half suspicious. ‘Why are you here? This time is reserved for those of us without physical prowess.’

Natasha bit her lip, her face open with anticipation. ‘That won’t be true by the time that I’m done with you.’ She informed you smugly.

‘Oh God.’ The realisation dawned on you.

‘The penny drops.’ 

‘Steve’s not coming.’

Natasha shook her head extra slowly, mocking your shocked tone with her slight head tilt. 

‘Fury needed a big strong man on a mission.’ She told you teasingly. Exuding a cockiness that   you immediately found attractive, Natasha took your hand and led you over to one of the workout machines.

‘Come on, it’ll be fun.’

Part 2 - Heights and Hardship

So far, you were experiencing the direct antonym of ‘fun’. Two hours into Natasha’s regime and you missed Steve desperately. Natasha was unforgiving, and that was being kind.

Though nervous to have her instruction, you’d initially been more excited for the experience. 

Unfortunately, Natasha had taken one look at your running form on a treadmill and abruptly unplugged it. You weren’t officially considering it a murder attempt, but only because you were still alive and you knew her success rate.

Apparently, Steve’s frequent words of encouragement had been hiding a multitude of your sins, and today Natasha was righting that wrong. 

You’d asked naively if you were going to try some hand to hand combat later and it was the only time Natasha had cracked a smile.

In your fantasy, Natasha’s hands touching you to adjust your posture at the punching bag would have been too hot for words. Now, you found yourself sweaty and out of breath and all Natasha did was ‘tut’ loudly at your poor execution.

Black Widow, You corrected your mind automatically, reserving the moniker of ‘Natasha’ as sacred to the woman who hummed the tune of ‘This WIll Be An Everlasting Love’ every morning whilst brushing her teeth. This new person was more a force of nature than mere mortal. This woman didn’t believe the medicine ball was too heavy until you nearly toppled over with it.

It wasn’t just Natasha’s unexpected penchant for brutality that jarred you, but also her perseverance with it. Steve always broke on time for lunch. 

Already miserable, you didn’t even bother to ask; Natasha was getting a grim but very real satisfaction from this training session. Besides, you had decided that you officially weren’t talking to her, after the earlier sit-ups humiliation. Natasha had yet to notice, as your vocal input hadn’t been required since. 

You willed the universe for a less strenuous task as you followed her across the gym yet again. When your eyes tracked up the height of the rock climbing wall, you felt your arms burn impossibly more and you gulped.

Eventually, you lay at the top of the rock climbing wall, with your legs dangling over the side and your back flat along the ledge. Getting up here had been the challenge of your life. You’d never climbed anything before; the ability to float obviously reducing your need to do so. 

Natasha had scaled the wall first, smooth like water falling in reverse. She’d been quiet throughout the entirety of your own attempt. At this point in the day, you took her silence as practically complimentary. It had taken you under half an hour and you would have actually been proud of yourself. If you only had the energy left to care.

Natasha's hand reached out now and rested calmly on your stomach, taking in each of your heaving breaths along with you. She sat stoically by your side and, even with her legs crossed, she seemed a little imperious. 

You looked over at her, your eyes half lidded with the sudden onslaught of exhaustion. Natasha nodded once clearly and you intuitively knew the gym session was finally over.

‘I will never recover.’ You said dramatically, although you were starting to believe it. ‘I could have died, I mean it.’

Natasha leaned over and pressed her lips to your sweaty forehead. ‘Better?’ She murmured, so close that her lips brushed your skin as she spoke.

Your eyes closed fully at her kiss but your face scrunched dramatically at her words. ‘Oh yeah, now the pain’s gone.’ 

‘Tomorrow you’ll be stronger.’ Natasha told you firmly, settling back in her cross legged position, her face entirely unrepentant.

‘Tomorrow, I won’t be able to walk.’ You replied, opening your eyes again.

Natasha rolled her eyes pointedly. ‘The day after, then.’ 

‘Does SHIELD have an injury compensation policy?’ You asked, repressing a groan as you sat upright and all your muscles screamed. ‘I’m asking for a friend.’

Natasha didn’t respond, eyes flickering down to the phone that rested in her lap. She picked it up smoothly, unlocked it and focused on it quietly. Immediately, a warm affection that was entirely unique to her radiated out into the room.

You looked curiously at the phone, unable to see the screen from your position.

‘Do you know when he’s getting back?’ You asked, taking an educated guess at the sender.

Natasha’s eyes snapped back to you and you knew that, for a moment, she’d been temporarily out of the room. Her emotions shifted to something more muted, like a heavier kind of warmth.

‘He’ll be back for July 12th.’ She said with a careful but calm smile.

‘Oh good, so he finally told you.’ You returned her smile, trying to settle your mild insecurity.

Natasha hesitated briefly. You watched her need to clarify something battle her innate urge to withhold as much information as possible. It took a second of deliberation that you wouldn’t have caught if you didn’t know her.

‘No.’ Natasha said carefully. ‘But, he’ll be back for July 12th’

‘New mission?’ You asked, heart heavy already at the thought of her absence. It was enough to make the hell of your recent training experience fade into a lesser crime.

‘No.’ Natasha said again patiently, like she’d already been expecting your follow up and was resigned to follow this conversation trail.

You studied her carefully. Natasha’s face was purposefully not closed off, but the emotions seeped out with a certain chill to them, like she was preparing for an interrogation. It was a specific sort of defensiveness and you could tell immediately that it, at least, didn’t correlate to an emotional pain point under the surface.

‘Then, how can you know?’ You asked, now entirely out of suppositions.

‘We always spend July 12th together.’ She informed you simply. The words gave no indication of sentiment, but you felt the rush of warm affection from her like it was your own. Suddenly, you knew that whatever the date was between them, it mattered too much for your insecurity to get in the way.

‘It’s his birthday.’ You tried one last time.

‘You think he’d spend his whole birthday just with me?’ Natasha gave you a half smile, head tilting to indicate her incredulity.

‘Well, yes.’ You said, a little confused. ‘Who else would he spend it with?’

That gave Natasha pause. She shook her head to dismiss your point and her hands brushed habitually along her thighs.

‘It’s not his birthday, it’s just a tradition we have.’

‘Are you doing something special?’ 

Natasha stretched her legs out in a show of relaxedness, but her guard was still up. 

‘I don’t know, Clint’s going to surprise me.’ 

Before you could have known if you felt jealous or not, Natasha’s behaviour adjusted like you were. Her eyes narrowed slightly and she drew her teeth along her lower lip, holding you in assessment. 

For whatever reason, her defensiveness softened you entirely. You rested your hand on the outstretched ankle closest to you.

‘Are you excited?’ You smiled gently, trying to remove the slight coolness from her gaze.

‘Yes.’ Her response didn’t reveal anything.

But then, all at once, you watched a veil fall from her expression that you didn’t even know was there. A small smile appeared on her face and grew slowly and steadily into a Cheshire Cat kind of grin. A steady buzz of happiness ran in your veins as you watched her beam sunlight back at you. The intimacy of her sharing her excitement was an unspoken energy between you.

Eventually, Natasha slid herself over to the edge of the wall, her legs dangling next to your own. Her shoulder nudged your shoulder and her hand rested tenderly on your thigh. You mirrored the touch, your fingers thrummed out a rhythm on her inner thigh.

Natasha made a contented sigh, legs kicking idly against the wall.

You thought abstractly about the ways that Natasha interacted with the other Avengers. In conversations, you’d begun to notice the way Natasha would twist the dialogue with the others and use it to tease out more than they ever meant to tell. She’d stand there as if behind a one sided mirror and they wouldn’t even realise.

Sometimes though, when you were alone with her, you’d occasionally discern a perfect reflection of Natasha herself. It would be in a hum, or a sigh or a half sentence left hanging. You’d see her entirely for a moment, clear like moonlight in a pool of water.

You wondered if you and Clint were the only two who saw it. You were struck with an unexpected feeling of camaraderie with the man who was absent.

‘Do you miss him?’ You asked abruptly in the silence. You tried to ignore how you had cooled uncomfortably now that the relentless exercise had stopped.

‘I miss a lot of people.’ Natasha said quietly, legs still kicking rhythmically against the wall. ‘But Clint’ll be back.’ 

‘Like a shit terminator.’ You mumbled.

Natasha elbowed you automatically. You hissed in response and your eyes closed at the unexpected pain. You had already felt like your ribs were bruised from the earlier workout, now it seemed certain.

‘Fuck.’ You both said at the same time.

‘Sorry.’ You apologised unnecessarily, turning away to blink back the reflexive tears filling your eyes.

You could have drowned in Natasha’s expression when you turned back.

‘I wasn’t trying to hurt you.’ She told you softly and carefully. You could hear the line of insecurity under it. You didn’t know if she meant the elbow or the workout.

‘I know, honey.’ You assured her quickly and gave her a small smile. You attempted to deflect the mood to somewhere more positive. ‘Besides, you’re probably going to have to do a lot more than that to motivate me to climb back down.’

‘(Y/N)’ Natasha looked at you seriously. ‘You can literally fly.’

‘You know, it doesn’t always feel like that.’ You confessed, not anticipating your own thoughts. ‘Sometimes, when I’m somewhere high enough like this, I just think I’m going to fall. Even when I’m moving off the edge.’ 

Natasha watched you interestedly, her stare somewhat assessing.

I used to be so scared of falling.’ She admitted after a beat, her voice rasping a little. ‘I used to have nightmares about it.’

Your heart jumped in your chest, both at the thought of her falling and of her dreaming about it.

‘What changed?’

‘One time, I took myself somewhere high and I let myself fall.’ She shrugged. ‘Just so I would know that I could survive it.’

‘Thanks, Bear Grylls.’ You muttered, not knowing how to process what she had told you. A heaviness settled on your heart that you couldn’t shake immediately.

Natasha took your hand then, and you looked at her.

‘Just fall.’ She said calmly and then she slid right off the ledge.

Part 3 - Hard Landings on Carpeted Floors

The next few moments were a rushed blur that lasted forever and took no time at all. Your heart didn’t beat again until you managed to pull Natasha to a stop an inch from the ground. Your hands braced both of her forearms in an iron grip and you’d never experienced such heart stopping panic in your life.

As the shock bled through your body, your eyes glued to your grip of her forearms. You couldn’t believe you’d moved fast enough. It took a moment before you could tear them away to look back at Natasha.

Natasha gave you a smile, a mixture of pride and smugness. It didn’t compute for a second, you felt an immediate lack of context. Then, you realised with a sudden certainty deep in your gut that this had all been the last piece of Natasha’s training session. 

You let your feet touch the ground. You swallowed the scream that had risen in you as you fell. At once, you comprehended the attempt to lull you into a false sense of security before she’d jumped. Confusion and hesitancy swarmed Natasha’s expression as you dragged your arms instinctively away from her touch.

‘I can’t look at you right now.’ You choked out, before you turned and left the room.

You simmered alone in the elevator back to your room. The shock mixed with rage and hurt that you’d never anticipated feeling. You knew already that you’d have nightmares about watching Natasha slip off the edge. Your hands clenched at your sides as you let the aftershocks of that horrible feeling rush through you. Now, you had to link it forever with the realisation that she’d tricked you too.

The elevator stopped moving, but the doors didn’t immediately open.

‘Jarvis, let me out now.’ You spoke quietly, but the warning was clear.

‘(Y/N), it appears that you are experiencing some minor injuries to your ribs following your workout, may I suggest instead the medical wing?’

‘If you don’t open the doors Jarvis, then I’m going to get some much worse injuries trying to break my way out.’ You warned again, voice rising unintentionally.

There was a slightly insolent pause before Jarvis complied. You ignored the small limp you’d developed over the course of your workout as you made it to your room. You tried not to think about Natasha or the horrible feeling still twisting at your insides.

Of course, you opened your door to find Natasha already sitting on your bed.

You closed your eyes, fighting to repress the renewed surge of heavy emotions that her presence brought up.

‘I need you to get out.’ You told the room, a seething tone to the words revealing the tension you felt.

‘You’re being unreasonable.’ Natasha threw back at you and she moved to stand. You braced yourself for a confrontation that you couldn’t want less. She had the audacity to look as annoyed as you. You saw her hand twitch slightly and knew that she was fighting the urge to fold her arms in front of her.

‘Yeah, well you’ve been a bitch all day.’ You replied tiredly, the lack of bite making it sound crueler and more honest. The hurt that stung through Natasha’s eyes wasn’t nice to see. She didn’t speak and the room felt muggy with discomfort.

‘Please leave Natasha.’ You said more quietly, folding your own arms. ‘Don’t make me keep asking.’

‘I’ve been trying to help you all day, (Y/N).’ Natasha declared, and you could see real anxiety bleed through in the careful way she held herself. ‘I was helping you all day.’ 

It was the defiance of the second sentence that made you snap.

‘Fuck you Natasha. I’m not a child.’ The words felt like the inevitable opening of the wound that you’d been trying to cover. 

‘You can’t just fuck around with me like that. That was beyond cruel. You can’t just -’ Your next thoughts stuttered and died in your mouth. You couldn’t see anything but the moment when she’d slipped off the edge.

Natasha moved forward, hand going gently to your shoulder. For the first time, you rejected her touch. Your whole arm jerked away violently, like you’d been burned. She moved back and you felt your control over your breathing slip.

‘You can’t fucking die on me either.’ You blurted out, recalling the promise she’d once elicited from you. ‘You can’t.” Your shallow breaths rattled out of your lungs. ‘You can’t just leave either.’

A rushing noise, like a fast stream of water, filled your ears. A white haze of panic rolled through you and you sank to the ground. 

You felt your lips numbing as you inhaled violently, like you were close to being asphyxiated. Your hand flattened against the carpeted floor as you descended. You fought desperately against the incoming panic attack, trying to make the jagged material of the carpet a point of focus.

The minutes passed, compounding together into an unknown length of time. One last, awful, ragged breath shuddered through you and then it passed.

You looked up from the carpet finally, and realised that Natasha had already left.

[please-destroy]

When The Deal Goes Down

Series Masterlist

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Chapter 5: Companionship and Penguins

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Part 1 -  Rebooked

When you both got to the elevator, Natasha relaxed against you. You had a feeling that the conversation with Pepper had switched from global politics without you realising. You wrapped her in your arms gently. You expected to head to her room as usual when you stepped off the elevator, but instead she led you to your own door.

‘I’ll meet you in a few minutes.’ She said softly. Not exactly a question, but leaving you the opportunity to say no.

‘Sounds good. I’ll get started on making the tea.’ You confirmed with a smile, heading inside.

When she returned, you were already dressed for bed in a t-shirt and shorts. You watched her eyes rake up the length of your bare legs, settling on your ass unashamedly. For a moment, her gaze was almost predatory and a thrilled shiver shot up your spine. 

She’d dressed differently to what you’d expected, wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a threadbare, oversized t-shirt. Her hair was tied back in a loose braid. She looked unassumingly beautiful and it was all the more distracting.

‘God, you look hot.’ You said automatically and Natasha laughed. 

‘You have to be kidding.’ She replied, reaching out to take a mug from your hand. You tapped her chin and kissed her small smile and it made her smile more.

‘Tonight was fun.’ You declared as you sat together on the edge of the bed. You had your arm wrapped around Natasha and she reflexively curled towards you.

‘Yeah?’ She looked up at you. ‘Good.’

‘You got plans tomorrow?’ You asked playfully.

‘Oh yeah, big plans.’ Natasha laced her tone with sarcasm.

‘Well, you’re cooking me breakfast.’ You reminded her cheekily.

‘Keep dreaming (Y/N). You didn’t even try to cook for me tonight.’ She shook her head in mock disappointment. You took her mug and your own and deposited them in the kitchenette sink.

‘I know, I know. Maybe we should go out for breakfast tomorrow, then? If it doesn’t interfere with your schedule?’ A warm feeling hummed through the room suddenly and you turned back from the kitchenette to see her shy smile.

‘Okay’ Natasha’s smile met her eyes, ‘like another date?’

‘No.’ You paused, letting the mood fizzle out only for a second. ‘Just so I can make sure you’re well fed and ready for our actual date.’ The room reheated and she grinned again.

‘But what about my busy schedule?’

‘You just got rebooked.’ You winked, not quite believing your own confidence.

You prepared for bed very domestically, both of you brushing your teeth whilst watching the other in the mirror and pulling funny faces. You were on the last chapter of your book and Natasha was nearly through with Jane Eyre. As you closed it at last, you scanned the piles of novels around the room, unable to decide which should come next. Natasha looked over at you and shut her book too.

‘Ready to sleep then?’ She asked.

‘Sure. You got any book recommendations by the way? If you don’t pick one for me, I’ll have no excuse when Bruce lends me his personal picks.’

Natasha lay down properly and then turned on her side to face you.

‘Hmmm.’ Her voice was husky as she mulled it over. ‘I’ve just finished the Harry Potter books.’ As always, Natasha revealed even innocuous facts carefully. You watched her studying your face, gauging your reaction.

‘Really?’ You smiled, turning on your side to face her too. ‘I’ve already read them, but they’re exactly what I could read again. Did you like them?’

‘Yes.’ Natasha didn’t elaborate and you thought immediately about how cute she would be at the Harry Potter theme park in Orlando.

‘I have a lot of questions.’ You admitted.

‘I thought you’d read them already?’ Natasha sounded amused.

‘No’ You elongated the word for effect. ‘I have questions about what you thought of the books.’ 

Natasha looked a little awkward. ‘I told you, I liked them.’ She said carefully, watching you warily like you had asked her for the nuclear codes.

‘You don’t want me to learn all your opinions on the boy wizard? You asked playfully, but a little curious too.

She shifted onto her elbow.

‘I don’t understand why you would want to know.’ She stated, implying again that you might have some ulterior motive.

‘Solely for my own interest. I just want to know your opinions.’ You shrugged easily, keeping it light despite her tension. ‘I won’t tell anyone about your Draco Malfoy fanfiction.’ Natasha used a pillow to smack you.

‘Why would I ever write about that weasel?’

You laughed loudly at that and felt her ease into your round of questioning on the books.

Natasha seemed actively cautious that her answers were too revealing but you saw her push through it.

‘I’m definitely a Slytherin.’ She assured you.

‘I’m going to have to get you to do an online quiz before I even halfway believe that.’ You insisted.

‘I’m literally a spy (Y/N), I’ve worked for the KGB.’ Natasha glared a little. You tried to remember if you’d ever found that look truly intimidating.

‘Oh please, that’s past tense. You’ve taken out aliens in Manhattan since then.’ You waved her off, dismissing it easily. ‘I just don’t know which other house you’re most like.’ 

‘Slytherin.’ Natasha repeated stubbornly and you shook your head but otherwise ignored her.

‘Hmm you’re loyal, so Hufflepuff could work.’ Natasha huffed loudly. ‘You’re also ridiculously smart, so Ravenclaw would make sense. And you’re the bravest person I know, so Gryffindor is probably the most likely.’ 

There was a pause where you waited for her to insist again on Slytherin. But instead, Natasha asked very hesitantly.

‘Do you really think that?’

‘What? That you’re smart, loyal and brave? Of course I do.’ You answered confidently.

‘The bravest person you know.’ 

‘Oh yes, for sure.’ You said honestly, lying on your back and staring up at the ceiling. ‘That’s the only part of your past that gets to count towards your house.’ You decided aloud.

‘I was really scared, you know, a lot of the time.’ Natasha countered quietly.

You looked over at her carefully. ‘Yeah, I think that’s why it should count.’ 

Natasha closed the small gap between you and kissed you deeply. You let your fingers roll over her nipples under her shirt and she moaned in pleasure. You squeezed lightly and she tensed.

‘That’s enough for now.’ Natasha said definitely, sighing dramatically as if to make her words less confrontational. You saw her watch you subtly, and knew this was another part of her teasing game of testing you and her boundaries.

‘Okay.’ Was all you said, stretching out a little to be more comfortable. 

‘Maybe soon.’ Natasha dangled the offer again looking over at your reaction with interest.

‘Okay’ You repeated. ‘I’m basically always thinking about how hot you are, so I’m sure I can do short notice.’

You slept together like you had the night after your first date, with Natasha curled into your side and your hand wrapped around her wrist where it rested between your breasts.

Natasha had more nightmares than usual that night, but you both survived until morning. You were up at the crack of the dawn. It presented a perfect opportunity because you hadn’t gotten your spontaneous date idea completely figured out yet, and so you took the chance to plan ahead. 

Natasha woke up bathed in the early sunlight. Tensing first at the unexpected surroundings  of your room and then giving you a sleepy smile. She closed her eyes again.

‘Fancy some breakfast?’ Your voice cracked from lack of use.

‘Yes.’ she sighed happily.

‘Fancy some breakfast?’ She imitated to herself a minute later, as you both left the bed.

‘Hey!’

‘You say cute things.’ Natasha defended. ‘Now shut up until I’m dressed, I want my coffee already.’

This time, Jarvis loaned you a car for the trip. Natasha let you drive and you could tell it was because she liked watching you whilst you were occupied. It was a warm day and the views were nice along the roadside. Natasha spent a lot of time trying to encourage you to go faster. You encouraged her to read more of her book or choose some music. She was like a child at a restaurant needing a colouring book. She moved the radio station onto generic pop music. You glanced over, noticing that her eyes were closed again in the morning’s warmth and she really seemed to be enjoying it.

‘You like this station?’ You asked curiously.

‘I like all of this.’ Natasha said unexpectedly, looking over at you with a grin. ‘It’s like a real American date.’

You thought about her with her ankles crossed on the dashboard, the pop song blaring and the sunshine starting to heat up the tarmac. You grinned.

‘Oh yeah, I can see that. Wanna make out in the backseat of my car?’

‘Pick a nice parking lot.’

You pulled into a diner just off the main road.

‘You want American, you get American.’ You teased whilst getting out of the car. 

You held her hand as you walked into the establishment, met with a red cord that blocked you from entering the main dining area. You twirled Natasha around on impulse, leaning into the generic pop that was also playing here in the ‘Wait To Be Seated’ area.

Your server’s name was Ronny. Ronny had clearly been on shift all night. She didn’t care that you were clearly two girls on a date. She didn’t look like she’d care if you were both cannibals, here for a side of eggs after a home cooked spit roast. You said all this to Natasha when you were meant to be reading the menu.

‘Now I don’t think I want eggs.’ Natasha looked revulsed, pretending to repress a nauseous heave. 

‘Okay, that was spooky realistic.’ You said, impressed by her dramatics.

‘Thanks, it’s like my job or something.’ Natasha slipped into a Valley Girl accent and flicked her hair, returning to the menu. 

Inevitably, you both got a full American breakfast ensemble. You ordered extra hashbrowns and eyed your stack of pancakes suspiciously. They were dripping in melted whipped cream and strawberries.

Natasha rolled her eyes at you, chewing on a mouthful of bacon.

‘Why did you even order them if you hate them so much?’ 

‘Thought you might want extra.’ You muttered. ‘Do you?’ You said hopefully, thinking you might feel better without having to watch the whipped cream dribbling all over the bacon on your plate.

‘Sure.’ said Natasha. ‘As long as we make a deal.’ In one move she took your pancakes onto her plate and used her other hand to slide her milkshake into the centre of the table.

‘Okay, we can share it.’ You agreed happily ‘We can call it dessert. Or, I could call you that.’ You regretted the lame line instantly. Natasha stared at you and you felt heat crawl up your neck, not able to read her at all.

‘Okay, no more smooth talk from me.’ You said, lifting your hands in surrender.

‘That definitely wasn’t smooth.’ Natasha commented with a sly smile. 

‘Good to know’ You said, sipping on the milkshake and giving her foot a little kick. She hooked her foot around your ankle and dragged it over to her side.

Part 2 - Fishy Picnics

Back in the car, Natasha’s tight pants proved to be thoroughly distracting as she stretched her legs back out on the dashboard. Somewhere during the drive, she’d started chewing some gum. You hadn’t seen her put the gum in her mouth and you weren’t sure how you could have missed it.

‘So, this plan for today.’ Natasha began casually, blowing a bubble. ‘Is it another reception staff organised event?’

‘No, this one is all me.’ You assured her. 

When you parked at the zoo, Natasha gave you a look. It was a look that said, first an aquarium and now a zoo.

‘I know, I know.’ You said grinning ‘But, you’re the cutest human being in the world when you see new stuff. And I figured you’ve never been to this zoo.’

You said ‘this’ but you suspected it was ‘any’ zoo.

You could feel a secret bubbling excitement coming from her when she looked at you and you could have floated without meaning to. 

You practically skipped over to the ticket desk, Natasha moving quickly to keep up and not lose your handhold.

Kelsey, who greeted you, was clearly gay. She was also clearly human. You watched her eyes light up and her mouth drop slightly at the sight of Natasha. She mumbled her way through a welcome speech and pushed her glasses up her nose more than necessary. She nearly had a stroke when Natasha kissed you and pulled you over to the meerkat observation zone right by the front desk. 

‘You’re kinda like a meerkat.’ You said stupidly as you looked out at the animals. ‘You’re always alert and you’re super cute.’

You then watched together as two meerkats screeched ferally, each trying to murder the other.

‘Just kinda though.’ You said awkwardly, feeling Natasha shake with silent laughter.

‘Let’s go see the flamingos.’ Natasha directed, flitting away from the meerkat enclosure with that light-as-air energy she had sometimes; ironically like an enclosed animal finally out of its cage. You enjoyed following in her wake.

When you caught up, Natasha’s fingers were already curled in the chain link fence that stood between her and the flock of stoic birds that she was observing.

‘You’re kinda like a flamingo.’ You decided to continue teasingly, watching the hairs rise up on her neck when you spoke from right behind her. ‘You’re beautiful and elegant.’ 

You both watched as a flamingo vomited up some pebbles in the corner of the enclosure.

‘Just kinda though.’ You added again and now Natasha laughed loudly.

The silly game soon became more interesting to you than the animals themselves.

‘You’re kinda like a tiger, impressive and fierce as fuck.’

‘You’re kinda like a tapir, because, uh, you’re underappreciated?’

‘Okay, so you have no resemblance to an elephant, except that you’re also very wise.’

‘You’re definitely like a lion.’ You hummed, cuddling into Natasha whilst you watched from the viewing station above their enclosure.

‘And why’s that?’ Natasha rolled her eyes teasingly. Other couples were smiling over at your interaction. The ones who looked familiar to you had probably overheard your silly commentary at other exhibits already. You knew Natasha was getting a kick out of the playful domesticity. 

‘Because you’re my absolute favourite.’ You admitted with a grin. Natasha spun around in your loose hold to face you.

‘Really?’ She asked, playfully focused on the string of your hoodie that she was twisting around her finger. ‘Why are lions your favourite?’

‘They can be powerful, even ruthless. But nothing matters more than their pride. And they’re tough.’ You kissed her quickly. ‘And beautiful.’ You kissed her again. ‘Really cool hair too.’ 

‘I think.’ Natasha tangled the drawstring a little more and played coy. ‘That maybe you want to fuck a lion.’

You shook your head seriously, undermined by your own half smirk. ‘No’ you hummed. ‘I think I’m only interested in the human species.’ Your hands wandered up and down her back lazily.

‘Now.’ You pretended to think out loud. ‘If only I could find a girl a bit like that.’

You expected her to say something silly and continue the back and forth, but instead she leaned forward, fingers now completely entangled with the hoodie string and put her head down quietly, right on top of your heart. You held her tighter automatically, swaying a little as if slow music was playing. Now, the other tourists started to avert their gazes, the scene suddenly too intimate.

‘Don’t ever’ Natasha started, her voice unexpectedly heavy. ‘Please, don’t -’

‘Leave?’ 

You knew it was the right guess, because it was the thing you wanted to guarantee as much as her. Ever since she’d had that panic attack, Natasha’s fear haunted you.

‘Never. Let’s just live in the zoo.’ 

You sensed that her sadness was as much for the things lost before you. You kissed her hair, humming softly. When Natasha finally came back to you, you ran your thumbs under both her eyes wordlessly before you headed over to the lunch hall.

Natasha’s nose wrinkled at the sight of it. In fairness it did not look appealing. Filled with sticky children, juice boxes and an undetermined smell that definitely wasn’t food.

‘Okay.’ You considered your options. ‘Wanna see what food options the ice cream cart has?’

Soon, you found yourselves sitting in the sunshine, lying out on the grass by the penguin’s enclosure. You started with your ice creams before trying your boring sandwiches, which the cashier had morosely informed you didn’t come with a toy.

You closed your eyes and let the hot sun beat down on your face.

‘I wish every day was more like this.’ You announced. ‘I don’t know how it could get better.’ As you spoke, a keeper threw a bucket of fish in with the penguins and the smell hit you so hard that you gagged on your sandwich crust.

Natasha smirked, her open delight at your suffering always weirdly endearing. 

‘There’s a penguin parade later.’ You informed her. ‘They all go for a walk around the edge of this patch of grass. The zookeepers herd them around. Do you want to stay here for half an hour so we can watch?’

‘Sounds too good to be true.’ Natasha teased. ‘In fact, it sounds a bit fishy to me.’ 

You groaned exaggeratedly at the pun.

‘If you make that noise every time, I’m going to come up with more of them.’ Natasha threatened smugly. You rolled your eyes and rested back on your elbows.

You enjoyed people watching together for a little bit. Natasha’s predictions and observations usually rang scarily true, from who was expecting a phone call to who was about to make a joke that would fall flat. You were openly impressed with her accuracy and she preened a little, playfully revelling in your praise.

‘What about that kid?’ You said, pointing at a little red headed boy with glasses on. He was walking with purpose right past the jungle gym and over to the penguins, hands deep in his pockets. 

‘He’s got to be up to something.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Natasha, suddenly neutral. ‘I can’t read kids well.’

It was hard for her to surprise you, but this did. ‘You must have been able to read them when you were one?’ You asked, hoping this was still a safe topic.

‘Not since.’ She said shortly, and you sensed that the mood had definitely changed. Natasha kept her eyes on the little boy though and you stilled, waiting for her guess or prediction and hoping that she wasn’t flashing back to some terrible childhood memory that you’d unknowingly unlocked.

Eventually, you started watching the kid too. After a minute, you stood up still holding Natasha’s hand in yours.

‘Okay, we should probably help him. Even I can tell that he’s lost someone or something.’ 

Natasha stayed sitting, letting your joined hands strain awkwardly at the angle.

‘We don’t know that.’ 

The kid’s head was swivelling like a periscope and tears were threatening to fall. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure it out. You tilted your head and waited for a better reason. 

‘I can stay and keep our space. Otherwise we’ll lose it.’ This was the opposite reaction you’d been expecting for an Avenger faced with a scared child. 

‘Okay.’ You made a neutral shrug that you didn’t quite mean and walked away, dropping her hand in the process.

The boy had lost his Mom. She’d told him to go stand by the penguins if he ever got lost, but the penguin enclosure was large and over two levels. You told him to stay still and did a quick run around. His Mom was easy to spot on the lower level. She looked exhausted and worried, standing with twin toddler girls. She was more than relieved to hear your news.

You walked back to the grassy space with the family. They were looking to sit somewhere before the penguin parade as well. 

On your approach, Natasha’s sudden eye contact seemed to be screaming, please don’t bring them over here. You complied automatically, helping them instead get a good position for the parade about 20 feet away from Natasha.

When you sat back down next to her, Natasha felt distant but her eyes scanned around the park in a perfect facade of ease.

‘Right, well we should probably talk about that.’ You said clearly, not liking the mixed signals. ‘Because it was kind of weird.’

‘No.’ She said so lightly it could have been the breeze, but it was steely too.

‘Okay.’ You paused, giving in immediately. ‘Then, I’ll just say I’m sorry. And we can always talk about it later if you want.’

Now Natasha turned to you with unfiltered confusion in her small frown. ‘Sorry for what?’

You rubbed your neck. ‘Sorry for making you feel super uncomfortable. You set a boundary and I kinda skirted all over the edges of it.’ You gestured with your hands unhelpfully.

‘I really don’t want to talk about this right now.’ Natasha reiterated, eyeing you suspiciously and trying to assess your intentions.

You just sighed. ‘I know. I actually don’t want you to talk about stuff if you’re not ready to. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe anyone that.’

Natasha moved over and rested her legs over the top of yours in a nonverbal cue that you’d said the right thing. You let the awkwardness fade away in the sunshine, but were unable to stop wondering about what exactly had made her so uneasy.  Soon enough, they were opening the gate for the penguins. You watched them wander along absentmindedly, choosing to stay seated together even though your view would have been better standing.

‘Do you think they have a penny press here too?’ You asked later, when you entered the gift shop. Together, you found the machine near the back, behind the more popular shelves of animal plushies. There were several designs to choose from.

‘The lion?’ Natasha confirmed after examining each design carefully.

‘No, the penguins.’ You said unexpectedly, even for yourself. ‘Because you’re kinda like a penguin.’

She played along without hesitation. ‘And why am I kind of like a penguin?’ 

‘Well, they’re very cute, always well dressed.’ You teased, looked her up and down approvingly. 

‘Is that it?’

‘No. They’re also big fans of aquariums.’

Natasha raised an eyebrow.

‘...And they’re like the most loyal animal, right? That old pair walked the whole parade today whilst holding flippers.’ 

Abruptly, Natasha looked like she might cry.

‘Plus.’ You added seriously, looking her straight in the eye. ‘They also smell kinda fishy.’ 

Natasha was remarkably fast and accurate when she pelted you with a koala plushie. 

You left the zoo, each with a new pressed penny in your pocket. You also had a big stuffed lion that Natasha had insisted on buying for you. You kept making it roar at her whenever she looked your way in the parking lot.

Part 3 - For Your Eyes Only

You picked up Chinese takeout on the way back to the Compound. Natasha automatically went to push the elevator button for the common floor, but you intercepted, pressing the one for your floor instead. 

‘Not feeling so social today?’ She questioned and you shook your head.

‘I think Tony’s spent the last 24 hours coming up with a litany of innuendos.’ You intoned darkly. ‘I don’t want to have to throw my food at anyone.’ 

You sat together on the sofa in Natasha’s room. She drank the wonton soup straight out of the carton, managing to make it look fairly elegant. Jarvis put some folky music on in the background and you smiled at the ceiling.

Natasha, however, had started flitting between comfortable and then nervous whenever you shifted or moved. It was subtle enough at first, but it started to become unnerving as it persisted. You couldn’t tell what was making her so hesitant around you.

By the time you’d finished your rice dish and she’d had her main course, you had to address it. 

You put the carton down on the coffee table.

‘Natasha, what’s wrong?’ You asked simply.

‘Nothing.’ She lied smoothly and immediately, as if she’d been anticipating the question. Her expression gave nothing away.

You let your head hit the back of the couch in silent frustration and stared blankly at the black TV screen. You tried to think what to do next. For anyone else, you might have expressed your annoyance. But that was the last thing you wanted to do here. You didn’t know why she was upset and you didn’t know what she was anticipating that made her so wary of you. It was like facing a checkmate. Every move you thought to make seemed like a nonstarter.

Natasha kept eating her food, obviously preferring the tension to speaking. You could tell from her body language that she was ready to be defensive.

Your mind mulled over some of the worst things that had ever happened to you. You knew that you could trust Natasha with that information, that she’d even appreciate you sharing. But, even with that knowledge, you also knew that you wouldn’t want to talk about it. Your empathy for Natasha increased and your annoyance faded.

‘(Y/N)’ Natasha eventually spoke. You turned your head to look at her, still resting it against the back of the couch.

‘Natasha, what is it that you want?’ You blurted out unexpectedly. She looked as surprised by your bluntness as you were.

‘Because I’m sitting here and I’m thinking that all I want is exactly what you do. And I’m thinking that maybe this is going too fast for you. I want to be around you and know everything about you and that’s a lot to put on someone who’s not ready. So, just, know that I’m going to love you regardless and tell me what you want from me? I can take it.’ 

You sat up straight as you finished speaking, intending to move off the sofa and put some distance between the two of you.

‘No.’ Natasha said immediately. ‘Don’t.’ Her hand grabbed your wrist, stilling you instantly. 

‘I don’t want you to go, but I don’t think you should stay when you don’t know everything.’ 

You just waited, because there was nothing to say to that. You loved her so much it stung.

‘I just.’ Her nails dug into your wrist a little and she blinked back tears. ‘Please don’t go.’

‘I won’t. Not if you don’t want me to.’ You reassured her, taking her words as an invitation of touch and moving both your hands to gently rest on her waist. 

‘I just don’t want to hurt you and I feel like I’m walking blind right now.’ You admitted, watching her waist flinch automatically at your touch.

‘I can’t have children.’ Natasha said abruptly. You blinked, processing the words.

‘Oh God, honey, I’m so sorry.’ You moved quickly to take her hands in yours, wondering immediately if your last touch had been too close to her stomach. Too close to the part of her that she was talking about. Her eyes flickered away from you, staring into the mid distance about an inch over your left shoulder. 

‘How long have you known?’ You asked.

‘Since they sterilised me.’ Her voice filled with disgust.

Your breathing came out ragged as you felt a hot rush of rage build in you at the thought of it.

‘That’s awful.’ You said at last, in a low controlled voice. ‘What they took from you, what they - ’ You couldn’t speak through the anger that you were trying to repress.

Natasha quoted words that weren’t hers, bitterly. ‘It’s more efficient, one less thing to worry about once you graduate.’

‘Jesus.’ You muttered out, trying to breathe past the anger that was clouding your vision. 

‘Now, you can’t even fucking look at me.’ You felt her hands pull away from yours. ‘I’m a programmed, altered thing. Nothing about me has ever been my own. I’m disgusting.’ You saw her own repulsion reflected in her face and it was so jarring that it cleared your head enough to think coherently.

You looked right back at her. 

‘You are Natasha Romanoff’ You said with force. ‘You are not anyone’s anything. You are you and I love you exactly as you are.’

‘There’s no future with me.’ Natasha replied immediately, and you wondered if she’d heard your words at all.

‘Yeah, well, I don’t think I want a future without you.’ You said. ‘I really don’t. And God, Nat, if you want children, there are other ways. You’d be a great mother.’

You could feel the hot twisting emotion pouring from her, like you’d opened a wound and for once said the right thing.

‘You think I could be a good mother?’ She choked out after a minute.

‘Yes.’ You said with conviction. ‘I think you would be.’

She kissed you so hot then, that you nearly gasped from all the oxygen burning up. You moaned lowly into it. All you could feel was love and lust bound together from you or her or both of you. 

You didn’t hesitate this time, the moment was right. You moved her hands and placed them around your neck. She recognised the gesture from the night above the ceiling tiles and she gripped her legs around your waist as you lifted her and moved her onto the edge of the bed.

Clothes landed on the ground. Soon, you were both in your bras and you wondered vaguely how you’d lost your clothes without really breaking the kiss. Her fingers undid your bra almost as fast as you got to hers. Your thumbs ran over her nipples and the noise she made nearly capsized you entirely. 

You let your fingers trail around her breasts before squeezing them softly. This time, she moaned into your mouth. You teased your thumbs along her panty line and she moved to leave a hickey on your neck, pulling at your hair in the process.

‘Fuck.’ You panted out, already heady with arousal. Natasha’s thighs tightened around you as you pressed into her and you sensed her intent to flip you onto the bed. Instead you freed yourself with efficiency and knelt down in front of her, like you had once before.

Natasha gazed at you intently, curious and maybe a little nervous. You took no time in swirling your tongue over her hardening nipples, letting your teeth graze them. She grunted, her hands clenching in your hair.

You pulled her pants down and off her legs and slipped out of your own too. Natasha was left sitting there in just her panties. They were light grey and unassuming. You noted the dark wet underside to them and let yourself feel smug.

With a last tease of her nipples, you let your tongue run down her toned stomach. You grazed over a nasty looking scar and didn’t let yourself pause. Just giving it an extra, if slightly sloppy, kiss on your way further down.

As your tongue went lower, you let your fingernails trail lightly up and down her thighs before gazing reassuringly back up at her. She looked a little nervous in a way that didn’t match her arousal.

‘This just feels important.’ Natasha said carefully between panted breaths and you caught her meaning immediately. You shared a smile with her that you wouldn’t give to anyone else and kissed her thigh gently.

‘Spread your legs.’ You commanded simply. For once in her life, Natasha was obedient and her legs opened wide, the anticipation building to its peak. You slowly dragged her panties down her legs, licking your way up her left thigh at the same time. You let your hot breath linger on newly wet areas.

You licked along the outside of her cunt, tasting her already. She made a noise like a half scream and then a whine. In that moment, you found an absolute focus, listening only to her and her body. You used your tongue to lick and lap at her, following your instincts and her sparks of pleasure. You let your fingers go deep and made her beg while you took her over the edge. 

The first time she came, she seemed blinded with the pleasure. You moved up to kiss her languidly, letting your bodies twist and shift as you began again.

An hour or so later, you were curled into each other on the bed, covers kicked off. Both of you were sweaty and as you'd cooled, Natasha had draped herself over you like you were her personal space heater. You kissed her lazily, tasting a blend of you both. Her lips were so close that it was a crime not to have them.

‘You’re so hot.’ She commented, her finger running down between your breasts and tracing back up the sides of them. Her hands were cold enough to make your skin tingle all over again.

You just smiled, brushing a tendril of her hair behind her ear.

[please-destroy]

When The Deal Goes Down

Series Masterlist

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Chapter 4. Redemption and Child Stars

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Part 1: Where’s The Fire?

It had been a very long week. With each day, you’d adjusted more to an established training schedule. Part of you liked the ease of it, you’d realised if you just went where Steve did between the hours of 9 to 5 then you were usually in the right place.

What you didn’t like was that Natasha wasn’t tied to the Avengers Compound in the same way that you were. Both Clint and her were still directly employed by SHIELD, and leaving for days at a time seemed to be a regular part of the job. In contrast, you fell into the grey employment area of ‘On retainer’ or ‘Probably better in our hands than the enemy’s.’

Your lack of recent time together seemed to be just as unwanted for Natasha. On the evenings when you found her sitting in the kitchen at dinner time, you’d find yourself in her bed that night too. 

You hadn’t seen Natasha for a few days now but she hadn’t left your mind either. You’d had two sleepless nights on your own, tossing and turning. Today, you’d awoken into a fugue state of exhaustion and excessive caffeination. You’d only become a willing participant in the day when you remembered Natasha was due back at any time.

Tony was standing in Steve’s usual spot by the punching bag when you entered the gym.

‘Y/N’ He beckoned you over imperiously. You noticed Natasha immediately on the far side of the room, running at a blistering pace on a treadmill alongside Clint. You looked with longing at the back of her head and wished you could blink and be finished with training already.

‘It’s about time we taught you something useful.’ Tony announced promptly when you reached him. He held his hands out expectantly and some pieces of his Iron Man suit flew across the room and attached themselves. You watched him warily, wondering what this training could entail.

‘Flying lessons.’ Tony explained, and hovered in the air. ‘I mean the little floating trick is cute, but not very helpful in a fight.’

‘Well, maybe I just won’t get into any fights.’ You retorted snippily, letting your newfound resentment of SHIELD bubble up. 

‘So often (Y/N).’ Tony said wisely, still a few feet above you ‘There is an evil prick worth fighting. Now, can we move faster please? My time is literally too expensive for you to afford.’

You rolled your eyes and immediately hovered up to his level. Together, you practised moving around the room. Tony quickly identified that speed changes were the area that you needed to focus on and soon you were zooming around the high ceilings of the room. 

Tony started to look a little sick when you began experimenting with front flips and other tricks in the air. The exhaustion of the last few days took away your fear of any consequences.

‘Okay, maybe it’s time to cool it.’ He cautioned, when you tried to float the length of the rafters on your back. Natasha’s head rose to look at you when you floated above her, but her stride didn’t falter on the running machine. Her face was unreadable and for a moment you felt like a stranger to her. Suddenly, you felt deeply self conscious in a way you’d never felt with her before.

You floated back over to Tony and threw him a grin, acting reckless to gain some control of the moment.

‘Don’t like looking at a better flyer?’

‘I don’t like watching an idiot who’s just asking for an accident.’ Tony’s words were sharp and spiked with anxiety.

The reprimand and the sleep deprivation compounded and abruptly made you want to cry. You turned invisible in flight as your eyes welled mortifyingly with tears. Now Tony just looked annoyed, his boosters lessened and he slowly sank back to the ground. 

‘I’m not wasting my time like this.’ He called out to the ceiling and you knew you’d crossed a line somewhere. Before you could turn visible, Steve entered from the outdoor exercise yard, eyes scanning the room.

‘Did (Y/N) leave?’

‘Who knows!’ Tony said, throwing his hands out in exasperation. ‘She did her damn ghost trick.’ 

Steve’s gaze wandered around curiously as if he’d be able to spot you. 

As if summoned, Clint and Nat came over too.

‘What’s up?’ Clint asked as they walked over, his arm slung easily over Natasha’s shoulder. You tried not to be jealous of the easy camaraderie that the pair naturally fell into. 

‘That’s the damn question. (Y/N) has decided to literally ghost the training session.’ Tony rolled his eyes. You felt yourself move suddenly from embarrassed to angry,

Clint rolled his eyes too. Well, you’d held little hope about him coming to your defense. 

‘She’s still in the room, you know.’ Natasha said neutrally. The only one not eyeing the ceiling suspiciously. You wished, for the first time, that she wouldn’t pretend to care less about you around the others.

‘Fury made it sound like she was going to be a side project to help build a better future.’ Tony grumbled, purposefully loud enough for you to hear. ‘I don’t offer pro-bono for just anyone.’

Natasha looked at Tony like she knew he’d regret saying it. 

Without thinking, you flickered visible and descended back to the ground. 

‘Maybe I’ll just fuck off then.’ You said calmly to Tony, the challenge clear.  ‘So you don’t have to waste any more of your valuable time.’ 

You walked straight out, hating the tear tracks that were probably on your face. Clint let out a low whistle behind you. You didn’t even get to the elevator before you felt completely ashamed. Your little outburst was an embarrassing product of both your exhaustion and the nightmares that wouldn’t let your mind alone. Your mind buzzed with worry that you might have messed everything up.

You started to cry again. Jarvis’ expressed concern was a kind comfort. He told you that you hadn’t ruined anything, but his AI honesty included a ‘yet’ that didn’t help at all. Your thoughts spiralled with less coherency and increasing panic. You stumbled out of the elevator onto your floor. 

Your shoulder hit right into someone coming the other way. It was Maria Hill and you jumped back in shock.

‘Hi (Y/N).’ She said rubbing the back of her neck, initially distracted from your obvious distress.

‘I was looking for Natasha, but she’s not here?’

‘Gym.’ You forced out, watching her eyes widen with shock as she took in your face. ‘Excuse me.’ You moved towards your room but she caught your arm deftly.

‘Wait a second. Are you okay?’

‘Not really, so can you let go of my arm please?’ You ripped it out of her grasp as you spoke and moved over to your room.

When the door shut behind you, you held yourself very carefully together, even though you were now alone.You grabbed a water bottle and considered whether you should avoid the others for at least the rest of the day. All that was good was tenuous and you didn’t want to make things worse.

Jarvis spoke up then. He told you that a SHIELD craft for Agents Romanoff and Barton would be leaving in less than an hour and that the whole team was currently in the briefing room closest to the labs.

His voice gave you confidence and the hint you needed. Before anything else, you owed an apology.

There was nothing more intimidating than knocking on that door to the conference room. You could see the full team, including Maria and Pepper, through the glass pane. The conversation halted immediately. You entered and stared at the ground, already very aware that the room’s focus was on you.

‘I know I’m not meant to be in here.’ You started shakily, trying not to think about how you’d interrupted a meeting clearly intended for the whole team except yourself. ‘I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry for earlier and just generally how much of a bitch I’ve been.’

‘I really have appreciated your offers of help and I do know that you have better things to be doing with your time.’ The words sounded more exhausted than you’d intended. ‘So, I’ll try and stop wasting it.’

You left the room immediately without letting yourself meet anyone’s gaze. As you walked away, you started feeling a little lighter with every step you took. You snuck into the library just off the communal space, taking some initiative and picking up the books on learning Russian that Jarvis had recommended to you once before. 

You didn’t want to go back to your room and so you walked across the Compound to the office spaces in the business side of the building. 

You found an empty office that was free of personal items and decided it would do. You warned Jarvis to keep your location to himself and requested not to be interrupted until you indicated otherwise. Then you plugged your earphones in, cracked open the textbook and pretended that the morning hadn’t happened.

You spent several hours learning some absolute basics of the Russian language. The alphabet was completely different and you didn’t have enough coffee left in your system to process this effectively. You worked at a snail’s pace through little tasks directed by the textbook. You skipped lunch without thinking and tried not to brood that Natasha had left the Compound already. Tried not to wonder how much you had wrecked it and if she’d be back tonight. Soon, you were too busy not thinking about things and there were more angsty doodles in your notebook than Russian letters.

Finally, you just gave up. You opened the door, intending to go back to your room to nap the afternoon away, and were immediately accosted with the noise of a blaring fire alarm. You turned around wildly, wondering how you hadn’t heard it a moment ago.

There seemed to be no-one else in this part of the building and so you flew out of the window and around the side of the building. The Compound often operated with skeleton staff crews, but there were still at least 50 people standing outside on the grass. You wished you were less conspicuous as you flew over to the group, definitely the last one out of the building. 

You landed away from anyone you knew, intending to walk over to the reception desk crew and artfully avoid the ‘Avengers’ grouping. 

This was prevented by an instantaneous reaction from the ‘Avengers’ when they caught sight of you. You heard their voices before you could make out their words. You squinted as you tried to read their facial expressions. You wondered immediately if there really had been a fire, despite the lack of smoke or panic. You changed course and flew over to the team. 

You’d barely landed when Tony exploded.

‘Fuck, (Y/N)!  Where have you been?’ 

You tried to stay calm, pushing down an automatic feeling of fear from his outburst.

‘I’m sorry, I was studying and I think I accidentally put Jarvis on extreme Do Not Disturb mode.’ You answered, aware of how stupid you sounded. You looked around the team and spotted Natasha, half hidden by Steve’s frame. You did a double take in confusion.

‘I thought you’d be at SHIELD.’ You said dumbly, trying to read the look in her eyes.

Tony smacked his head with his palm very hard and started muttering into his smart watch. Immediately, the fire alarm switched itself off.

‘Was there a fire?’ You asked in confusion.

‘We’ve been looking for you for three hours, we only pulled the fire alarm to see if you were alive and in the building.’ Steve informed you.

‘Jarvis kept telling me that you were no longer locatable.’ Natasha suddenly said, and now you knew the look in her eyes. You took a step backwards on instinct.

‘Sorry, I didn’t realise he’d be so literal.’ You mumbled out.

‘No longer locatable is also what Jarvis says when someone dies.’ Bruce said quietly. ‘We were really worried.’

Your mouth fell open in surprise.

‘Oh God, I’m so sorry.’ You rushed out, feeling awful. ‘Are you all in trouble with SHIELD?’ You wouldn’t wish a raging Nick Fury on anyone.

Clint took a step towards you.

‘Do you think we’ve been panicking for three hours because we’re scared of Fury?’ He asked incredulously.

Tony held out his hand, pausing you before you could reply.

‘We didn’t think we’d lost an asset (Y/N), we thought you might be dead.’ He said plainly, staring you directly in the eyes. 

‘Do you know what your speech in the boardroom sounded like, when you disappeared straight after?’ Pepper asked more gently, her face easily the most sympathetic.

‘Oh God, I’m so sorry.’ You repeated, realisation dawning on you. You looked straight at Natasha now. Her jaw was clenched so hard it physically hurt to look at it. Now, you could clearly read the betrayal etched on her face. 

Maria spoke calmly, more neutral than the others.

‘We’ve been worried about your mental health.’ 

You laughed out loud.

‘Yeah, me too.’ You said.

‘Obviously the pressure of training has been affecting you.’ She continued, in the same tone.

‘That’s true.’ You said soberly. ‘That’s why I apologised earlier.’ 

‘...And that’s why everyone jumped to conclusions when I made a dramatic entrance to a secret meeting about my perceived depressive tendencies.’ You realised suddenly. 

Maria nodded awkwardly.

You spoke carefully, finally catching Natasha’s eye. ‘I’m really okay though. I have more than enough to live for. I just don’t want to turn into some SHIELD weapon.’

In the answering silence you tried to repeat your apology.

‘Don’t say sorry again, for the love of God.’ interrupted Clint and abruptly he started heading back into the Compound. 

‘I’m sorry (Y/N). You’re not anyone else’s property, not SHIELD’s or the Avengers’.’ Steve told you soberly as you all followed behind Clint. His hand rested on your shoulder as he spoke. You nodded, feeling grateful and not sure what to say.

‘I’m not sorry.’’ Tony declared. ‘I did everything right given the situations you put me in. But I do forgive you.’ His eyes twinkled though and you saw there was inherent kindness behind the posturing.

You tried to slow down to match Natasha’s pace, but her skills in avoidance were too good for you. Pepper, instead, walked with you, she asked where you’d been all day and was encouraging when you told her.

‘Now that’s a real transferable skill you could learn. The flashy stuff is all just surface level anyway.’ She said, eyeing Tony obviously.  ‘Maybe Natasha can help you with the language learning, she knows the most.’

‘Oh, that’s really okay. I know everyone’s got their own day jobs to focus on.’ You assured her, knowing that Natasha was probably listening. You were right.

‘’Well, maybe you shouldn’t go AWOL after a fucking temper tantrum then.’ Natasha said icily from behind you, where she was walking next to Bruce and Tony. 

‘Everyone on the team is allowed to make mistakes.’ Steve said softly, though his voice carried to everyone as you all crowded into the elevator.

‘Natasha’s right. You’ve all had a wasted day because I was stupid.’ You spoke carefully. 

Then, you addressed both Natasha and Clint, only because you weren’t sure if Natasha would answer at all.

‘Do you still have more SHIELD work to do?’ 

Clint held up his hand and started counting off his fingers. ‘Well, so far we’ve covered us not fucking up the last mission, how Fury feels about you, and that there’s no new mission planned. That’s it right?’ He glanced at Maria and Natasha.

Maria agreed and Natasha’s head tilted slightly. 

‘Well folks, Bruce and I have some actual work to get back to.’ Tony announced, as the doors opened on the R&D floor and they both made to leave.

Everyone dispersed from the elevator on different floors. Maria and Pepper leaving together on the connecting level that led to the business side of the Compound.

You had resolved to leave at whichever floor Natasha exited on because she was pointedly avoiding your attempts at eye contact. Her emotions were very carefully in check but you could still spot flashes of annoyance through the cracks. 

Clint and Steve decided to get off at the gym level, leaving you finally alone together.

Part 2 - Expectations 

‘Natasha.’ You started, but you didn’t get another word out.

In less than a heartbeat you were against the back wall of the elevator, Natasha’s hand was against your throat and her lips were on yours. You felt her nails dig slightly into your neck and her teeth rake against your lips. Your hands gripped her hair in response and you kissed her back, partly for pleasure and partly for some control.

‘Don’t you ever do that again.’ Natasha demanded when the elevator doors opened onto your floor. You went back for another kiss, not knowing how to form coherent words. All of the emotions Natasha had felt in the last few hours were spilling out of her now.

You led her across to your room, mouth barely leaving hers. Once you’d managed to get the door open, your hands were on her waist, moving down to grab her ass tightly. Natasha’s nails scraped down your shoulders and you moaned in pleasure.

Suddenly, Natasha broke away from you and for a moment you tried to reorient yourself. Then, you realised in dawning horror that Natasha couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Fear and worry flew through the air as it worsened and her hand grasped out at the fabric of your top. You recognised the onset of a panic attack. You gripped her forearm instinctively and she gripped it right back, like it was a lifeline. You held steady and knew that your tight hold on her arms must be reassuring when she leaned into it. Slowly, you lowered the pair of you to the ground. 

‘You can breathe. It’ll be okay.’ You said with conviction, keeping your own breathing calm and emphasised. Your eyes locked onto each other.

Trying to fill the silence with something other than Natasha’s ragged breaths, you remembered the deadlock bolt attached to her door and started to monologue about the security features that existed in your room. You could tell that the feeling of vulnerability from the panic attack was more immediately scary to Natasha than anything else. 

You kept up a steady ramble and you could see her start to look over at the things you mentioned; like the bullet proof windows that were locked on the inside. It took less than a minute for Natasha’s breathing to start to regulate.

You disentangled from your death grips on each other and in their place, you held her hand firmly.

‘I didn’t expect that.’ Natasha sounded contrastingly numb after all the panic. ‘That hasn’t happened to me since I was a child.’

Realising that you’d caused her Red Room level stress wasn’t a boost to the ego.

You raised her hand and kissed it softly.

‘Can I cook something for you tonight? To say sorry properly for today.’ You asked quietly and she nodded, not completely listening.

‘(Y/N), please don’t ever just leave.’ Natasha said suddenly, a moment later. 

You observed her face for a moment, her eyes were tired and full of a thousand lifetimes lived before. 

‘Never.’ It was all you could think to say in response and it didn’t feel enough like the truth. 

Natasha closed her eyes for a long moment and you sat there quietly holding her hand. When she opened them next, the storm of emotions had moved to the shadows.

You redirected the conversation to better thoughts instinctively. 

‘Hello’ You said the word haltingly in Russian, 

‘I’m going to start learning. Please will you help me with the accent?’ You managed to elicit a small smirk from Natasha and, for the moment, you knew the worst was past. 

‘Yes. Since you asked nicely.’ Natasha flirted back. You immediately tried to commit her accent to memory. Partly for educational purposes, but mainly because it was too attractive to forget.

‘Your pupils have completely dilated.’ Natasha informed you matter of factly, a moment later. You blinked self-consciously.

‘Let’s go somewhere whereI  can embarrass myself less.’ You stood up and offered her a hand.

‘Does somewhere like that exist?’ She teased again and you groaned dramatically.

‘Wanna watch a movie in the common room?’ You suggested after a beat. Natasha glanced pointedly at the TV affixed to the wall in your room. 

‘I’m supposed to be a good team member and so are you.’ You affected a serious tone.

Natasha fingers trailed along your collarbone lazily. ‘It’s no fun having to be well behaved though.’

You were impressed by her persuasion but you knew you had to show your face tonight. You thought of Steve’s hand on your shoulder and knew you owed them the effort.

‘Why don’t we stop pretending then?’ You suggested hesitantly. ‘It’s not like we actually have to tell them anything and I think Tony knows already anyway.’

‘They’ll still have their opinions and we don't even know what we are yet.’ Natasha pointed out. The heart shapes she traced on your skin reassured you.

‘We are just us.’ You said simply. ‘If we sit and watch a movie together today and that gives them an expectation of who we’ll be tomorrow, then that’s their problem.’

‘And what about your expectations of tomorrow?’ Natasha hummed without looking at you.

‘Maybe you’ll cook me breakfast if I play my cards right.’ 

Part 3 - Out In the Open

In the elevator on the way to the kitchen, Natasha grabbed your hand with conviction. You caught her hidden worry though, in the small frown that was quickly smoothed away by the time the doors opened.

Pepper and Maria were sitting together at the counter as you walked in. They each had a glass of wine; Maria’s red and Pepper’s white. They looked round together as you entered, their eyes obviously glued to your joined hands. You felt Natasha stiffen in discomfort and you turned to her, smiling easily and trying to calm her down.

‘I think we should get in on that wine.’ You said conspiratorially. Natasha rallied. She eyed Pepper like a mark and considered.

‘There’s got to be nearly a bottle’s worth left hiding somewhere in here.’

Pepper’s hand went instinctively to protect her wine glass.

‘Oh no you don’t. I got this specially imported.’ She warned Natasha.

Maria just shrugged.

‘I was only planning on having one glass anyway. We put the bottle in the bread bin so Clint wouldn’t find it.’

‘Is Clint around?’ Natasha asked absentmindedly, grabbing two more glasses out of the cabinet.

‘Yes, he said he’d drop by in a bit. He’s leaving this evening to see his “girlfriend”.’ Pepper used air quotations and addressed you in particular when she added. ‘We think he’s just embarrassed to bring a one night stand here, so he disappears like a cat for a few days every month.’ 

You nodded, but noticed the careful lack of reaction from Natasha and Maria to Pepper’s words and felt instinctively that they knew contradictory information.

Natasha handed you a wine glass and you took a sip. You lingered together in the kitchen and you let your hand slide casually to her waist. It wasn’t subtle and neither was Maria’s repeated efforts to catch Natasha’s eye.

‘So, where is he now?’ You continued the conversations.

Pepper gestured vaguely at the ceiling.

‘Probably crawling around up there.’

Natasha frowned.

‘(Y/N).’ She prompted and you turned to look at her. She looked pointedly up at the ceiling, but you didn’t catch on.

‘Some alcohol is too good for Clint.’ She said obscurely.

‘Oh shit, right.’ You realised, floating up to the ceiling immediately and removing from the crawl space a Vodka bottle that Natasha had left there on another night. It was large enough to be both mostly empty and still hold a high alcohol content.

You floated back down and passed the bottle over to Natasha, grinning at the satisfied twitch of her lips.

‘Such a useful party trick.’ Natasha murmured and she bumped her hip into yours. 

‘I know that you liked being picked up the other night.’ You teased her.

‘Okay, so there’s a lot to unpack here.’ Maria said loudly, looking at Natasha like she was just seeing her for the first time. 

‘Which is our cue to go watch our movie.’ You replied smoothly, heading over to the sofa, glass in one hand and bottle in the other. 

‘Oh, by the way.’ You called out over your shoulder. ‘I said I’d be in charge of dinner tonight. Do you guys want to get in on a big pizza order?’

Before they could respond, Natasha hit you on the shoulder with her free hand.

‘That’s your apology meal?’

‘Pizza is better than anything I can cook myself and you know it.’ You grinned and Natasha’s mouth twitched again.

‘Yeah, I’m definitely in the Matrix or something.’ muttered Maria.

You insisted that Natasha pick the movie and she started to scroll through the available options with great deliberation. Pepper and Maria pretended to talk about other things at the kitchen counter and you appreciated their efforts to ignore you, even if you still caught their frequent glances over.

Eventually, Natasha chose ‘The Parent Trap’ and you knew immediately that you’d be watching her more than you would the screen. Like the night at the aquarium, you enjoyed observing her fascination build as she was drawn more and more into the movie’s set up. 

Meanwhile, you asked Jarvis to make up the pizza order and send it in after consulting the others. 

You had your arm around Natasha’s shoulder from the outset and at first her head moved to rest on your shoulder. By the time the twins had discovered each other at Summer Camp, Natasha was completely lying down on the sofa, her head in your lap, still watching the movie with rapt attention. You let your fingers run through her hair absentmindedly, enjoying the little shivers of pleasure it occasionally evoked in her.

Then Steve, Bruce and Tony wandered in, midway through a simplified scientific explanation for Steve’s benefit. Their voices cut off as soon as they caught sight of your position on the sofa. You could practically sense Pepper silently threatening them not to make a comment. The stilted clearing of a throat from Tony only confirmed it.

You lifted a hand to wave at them without turning around. Natasha made no such movement, but you could feel her heightened awareness of the new group from the moment they’d walked in. You kept your fingers running through her hair.

Soon they picked up their conversation again, now including the women. When Tony suggested a poker night, Clint dropped out unexpectedly from the ceiling vent, insisting that they didn’t have one until he returned. Their banter and teasing was calming when it wasn’t directed at you and Natasha. You were surprised that they were giving you both space though and assumed it must have been more of Pepper and Maria’s influence.

When the pizza arrived, you paused the movie briefly. A middle aged woman had brought the pizza up, a different security guard to the ones you now recognised. You caught her name, ‘Lana’, and the fact that she was strong enough to carry at least her own body weight in pizza. 

You helped Natasha brush out the flattened side of her hair as she sat up in anticipation of the food.

You awkwardly joined the group congregated around the breakfast counter when you came over to grab two pizzas. Not even Tony spoke, though his eyes seemed to burn with comments he wasn’t going to make.

Only Clint broke the silence, because of course he did.

‘Mind if we join you?’ He asked gruffly, pizza box in hand.

‘Of course not.’ You said easily.

You returned to your central spot on the larger sofa and slowly the rest of the team gathered on the surrounding seats and the other smaller sofa. Clint was last to find a seat, too busy guarding his full pizza box. He shrugged saying that he didn’t mind because he would be heading out after this anyway.

He sat on the ground between the sofa and the coffee table, directly in front of Natasha. Natasha didn’t hesitate to move and put her feet up, resting them intrusively on his shoulder and looking mischievous. Clint ignored her provocation pointedly and in a way that spoke volumes about their friendship dynamic. They both quickly focused on the film, seeming to tune out the others entirely. You kept your hand on Natasha’s thigh but let your attention drift between the film and the others’ conversations.

Everyone else seemed a bit crushed for space, but you weren’t going to ask Natasha to move over and neither were any of them. Pepper was perched on Tony’s lap with a hand on his shoulder, otherwise ignoring him in favour of Maria. Tony was busy telling Steve about all of the most famous child stars from the last few decades. Steve looked like he was trying to pay attention. Bruce was working on a sudoku, pen in the hand not holding a slice of pizza, entirely tuned out to the room. 

Tony asked you to tell Steve about how important the Home Alone films were and you tried halfheartedly to do so. Natasha interrupted suddenly, gripping your arm in surprise. 

‘That’s the song from the other night.’ She said excitedly, forgetting herself for a second as ‘This Will Be An Everlasting Love’ played out from the TV. ‘Remember? It played in the car.’ You felt your cheeks warming up, aware of those watching on.

After he’d consumed an entire pizza, Clint left to see his “girlfriend”. Maria went with him, saying SHIELD could give him a ride. The movie ended too and Pepper moved to sit on Natasha’s left. They talked about some international incident. You recognised the names of a few of the political leaders and guessed it was to do with Natasha’s last mission. Natasha seemed relaxed and friendly, but you could tell that Pepper was going to get no insights about the mission itself.

You switched the TV off, realising no one was watching it anymore. You automatically took out your smartphone and started to scroll.

‘Ah, Bruce’ Tony declared, elbowing him so he looked up from his puzzle. ‘This is the modern generation, they’re too high tech even for television.’

‘(Y/N) has the fastest growing book collection of any Compound Resident.’ Jarvis said drily. Tony eyed the sky, drinking from his glass.

‘Traitor.’ He told the ceiling.

‘Which books do you like?’ Bruce asked you eagerly.

‘Mainly fiction.’ Bruce looked a bit disappointed. ‘Always happy to have recommendations though.’ You assured him quickly. ‘I’ll enjoy any book, if it’s good.’ 

He started telling you the plot of a book that sounded a lot like a ‘Da Vinci Code’ rip off. You tried to nod at the right moments and finished another glass of wine.

Natasha’s hand purposefully brushed your leg and you switched attention very easily.

‘Do you want to go to bed now?’ She murmured in your ear.

‘Sure.’ You whispered back,

‘Night guys.’ You mumbled to the room as you took Natasha’s hand and let her lead you away.

‘Be Safe kids.’ Tony shouted and you felt your face get warm again.

[please-destroy]

When The Deal Goes Down

Series Masterlist

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Chapter 3: Dreams and Musical Numbers

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Part 1 - Naked and Afraid

You did not sleep well on your first attempt that night. Whether it was the lack of Natasha or the awareness that she was just across the hall from you, the nightmares you had were unprecedented.

If, before, you’d had an idea of what Natasha’s nightmares might contain, now your imagination was trying to make it unbearably real. Strange men’s hands wandered coarse against your skin, and the eyes of little girls waiting for bullet holes stared out at you from the darkness. The pressure to kill and the guilt of succeeding had thrown you awake.

It was just after midnight and it seemed unlikely that you were going to be sleeping again. You moved to the small kitchenette that made up part of the suite you’d been given.

It was built in a way that made you think the designer (Tony or Pepper, presumably) had been trying to encourage the use of the communal spaces without making the rooms too inhospitable. It was grudgingly well furnished. 

You padded over with the intent of making a mint tea. The rush of boiling water served as a calming sound. Then your ears pricked and you heard the  same noise that you’d made not even ten minutes before. The noise of someone choking back into reality after a hellish nightmare.

You needlessly confirmed with Jarvis that this was the shared wall between yourself and Natasha. Quietly, you filled two mugs instead of one. 

You wrapped yourself in a warm blanket that you had brought with you to the Compound and headed out to the corridor. You used the edge of one of the mugs to knock on Natasha’s door.

You heard nothing in response except the metal bolt sliding across, a bizarrely old fashioned sound in such a high tech building. 

Natasha’s eyebrows lifted in pretend surprise at the sight of you, as if she hadn’t heard your chaotic episode of trying to shut the door to your room without letting go of either mug of tea.

Either way, the façade was pointless and you could already spot the signs. The redness lining her eyes. The hair that had been smoothed out carefully. The nails digging into her palm on the hand not gripping the door.

‘Can I come in?’ 

‘Why?’ It was blunt and a little suspicious, like you might be a sales rep trying to sell her something.

‘I made you a tea, thought you might be up.’ Your voice sounded falsely light. The embarrassment that you’d clearly heard her nightmare outweighed any other emotion on Natasha’s face. You watched her crush down the fleeting expression and school her features into a neutral one.

‘I’m planning on staying up actually. Now might be the best time for you to get some uninterrupted sleep.’ She replied, sounding a little defensive and looking ready to shut the door.

You stood there hesitantly, only knowing that you felt so sorry for her. You didn’t know what to say. How to tell her that your nightmares only echoed her own and that you didn’t want to shut your eyes tonight either. 

All you thought to do was take a step forward and let the door stand weirdly close to you when it did not yield. It took a moment before Natasha opened it fully and let you in. 

She shut the door behind you, dead bolting it again with a casualness that was undermined by having the deadbolt in the first place. Natasha never actually turned away from you, but it was only when you were facing each other properly that you gave her one of the mugs.

‘I hope you like mint tea. Or at least you’re not going to refuse to admit an allergy to it and suffer for no reason.’ You commented with half-hearted brightness.

You sat on the sofa first and Natasha followed, sitting very near you. Less than an inch and your legs would be brushing against each other. It didn’t match her initial standoffishness and you wondered (hoped) if proximity to you was calming for her in the same way that she was to you.

You took an opportunity, putting your mug down on the coffee table and removing the blanket currently draped around your shoulders like a cape. You had worn it this way to leave your hands free for the mugs.

‘If you scoot a little closer, we can both be warmer.’

You were not very smooth. Natasha assessed you in that stoic cat-like way of hers, before shifting even closer and curling her legs underneath herself. She was only wearing a tank top and underwear again and so you felt the full length of her nearest thigh as it settled flush against yours. 

Her movement closer didn’t even rock the tea in the mug, which she blew on softly to cool down.

You laid the blanket over both of your laps and tried not to have a coronary when your fingers brushed her skin. You stretched out your legs and let your thick socks, with cartoon dogs all over them, rest on the edge of the coffee table. From which, you picked up the TV remote and offered it to her.

‘Do you know what’s good to watch this time of night?’

All the strangeness of the domestic intimacy was ignored by both of you. Natasha typed in the channel number and landed straight on an episode of Naked and Afraid. You both sat quietly, eyes on the screen. You rested your arm carefully on Natasha’s shoulders; it was both the easiest way to place it when you sat so close, and also the safest comforting touch you could give her.

She didn’t lean in, but she didn’t lean away either.

You tried to get into the show but you lasted less than a few minutes.

‘Okay, this is so dumb.’

Natasha looked at you questioningly,

‘They’re totally naked?’

‘Well, yeah.’ Natasha paused for effect, ‘And they’re afraid.’

‘But that is so pointless.’ You whined, gesturing out at the screen. ‘No one needs to do this to themselves.’

Now Natasha’s eyes danced a little, she used her nails to draw light patterns along the back of the hand that you had draped over her shoulders.

‘Pointless talent is an American pastime.’ 

The slight emphasis with her American accent was the closest Natasha was ever going to get to acknowledging it wasn’t her first language. You turned on the channel guide to see what else was on.

‘Wanna watch the ultimate one?’ You asked, a little excited when you found the show you were looking for.

‘Okay.’ Her deep voice stayed level, laced with a little dry humour.

You selected the episode of Lip Sync Battle.

‘I’ve heard about this.’ 

‘It’s great. This would be my pointless talent if I ever needed one. You don’t even have to be able to sing.’

‘I can sing.’ 

It was the first fact about her that she’d ever volunteered and you immediately turned to look at her, wanting to see her eyes just after she said it. They looked right back at you purposefully, no accidental revelations from the Black Widow. You tried not to focus only on the green of her eyes and instead think about what she had said.

‘Oh man, that’s very clever.’ You realised aloud. ‘I bet you never sing in front of other people, right? So I’m going to spend my life trying to get you into karaoke bars and you’re just going to disappear like a ghost at the last second.’ You started to pick up steam, nodding your head seriously at your own points.  ‘I bet you don’t even sing in the shower, just in case someone hears you.’

Natasha just tilted her head, playing along with your silly rant.

‘Well, if I sang in the shower, how would I know if there was an intruder?’

‘Of course, because that’s the number one reason attackers are successful. She was singing in the shower in Psycho right? A bit of Dolly Parton’s ‘9 to 5’ right before the stabbing.’

Natasha rolled her eyes.

Part 2 - Tie Me Up or Hold Me Down

The episode cut to commercial and you knew now was the time to try.

‘Maybe we should head back to sleep?’ You suggested.

Natasha looked at you a little sadly, like your optimism was sweet but not realistic.

‘Actually, I think I’ll stay up. You can sleep though. You’ve got training with Clint tomorrow.’ 

You appreciated the gesture. It was a kind dismissal, an offer of escape framed so you just might take it. You didn’t even consider it.

‘Isn’t there anything that helps you sleep?’

If she hadn’t rubbed her wrist a little in an automatic action, you wouldn’t have remembered, certainly wouldn’t have guessed.

‘Oh’ you said dumbly ‘The handcuffs.’ 

She stiffened next to you, suddenly icy all over. You’d asked around about the Red Room after Fury had mentioned it to you. Some of the tactics, including this one, were urban legends amongst the other SHIELD agents. It had been on your mind a little already with being around Natasha so much. It was one of your only glimpses into what her past might have been like. Even tonight, a feeling of being trapped by the wrist had pervaded your strange dreams.

Carefully you took her left wrist in your hand, rubbing the lightest pattern over the area that you now saw looked permanently reddened.

‘Does it still work for you?’ You asked simply.

Natasha removed her wrist from your hand smoothly.

‘Sometimes, or it makes it worse.’ 

Maybe it was easier to give the answer to a personal question when the answer was both yes and no. You understood her response, that the thing giving you nightmares as a child could take on a nostalgic sense of security later. It was like missing the monsters under your bed, weird but not totally irrational.

‘Can I stay in your bed again then? If that’s okay? Maybe it would help.’

That sad smile came up on Natasha’s face again, appreciating your kindness but not accepting it.

‘I know I’m not going to sleep again tonight (Y/N) and even if I did, it wouldn’t be peaceful.’

‘I’ve survived so far.’ You shrugged in false nonchalance.

‘Well I’m not going to wear a fucking handcuff to bed if I’m not sleeping alone.’ Natasha said flatly. Her words pressed the implication that you sleeping here would only hinder her own chances of resting.

‘I think I have an idea.’ You said thoughtfully and you got up and walked over to the back of the room where the bed stood. The white sheets were drawn tight and the bed was perfectly made. 

She followed you reluctantly, arms crossed. 

‘Did you sleep on top of the sheets?’ You asked randomly, looking at the bed.

‘No.’

You realised her first conditioned thought after a nightmare must have been to make the bed. You hummed while you thought out your idea carefully. You suddenly remembered her letting you choose your side of the bed the night before.

‘Wait, do you have a preferred side?’ 

Natasha rolled her eyes as if you’d asked her how she liked her caviar. For emphasis, she lay down on her back and held her left wrist up in the air at an uncomfortable angle. You had to laugh.

‘Okay then, so you should probably sleep on that side.’ You gestured over and she looked at you like you were an idiot. Natasha moved over on the bed, but she still held her left wrist stupidly in the air above the middle of the bed to emphasise that there would be nothing to cuff it to from her position.

Carefully, you circled your own hand around her wrist and brought it down to lie next to her on her left hand side. 

The air was uncertain.

‘I’ll be like the world’s nicest handcuff.’ You offered. ‘Just enough to not make you feel trapped.’

A new sort of electricity built between you now. Natasha faced you, close enough that you could feel her small huffs of breath on your face. You didn’t know what she was thinking but she looked at you the same as when you’d shared your dessert with her at the restaurant.

‘I don’t think that it will work’ Natasha murmured at last.

‘Then, worst case we don’t sleep.’ You said simply, doing a half shrug with the one shoulder you weren’t resting on.

It was strange knowing Natasha felt nervous. You’d seen her apprehensive and cautious before, but never nervous like this. Worried that everything might easily fall apart if she let her eyes close. You gave her a reassuring smile but her eyes still watched you carefully as if you were the last thing holding her awake.

‘Should we close our eyes together on three?’ You asked ironically and the tension broke apart by itself.

You kept your grip on her wrist carefully steady in its pressure. Just like being cast as a tree in a school performance, playing a handcuff seemed hard to get wrong but you knew fidgeting would do it.

You did end up shutting your eyes first. You let your mind fill with the kind of calm thoughts that might offset your own night terrors and then, all at once, you fell under. You woke a few hours later as Natasha moved listlessly next to you, almost pulling her wrist out of your grip. You brushed her hair carefully from her face and watched her settle again.

From then on, you lay in a half sleeping state, letting the point of contact around Natasha’s wrist loosen whenever she struggled against it but holding tight when other fears seemed to take her mind up. 

By the early (but at least later than before) hours, Natasha had sunk into such a deep sleep that it was satisfying just to be near it. A deep contentment filled the room, eventually lulling you fully back asleep too.

Natasha woke naturally at exactly 11.30 that morning. You must have been more attuned to her breathing than you realised, because the smallest change brought you back to consciousness immediately.

You kept your eyes closed as she stretched out her legs that had curled against you in the night. She hummed lightly before speaking.

‘I know you’re already awake.’

You opened one eye and met both her bright ones. She hadn’t moved much, but her hair was mussed again and you were probably in love with her.

‘Only for a few seconds, I thought it would be creepy to stare at you.’

Natasha just smiled relaxedly at you.

‘Slept well, did you?’ You teased.

Her arms went wide, extricating smoothly from your loose grip, moving into an exaggerated stretch and yawn. She was clearly enjoying the pleasant warmth of the morning sun and so were you.

You grinned, the shared happiness feeling heady, before scanning around the room. The whole place looked extra bright as the curtains hadn’t been shut the night before. The stark white of the quilt reminded you of a hotel bed.

You let your head fall back on the pillows and shut your eyes.

‘Let’s never move again.’ 

You opened them a minute later when there had been no answer. 

You nearly jumped out the bed when you realised that Natasha had crept over to crouch above you playfully, her face nearly glittering with mischief.

‘Oh fuck.”

Natasha’s answering laugh was wild and she bounced off the bed with a spring. She moved like the world had gotten ten tons lighter overnight. Her hands reached out to you and you didn’t hesitate to take them, letting her pull you to your feet.

‘Get dressed’ Natasha’s voice said huskily. ‘I’ll make you breakfast.’

You rolled your eyes playfully.

‘Aye aye captain, I’m not telling you what I want though.’

‘You’ll want what you’re given.’ She smirked.

You did not contradict her.

Part 3 - Putting On a Show.

After changing for the day, you headed down to the common area where Jarvis informed you Natasha already was. You felt a little annoyed to have missed any time with her, and understood it as a sign of the level of your current infatuation.

When you arrived, the kitchen area was full with various stages of breakfast underway at the same time. Pepper had just finished a bowl of something and was sitting with her laptop out, perched on the far end breakfast stool. Tony stood behind her, crunching on some toast and commenting on whatever was on her screen.

Steve was working through a plate of eggs and bacon that was ridiculously large. Natasha and Clint were having a silent but aggressive fight over a spatula and Bruce had his head in the fridge.

‘Good morning.’ You called out softly, half hoping no one would hear. Predictably, the room turned to look at you and you tried to pretend it wasn’t embarrassing.

When Natasha warmly returned your greeting with an easy smile settled on her face, you were probably the least shocked in the room. Pepper’s coffee cup hit the counter loudly in the silence following the abrupt stop in conversation.

‘What side of the bed did you wake up on? Write it down. You’ve finally found the right one.’ Tony’s sarcasm was directed at Natasha but you knew it was also a test of you. First the sorority jokes and now this, Tony knew something was up between the two of you.

You didn’t care, not for a second, because at his words Natasha caught your eye.

‘Left hand side’ she answered, raising her left hand into the air again and daring you to react.

You took the dare. You snorted out an uncontrolled laugh and headed over to the kitchen still chuckling under your breath. You could practically feel everyone’s curiosity at the incomprehensible joke and you happily ignored them.

‘What am I eating then?’ You challenged Natasha instead.

‘Oh you’re cooking for the group?’ Clint exclaimed to Natasha, not betraying any confusion about you, Natasha, or your recent interaction. He thrust the spatula he had temporarily won from Natasha back into her hands.

‘Bruce, we can sit down, the master chef is about to whip something up.’

‘Thank God.’ Bruce muttered fervently, putting some very unlikely ingredients back into the fridge. Clint touched Natasha’s back reassuringly as he moved past to grab a seat. His head didn’t move but you felt his unreadable gaze flicker over to you.

Natasha stole your focus away easily.

‘I’m cooking something delicious.’ 

‘That’s big talk’ You said, raising your eyebrows.

‘Remember, if you don’t appreciate it, then you’re the one with bad taste.’ She reminded you as you hopped up to sit on the countertop between the sink and the bread bin. 

‘Oh please, cook away.’ You gestured playfully at her, ignoring the audience watching you intently as if your life was a little play written just for them. 

‘Get some plates and cutlery.’ Natasha instructed playfully. ‘It’s important that you’re useful.’ You moved into action obediently.

‘Want some music too?’ You called over your shoulder. Natasha finally acknowledged the rest of the group, including them in the question with a raised eyebrow. 

‘Yeah, why not. This literally couldn’t get any weirder.’ Pepper answered.

‘Not quite as weird as disappearing from the building for several hours of an evening.’ Tony’s eyes didn’t leave his phone and he put on a bored affect as he spoke. The hairs on the back of your neck tingled. Tony definitely knew something was up.

You just gave him a small smile and said confidently ‘Jarvis will know what to play’, not sure at all that he did.

‘Love Story’ by Taylor Swift started to swell from the speakers and a member of your audience immediately groaned.

‘We were tricked.’ accused Clint ‘You said it would be music.’

‘Natasha.’ You murmured a second later. She turned from the mixing bowl to look at you just as you started to lip sync along to the song. It took a moment for your dramatic flare to kick in and for Natasha to get the reference to the tv show from the night before. 

She laughed loudly, the sound of her voice filling the space as much as the music. You let her energy fill you up too. You continued your performance with ridiculous gravity, and acted out the most dramatic lyrics with unwavering intensity. You even mimed to Natasha asking her to ‘just say yes’. She held the spatula like a microphone while she briefly mimicked your poses.

If it had been any other two people, those watching would have assumed romance. But it was you two, and so most of the room looked on as if witnessing a psychotic break.

Except Steve, who smiled down at his eggs and laughed openly when you redirected a whole verse towards him. You finished the song by performing it to everyone. Only the laughter in Pepper’s eyes nearly made you break.

When the music stopped, the silence in the room swelled up and then broke as Steve’s barking laugh surfaced again and the whole room erupted into snorts and chuckles. The laughter was a little hysterical. You could tell that simple happy moments were rarely enjoyed by this group. Or at least, not in this unadulterated form. There were no layers to it, no bittersweetness to your stupidity. Jarvis switched to some low volume Sam Cooke, holding the pleasant atmosphere steady.

‘(Y/N), you’ve got funny bones.’ Tony directed at you unexpectedly and you grinned back.

When Natasha presented you with an omelette, you were very impressed. You knew she could tell.

‘It’s all in the filling though.’ You conditioned and she waited expectantly.

Tomato, ham and cheese. Damn, it was close to perfect, and you told her so.

‘Close?’ It was said so lightly, that Barton’s low ‘Ooooh’ was the larger indicator of a threat. 

You shrugged playfully ‘Not enough cheese.’

‘Not enough cheese’ Natasha muttered under her breath, devolving into a string of likely curse words that might have been Russian but certainly weren’t English.

You made a mental note to try and learn some Russian.

[please-destroy]

When The Deal Goes Down

Series Masterlist

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Chapter 2: Romance & Borscht

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Part 1 - Any Recommendations?

Natasha leaned against the doorway of your room with her arms crossed, watching you haul the heavy box onto your bed. She surveyed your room curiously, it was the first time she’d seen the interior. She hummed pleasantly when it no doubt looked exactly as she’d expected. She waited until you’d half dropped / half thrown the box onto your bed before speaking.

‘So, what books did you buy?’ 

You weren’t surprised that she’d correctly surmised its contents. 

‘An assortment.’ You admitted, ‘I want to build a little library.’

Natasha stepped over the threshold and began to wander around your room. She let her fingers trace over the surfaces she passed by.

The books you already owned were stacked in haphazard piles around the room. Politely disorganised was very much your interior design motif. You saw her scan the titles interestedly while you started to empty out the box onto your bed, feeling a nerdy thrill at each book that had arrived as expected. Natasha stilled, observing you as you unpacked and you felt a good kind of shyness knowing her eyes were on you.

‘Any recommendations?’ She asked lightly, flicking through the pages of a short story collection next to her.

‘What about another Grisham thriller?’ You replied sarcastically and you shared a grin. You’d already noticed the generic thriller books that were planted around Natasha’s own room. It made the place look lived in, but there was no way she was actually reading them. Appreciating the idiosyncrasies of a spy’s behaviour was often the easiest course of action.

‘So, what’s your favourite book?’ Natasha asked.

‘Jane Eyre, but it’s definitely not your thing.’ You replied automatically, without thinking of the inevitable follow up.

‘You don’t think I’d like an old fashioned book.’ Natasha said neutrally, but she was daring you to agree.

‘No.’ You hesitated a little. ‘I just don’t think you’d like that old fashioned book.’ 

Natasha spotted your copy of said book on a shelf across from her and went to pick it up, her eyes scanning the blurb on the back. You had no sense of if she’d ever read it before. 

‘Maybe it’s got too many big words for me.’ She said with mock consideration. 

You rolled your eyes, acknowledging the trap you were now in. A little panic started to pulse through you. You didn’t want to admit your reasoning for the offhand comment. Your answer had been instinctive but now you remembered exactly why the book that had spoken to you was not one you thought Natasha should read.

You considered asking Jarvis to action the fire alarm and imagined him politely telling you to sort out your priorities.

‘I doubt that.’ You said simply, trying to close the conversation. ‘Can I get you something to drink?’

‘That’s nice of you.’ Natasha purred in what was certainly the start of an effective interrogation mode, even if you couldn’t tell her plan of attack yet.

‘I guess that’s a yes.’ You muttered, moving towards the mini fridge in the corner of your room, to see the options you had available.

‘Do you really think it’s too intellectual for me?’ 

Logically you knew she was being manipulative but, as you turned to face her, you could practically feel the insecurity and worry that was written on her face. You felt abruptly disorientated. You answered immediately as the fridge door hung open behind you.

‘No, I think you’re much smarter than me. That’s pretty clear.’ You remembered yourself and turned back to take out two bottled waters.

‘At least tell me why you like it?’ 

You could feel the careful inflections in Natasha’s tone, knew they’d been put there just for you and accepted your fate.

‘I really liked the main character and now I think she also reminds me of you.’

‘That doesn’t make it a bad book.’ Natasha countered.

‘It’s not a bad book.’ You protested. ‘It’s a great book, just not for you.’

Now, Natasha just stared at you, arms folded in front of her. A stare that told you plainly how unfair she thought you were being and just how stubborn she was feeling.

‘If you don’t tell me, I’ll read it.’ Natasha stated the obvious threat now and it was the one that worked. She leaned in to you slightly as you hesitatingly spoke.

‘She has a bad childhood, the main character.’ You said not looking directly at her. ‘There’s an all-girls orphanage in it and there’s also a Red Room.’

Abruptly, Natasha looked like she was going to be sick. It was sudden enough that you moved to support her arm and direct her to the bathroom. She rejected your touch and looked at you like you’d just hit her.

‘I’m really sorry.’ You murmured quietly. You wished you had never read the stupid book or learned even the basics of Natasha’s past from Fury.

‘Why would you want to read about those things?’ She asked through a clenched jaw, looking at you like you were perverted.

‘That’s not the whole book.’

‘There’s a mad woman in the attic, right? That’s the big reveal.’ 

‘There’s lots of bad things in it, the main character has a terrible time.’ You said slowly.  ‘But the point is that she survives all of it and she ends up happy and not perfect. That’s what I liked it for, that’s why it made me think of you.’

You forced the conversation to end there, letting her appraise your words as you thrust the water bottle into her hand.

You moved to your sofa and she followed. When you were both seated it was silent until Natasha spoke.

‘Maybe I would like it then.’ She said decisively ‘If it has a happy ending.’

You don’t know why you knew it was the right moment. But it was. 

And reader, you kissed her.

You sensed Natasha’s initial surprise when your lips connected. You heard the crinkle of the plastic bottle when it hit the side table and felt her fingers move to thread through your hair. You felt warmth course through you and you deepened the kiss, trying to share the heat with her. She lacked control when you took initiative but you could tell she liked it more than she’d expected. Natasha tasted like cookies. You were overwhelmingly right for each other.

You start to pull back a little, but she didn’t let you go far. Your positions changed as she pulled you closer just by curling her fingers wrapped in your hair. Your hands were on her thighs and you let them slide further up.

The kiss broke briefly and Natasha grinned at you, voice cracking a little.

‘Books are your pillowtalk, huh?’

You just kissed her neck, nipping her skin slightly. Your mind wandered between the attraction you felt and also the expectations she’d had the night before. Then, Natasha moaned loudly and some part of you knew immediately that it was an exaggeration of the pleasure she was feeling. You were too sensitive to her body cues in that moment to believe it was a genuine sound.

So, you stopped again, like the night before and you said again, like the night before. 

‘Not like this. You’re too important.’

Now, Natasha looked at you with real annoyance.

‘Are you even gay?’

You laughed in surprise.

‘Yes! Are you?’

‘I’ve been known to be.’ She said, playing it off as flirty but you could tell the insecurity underneath. You suddenly felt sure that Natasha hadn’t thought meaningfully about her sexual preference in a long time. Maybe any romantic preferences at all. 

‘Then you should know how much it is killing me to slow this down.’ You let your eyes wander pointedly downwards at her tank top and tight pants where your hands still rested.

‘So, what? You want to take me out dancing first?’ Natasha asked sarcastically.

You gave an easy smile. 

‘Something like that.’

You could see her weighing up your words, this was the second time you’d paused things and also the second time you’d asked for a date. You knew it was these actions that Natasha was evaluating, so you tried to clarify them and remove any doubt.

‘Let me be clear. I want to fuck you, a lot. In a ‘you’re so attractive I might self-combust’ kind of way.’ You started.

Natasha waited expectantly.

‘But what I said last night is also true. I’d take on a celibacy pledge and lie next to you every night like a fucking saint if that’s what you wanted. I’m not trying to do a countdown to a third date or something. I just want to spend time with you. No pressure and definitely no strings attached.’ 

It was rambly and insecure but Natasha seemed to hear what you were trying to say. She gave you a light kiss and you moved back to the sitting position you’d been in before.

‘When?’ she asked, reaching for her drink.

‘When, what?’ You asked back, mirroring her actions.

‘When are you taking me on a date?’

You beamed at her. She returned it with a careful smile. 

‘Tonight, definitely tonight.’ You answered eagerly.

‘Damn, I have other plans.’ 

It took you a second to realise she was kidding. You rolled your eyes and stood up.

‘Right, you better go away now.’

Natasha didn’t move, just raised one eyebrow slowly. You gave her a serious look.

‘I have to plan the best date I can in like four hours. Move please’. You checked your watch for emphasis. Natasha looked at you like she couldn’t believe the audacity and she liked it. You made a shooing gesture and she got up, heading to the door. Before she walked out of it, you called out.

‘Pick you up at 7.’ 

When the door shut, you fell forward dramatically onto the bed.

You had four hours and only your stupid brain for ideas. 

Jarvis was a reassuring voice, literally. He started to recommend traditional romantic gestures in Western cultures. 

You found that you had no previous experience relevant to this situation, You’d always been much more the cute lunch date with a could-be-more-than-friends vibe. Not so much the I-think-I’m-love-with-you-now-eat-your-steak sort of evening. So, you spent an hour writing down the best ideas that you and Jarvis could come up with in a notebook. It took an hour before you noticed Natasha had departed with your copy of ‘Jane Eyre’. 

This led to the more worrying realisation that you actually had very little knowledge of Natasha to work on. No ideas of her favourites, her likes and dislikes. You felt like you were trying to solve a double sided jigsaw; the romantic ideas were never going to match up with the very little you actually knew about Natasha. This panic took up another hour of your day. 

As you lay there in an abstract procrastinating paralysis, you heard footsteps in the hallway outside. This was notable because it was definitely not Natasha, who always moved silently in the hallways. The sharp knock at Natasha’s door further proved this. You heard the creak of the door opening and the hum of her speaking. Then you heard Clint’s voice too, apologetic in tone. Knowing she’d forgive him eventually, you hoped a little pettily that she’d make him work for it.

Now, the deadline panic was setting in and the pressure moved you to action. In a wave of inspiration, you called down to the front desk staff. You told Rosemary an anonymised overview of your predicament. She was particularly useless, suggesting a fancy restaurant that would never be bookable at short notice. Sensing your rising panic she suggested passing you over to Baz, the security guard on duty. 

Baz was a godsend, his voice was crackly and he sounded like he was at least in his 80s. He immediately gave you the impression of knowing a lot of random people in random places. This was further confirmed when you outlined all of your concerns, including leaving the Compound discretely and finding a place that served food she would enjoy without actually knowing what she liked. 

Baz just laughed. ‘Let me take care of it honey, you’re still new in town.’

After your conversation, you were called by several people, some with blocked numbers, confirming the night’s activities.

You moved next to choosing your outfit anxiously. There was no dress code of course, but the urge to dress up was still there. Jarvis gave you a gentle reminder at 5 minutes to 7 and you made the ridiculous event of leaving your room, heading across the hall and knocking on Natasha’s door. 

Part 2 - Bright Lights on Dark Nights

Natasha looked stunning. Her red hair unexpectedly in a smooth ponytail, her leather pants expectedly tight and her loose white top made her look classically gorgeous without trying.

You felt abruptly self conscious of your hair and had the nervous urge to smooth out your clothes before you managed to pull it together. In your earlier panic, you had developed a new mantra for the evening. 

Even if Natasha never wanted another date with you, please let her have a good time tonight.

You tried to smile confidently.

‘You look incredible.’ You rushed out the words as you thought them.

Natasha returned the compliment and you shared a hesitant smile, neither of you quite sure how the night would go. You took her hand and led her over to the elevator.

‘This is a bold way to leave the building.’ Natasha said, looking at your joined hands pointedly. You knew she meant, that you both looked a little too much like you were going on a date to fool anyone about a secret sorority meeting. 

‘We are going to the basement’ Jarvis responded helpfully in the elevator.

‘Not like in a murdery way.’ You tried to make it seem less weird and failed. A little smirk played on Natasha’s face and her thumb rubbed the back of your hand unexpectedly.

‘But you knew that right.’ You let out a huffing breath. ‘I bet no-one even attempts to murder you in the basement.’

She laughed loudly at your unlikely compliment and you wished you had a bit more control over your own mouth.

You arrived on the bottom floor, and you led her through to a secondary room, ascending a flight of rickety stairs back up to the ground floor. You noticed Natasha’s confusion.

‘Jarvis says this is the best way to not show up on his cameras.’ You said helpfully. ‘Just in case Tony wants to be a nosy neighbour.’ Natasha looked very interested at this information and you gathered Tony probably didn’t encourage Jarvis to tell people (especially SHIELD agents) all the non-surveillance routes in and out of the compound.

The room you now entered was the auxiliary garage, used by Compound Staff only. It had been Baz’s great suggestion to borrow the old convertible that was parked by the automatic doors. He had explained that he was trying to keep the car on the down low right now and so was storing it at the compound.

‘Didn’t know stealing cars was your game.’ Natasha said as you approached the car, never condescending to a direct question.

‘Borrowing.’ You assured her, and to prove your point, you leaned into the car and popped the glove compartment, where Baz had left the keys for you.

‘Although we are borrowing it from a likely car thief.’ You admitted as you took your respective seats. ‘This car possibly wasn’t legally obtained.’

Natasha stayed quiet, it wasn’t awkward though. You’d had a feeling that dating a spy would be a little unusual. You tried to be passive in letting her assess you and the situation as much as she wanted. Instead you focused on turning on the old car radio. ‘This Will Be An Everlasting Love’ started to play and you both snorted with laughter before you started driving into the night.

You made it to your destination pretty fast. The whole ride Natasha had tapped her fingers on the dashboard along with the music (which embarrassingly had stayed consistently in the cheesy love song genre). She’d also looked out at the moon for most of the drive. It loomed large in the clear night sky especially out at the isolated Avengers Compound. 

You pulled in at Baz’s dinner suggestion. Natasha took a first look at the restaurant and you saw her mouth twitch. It was a World Buffet, you’d had Jarvis confirm it was decent (more than decent according to reviews, he told you). 

‘It was either this or more bacon and eggs.’ You joked, taking her hand again as you left the car. The man on the door beamed a smile of recognition as you both entered, definitely the man you’d spoken to on the phone earlier.

‘Ladies’ He announced like he was a town crier, throwing his arms wide. You tapped Natasha’s knuckles trying to be discreet with your amusement.

‘That’s us.’ You confirmed drily.

‘You have the booth.’ He practically cheered, beckoning you to follow him. The main floor was full and you were seated off to the side, shielded further by the frosted glass sides of the booth seat. 

‘Baz has been very good to me.’ He told you conspiratorially, ‘Very nice car I have now.’ You glanced at Natasha and saw the pieces click in her mind. You caught her eye and nodded.

‘Here we have a buffet from all over the world.’ He announced grandly like he’d gone around the world himself to fetch it. ‘You hear of a country and think, what do they have? Well they have something, and here we are kind enough to share it with you. And when we say the world, we mean the world. If I read another complaint about the borscht.’ He ended in a mutter.

You didn’t tell him that you’d been counting on those complaints being true. Instead, you nodded at Natasha.

‘We really like a whole range, don’t we?’ 

The man recovered himself. ‘Then, Ladies, all I can say is Bon Appetit.’

As soon as he was gone, Natasha gave you a mock glare. 

‘This is meant to be a date not a recon mission.’

‘I know’ You grinned. ‘I’m just giving you options, not gathering intel.’ 

‘If I choose to have the borscht, it is not because I am Russian, or because I like it, it is just because it’s there.’

You held your hands up in mock surrender. 

‘And if Baz is some local mob chief, this night will not end well.’ 

You snorted again. 

As you both ate, you pretended to take note of whatever dishes Natasha had chosen to eat.  A lame joke that sustained all the way through until dessert. You felt Natasha relax into the evening. The constant need to get up and grab another plate or more soda from the dispenser gave the meal an active feel that you’d guessed she would like.

You also asked about her interests, asking her what movies she liked. She barely paused before telling you obscurely.

‘It depends.’ 

Weirdly you could tell that was the wholehearted truth.

Natasha could be the perfect conversationalist and it showed. She asked about your family and moved the conversation swiftly away from the glaring sore spots without pressing them by mistake. You thought this was probably a reverse interrogation skill she had. You tried to do the same, though not so smoothly.

‘I heard Clint stomping down the hall earlier.’ You mentioned at one point.

‘Clint is an ass.’ She agreed easily, as if that’s what you’d said.

‘But you forgive him.’ 

Pain flashed quickly in her eyes.

‘He forgave me first.’ There was clearly more emotion in her voice than she wanted and you helped her move away from it.

‘Now we know cookies are his weak spot.’ You said conversationally. Natasha’s face switched to a smirk, taking the conversational out that you offered. 

‘Plain old American cookies.’ She shook her head in mock pity.

‘It’s no borscht.’ You solemnly agreed whilst cutting your chocolate brownie in half and moving one piece onto her plate.

The physical gesture gained the softest smile from Natasha that you’d ever received. And you wondered how often other people had shared with her. She ate it quietly, focusing on it more than anything in the earlier courses.

It was much colder outside when you left the restaurant, but Natasha still paused on the steps outside. You faced her, she was a little taller standing on a different step.

‘That.’ She said carefully, ‘Was lovely. Thank you.’

You moved closer, enjoying your heights being nearly the same. You wondered if you were causing her goosebumps or if it was the cool air. You let your hands brush her arms and then you kissed her cheek.

‘I’m glad.’ You murmured.

It took a few minutes of driving before she realised.

‘A secondary location’ Natasha stated, sounding mildly surprised.

‘Told you that I needed four hours.’ You revelled in the satisfaction that Natasha was probably itching to know your plan. It only took you ten more minutes to arrive. Aquariums were spooky at night, even on the outside.

‘Breaking and entering?’ Natasha asked lightly, as you stopped in the near empty parking lot.

‘I’m a law abiding citizen.’ You said with gravity. ‘Except for maybe this car.’ You added as an afterthought. Natasha huffed a laugh.

The security guard let you in with a knowing smile, definitely Baz’s contact. 

The aquarium tanks ahead glowed enough to light up your path, along with the dim emergency lighting. You loved holding Natasha’s hand as you walked. Even more, you loved watching her be drawn into the surroundings, looking curiously at the information boards. 

‘Have you ever been to an aquarium?’ 

Natasha shook her head, her face bathed in the blueish light from the first exhibit entrance as she looked around at the fish themed decal on the walls.

‘What do you want to see first?’

She shrugged, her reticence seeming to come from discomfort. Childish excitement was obviously not a safe or common feeling for her and it seemed like she didn’t know what to do with it.

‘Let’s just see the whole ocean then.’ 

You walked through some rooms with several smaller tanks. Natasha’s focus was more interesting than anything in them. She moved methodically and thoroughly from tank to tank. Her hands touched the glass lightly as she searched for crustaceans that were hiding. 

‘Look!’ She called out when she saw a starfish waving. You wanted to scream with love whenever she called you over to look at something with her. Watching her forget herself for a second was so interesting and special. Natasha had never let you feel awkward unless she wanted to, but you hadn’t realised how self aware she must be at all times until you saw her forget to be.

More than anything else, Natasha thoroughly enjoyed your reluctance in approaching the octopus tank. 

‘It’s just being clever.’ She said as you pulled a face at the creature unscrewing a jar lid.

‘Inky bastard.’ You muttered darkly. Natasha laughed suddenly, wildly and delightedly, squeezing your hand tightly at the same time. It was an infectious laugh, but you tried to hold your moody glare at the octopus, just to keep her laughing.

Eventually, you reached the giant tank where sharks and fish swam together. As you watched together quietly, Natasha’s awe was palpable. You stood just behind her, wrapping your arms around her front. She stiffened automatically at the gesture and then all at once relaxed, moving so your breath was warming her neck. 

‘There’s a shark coming.’ You whispered by her ear and she leaned further back into your hold as the shark seemed to swim right at you, only moving upwards against the glass at the last moment.

When you finally left the exhibits and reached the turn off to the gift shop, you knew she was disappointed that it was over. You moved to lead her into the shop and, for the first time that night, Natasha pulled back.

‘(Y/N).’ She said, slightly admonishing, ‘I don’t need a gift.’ 

For once, it was you who wanted to be stubborn. You didn’t speak, just squeezed her hand insistently and, eventually Natasha followed you, looking a little annoyed. 

Then she saw the pool inside that hosted sting rays. She dropped instantly to her knees at the side of the pool, fascinated by the only open top feature in the aquarium. 

‘You’re allowed to touch them.’ You tapped the sign next to the exhibit. ‘Are you feeling brave?’ 

The dare was completely unnecessary. 

Natasha put her hand in the water delicately and looked at you until you did the same.

The first time she ran a finger along a sting ray’s back, you caught the private thrilled expression that lit up her face.

You both washed your hands at the little station and you couldn’t help but willfully ignore her instruction earlier. There was one of those ubiquitous ‘Penny Press’ machines and so you pressed the image of a shark into two coins, one for each of you. It was the only thing you could really pay for fairly without a cashier at the desk. 

You put your arm around Natasha’s waist as you left and she leaned into your side. You shared a feeling like you were saying goodbye to something great. It occurred to you then, for the first time, that you can’t get perfect moments back.

This time when you drove the car, you could feel Natasha watching your face as much as the views outside. You knew she was going to say something. The air felt thick with the expectation of something to be said.

At some traffic lights, you turned to her and smiled. You saw the consternation in her expression and recognised it. Trying to navigate how much truth to tell someone.

‘This was much better than I thought a first date would be.’ Natasha said abruptly, turning to face the road along with you as the lights changed.

You mulled it over for a second, knowing you were missing something. Trying to think if she was tapping out a morse code secret or something as she spoke. There was some indirect expression of a truth in there and you knew it. Then it clicked.

‘Our first date, or a first date?’

Natasha didn’t speak but her jaw clenched and you knew you’d interpreted the coded words right.

‘Your first date?’ You breathed out, heart hammering suddenly. Natasha looked deeply uncomfortable all at once and a small part of you wished she hadn’t said it tonight. Not if it ruined her own mood. 

‘First as myself.’ She said carefully, eyes trained warily on you as she gauged your reaction.

You let your brain catch up with her meaning. You imagined it with a twisted gut, lots of dates that were part of the job, but nothing meaningful. You heard her fingers start to drum a beat on her thigh and knew your face showed sympathy that she probably didn’t want to see. You took a deep breath and settled your expression to something calm. You told yourself it wasn’t fair to be angry or uncomfortable at her past on her behalf.

She’d timed her revelation perfectly with your return to the Avengers Compound estate. You knew better than to think that was accidental. You let the car crawl forward on the winding drive and took one hand off the stick shift. 

You took her hand and caught her gaze, which had moved to a fixed point outside the window. Her eyes caught you off guard when they finally met yours, steeped in the moonlight that had filtered into the car.

‘Could I have the second date too?’

It was cheesy, but the vulnerability behind your question weirdly made it less embarrassing.

Natasha kissed you. It was soft and perfect, and it was heady with sweet emotions. It didn’t last too long, which was good because you still felt able to crash the car if she’d used her tongue. You exchanged a smile and you held her hand up to your chest, trying to say more than you could.

You left the car keys where you’d found them and then you both headed back to your shared floor. Jarvis played an instrumental version of ‘Just The Two Of Us’ in the elevator but you felt too content to even laugh. Her hip bumped against yours and your fingers played with the fabric of her top.

You had anticipated some awkwardness after stepping off the elevator, right at the end of the night. So, in the moment’s pause after the elevator doors opened, you were bold. You let your hand move to the small of Natasha’s back and you kissed her clear and confident. 

‘Thank you. You are the best person to go on a date with.’ You knew she’d hear from the emphasis on ‘you’ that you meant her exactly as herself. You enjoyed her small smile that came from somewhere vulnerable and shone beautifully. 

You took a step towards your door. Before you could say a goodnight, Natasha spoke.

‘Sleep over? Like last time.’ The boundary was clear and you could hear her testing it out.

‘I’ll get my PJs on, and see you in ten.’ You winked and headed to your room. Trying to not hyperventilate as soon as the door shut behind you, because she’d certainly hear.

Jarvis congratulated you politely on the evening going to plan. You felt giddy sharing the happiness even with him. For the second time today you let yourself fall flat on the bed because of Natasha.

This time, it didn’t last long before you bounced to your feet and switched into an old t-shirt and shorts. You drank half a glass of water, trying to sip slowly. Before you left, you even grabbed a new book from the pile you’d just ordered. 

This was the first time you were actually planning to sleep in the same bed together and it had occurred to you that you didn’t actually know Natasha’s bed time. You knocked carefully on her door, getting no response. Jarvis helpfully told you that the deadbolt Natasha had attached to her door had been left unlocked tonight. You took this to be intentional and so you turned the handle and walked in.

Part 3 - War Games and Regret

Natasha was sitting at the edge of her bed, leaning backwards and resting on her elbows. She was wearing a tank top and just panties. Your brain short circuited. Her face was a challenge and the pose was intentional. You could feel yourself staring, but your eyes wouldn’t move away.

‘Huh’ was the first and only thought you could express.

Natasha looked at you with questioning pity, as if she didn’t know why you had lost the ability to function whilst staring up the length of her bare legs. 

‘Do you want to come to bed?’ Her head tilted and a little smirk played on her lips, exposing the false innocence. You lurched forward, reminding yourself of Natasha’s drunken movements the night before, not that she’d remember. In a flash you realised the difference between last night and now. With her smirk you could see that she was teasing you and testing the words that you’d said before the date.

You knew why. Twice she had initiated and you’d slowed it down. Now, after you’d told her you would be patient for the perfect moment, the play for control had shifted back to her. So she wanted to test your patience in a teasing game.

As you approached her, you could see Natasha trying to anticipate your next move, the calculations running behind her eyes. You knelt in front of her, between her carefully angled legs, keeping eye contact. She leaned forward in response and you caught her lips. You promised everything you wanted to do to her in that kiss, not letting yourself touch her any other way, hands clenching the duvet at her sides. She moaned into your mouth and this time you knew she meant it.

Choosing to end the kiss, you smirked purposefully. You were trying to win this battle of self control in a war that you very much hoped to lose. You lifted the book you had brought.

‘You mind if I read for a little bit?’ You saw her eyes flash at your nonchalance. You had no remorse, you were going to be so turned on all night and that suffering was her fault. 

There was something catlike in the way she stalked over to the other side of the bed. It emphasised her hips in a way that was hypnotising. Ironically, this wasn’t as intentional but just as effective as her earlier position. 

You sat on your side of the bed (it was crazy to have a side in her bed), slipping under the covers and opening the book. It was about Paris and it was interesting enough for you to at least follow along. Natasha crossed her legs on top of the covers and you both pretended not to see your hand clench with the effort of not staring down into her lap positioned next to you. 

Natasha was going to have many little victories in this war. 

She leaned to reach for the copy of Jane Eyre and opened it carefully, a perfect study in unawareness that you were sharing her bed. 

You waited until the end of your thankfully short chapter and asked the inevitable.

‘Do you want to go to sleep now?’ You didn’t know much about her sleeping patterns but midnight seemed late enough for superhero schedules.

‘I think another five minutes.’ Natasha hummed, seemingly engrossed in her book.

‘Sure.’ You wondered if this was part of the unspoken game, something to play along with. You had a premonition of staying up for hours pretending this book was more interesting than it was.

You waited another ten minutes, letting your eyes skim through the next chapter. Then you let your pretence slip and you started watching Natasha as unobtrusively as you could. Trying to gauge what had gripped her about the book or what the game play she was making exactly was.

It took a few more minutes before you realised that she wasn’t turning the page. Her eyes seemed to be scanning over the words carefully, then repeating almost as if on autopilot.

Eventually, you touched her arm carefully.

‘Natasha?’ You murmured.

The physical contact made her jump, automatically looking up at you. Her eyes looked somewhere between fight or flight mode.

‘Uh, I need another five minutes.’ She said restlessly, eyes darting back to the open book.

‘You’re not reading the words anymore though.’ You said carefully, not sure what to do.

‘Her uh, her friend is dying.’ Natasha’s voice cracked as she spoke. You saw a strange look flicker across her expression. You knew that there must be some parallel in her own life. Some unaccounted for trauma raising its head.

‘Yeah,’ You said softly ‘She is. At the orphanage right?’

You saw Natasha swallow and nod, her eyes staring into the middle of the page. 

You said her name again softly and she looked at you, even less in the room than before. 

‘Natasha, I’m really sorry.’

Nothing moved, except her hand to brush away the tears that had started rolling down her cheeks.

‘I’m so sorry.’ You said again, knowing your voice wasn’t calming enough; that it was only conveying her own pain right back to her. The book fell as she moved her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees. She pressed her face into them and you knew she was crying more.

You repeated it again and again over the next few minutes. You shifted so that you could encircle her in a careful hug that might help, even if not by much. 

Finally, Natasha released her tight hold on her knees and leant back.

‘Don’t be.’ She said unexpectedly harshly. ‘It was my fault.’ 

She spoke definitively, as if the only part of the trauma she had processed was her guilt in it.

‘I don’t think that’s true.’ You replied, because you didn’t. The look she gave you was fierce. She called you two words in Russian that didn’t sound pleasant, then said.

‘You don’t know anything. I pulled the trigger. She was ten.’ Her voice broke at the end of her sentence and there was a sharp gasp of air, like saying the age had physically hit her in the chest.

‘You didn’t have a choice’ You said numbly, unable to really comprehend what she was saying and feeling. Only knowing it didn’t stop you wanting to be there.

‘Of course I did.’ 

‘Well, then you didn’t have any good choices.’ You said decisively, trying to steer the conversation. ‘You had no fair choice, no good choice to take.’

Natasha looked at you like a child who wants to believe, but doesn’t think they should. You tried to meet her eyes.

‘No good choice.’ You repeated clearly.

She closed her eyes for a long second.

‘I’ve done other things too.’ She admitted, ‘Much worse things.’

You couldn’t comprehend what those things could be, couldn’t even let yourself imagine. You just stayed still, trying to at least show that her words weren’t scaring you off.

‘You weren’t given good choices.’ You said again. ‘It is so hard to grow up without options and so impressive to find some for yourself. It is not your fault.’

She knew you meant it, you could practically hear her pulse stuttering. She gripped your hand tightly and you could tell she was asking for your truth to be the truth. You gripped it back because that was all you could do to make it so. 

‘Let’s not sleep just yet.’ You said carefully, knowing sleep right now would be impossible.

‘But maybe we can lie down and I can just-’ You paused tentatively. ‘Hold you?’.

You didn’t know if Natasha agreed or just acquiesced, but she lay with her head resting just below your collarbone and her bare legs pressed against yours. You willed her mind to give her some peace for the night. It was enough to have thoughts like those lingering in the back of her head, but to have them front of mind seemed especially cruel. Like some shadow she couldn’t get rid of.

You stayed mostly quiet, sometimes humming a little as you stroked her hair, your fingers traced the slight kink in it from the ponytail earlier.

‘I’m sorry the night ended like this.’ Natasha said after a while, sounding unexpectedly small again.

‘I’m not.’ You assured her. She moved, resting her chin on your body and looking up at you. You felt a rush of physical attraction that you willfully ignored.

‘I’m sad that you’re sad obviously.’ You explained, keeping your fingers busy running through her hair and letting some nervous energy out.

‘But, I had the best time tonight. And, well, I wish you hadn’t experienced awful things. But also, I love you with all of that pain too. Happiness is hard won with you, and that makes it more special.’ You were talking at her hair now, feeling a prickly heat on your neck.

You felt her move up your body, trailing soft kisses along your warm neck as her response. She kissed your jaw and then kissed your lips. You felt like you were touching an angel.

When the kiss ended, you mortifyingly said your thoughts aloud. And Natasha laughed so easily, looking suddenly like she had back at the aquarium. You held her tight as she lay back down next to you. Her face burrowed so close beside you that you could feel her eyelashes fluttering on your neck whenever she moved them.

It felt like for a moment you were the same person.

After a while, Natasha curled into a more comfortable position. Her left hand brushed your body and rested under your breasts. You stayed lying on your back, one arm around her shoulders keeping her steady next to you, the other looping loosely around her wrist that was resting on you. You hoped this position would become a familiar one. It could happen.

The next morning Natasha woke up before you. You didn’t know much, but you were sure it was before 7. All you really knew when your eyes opened, was that you hadn’t been unconscious for long enough. To Natasha’s credit, she’d slipped off the bed silently. It was only the dawning awareness that she was missing from your side that had woken you with a start.

You sat up suddenly in the bed. Natasha startled from across the room at your quick movement.

‘Morning.’ She said with that same softness as last night. ‘I didn’t think you’d be awake this soon.’

You gave her a pained look, rolled over and screamed quietly into the pillow.

Her concern was replaced with humour. 

‘Aw, you don’t want to get up.’ Natasha teased, coming over to the bed already fully dressed. Her hands skimmed across your shoulders. 

‘I don’t understand why you do.’ You muttered into the pillow, but she heard you.

‘Training and the usual SHIELD check in. But you don’t need to do either, so go back to sleep.’ She said matter of factly. It took you a few seconds to process her words, and she was already heading towards the door by the time all the cogs in your brain moved.

‘Wait!’ You said with embarrassing desperation. Natasha turned around lifting an eyebrow slightly, a laugh hiding behind her smile.

‘How long are SHIELD check ins?’ 

‘There was only an immediate debrief after the last mission. So, this one will be most of the day.’ 

You paused for a moment, torn with not wanting to seem clingy but deciding that you also weren’t going to miss out on her only free time by staying in bed.

You dragged yourself up and out of the bed and stumbled over to her. You closed your eyes, slumped against her and pretended to rest your head on her shoulder.

‘I’m going to get up now.’ You said heavily, like it was a big sacrifice. ‘I’m gonna get ready super fast and make you something to eat.’

‘Okay.’ Natasha murmured, her hand lightly brushing the side of your face. You left for your own room like an under-caffeinated zombie. When you entered, Jarvis had already brewed some fresh coffee and you nearly cried with gratitude. 

When you headed downstairs in workout clothes, the coffee had already started buzzing through your veins.

The kitchen held more people than you expected and lacked the one you’d anticipated. Clint made sense though, you imagined his schedule being similar to Natasha’s today. Steve was there too, clearly just settled with a breakfast plate.

‘Morning’ You greeted them both, your eyes scanning for the missing Natasha. 

‘And what have you done to Tasha now?’ asked Clint. The words shocked you so quickly back to the ill will of the past few days that it took you a second to register his light tone. You tilted your head to indicate confusion. 

When you got closer to the kitchen space, you realised.

Natasha was sitting atop the kitchen counter, obscured initially by the fridge and thoroughly engrossed in Jane Eyre. There was a half-eaten apple next to her, set down so she could give Clint the middle finger for his commentary. You noted that she was significantly further into the book than last night.

She looked up as you approached.

‘Some of these people are the worst.’ She nodded towards the book.

‘Jane’s Aunt?’ You confirmed.

Natasha nodded again.

‘Yeah, she’s a cunt.’ You agreed absentmindedly, still surprised that Natasha had continued with the book. You didn’t see her grinning until you looked around at the sound of Steve choking on his eggs.

Clint guffawed while slapping him on the back. Natasha started to laugh too, looking at the confusion on your face. As soon as Steve caught his breath, he gave you a look like you had just told him you wanted to get a star spangled nipple piercing or something. 

‘We try to keep it PG around Cap.’ Clint explained teasingly. Steve looked a little mortified.

‘Oh shit, sorry.’ You apologised, realising the exact word you had used.

Natasha laughed again.

‘I mean sorry, just sorry.’ Your hands flailed as you tried to put out the invisible fire of your own mouth. You tried to collect yourself.

‘I’m just going to start making breakfast’. 

You busied yourself in the kitchen, too embarrassed to look at Steve now.

‘What are you making?’ asked Clint interestedly, despite clearly already having scored some of Steve’s scrambled eggs.

‘Borscht’ You said deadpan, just to watch the apprehension on his face and make Natasha snort.

[please-destroy]

When The Deal Goes Down

Series Masterlist .

Chapter 1: Trust and Sunglasses

.

Part 1 - Hawk Eyes Everywhere.

You’d been staying in the Avengers compound less than a week. Fury had seen your potential immediately upon your recruitment to SHIELD as a rumoured enhanced being. With your abilities to both turn invisible and to float being pretty passive, it wasn’t surprising that he’d wanted you around real Avengers so that you could work on making these skills more weaponisable. You tried to be friendly with the other Avengers when you could fit socialising around the strict training regime you’d immediately been placed on. 

From the start you’d clicked with Natasha in a way that you could tell was as rare for her as it was for you. It was flirty and it was forward, but it wasn’t really anything official yet. You could tell that your natural closeness with Natasha was noticeably strange, even uncomfortable, for the other Avengers, especially Clint. This was one of the reasons that you’d readily agreed to Natasha’s insistence on being nothing more than friends around the others.

 ‘Bye guys.’ You called out to Clint and Natasha as they crossed the gym floor, passing by the punching bag that you were ineffectively trying to hit. They’d come in from the target range outside, halting their conversation awkwardly as soon as they spotted you and Steve in the corner. You were pretty sure that you would continue to be the topic of conversation as soon as they left the gym too. 

You tried not to mind so much. It was Natasha who was having to dodge questions from a friend as protective as Clint. She’d been apprehensive about meeting him in the gym this morning, even though she’d played it off. Now, it seemed like he had no hesitation in making his points. You watched him gesturing emphatically as their conversation resumed out of your earshot.

Steve distracted you enough by giving you a go on the treadmill at a pace so blinding that at first you thought you were having a heart attack. His explanation about muscle development seemed a bit sketchy too, but you held your tongue knowing that he’d gotten all of his muscles from a science experiment. Nonetheless, you had a feeling his goals for your fitness were based on some super soldier standards rather than mere mortals like yourself.

Your session blew through lunch time and eventually, when his own stomach rumbling became clearly audible, Steve finally agreed to let you go.

After a quick shower, you scrounged some tortilla chips and guacamole from the common room fridge and snuck back to your room. You decided immediately it wasn’t going to be enough and settled on ordering food in instead. Jarvis was happy to put in a delivery order, which impressed you more than it should have, given he was an AI designed to be helpful.

You decided to knock on Natasha’s door before sending in the order. It felt criminal to order food and not ask others if they wanted something too. The door was ajar and so, as you knocked on it, you also pushed it forward. The immediate tension that you felt in the room was viscerally unbearable. Natasha and Clint were both sitting on the small sofa. They’d clearly halted mid-argument at the sound of your arrival. 

Clint gave you a look full of distrust while Natasha’s seemed both guarded and a little uncomfortable. Your first instinct was to examine the scene more granularly, thinking illogically that the severe tension must be coming from an unwanted physical situation. But they sat like any two friends would. Maybe that was part of the tension you could sense; the disconnect between their body language and the feeling in the air. 

Natasha raised an eyebrow at you pointedly and you remembered why you had intruded.

‘Sorry for interrupting, I was about to order food. Either of you want in?’ Your voice told them how aware and confused you were by the scene you’d entered into.

‘No, we’re fine.’ Natasha’s calm reply had the subtext of ‘Get The Fuck Out Now Please’ and you complied immediately. You didn’t know how to deal with the look you’d received from Clint, nor hearing your name among the loud voices that rose up when you retreated back down the corridor. Jarvis told you quietly as you walked away that your order was placed. You headed back to your room, grabbed a book and walked down to the entrance area of the compound to await the food.

More than anything, you wanted to get far away from whatever the fuck that was. There was an enclosed garden in the middle of the entrance foyer surrounded by glass walls. You headed out for some air and sat in the egg shaped chair that floated there. You drew your legs up and tried to focus on the words in the excellent book that you couldn’t appreciate at all.

Jarvis informed you of the large pizza’s arrival and you headed out. There was an old guy there working security. Which was a little bit ironic, given the nature of the building. You offered him a pizza slice and he took it eagerly. Before long you were enjoying the normalcy of a conversation with the two women at reception and the security guard.

Rosemary on the front desk was an older woman, originally from England and you wandered through a conversation on British vs American culture and how nice it was that the Great British Bake Off was popular in the states. The other woman at reception was in her early twenties; her name was Ella and she was undoubtedly trying to flirt with you. You let her, not reciprocating, but not letting the moment get awkward either. Talking in a group helped keep the conversation flowing anyway.

You left an hour later, barely eating any of your own pizza and not really minding. You’d successfully reduced staff productivity and were now feeling much happier. The awkwardness of Clint’s reaction to you was tempered when you remembered that there was a world outside the Avengers, impossible as that sometimes seemed. You’d even walked away with Ella’s number, and Rosemary had promised to email you during the 9-5 working day. She was stuck staring at a computer anyway. 

You planned to head back to the common room, still wanting to avoid the residential part of the compound. The incident with Natasha and Clint had moved further from your immediate concerns. There was an old bean bag that you planned to face at the sunset as it came through the large windows in the room. A perfect place for reading.

You had forgotten that your particularly late lunch meant that it was now already other people’s dinner time. 

Clint, Steve and Bruce were hunched over the breakfast bar - that was used for every meal - eating some rice dish. No one seemed to have been cooking but a large serving dish sat on the kitchen counter. As they saw you enter, Bruce waved you over.

‘Grab some of Pepper’s rice thing. She just sent it down, so it’s still warm.’ His mouth was full as he spoke and you readily took up his offer.

You didn’t want to sit near Clint though, feeling very wary of him, his effect on Natasha earlier and the possible impact of his opinion on you. Instead, you ate standing, leaning against the opposite kitchen counter to keep facing him. It was an unusual act of defensiveness from you, clearly picking up some of the Avenger’s paranoia. You tried not to read any of their faces and focused instead on eating the delicious food. 

You tried to ignore the urge to turn invisible, a power that always seemed more tempting when you felt social discomfort.

Steve finished his plate first, ending his impression of a starving animal.

‘Did you go exploring after the gym?’ He asked you politely, you hadn’t talked much outside of training sessions.

‘Yeah, the reception team is a lot of fun.’ 

Steve looked sweetly baffled, like he’d never thought about them before. Bruce swallowed the last of the rice in his mouth and joined the topic.

‘The English one seems nice.’ It was clearly all he had for the conversation. Continuing your studious pretence that Clint wasn’t there, whilst also never letting him out of your field of vision, you replied.

‘Yeah, I met her, she’s really nice. Do you know she’s got four grandkids on three continents?’ The awkward pause that followed told you everything about your attempt at conversation. You hurried to change the subject.

‘Anyway, if you’re finished you should all leave immediately, so there’s enough for me to have seconds.’ You teased. Bruce laughed again, raising an eyebrow at Clint conspiratorially and including him into the conversation.

‘We were already on our thirds.’

You rolled your eyes playfully and took the chance to take another helping.

‘In that case, I’ll put the rest in a container for later, guess it’s fair game for whoever next gets hungry.’

Clint hmmphed and you tensed automatically waiting for a comment.

‘Or you could just put a little post-it on it with ‘For Natasha’.’

It was a strangely cutting comment, framed like a warning that he’d seen how close you were. Steve and Bruce exchanged a brief glance, clearly without context for the weird jab. That was reassuring, you hated the idea of being gossiped about. Levelly, you replied to Clint.

‘Does Natasha usually need permission to eat leftovers?’ 

Bruce quirked a half smile, knowing that something was unsaid, but helping you out.

‘No, that’s definitely not like her.’

‘Huh.’ You let the topic die off purposefully and continued to put away leftovers.

Bruce shuffled over to the sofa, there was a heavy looking book and his glasses already sitting there. Steve moved to put the plates in the dishwasher with the trepidation that someone from the 1940s would have with an automatic dishwasher. 

He still gave you a smile though.

‘Think tonight’s flick is gonna be a 30s Western.’

‘Sounds adventurous.” You smiled back, liking him for being friendly even when it was awkward. 

Clint was scraping his plate clear when you asked.

‘Are you staying down here for a while?’ Your face stayed neutral, trying not to think about how annoyed you were that he had likely ruined Natasha’s good mood today as well as your own.

‘Yeah.’ His voice was openly challenging, it was unsettling. You were clearly no longer some naive newbie to him. You were someone affecting his best friend and he didn’t know why. Immediately, you didn’t want to be near him, but you didn’t want to back down either. You knew you were going to be good for Natasha, even if he didn’t.

You stayed in the common room just to prove your point. Steve and Clint watched the film, though Clint’s eyes studied you unashamedly for large portions of it. As soon as Bruce said he was heading to his bed, you imitated a yawn and stretched, saying you were going to do the same. 

Steve idly commented as you stood.

‘Wonder where Nat’s hiding’.

Clint stiffened the same way you did and you knew instinctively that, though he might not know where she was, he definitely knew why she wanted to be alone.

Part 2 - Ceiling Tiles and Long Distance Spoon.

You actually managed to finish your book that night lying on your bed. You would have finished it faster if you hadn’t been actively trying not to ask Jarvis where Natasha was. You were pretty sure he also thought it wasn’t any of your business. 

You had had a small expectation that tonight you would be sleeping in Natasha’s bed again. It had been your first thought this morning and you wallowed a little that it hadn’t been correct. 

You waited til midnight before you shuffled out of the room, book finished and no inclination for sleep. When you’d spent half an hour just lying on your bed staring at the ceiling, Jarvis had helpfully told you that there was a room on the common floor, a library of sorts. Books on combat and, he gently told you, on learning Russian. You gave yourself some hope that at least Jarvis was shipping you two.

You asked carefully if Clint had gone to bed. Jarvis confirmed that he and Steve had left the common floor about an hour ago. So, you headed out. The common room had that slightly spooky and deserted vibe of wide open spaces at night. It put you on edge immediately. It was probably the only reason that you even heard the lightest of noises from above your head.

You tensed immediately, flashing yourself to invisible on instinct. The most likely person to be hiding above the ceiling tiles was Clint and you’d rather fling yourself out the window at this point than encounter him. You waited frozen in place until you heard a specific hum and sigh and realised with sudden certainty that it was Natasha above you.

You looked up, barely breathing as you assessed where exactly the noise came from. You let yourself float upwards, two ceiling tiles over from where you estimated Natasha to be. 

You knocked once on the underside of the tile and heard the sharp intake of breath. She hadn’t been aware of your proximity below. You waited but there was no other response and so you pushed the ceiling tile up. 

It took a second to adjust to the lack of even moonlight in the smaller space, and then your gaze landed on Natasha. Her eyes stood out first, noticeably rimmed red with a bottle of vodka standing upright next to her. She, herself, was curled inwards and exuding tension. 

She looked vulnerable and it made your heart ache.

‘Get out.’ Natasha glared at you, her eyes sparking with viciousness and her tone too. You paused, not wanting to spook her, but not wanting to leave anyone alone like this. You took another chance, like a daredevil with a death wish. You crawled up and into the space, sitting a small distance away from her. 

She responded by kicking out at you, executing it well enough that it hurt like fuck. You swore under your breath. It didn’t dislodge you though. Probably not because of her secret wish for you to stay, but because the vodka bottle (which was large with cyrillic writing on the side) was nearly empty. If you’d drunk that much you wouldn’t have been conscious, let alone kicking.

As your eyes wandered over the vodka bottle, Natasha clenched the top of the bottle suddenly and said something. You weren’t a mind reader but you had a feeling it was a Russian variant of ‘Fuck off’. 

You didn’t say anything back, there didn’t seem to be any right words. It was like being near a wounded creature; the worst part was how scared the animal became when you tried to help. You could see her subtly trying to curl away from you even more in the tight space.

‘Natasha’ You murmured softly into the silence. 

‘You shouldn’t be here.’ She said tiredly, as if your continued presence was exhausting.

Her foot, which had reached out to kick you, was bare. Not knowing what else to do, you rested your hand tentatively on her ankle. 

‘I want to be here.’ You said a little firmly, ‘I don’t want to be anywhere else.’

Your eyes met and you felt immediately choked by her emotions. So did Natasha, a strange half gasp falling from her mouth. Like she was crying but she’d forgotten how to do it properly. 

You shuffled over, praying these ceiling tiles were built strong enough. More uneven gasps of air came from her, the clearest indicator that she really was crying. It took a second and you watched as her eyes filled with tears that didn’t fall yet. You took another chance, wrapping your arms around her and letting her awkwardly lean into your chest.

You were both hesitant, both of you uncertain with the affection. But then you felt hot tears soak through your t-shirt and you tried to stay steady as she convulsed with emotion against you. A lump formed in your throat and you wanted to cry too.

The overwhelming feeling of love and of gratitude that you had been here, that you had found her and she wasn’t up here crying alone. 

Natasha cried for a long time, time stalling up there in the ceiling as you held her.

Eventually, she pulled back slightly and you resisted her urge to hide her face from you. You gently touched her cheeks so that she faced you. You smiled softly, letting her eyes dart around nervously. You used the sleeve of your pyjama top to wipe the tear stains from her face. And then, when you saw her eyes close at your touch, you kissed her once softly on the forehead. 

Finally, you took her hand and intertwined your fingers.

‘Come on, let’s go to bed.’ 

Natasha just nodded, her eyes a little slow on reopening as the vodka buzz had likely only increased.

You popped another ceiling tile and slid out first, letting yourself hover half in and half out of the crawl space. Natasha’s eyes widened now, obviously having forgotten your ability.

‘I don’t think I can do that.’ She said confusedly and you could almost see her brain plowing through the inebriation to form sentences.

‘That’s okay, I’ve got you.’ You said encouragingly. Natasha looked at you doubtfully, but scooted her legs over the edge like she was sitting scared to get into a swimming pool. 

You floated closer, letting yourself have the fleeting thrill of being between her legs.

You leaned towards her and whispered.

‘Now, you have to hold on.’ 

Surprisingly obedient, Natasha’s arms wrapped loosely around you, resting on your shoulders. 

Softly, you let your hands touch her back. The internal battle of wariness and attraction that your touch elicited was, for once, on display in her expression. You held her gaze and without warning pulled her off the ledge, holding her to you. 

She curled tighter to you instinctively and swore into your hair. It was one of the hottest things that’d ever happened to you. 

You held her firmly and lowered yourself quickly to the ground. Slowing right down at the last second for the softest landing. Her legs had wrapped around your waist on the way down. There was a second when you waited for her to dismount, but she didn’t. 

Natasha looked at you with a drunken challenge in her eyes. Waiting for you to ask her to get off. You liked her way of regaining control, it was very attractive. 

You met her eyes and shrugged, letting yourself float back up and removing one hand from the centre of her back to return the ceiling tile back to its proper place. You felt her hands grip your shoulders more tensely with every second that you hovered there.

Finally, you let yourself float gently into the elevator. It probably felt to Natasha as if she was in a kind of waking dream. You could see her disorientation as you bobbed up and down a little in the air. You kept her close to the ground though, so she always had the choice to get off if she wanted to.

As you left the elevator on her floor, Natasha rested her face on your shoulder and you felt her hot breath rhythmically against your neck, both reassuring and beautiful in equal measures.

You only let her slide from your grip to fall back onto her bed. You enjoyed her slight reluctance at letting go.

‘I’m going to get you some water.’ You said quietly. She nodded, her eyes strangely far away. 

She drank a little water slowly, not enough to help the impact of the inevitable hangover tomorrow, but something. 

‘Do you need to pee?’ You asked, hoping she wouldn’t take it as an immediate direction. 

Natasha nodded again, lurching suddenly forward with none of the grace she usually had. She looked with fury at her own limbs, as if she couldn’t understand their ineptitude. Ironically, she was showing more coordination than anyone else at her level of inebriation, but her annoyance stayed comically large.

You guided her to the bathroom, hand on the small of her back. At the bathroom door Natasha looked at you confused.

‘Go pee.’ You reminded her, loving her look of enlightenment when she remembered her purpose. She didn’t bother shutting the door, which was reassuring in case she keeled over in there. You turned your back and stood there awkwardly. 

When Natasha was back sitting on the bed. You asked her if she wanted you to find her some pyjamas. She ignored your question like you hadn’t spoken, instead undoing her bra with incredible dexterity on drunken display. She stood up to kick off her workout pants. It left her standing in underwear that your eyes clung to like a magnet before you forced them back up. She smirked at you then and you felt something change markedly in the air.

Suddenly, her fingers were snaking up your shoulders and neck, tangling into your hair. Her mouth was on yours and you felt a burning aching running through you. Your hands reached to cup her face and when she deepened the kiss, you let her. The hot smokiness of it was intoxicating. Then she turned you in a move of practiced ease, so you were lying on the bed with her above you. 

The urge to stop her took over and you firmly broke the kiss. 

‘No.’

If someone told you that was the first time she’d ever heard the word, you would have believed it. Absolute disbelief showed on her face and there was arrogance in her shock that was heightened by the alcohol. One of her hands slid out from your hair, slinking softly down your body and trailing a daring path downward. Her eyes said ‘You’ll reconsider.’ 

You caught her wrist. Your words came out clear and firm.

‘You’re too important. I don’t want it to be like this.’

Natasha clearly didn’t know if this was rejection, the feeling bouncing in and out of her confused face. Then her expression abruptly shuttered to neutral while she took a minute to process, you gave it to her patiently.

‘Let’s sleep.’ She said in a scratchy voice, moving to the other side of the bed and turning away from you. You let the hand already circling her wrist follow her across the bed. The rest of you mirrored her position from a safe distance.

A long distance spoon, you thought a little morosely.

It only took a minute before Natasha moved back purposefully, bumping against you probably a little harder than she’d been intending. You wrapped her into your arms, moving your head only so the loose tendrils of her hair didn’t tickle your face.

She passed out into a deep sleep less than five minutes later. You followed soon after.

Part 3 - Sunglasses

The next morning, you woke up early. The curtains stayed open and you woke naturally with the bright sun. Natasha had stayed close against you all night and she seemed in the deepest of sleeps. You wondered if she had ever used alcohol as a cure to insomnia, if it was this effective you were surprised she didn’t use it more often.

You quietly asked Jarvis to shut the curtains, feeling her hangover in advance. When it got to 9am, Natasha gave a groan. You kissed her shoulder, feeling bad for her. You watched as one eye opened and then the other. Then they both screwed shut. For a supposedly secretive spy, it wasn’t hard to guess that this woman was experiencing a classic hangover. Natasha swore once in Russian, then in English.

‘Fucking Vodka.’

‘Fucking Clint.’ You said bitterly.

‘Ugh, I don’t need that image.’ She said dramatically. You kissed her shoulder again, and she leant back into it automatically. Then you felt the embarrassment wash through her and you knew she remembered last night. 

You avoided the elephant in the room deftly.

‘Let me get you some fresh water and painkillers’ You scooted off the bed. Natasha groaned again and called out after you.

‘The real Advil is taped under the sink.’

You didn’t let yourself wonder why the Avengers compound was not considered safe enough to just keep the Advil in the Advil bottle. 

When you brought the pills back, Natasha pulled herself into a sitting position and you moved some pillows behind her.

‘I’m not on my fucking death bed.’ The bite in her words came from the hangover. 

‘You could have fooled me.’ 

Only moving one arm, Natasha smacked you in the face with one of the pillows. You laughed. She put her finger to your lips, silencing the noise effectively. 

You went back to your rooms to get changed and when you came back through Natasha had done the same. 

Natasha was unashamedly wearing sunglasses indoors, looking as capable, confident and maybe even more dangerous than usual. You paused, pretending to size her up.

‘You know I’ve never actually seen Weekend at Bernie’s so you’re going to  have to tell me what to do with you.’

‘Bitch’ she said lightly, ‘Let’s get breakfast.’

Now you dragged your feet as she walked past you.

‘Maybe I should eat in my room and we could catch up later.’ You offered plainly.

Eyes shielded by the glasses and yet you still felt interrogated by Natasha’s stare.

‘Clint hates me, and he’s going to be there hating me.’ You blurted out feeling stupid. 

‘Clint doesn’t hate you. He just thinks that I will corrupt you and that you will ask too much of me. He thinks our friendship will end quickly and brutally.’ Natasha  spoke matter of factly, lazily stressing the word ‘friendship’ as if emphasising how behind the times Clint actually was. As if she hadn’t been drinking herself into oblivion about his predictions yesterday. 

‘Do you agree?’ 

‘You don’t ask for too much.’ She answered simply, but it felt powerful. ‘The rest…’ The sentence lingered. ‘Last night proved his point a few times.’

You laughed, for once feeling the less naive one.

‘I’ll let you know if corruption is on the horizon. Still think you’re pretty perfect actually.’

Natasha studied you from behind the sunglasses. You realised she was analysing your words like a human lie detector. Then, she gave a pointed sigh. You took her hand loosely, rubbing your thumb in small circles on her palm as you headed out. In the elevator she leaned into you, letting her head rest on your shoulder. It reminded you of last night, and you wondered if she remembered too.

The common room was bright and loud, Natasha was definitely more aware of this than you. It was a Saturday and Steve was cooking brunch. 

Really, it was just eggs and bacon. Steve seemed to get his calorific intake from like three food groups. Your hands dropped to your respective sides on the way in, but they brushed each other more than once as you walked over at a synchronised pace. You already felt more at home here. Just a few days and you were getting settled. 

Tony spotted the sunglasses first.

’Natalie’ he purred, for whatever reason using a wrong name to irritate her. ‘How did you have a wild night without leaving the building?’

‘We’ve started a sorority.’ Natasha declared without missing a beat, grabbing your hand. You already knew she was partly just trying to annoy Clint. It was working. His natural concern as the only one to identify her hangover symptoms faded and an unamused expression settled on his face.

‘Jarvis has been sworn to secrecy.’ You said, trying to back up her unexpected lie without letting your social awkwardness give it away.

‘Damn’ said Tony, looking genuinely disappointed. Meanwhile, Pepper took a broadsheet newspaper from Bruce who had just finished it. Tony turned to Pepper.

‘You’re a girl, you could join the sorority and get the gossip.’

‘Maybe I already have.’ Pepper said dryly, keeping her attention on the news.

You watched Clint surreptitiously through breakfast and tried to get an accurate perspective, like he, himself, was famous for. You thought his shift in attitude towards you and Natasha had moved now to somewhere between concern, discomfort and even jealousy. He avoided eye contact with either of you, but there was a slight twitch in his temple whenever you spoke up in the group. 

Natasha was not helping this. Even you could tell that the sorority joke, which had led to Natasha sitting on your lap whilst eating her eggs, was a metaphorical middle finger to any advice Clint had tried to give her yesterday. 

Suddenly, as you watched him with his head down robotically shovelling egg into his mouth, you were aware that Clint was the only one here who had really seen Natasha before. He was the only person in this room who had truly gained her trust. And now, she was acting out of character, even hostile, just a few days after your arrival. He was just looking out for her and his misdirection was only from miscommunication.

You ate your bacon as fast as you could.

As soon as you even thought about standing up, Natasha sensed your shift and moved off your lap mid-conversation with Pepper. You slipped out and she sat back down on the breakfast stool. You turned to Google for help with your plan, eyes glued to your smartphone as you entered the kitchen space. You were so focused that you felt yourself go invisible and just let it happen.

At one point you heard Bruce comment.

‘That’s kind of freaky.’

‘They’re kind of freaky.’ muttered Clint. You paused for a moment before brushing it off. He wasn’t wrong after all. 

You always moved faster when invisible, as if people’s eyes slowed you down without you realising. 

You cleaned the surface tops as the batch of cookies baked. You’d made enough for at least a dozen hungry people, which felt both alarming and like the right instinct given the audience. 

You turned visible when the timer told you that the cookies were ready. Pepper had been moving toward the coffee machine and she gasped and jumped at your reappearance.

‘Shit, sorry.’ 

She waved you off immediately with an expression that said it would be weirder in this place if you weren’t occasionally scaring her. 

You glanced over to the rest of them, who were looking at Pepper in amusement. Only Natasha’s sunglasses were directed at you. You wondered if she was half as frustrated when you turned invisible as you were being unable to see her eyes.

You took the largest serving dish from the cabinet and stacked the cookies in a giant pyramid. They were chocolate chip cookies and had that slightly gooey texture which you liked the most.

‘There you go.’ You announced proudly as you turned and put the dish down in front of Clint. The surprise was clear in his and everyone’s eyes.

‘You try one first.’ You said encouragingly 

He eyed you suspiciously. ‘They poisoned?’

‘No, perfectly safe and I’m hoping you like them.’ You answered straightforwardly, purposefully ignoring the implied distrust in the name of building bridges.

Bruce’s hand wandered over to grab one and Clint smacked it away with expected precision. He held your eye as he picked one up and took a bite.

Then, he closed his eyes and made the most inappropriate groaning noise that a person could make at 11am in a shared space.

‘Fuck.’ He elongated the word for emphasis. He glanced at everyone sitting to his right, all of them eyeing both him and his cookies.

There was a half-beat and then Clint started to rapidly shove cookie after cookie into his mouth. Bruce lunged for a handful. Passing them back to the others before diving in again. Soon, everyone was making inappropriate noises.

‘Fanks’ Clint said to you a few minutes later, spraying a mouthful of crumbs as he prioritised chewing over air or words. You looked down at the serving plate, it looked like several wild animals had taken out most of the cookies, leaving crumbs across the counter top. 

You smiled carefully back. ‘You’re welcome.’

It wasn’t friendship but you both had exchanged white flags. 

Natasha was eating the cookies with more enthusiasm than Steve’s eggs, which she kept glaring at, as if their smell was trying to offend her. She looked between you and Clint carefully before giving you a secret smile that no one else saw.

You felt your phone buzz unexpectedly in your pocket. You paused, staring at the screen, it was Ella from reception.

‘The front desk is calling (Y/N)’ Jarvis said, trying to be helpful.

You remembered the pair of receptionists you’d met yesterday and answered the phone readily.

You laughed immediately when you heard Ella doing a faux professional voice. 

‘There’s a mysterious package down here for one Hot New Avenger.’

‘If that’s just a bad chat up line and I come all the way down there. I’m going to be pissed.’

‘Oh please, you know if you come then you won’t be disappointed.’ You laughed, a little uncomfortable at her double meaning and ended the call.

‘Got a date waiting?’ asked Tony, smirking.

‘Nah’ You said easily, ‘My online order finally arrived. It’s waiting at the front desk’.

You grabbed a tupperware container and put the last few cookies in before sealing it. 

‘Why are you stealing my cookies?’ asked Clint dramatically. You grinned at him with new affection.

‘The reception staff are a lot more fun than you lot, I wanna get in their good books.’

Tony smirked ‘Are you going to add that hot blonde on the desk into your sleepover club?’

‘No, you need at least two brain cells to join.’ Natasha said blandly, eyes still obscured by the sunglasses. Clint flinched a little at her neutral tone and that was probably a very bad sign.

You weren’t sure if you’d been inappropriate on the phone, if Natasha’s reaction was fair or anything else. You tried not to think that you liked it, not when Ella might actually be murdered.

‘Hot blonde, huh?’ Said Bruce thoughtfully, elbowing Steve not so subtly under the table. Steve looked confused and asked ‘Didn’t you say she had four grandchildren on three continents?’ 

You waved a hand at him 

‘No that’s the other receptionist, Rosemary. Ella’s the-’ 

You actually felt Natasha’s glare through the sunglasses this time. 

‘-the blonde.’ You finished lamely. They were both actually technically blonde, so this was utterly unhelpful, but you were not going to say ‘hot’.

‘I can head down with you, I don’t think I’ve met her then.’ said Bruce, a little too enthusiastic to be either attractive or funny. 

Pepper’s phone started to ring next to her on the countertop and she picked it up but didn’t answer yet. She took a dramatic pause and looked around the room before speaking.

‘No man is going to go down to that desk to start harassing staff members. Don’t flatter yourselves, there will be a lawsuit.’ She then answered the phone, walking across to the large windows as she launched into a speech in rapid French.

Clint shrugged. ‘I only wanted to steal back some of the cookies.’ He grabbed another from the remaining pile in front of him as if to prove his point. 

Being typically Steve, he both avoided the awkwardness left in Pepper’s wake and saved Bruce too. Asking him pointedly about the very boring science book that Bruce had been reading the night before, clearly feigning an interest that Bruce latched onto.

Tony looked like he couldn’t care less as he perused Pepper’s laptop whilst she wandered. But you could see the half smirk that revealed his satisfaction that Pepper had particularly directed her ‘No man.’ speech at him. He clearly enjoyed her jealousy like a guilty pleasure.

‘I can be the chaperone,’ was all Natasha said, rising from her seat as you walked around the counter with your tupperware. Unlike Tony, you definitely didn’t yet have the confidence to enjoy her jealousy. You started to feel like you were in a hostage situation when she decided to walk just a half-step behind you.

You prayed that even if Jarvis couldn’t disobey Tony’s inevitable request to watch the front desk’s security cameras, maybe Pepper would be a deterrent if she caught him asking. 

When you both entered the lobby, there were Rosemary, Ella and a different security guard at the door. They turned collectively to face you as you walked over. Ella’s anticipation was pretty obvious. The others’ apprehension at the sight of Black Widow was even clearer, it was only Ella who was not so put off.

She gestured to the parcel in front of her. It was warped and large.

‘Must be something heavy you’ve ordered.’ She stated the obvious. The parcel didn’t look much like a pile of books, but it must have felt like it.

‘Yup’ You said, trying to stay breezy and get out of here fast. ‘Thanks for letting me know, I thought we could do an exchange.’ You held up the tupperware box of cookies.

Rosemary’s eyes lit up at the social normalcy, no longer eyeing Natasha in wary concern.

‘Oh, how sweet.’ Her hand reached to take the box of cookies.

Ella moved to block it, raising an eyebrow at you and ignoring Natasha altogether.

‘Can we choose what we exchange?’ She smirked.

‘Of course.’ You said tightly, wishing she would read the room and also not being sure how anyone could read Natasha right now with the sunglasses on.

Now, Ella turned to face Natasha.

‘Do you mind covering my shift and maybe I can walk around with (Y/N) for a bit?’ Her words were light as air, the joke abundantly clear. No one in their right mind would ask the Black Widow to do that. It was ballsy enough to joke about it. 

You waited for someone to die.

Natasha smiled and anyone would have thought it was genuinely good natured.

‘Okay.’ she said sunnily, moving her sunglasses smoothly up on her head.

‘Oh, no, I was just kidding.’ Ella assured her with some alarm. The horror was only beginning to dawn on her as Natasha moved around to take her place behind the reception desk.

Natasha just smiled again.

‘It’s okay, I’m happy to.’ She spoke like a different person. It was an unnerving thing to see her act so well. She gestured for Ella to leave her desk, which she did dumbly. 

‘I like your computer.’ Natasha said nicely, typing in the password as if it was her own.

Ella just made an ‘Um’ noise and threw you a look of panic which you met with a resigned one. 

‘Natasha.’ You said quietly.

The keys stopped clacking and Natasha looked up brightly.

‘Are you going to take that upstairs then?’ She nodded at the parcel and then went back to the computer that wasn’t hers.

Rosemary spoke next. You were startled to realise how comfortable she seemed, totally bought in by Natasha’s new persona.

‘Did you bake the cookies, Natasha?’ She asked motherly.

‘I wish.’ Natasha said earnestly, not looking up from her rapid scrolling on Ella’s laptop. ‘I’m always looking to learn more about baking.’

Rosemary lunged on this topic with delight, clearly enjoying having an eager listener who hadn’t heard her thoughts on the art of baking before. 

Ella turned to you, her pained expression telling you enough about how deeply uncomfortable she was with the way Natasha had accessed her computer and thrown her joke so off course.

‘Should we?’ She looked at the parcel, clearly anticipating that the faster she could get it up to your room, the faster she could return to her desk. Natasha’s manipulation was extremely effective. Ella was never coming near you again after today.

This was proven further with the excruciating silence of your elevator journeys both up and down from your room.

When you returned to the lobby, Natasha was no longer at Ella’s desk. She stood instead, looking over Rosemary’s shoulder, and making the right interested noises as Rosemary narrated the many framed photos that stood on her desk. She glanced over at you both as you arrived, assessing your moods correctly and with satisfaction. You knew Natasha was savouring a feeling of victory. 

As Ella headed hesitantly towards the desk, Natasha moved back around to your side. 

She didn’t look over at you as you walked together back to the elevator. She gave a little wave to Rosemary over her shoulder. You could feel her awaiting your reaction, a bounce in her step showing her anticipation for how her stunt had gone down.

You only spoke when you were looking at the inside of the elevator doors.

‘I can physically feel how smug you are.’ 

She smirked delightedly. You indulged in her evilness and continued deadpan.

‘Criminal mastermind. I dread to think what you did to her computer.’

Natasha looked gleeful at the memory but didn’t elaborate. You didn’t tell her that you thought she’d have been more violent, even though you had.

‘I thought the sunglasses would be a permanent fixture today.’ You admitted. ‘You’ve recovered admirably but you definitely looked hot with them on.’

Natasha’s smile turned into something softer and this time she took your hand, swinging your linked fingers gently between you. 

‘Make sure to take me somewhere sunny then.’

‘It’s a date.’

[please-destroy]

Perfectly Made

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 5k

.

Perfect, technically means to be without flaws. But, the thing about flaws is that they’re subjective.

When you looked at the bullet wound scar on Natasha’s abdomen, you felt like your chest was being crushed. It hurt because she had been hurt. Every time your lips passed over it, you made a point to kiss the marked skin.

Because, Natasha was still perfect.

.

Everyone at Shield thought that Agent Romanoff was flawless. You’d spent your time with the agency hearing stories of missions. The tales were half legend, but the biggest rumour was that all the stories were true.

You pretended it was professional jealousy that left you breathless when you passed her in the corridors. You were rising fast at Shield, but Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff walked through the base like they owned it. Deep down you liked her confidence, she’d earned it.

Then, there was the accident. A broken wrist, Fury had told you. Someone had known exactly how to remove Agent Barton from action. Files were slid across the desk to you, Avengers Initiative, Temporary Placement.

There’d been briefings after briefings. You didn’t need hours of discussion to understand their point. Agent Romanoff couldn’t lose mission preparedness. You were going to be the knock off Clint, the stand in for training and any standard missions until his return.

Your heart thumped with anticipation and fear as you were led through the Avengers Training Facility. Agent Hill’s hand had pressed lightly between your shoulder blades as she nudged you forwards into the gym.

You’d stumbled slightly before catching your stride. You felt like a kid at the playpark, told to go and make a new friend. You walked over to the treadmill hesitantly. You didn’t announce your presence, you knew she could hear your footsteps. She didn’t stop running, she didn’t even glance over.

‘Agent Romanoff.’ You tried after a moment. Her eyes moved across to you but her pace didn’t lessen.

‘Yes?’ The single word had bite. You only felt the sting of it until you noticed her eyes. Wariness filled them, unadulterated in a way that surprised you.

The silence lingered as you suddenly understood the real mission. Agent Barton wasn’t just the best partner for Agent Romanoff at Shield, he was also the only one she’d ever had.

You were both awkward kids pushed together at the playpark. You’d seen the apprehension in her eyes, and now, you could see right through the rest of the mask.

She wanted you to like her too.

You hopped onto the neighbouring treadmill and got started.

.

There was something about walking back to your new apartment suite with Natasha that settled the pair of you. Maybe it was being exhausted and sweaty in front of your hero and secret crush. Or, it was the smile that had crept onto Natasha’s face as you’d asked her about some of the missions you’d heard so many stories about.

When you turned to enter your apartment, Natasha touched your shoulder briefly. You startled, her fingers feeling pleasantly cool on your skin, still hot from the workout.

‘I’m the next door on the right.’ She informed you and, again, you saw the tentativeness radiating from her. ‘Let’s talk later?’

.

You ended up spending the evening sitting together on her sofa. The conversation flowed well but you were definitely making an effort. You posed each question gently, unsure which one might be too intrusive. Natasha answered everything with a raised eyebrow, as if she couldn’t believe you cared enough to ask. Her hesitations and careful answers were endearing. Sometimes, in the brief pauses, you saw her eyes flicker over you. You knew she was waiting for the interest to die down, trying to assess what part of her you were really interested in.

.

It took most of the evening until you even thought to ask for something to drink. It was the first time that Natasha had looked really flummoxed by a question.

‘Check the fridge.’ She said, like the contents were as much a mystery to her as to you. You got up to check and found an empty appliance, save for two water bottles and a bag of apples. Uncertainty swung like a pendulum inside you.

You took a water bottle and sat back down next to her. Real Housewives of Somewhere played needlessly on the television.

‘Are you not hungry?’ You asked your most tentative question as you unscrewed the bottle cap.

‘I’ll pick something up later.’ Natasha had replied with a perfectly timed yawn and a sudden reason to say goodnight. As you walked back to your room, you knew one more unsaid thing about Natasha.

Agent Barton had been doing the cooking.

.

The next morning when you met Natasha at the gym, you brought reinforcements. You waved at her with a friendliness that was still a little preemptive. Her returning smile was careful.

You held her gaze when you thrust the energy bar into her hand without a word - too busy chewing on one of your own.

You’d bought apple flavoured. You hated apples, but Natasha had given few context clues and the bag of fruit you’d found in her fridge was all you had.

Natasha’s smile widened when she took a bite.

. »

You were part of the Avengers Initiative for exactly three months.

Each day for exactly three months, you accidentally made too much dinner. Each evening, for exactly three months, you had to knock on your neighbour's door and offer her some leftovers.

It took the full 12 weeks for you to become remotely accustomed to the taste of apple oat bars.

You became accustomed to a lot of things.

The quiet focus of Natasha in the morning training sessions. The way that her hair curled slightly when you sparred well enough for her to sweat in the hot gym.

The way her head rested on your shoulder as you watched TV. Placed lightly at first, as if the gesture always needed your permission to continue. Then, heavier and heavier as you both sank together into a comfortable position on the sofa.

You were even used to her texts now. Ones that referenced American pop culture so adeptly that, sometimes, you’d have to use Google to understand them. The way she mentioned your private jokes over the comms at the worst points on missions, reminding you that she knew you and that she had your back.

When you first met Clint, he shook your hand like an old friend.

When he caught sight of Natasha coming along the corridor, you watched his shoulders loosen with the release of tension. He squeezed your hand one last time before letting it go.

If you hadn’t known Natasha like you did, you’d have felt like a cat sitter who’d done a good job.

You turned away for their reunion, leaving to pack up the best 12 weeks of your life and return to a normal life that would always feel disappointing now.

Half an hour later, there was a knock at your door. You opened it, wondering if this was going to be like a moment in a movie.

Your heart leapt automatically, Natasha was standing in the doorway. Then you felt the confusion spread through you as you took in the large cardboard box, balanced against her waist. The branding on the side was familiar.

‘The largest I could find was a box of 200.’ Natasha told you succinctly. Your head tilted in confusion and she continued promptly.

‘For all those breakfasts.’ Natasha thrust the box out towards you. ‘Thanks for always offering me your second energy bar.’

Natasha’s smile was genuine, her eyes were oblivious. You didn’t move to take the box.

‘I don’t even like apples.’ You said stupidly. Natasha’s lips parted in shock, you saw confusion cross her face.

You leaned over the cardboard box. You felt her breath against your face when she huffed out in surprise. You were impossibly close.

Your lips found hers, feeling the same tenderness in your stomach as you did with every touch she’d ever given you.

She was soft, warm and perfect.

‘I just like you.’ You told her, finally.

.

You never moved out of that apartment. Temporary placement became Avenger In Training.

You never stopped cooking for Natasha either. Except, now you didn’t have to pretend it was all accidental leftovers. Now, you planned for dinner every night. You weren’t an expert cook by any means. For the first few months, you worried more than anything that she’d get sick of the repetitiveness of your recipes. You could only make so much spaghetti.

But, there was something about the days when you’d get word of Natasha returning from a mission. When she’d open her own front door with a nervous expectation that maybe this time you wouldn’t be waiting for her.

The way your eyes would lock onto each other and she’d take the few steps across the room, burying her face into the crook of her neck and letting your arms wrap around her.

‘It’s good to be home.’ Natasha would mumble, and you’d feel a swoop at her words because you knew she didn’t mean her apartment.

‘What smells so good?’ She’d ask, and you’d feel her lips moving against your skin more than you could hear the words.

Then, you’d grin and say, like always.

‘It’s either me or the lasagne.’

Natasha would kiss your collarbone and you’d kiss her hair.

Even when she fell asleep on the sofa before the food was ready, it still felt perfect.

.

It was Clint who must have spilled the secret about your cooking. Soon, the Avengers - who you’d barely even been in a room with before - began dropping by Natasha’s apartment every evening. It felt like adopting a group of appreciative strays.

Sometimes, you remembered how untouchable Natasha and Clint had seemed when you’d first joined Shield. Now you sat alongside superheroes at the dinner table and saw how much they all longed for company and home cooked food.

You didn’t complain about it, but the effort required for cooking also increased significantly. Soon, the dread of making dinner filled you up more than food ever could. You adapted the recipes you knew, adding x10 to most of the ingredients. Every evening, your kitchen felt more like a school cafeteria than it had the night before.

The only part you loved was Natasha’s quiet enjoyment of your company. Each night, Natasha returned from training earlier than the night before. Soon, her reasons for being early became less and less thought out. Soon, she didn’t bother with an excuse at all.

You’d hear the front door shut, and feel her arms snake around your front as she pressed against you, barely hindering your chopping or dicing. Her breath would tickle your neck as she rested her chin on your shoulder peacefully, watching you work.

.

Your comment that night had been offhanded, otherwise you wouldn’t have said it.

Tony had brought you a cooking apron with the Iron Chef America logo emblazoned on the front. Stark Industries had taken to sponsoring most ‘Iron’ themed things and this had clearly been part of the latest promotional campaign. He smirked as you put it on good naturedly.

‘Perfect.’ He declared. You made an ironic model’s pose with a pair of oven gloves already on your hands. Tony laughed loudly.

‘You’ll never leave the kitchen again.’ He declared.

You rolled your eyes in playful frustration.

‘I never do as it is.’

Tony turned then, spotting Natasha as she leaned against the bedroom door frame. You glanced at the ground, feeling a wave of shyness as you realised Natasha’s attention had been openly on you.

‘You’d better start pulling your weight, Nat.’ He warned with a tease.

Only you saw the flicker of uncertainty in Natasha’s eyes.

.

You didn’t think any more of it until the next evening. Natasha arrived at her apartment with a smug grin on her face and a paper bag in her hand.

‘Takeout.’ She announced, placing the bag unceremoniously on the coffee table, before throwing herself down next to you on the sofa.

‘I gave Clint the rest, the vultures can circle his apartment for once.’

She grinned at you, obviously pleased with her solution. You threw your head back against the sofa dramatically, surprised at the relief you felt. You’d never been a regular cook. But, it’d been six months since you’d started dating Natasha and, apart from a handful of dates when you’d both found time to leave the Avengers facility, you’d cooked dinner every day.

A sigh left your mouth and you closed your eyes for a second, revelling in the moment. Then, you turned your head to the side, catching Natasha’s eyes and reaching out a hand to hold hers.

‘Thank you.’ You told her, voice laced with obvious gratitude.

Natasha’s expression looked suddenly conflicted.

‘Do you like cooking?’ She asked quietly, her face consciously wiped clean of any hints of her own emotion. An awkward tension filled the room at once. You rubbed your thumb in circles on the back of her hand.

‘I don’t mind.’ You answered after a moment, trying for something close to the truth, though the words still tasted like a lie on your tongue.

.

After you’d eaten your fill of the takeout. Natasha put her hand on your thigh.

‘I’ll take care of tomorrow’s dinner.’ She informed you, matter of factly. You grinned, feeling seen and loved all in one heady rush.

‘What time should I come over?’ You asked with excitement.

‘Maybe you should just stop leaving.’ She mumbled, crawling onto your lap and tilting your chin up towards her with a single finger.

You stayed that night at her place and every night after.

.

You thought the repeat of takeout the next night was only because you’d both spent most of the day packing up your stuff. Then, before you knew it, a week had passed and you’d tried cuisine from seven different countries already.

You didn’t know how to tell Natasha that, for you, ‘taking care of dinner’ didn’t equate to ‘ordering in some food’.

The other Avengers took the change of circumstances with limited annoyance, returning without complaint to their past diet of food from the staff cafeteria and their own takeout preferences.

.

It took two more weeks before you brought it up to Natasha. There was a new pride in her demeanour and you knew how entangled her happiness was with your own.

You had moved in. Now, she was keeping you fed.

You loved her for the way she cared about you. It made you feel safe and whole.

Every night, Natasha took you into the bed that was now yours to share. She touched you reverently, her fingers slow and lingering. Each brush of her lips thanking you for staying another night with her.

.

‘I know you’re busy.’ You started nervously, picking the rushed morning as your best moment to bring up the conversation you’d been nervous about.

Natasha’s back was facing you, but she slowed her movements immediately. Her head tilted as she waited for your next words, fingers still dragging her tank top past her midriff.

‘I don’t want to be an inconvenience.’ You tried again, losing your train of thought at the most inopportune time when you caught sight of her fingers trailing slowly down her bare waist.

‘You want to leave.’ Natasha answered for you. Her tone was neutral but her voice cracked. ‘You can just say so. It’s not been working out.’

There was a pause as her words registered.

‘Oh, Natasha.’ You murmured at the realisation of what she’d been expecting from you.

Natasha turned around then, eyes bright with tears that she was too proud to let fall.

‘It’s okay.’ She told you, even though her mouth was twisting with hurt. ‘I know I’m not easy to live with.’

You moved around the bed, the tiny tremble in her lower lip compelling you closer to her.

‘It’s okay.’ She repeated. ‘It’s okay.’ Her voice broke again but she kept repeating the words, mumbling more each time.

Your hand pressed slowly against her abdomen, calling her back to you. Natasha stopped speaking abruptly, avoiding your eye contact determinedly.

‘You are perfect.’ You told her seriously, Natasha’s eyes closed at your words and you could feel how much she wanted to believe you.

You kissed her carefully and lightly, trying to tell her how much you wanted her all the time. Your fingers trailed up the back of her neck, tangling in her hair.

‘How could I not want to live with you?’ You murmured against her lips. Natasha kissed you fervently, her hand on your waist holding on just a little too tight.

.

‘I just had an idea.’ You told her as you headed to the elevator a few minutes later, both feeling late enough to hurry your matching strides.

‘Maybe next week, we could take turns cooking?’ You suggested hesitantly. ‘If you don't have time though, I don't mind -’

You watched many emotions slide across Natasha’s face, reflected on the elevator doors that faced you.

‘Let me start.’ Natasha told you a moment later, voice full of resolve. ‘I’ll make you something special on Monday night.’

You couldn’t help but beam at her offer, interlacing your fingers with hers.

‘I’m planning on going grocery shopping on Sunday.’ You started to say, playing at shy. ‘Want to carpool?’

Natasha’s returning smile was small but genuine.

.

You’d anticipated no more than an hour at the grocery store. You walked separately to Natasha, at her own insistence. Still, before you headed to the checkout, you sought her out. You spotted her, still near the front of the store, head bent as she stood, engrossed in her phone screen.

You stilled when you noticed the tell tale markers that she normally never displayed in public. The piece of hair she was twisting between her thumb and forefinger. The furrowed brow, her jaw clenched with silent frustration.

You watched silently as she turned to another customer, showing them something on her phone. They gestured to the products on the shelf, clearly explaining something. Natasha nodded and, for once, you saw the clear exhaustion that she usually kept so well hidden.

It was the same tiredness you’d occasionally seen in the lines of her more careful smiles; a painful self awareness that she didn’t fit quite right in a situation. You hoped desperately that being with you didn’t feel like another role she had to play.

.

It was rare for you to return to the apartment after Natasha. But, on Monday, when you opened the door, it seemed like she might have been there all day.

The dishes stacked in the sink were almost comical. Natasha’s hair was tied up, strands falling out of the messy bun. The heat of the kitchen seemed to have made her more dishevelled than any workout ever had. Natasha still looked perfect.

‘You’re back.’ She called out softly as she spotted you hovering. Any nervousness you had, slipped away at the ease of Natasha’s smile.

‘I’m back.’ You confirmed brightly, heading around the kitchen island. ‘What smells so good?’ Now, Natasha’s smile really went wide.

‘It’s either me or the lasagne.’ She told you with mock solemnity, holding her serious expression until you’d thoroughly kissed it from her face.

‘I love you.’ You told her.

Natasha’s expression stumbled in surprise, her hand reached out to your chest as if bracing from the shock. Then, she regained herself. Her fingers slipped under your shirt and she pulled you closer with a tug on the fabric.

‘Yeah?’ Natasha teased, a blinding brightness to her smile. ‘Well, maybe I love you too.’

.

You felt like you were flying. You didn’t come down to Earth until long after you’d finished the meal. The lasagne was delicious. Natasha smiled gently at your praise, quieter than usual. You loved her distractedness, knowing her mind was still focused on your earlier words. Her hand rested on your thigh whilst you ate.

Natasha moved to deal with the stack of dishes as soon as you’d finished eating. You decided to take the plentiful leftovers over to Clint’s. It was still early, and you thought you might catch the others before they called in their takeout orders.

Clint answered his door with his usual smile. You held out the dish, letting it speak for itself. Clint’s eyes lit up immediately.

‘I love your lasagne.’ He told you seriously. You smirked, wondering if you’d ever hear the word ‘love’ again without feeling at least a small jolt of joy.

‘It’s Natasha’s actually.’ You informed him. Clint laughed.

‘No, it’s not.’ He dismissed you with certainty.

‘Yes.’ You insisted, feeling suddenly defensive of your girlfriend.

‘Jarvis.’ Clint called to the ceiling, knowing how to prove his case. ‘Did anyone receive a food delivery today?’

.

You walked back to your apartment, a little shell shocked. You caught sight of Natasha from the doorway, cleaning the last of the dishes. She rolled her eyes playfully at you, glancing down at the large plate in her hands.

Dishes she hadn’t even used.

The meal had been delivered twenty minutes before you’d arrived home. Natasha had barely kept it warm in the oven.

.

You couldn’t tell her you knew. You tried not to dwell on the lie. More than anything, you were confused.

You took her up to the roof, hoping that seeing the stars together would keep the night as special as it had felt before you spoke to Clint.

Natasha wore your sweater. Her eyes seemed so large when they faced the night’s sky.

She was extra quiet, sensing your mood and trying to match it, even if she didn’t understand what was wrong.

Her smile was nervous when she dragged her eyes away from the stars and back to you. She played with the sleeve of the sweater.

Natasha was still perfect. She always would be.

You remembered your faith in her. You realised that you’d accidentally built the role that she’d started to play. You wanted to tell her that she was perfect for who she was, not who she was trying to be.

Instead, you found a piece of the lightness that you knew Natasha was trying so hard to have.

‘I love you to the stars and back.’ You told her, letting your easy smile wash away the doubts in her eyes.

.

The consequences of small lies really begin when they start to spiral. You promised Natasha that you wanted to get back into cooking again. You knew she didn’t believe you, you knew she saw through it. Still, she nodded neutrally at your words.

You both pretended that the meal times felt the same as they had before. You were overcompensating, playing music as you cooked and trying out new recipes.

Natasha was retreating. Her hands barely brushed your shoulders each evening when she returned to find you cooking.

You’d never been inauthentic with her. But now there was a falseness at the dinner table that you couldn’t control. Natasha started coming home later.

Worse were the days when she’d text you, telling you she was going to eat something with Clint instead. She didn’t invite you and you didn’t assume an invitation. Natasha was pulling away, and neither of you addressed the weird elephant in the room.

How can you tell someone they're perfect, when they’ve tried so hard to hide their flaws from you.

.

Natasha’s discomfort was obvious from the way she stood in the bedroom doorway. Not entering or leaving. You were already in bed, she’d stayed late at Clint’s. Things felt lonely.

‘Thursday is Thanksgiving.’ She told you.

‘Yes, it is.’ You said, looking up from your laptop. You wondered if Natasha felt the same awful anticipation in her stomach. The lingering fear that your relationship couldn’t sustain itself much longer, the inability to divert the train from its tracks.

‘Clint wants you to meet his family.’ Her words were unexpected. You wondered if her wording had been intentional or accidental.

‘And, what do you want?’ You clarified, your voice filled with the caution that you’d never had with Natasha until recently.

‘We should go.’ She answered indirectly, leaving to get ready in the bathroom. You lay your head back against your pillow. You saw the writing on the wall, this wasn’t going to last the holidays.

On Wednesday night, you came back to the messiest apartment you’d ever seen. Your eyes widened in shock at the sight of Natasha in the kitchen. The facade of the last meal she’d ‘cooked’ was obvious in comparison to this.

‘Laura asked us to make brownies.’ Natasha told you briefly, meeting your curious expression with a flat one of her own. There was a tray of batter in her hand. The slight burning smell in the room told you it wasn’t her first attempt.

‘I can-’ You started, taking a step forward.

‘No.’ Natasha told you, with a bite that her words rarely had with you. Her expression was miserable and fierce all at once. ‘It’s fine.’

You retreated to the bedroom. You pretended to be asleep when Natasha finally came to bed. You waited until her breathing had evened out before you snuck back through to the kitchen.

You found the brownies still in their tray. Your nose wrinkled automatically at the smell.

2 hours later and you’d made a decent batch. You took Natasha’s attempt out to the trash.

You hated yourself in that moment.

It didn’t matter to you, and yet, you knew it mattered to her. You were helping to cover up the flaws that you didn’t even see.

You left the kitchen exactly as you found it and went back to bed.

.

The next morning, with both of you dressed and ready, you stood with your heart in your mouth as Natasha took out the tray of brownies.

With one cursory glance at the tray, Natasha slammed it down on the counter, making you jump.

‘I’m sorry.’ You started, but your words were lost to Natasha’s.

‘I’m not fucking stupid.’ She told you and you saw her hands clench.

‘I never said you were.’ You retorted, feeling your own frustration bubble up.

‘Well, you obviously think so.’ Natasha's voice rose in volume but the vulnerability in it made her sound small.

‘I’m not stupid.’ She said again, and you saw the tears filling her eyes. ‘I can learn a language in less than a week. I have perfect fucking aim. But no-one taught me how to do this.’

Her arm raised to gesture at the tray of brownies.

‘It doesn’t matter.’ You murmured quietly. ‘How can you think that it matters to me?’

You caught that secret exhaustion of hers in the resigned sigh that came before her words.

‘How can I not?’ Natasha muttered, avoiding your eyes and picking up the tray. ‘It’s just another piece of me that doesn’t fit.’

She moved towards the door and your hand caught her arm. Her eyes met your own and it stung like electricity.

‘We should talk about this.’ You said, voice cracking. Your eyes burned with tears.

‘You should stay.’ Natasha told you, and just like that, you realised she was really saying goodbye. You watched the door close behind her, standing there dumbly.

.

Clint texted you when Natasha left their house.

Foul mood unless the kids were there, was his glowing review of her visit.

You were too nervous to sit down. You shifted from foot to foot, wondering if you should have just packed up your belongings and left. You knew that’s what she was expecting.

You tried to reassure yourself with the memory of Natasha and the box of cereal bars. You glanced at the kitchen counter, wishing you’d cleaned it up properly. You picked up the apron that was strewn across the island in the middle.

Your heart stopped when you heard her unlock the door.

At first, when Natasha saw you standing there, her face held the same expression as it did when she returned from missions. Hopeful and relieved. Something settled automatically in your chest.

Then, her gaze dropped to the apron and you saw her mouth twist with the repressed hurt. The memory of the morning.

‘Oh, no.’ You mumbled immediately, feeling hurried by the strange embarrassment you felt. ‘Obviously, this isn’t for you.’

Natasha’s hand stopped you in your tracks. You froze at her expression and realised she’d heard an insult not a clarification.

‘Why?’ Natasha asked, voice rasping. ‘Are you trying to make a fucking point?’

‘No.’ You tried to assure her, crumpling the fabric in your hand, wishing you’d planned this better. ‘I heard what you said earlier.’

Natasha’s head tilted and you knew she didn’t believe you. You stopped trying to say the right thing and, instead, all the words you felt fell from your mouth.

‘I never wanted you to be anyone but yourself.’ You blurted out. Now, Natasha’s expression froze, leaving only the wariness in her eyes as she waited for you to continue.

‘I don’t care if you can cook.’ You started. ‘Do you really think I’m here, measuring you against some secret expectations?’ Natasha looked confused. You dropped the apron and took her hands instead.

‘The more of you that I get to see, the more you stand there waiting for me to leave. But, that’s not what I want.’ You mumbled, looking away for the first time as you tried to fight tears. Everything you cared about hung in the balance. ‘You said that you don’t fit sometimes. But you do. You fit. We fit.’

There was a moment, as Natasha registered your words.

.

Carefully, Natasha moved forwards. She buried her face in the crook of your neck. Your arms wrapped around her like so many times before. The sudden relief burned in your chest. This was still familiar. You were still her home.

‘I’ll always think you’re perfect, Natasha.’ You whispered as your lips kissed her hair.

[please-destroy]

Pieces Into Place

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count 5k

.

Sophomore year of college was not going to plan and it hadn’t even started yet.

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. 

Your first kiss was perfect. The night air was cold, but Natasha’s arms were around you. She tasted like cinnamon. You felt like you were flying.

[please-destroy]

Falling Into It

Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

.

Sometimes, people get confused between embarrassment and shame.

Embarrassment is a reddened cheeks, eyes to the floor and a faltering laugh kind of feeling. It’s when you walk past Natasha and feel her eyes on you. It’s losing your train of thought whenever she enters the room.

Shame is the permanent lump in your throat. It is the worry that someone else will notice the way you look at her. It is knowing that you might only be welcome in your home because you are pretending.

-

You first visited the Avengers Compound because you had become friends with Wanda. You’d been hesitant to accept her invite, only saying yes when you noticed how nervous she was to ask.

That evening, you’d found yourself sharing takeout with the whole team in the living room, accidentally encroaching on a post-mission celebration. You’d never settled into a group of friends so seamlessly. It was like walking into a world upside down. The boring, everyday details of your life filled the others with fascination.

Steve asked follow up questions to every story you shared. 

Tony told you jokes about the other Avengers, like you were an old friend. 

Wanda looked at you like she was so glad to have brought you.

Clint asked if you had a boyfriend and you avoided the question.

Then Natasha had walked in, delayed by her mission debrief, and it had physically hurt to see someone so beautiful. You tried to push the feeling down. Natasha looked over at you, the obvious newcomer, and her eyes darted meaningfully to your lips. You felt the immediate stain of want for her. She marked your skin before her lips ever touched you. 

-

But, her lips did touch you.

The second time you visited, Natasha found you alone in the hallway. Her eyes met yours with a look that invited challenge. You gulped involuntarily. Then, she moved towards you and you stopped in your tracks. Natasha’s hand touched your chest and you felt compelled to her like a magnet.

Natasha pressed you against the wall. She kissed you so hard that it felt like a tidal wave. A million little particles hitting you at once and somehow you stayed standing. Your hands held the soft curve of her waist and you felt an ache run through you. Her tongue was in your mouth and she tasted like warm things that you couldn’t name. You felt your own moan reach the back of her throat. Lost parts of you pieced themselves back together. You fell into the feeling.

-

When she pulled away, Natasha brushed your cheek with her thumb and you realised you were crying.

‘Don’t worry.’ She promised. ‘We don’t have to tell anyone.’

It was the kindest thing she could have done. But it also hurt the most.

-

Soon, what you were and who you wanted began to bleed through the cracks that Natasha had made in you. You caught moments with her like catching leaves in the wind. Her hand brushed yours when you passed each other in the kitchen. You kissed her in the shadows when she met you by your car. Her hands roamed your body whenever you found yourselves alone.

After two months they offered you a room at the Compound. The gesture meant everything. You’d never fit in easily before and now the superheroes wanted you around.

‘No mixed sleepovers.’ Tony teased and suddenly, you felt like a liar.

-

When you walked to your new room that night, Natasha opened her door and pulled you into hers instead. You fell into the feeling all over again.

You touched her skin, silky with soap suds, in the shower. You let your hands move over her breasts, watched the way she bit her lip and heard the low moan that slipped out too. It felt more right than you ever thought it could.

Then, Natasha’s finger stroked along you and you pressed yourself into her palm. You felt a need build in you, raw and desperate.

When Natasha unwound you with a slow finger curl, you made a sound and a shudder that you couldn’t control. 

-

You crawled into Natasha’s bed after. She held you close and you let her arms keep you for the night. Head on Natasha’s shoulder, you watched her breasts rise with every breath and, all in a rush, you felt that you were whole.

You could see now that there was no stopping it. Still, you didn’t accept it. 

It is impossible to embrace shame. It doesn’t free you like anger can, it just settles like a weight on your heart.

-

Time passed and the Compound became your second home. The team became the people you saw everyday, the people you trusted. Sometimes, they still asked you about boys. Your throat closed up every time. They thought you were shy.

You thought that if you told them, they’d forget all the other parts of you. They’d just see the lump in your throat that you couldn’t get rid of.

You saw all the goodness in Wanda, she made you smile everyday. You kept her secrets and she respected the privacy of your own thoughts. You watched her brighten a little more with every day that passed. She was your best friend.

Natasha kept her distance from you in front of the others.

‘She’s just being Natasha.’ Steve assured you more than once, worried you were taking it to heart.

You knew that.

You knew Natasha. You slept in her bed. 

You felt stuck, dreading change and longing for it too. Each time Natasha made your heart skip a beat, it felt more dangerous.

You were falling into the feeling and you couldn't even say the words to her.

-

You knew the vague answers that you gave the team had slowly turned into a false identity. You told yourself that you were the same person underneath, but the lines felt blurred. The guilt was worse with Wanda. She told you sometimes about trying to come to terms with herself, with the things she couldn’t control and the things she could. You felt so ashamed of your secret. You tried to pour it into your support of her. 

Wanda told you once, sitting in her room together, that you were like her sister. You knew how brave she was to claim you as family. She didn’t truly know you and that was your fault.

-

One night, you sat with several of the team watching a movie. They’d spent a mission using the comms to decide that it was criminal that Steve and Bucky hadn’t ever seen Jurassic Park. When Wanda admitted she hadn’t either, you’d all found yourself roped into the evening. 

Natasha sat on the opposite sofa from you, legs resting across Clint’s lap. You shared a bowl of popcorn with Wanda, who couldn’t keep her eyes off the screen.

The movie was halfway through when Natasha came over. The stillness in the room came from collective surprise; Natasha rarely directly interacted with you. You felt nerves bubble up, at her and at the audience. She took off her sweater and gave it to you.

‘Here.’ Natasha murmured, like no one was watching. ‘You look cold.’

The team shared smiles at the building of bridges between you. You pulled on the sweater. You revelled in its warmth, in the unexpected kindness. You met Natasha's eyes across the room and knew it was meant to be the hug that she couldn’t give you. You inhaled her scent and your mind filled with her. You fell into the feeling.

Wanda stiffened next to you. In the half second where your eyes met, you saw the alarm in hers. You hadn’t been careful with your thoughts and she hadn’t been trying not to listen. Shame burned through you and you ripped yourself away.

‘Too scary.’ You muttered at the Velociraptors on screen and fled to your room.

-

You lay on your bed and let loud music play, keeping everyone out. Only once did you recognise Wanda’s footsteps.

Don’t come in here. You thought desperately. You listened before, so listen now.

Later, you heard Tony and Clint’s muttered conversation in the corridor.

‘It must be about a boy.’

You let yourself cry.

-

Wanda woke you up in the morning. She opened the door and walked to the end of your bed. You only had time to feel a stab of apprehension.

‘I’m sorry for listening.’ She told you directly.

‘I’m so ashamed.’ You said, voice small.

‘There’s nothing wrong with you (Y/N). You’re still my sister.’

You didn’t realise it was what you needed to hear until Wanda said it.

-

Sometimes, you still get that gnawing feeling that you are not quite right. 

Except now, Natasha kisses you as soon as she gets back from her mission. Now, Wanda sends you photos of when you fall asleep with Natasha during a movie. Now, you make one your lock screen. 

-

Wanda texts you a website link for the local Pride event. 

Clint tells you that he’ll paint rainbows on your faces.

‘I’m going to claim the face paint as a work expense.’ He tells you, but he looks over at Natasha like he owes her an apology that he doesn’t know how to say. ‘What do you think Fury’s going to say about that?’ 

Now, Natasha wakes up with a coffee mug that says ‘Love is Love’ and Clint sends her photos of the pair of you too.

.

Natasha holds your hand and kisses you in the sunshine, the crowd around you hums into background noise. Her eyes watch you when you break apart. When you smile at her, she smiles right back.

Maybe, most people aren’t like you, but that’s not so bad.

Most people aren’t like Natasha either.

[please-destroy]

She's a Rainbow

Florence Pugh x Reader

Word Count: 3.1K

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“I’m getting married.” Florence rushed the words like a confession as you answered the FaceTime.

You took a moment to process, staring at the live feed of her chin as she walked somewhere.

‘Like, in a movie?’ You checked, ignoring the way your heart was plummeting inexplicably. 

‘No.’ Florence told you succinctly. You tried to read her expression. She’d called you in a rush, you knew it wasn’t just for congratulations. You ignored the icy waves of sadness flooding you. The sudden certainty that you were losing your best friend.

You tried to recollect yourself. She needed you right now, even if she couldn’t say it.

‘Where are you going?’ You asked neutrally, not knowing what else to say.

‘Whole Foods.’ Florence answered immediately, blonde ponytail bouncing with each hurried footstep on the sidewalk. You wondered if she drawled the words on purpose, or if lockdown had given her the chance to develop an American accent.

Florence glanced down at your face on her screen. She pouted slightly.

“I need chia seeds.’ She told you seriously and you nodded with equal soberness.

‘Who are you going to marry?’ You asked.

Florence rolled her eyes. 

‘Who do you think?’ She answered sarcastically. There was too much bite in her words and you realised then what was wrong. Stress emanated from her.

‘That’s big.’ You commented, trying to keep your tone casual. Something in Florence’s shoulder’s loosened immediately. 

“It is, right?’ She agreed, chewing on her bottom lip as she crossed the street. 

‘You love him?’ You checked, trying to keep the question as light as you could. You didn’t want it to sound accusing. You never knew for sure if Florence could see your crush on her. Sometimes, you’d see a flicker of recognition in her eyes. You prayed it was your own secret. It was painful enough just for you.

Florence nodded quickly, almost imperceptibly. You watched her hook a mask from ear to ear. 

‘Can I call you back?’ She asked. ‘I feel like an asshole if I’m on the phone at the checkout.’

‘Sure.’ You replied quietly as the call disconnected.

You let your phone fall onto the bedspread, as you covered your face with your hands. 

A dry sob heaved through you suddenly. A tiny piece of hope that you’d had no right holding onto, was finally being killed off.

You took a steadying breath. You stared at the far side of your room. There was a polaroid picture of yourself and Florence perched on the shelf. It was from several years ago. 

You remembered the nervousness in her voice. Resolve filled you. Florence had a lot of friends, but you knew already that you were the first one she’d called. She needed you. You weren’t going to let her down.

Her face popped up on your screen as the call reengaged. You answered it immediately.

Florence was almost impossible to see, the high sun now directly behind her. She held up the bag of chia seeds with a victorious smile. You grinned back automatically. She was perfect. 

‘So-’ She began, the same nervous energy humming through the phone. 

‘Do you want me to come visit?’ You offered suddenly, cutting her off.

Florence’s breath caught. 

‘Yes.’ She told you immediately, her eyes crinkling with an emotional kind of happiness. ‘Yes. I really want that.’

You shared a small smile. Florence’s mask was hanging goofily from one ear.

Her voice was hesitant when she next spoke.

‘It’s not that I’m not happy.’ She told you quietly. ‘It’s just a lot.’

You nodded like you understood.

‘I’ll be there.’ You promised. ‘We’ll figure it out together.’

Florence’s smile was your favourite one.

‘Missed you.’ She added.

‘Missed you too.’ You agreed easily.

After the call disconnected, you packed your bags. Your job had been furloughed and visiting Florence was something you’d been hoping to do for a while.

Ironically, you’d been trying to give her and her boyfriend some space.

After getting tested, you drove over the next day. You texted Florence when you set off.

You pulled into her driveway and found her sitting expectantly on her own doorstep. 

Before you were even fully out of the car, Florence had engulfed you in an excited hug.

‘I hope you don’t greet everyone like this.’ You murmured sarcastically. Florence hit your arm in faux rebuff as she stepped back.

When she looked at you, her eyes were shining with tears.

‘Oh, Flo.’ You murmured, realising that she was crying. Florence didn’t speak again, wrapping her arms firmly around you, her head burying against your shoulder.

‘Missed you.’ She mumbled again. You didn’t answer, only tightening your own hold of her. 

Florence led you into her house. You looked around curiously, this wasn’t somewhere you’d been to before.

There was something wild about the decorating style and it felt familiar to you. You smiled at some of the pictures that caught your eye. 

Florence saw where you were looking and grinned too. 

‘We look so little.’ She determined, hand moving familiarly around your waist. It stung to have her so intimate but you loved that she was comfortable around you.

‘That photo is from last year.’ You answered with a roll of your eyes. 

Florence raised her eyebrows dramatically as she moved past you, throwing herself happily onto the couch.

‘We were so young back then.’ She confirmed with a grin, looking back at you. You didn’t disagree, sitting down next to her.

‘Is it just us?’ You asked unsurely. You felt the impending conversation and knew it was better to be done privately. 

‘Yep.’ Florence popped the ‘p’ sound with false calm. ‘He’s at our other apartment. He thought we’d want some space.’

You nodded again, Florence had once told you he was a bit shy. Still, you realised that at this rate you might not actually meet him until the wedding.

‘How are you?’ You asked directly instead. The question had been burning since the moment you’d arrived.

Florence hesitated beside you. You let your hand rest on top of hers and she exhaled slowly.

‘I’m okay.’ She answered succinctly.

‘Surprised, shocked, scared?’ You offered carefully.

‘Shocked, maybe a bit scared.’ She admitted readily, seeming reassured that you were on the same wavelength. ‘I love him. But, I never thought I’d be married anytime soon.’

You threaded your fingers with hers and squeezed.

Florence’s head rested on your shoulder. 

‘Fuck.’ She murmured to herself.

‘Did you tell him that?’ You asked quietly. 

‘No.’ Florence answered barely above a whisper. ‘I know how much he wants this.’ 

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You loved her too much to speak and you hated the lingering fear in her voice

‘I want you to be happy.’ You told her. ‘Whatever that means, I’ll be by your side.’

You felt the warmth of her tears against your shoulder.

‘What if I don’t know what that means.’ She whispered, voice cracking. 

‘Well.’ You paused. ‘I’m still not going anywhere.’

.

There was something subdued about the rest of the weekend that you spent with Florence. In many ways, it felt like you were helping her through a break up. She seemed conflicted and strangely worried. 

She brightened when you asked for stories about their time together as a couple. She told you about trips they’d taken together and how much he made her laugh. You felt like your heart was cracking open, but you kept the same encouraging smile on your face.

It was on the Monday morning, as you sat together eating a cranberry-chia seed scone, that you asked your next big question.

‘Did you talk about dates?’ You asked.

Florence looked confused.

‘For the wedding.’ You clarified, smiling at her puzzled expression.

‘Oh, right.’ She nodded. ‘In two weeks.’ She answered casually, taking another bite of her scone.

You nearly fell out of your chair.

You swore loudly and Florence’s head bobbed as if she’d been expecting your reaction.

‘It’s going to be tiny.’ She informed you. ‘Just the officiant, us, his friend and you.’ 

She added your name with a playfully hopeful smile, telling you just how much she wanted you there.

‘Oh my god.’ You answered, trying to wrap your mind around how soon this would be happening.

‘Our friend’s house has a private beach.’ She continued casually, as if her friend wasn’t certainly a multi-millionaire. ‘We’re going to have the ceremony there.’

‘Outfits.’ You stumbled out stupidly. 

Florence shook her head. ‘I’m just wearing my favourite sundress.’ She informed you readily. ‘Dress casual.’

It occurred to you that Florence was a consistently decisive person, with everything except accepting his proposal.

‘You’re going to look stunning.’ You determined with a bright smile, trying to move past your own shock.

Florence glanced shyly down at the kitchen table. ‘I hope so.’ She mumbled.

‘No bachelorette party then.’ You predicted, pretending to look very sad.

Florence hesitated and you prepared yourself for another plan to be revealed.

“Well.’ She started. ‘I was kind of thinking maybe I could come and stay with you for a few days.’

Your head tilted in confusion.

‘Of course.’ You agreed. ‘But, I don’t think that’s much of a party.’

‘I know.’ Florence elongated the words. ‘But, I don’t want a party.’ She shrugged and you caught her gaze flitting over to the photo of you both smiling, that was stuck to her fridge.

She turned back to you and smiled.

‘I just want to spend some time with you.’ She continued with a sheepish shrug.

Your heart twisted and you weren’t even sure if it was pain or love. Being part of Florence’s life had always been enough. You didn’t want to acknowledge this feeling of impending loss.

‘Drinks, snacks and movies?’ You forced yourself to suggest casually. Florence’s face lit up with private delight.

‘It’s going to be the best.’ She decided, moving forward to kiss your cheek.

Driving home that afternoon, you felt like your chest was heavy and hollow at the same time.

Florence’s parting wave was stuck in your mind. 

You turned up the stereo in your car and tried not to let the reality sink in.

.

When Florence arrived, the morning before her wedding, she was bubbly in a way that you hadn’t expected.

She’d hardly texted for the last week and a half. You’d been cautious to push her, not sure if it was wedding or work pressures.

Florence entered your house with all the familiarity of someone who lived there. It wasn’t surprising, a few years ago she practically had.

She’d walked in with a surprisingly large bag. You realised immediately that it was almost entirely filled with an assortment of supplies. She lined up bottles of wine on the coffee table in front of her, before pulling out a stack of DVDs from her collection.

‘That bag is straight from Mary Poppins.’ You accused teasingly. Florence glanced up and grinned.

‘I’ve been so excited for this.’ She admitted easily, eyes sparkling slightly. ‘I kept repacking.’

You kept your smile steady as you processed your worry. Florence only over prepared when she was nervous. 

‘How’s your week been?’ You asked casually as you brought over two wine glasses. 

Florence groaned loudly and her feet kicked up on the edge of the coffee table. Her head rested back against the sofa dramatically.

You glanced at her unsure if you should be genuinely concerned. 

‘That bad?’ You asked, keeping your voice neutral as you poured the wine.

‘He keeps making plans.’ Florence admitted quietly. Her voice sank the atmosphere like a weighted balloon. She couldn’t hide the fear in it.

‘I’m barely ready for this.’ She continued, her eyes locking with yours. ‘And he’s talking about the future.’

‘Kids?’ You gambled and Florence nodded. 

‘And “planning our careers together”.’ She added with air quotations for his suggestion.

‘That’s a lot.’ You agreed, passing her the glass. Florence looked at her drink for a moment, you knew she was going to down it a half second before she did.

She handed you back the empty glass with an unashamed grin. 

‘Fine.’ You allowed, feeling nostalgic for the slightly wilder Florence of a few years ago. ‘But, you’re not going to your wedding still drunk for the night before.’

Florence rolled her eyes. Still, she sipped more slowly from the refilled glass. Raising her eyebrows in acknowledgement of your request. 

Without even needing to check, you took the Titanic DVD out of its case and set it up on your television.

When you sat back down, Florence snuggled immediately closer. Your hand stretched automatically across her shoulders and you gave her a reassuring squeeze. 

Florence offered you a malteser. When you went to take it, she popped it into her own mouth and grinned cheekily.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed another. You could feel her silent chuckle next to you.

‘You’re the worst.’ You complained huffily, meaning the opposite. Florence didn’t stop laughing.

By the time the movie had ended, Florence was sufficiently wine drunk.

As the movie played out, she’d slowly shifted from laughing to a much more somber kind of inebriated.

She lifted her head from your shoulder as she got up clumsily to switch the DVDs.

‘Jesus.’ You muttered as Marley and Me started to play. You glanced at Florence as she settled back beside you.

‘You okay?’ You worried gently. Florence didn’t answer, adjusting to lie down on your sofa, head in your lap.

You understood the silent request for comfort. You combed your fingers through her hair absentmindedly as she focused quietly on the movie.

You wondered if she’d been looking for an excuse to cry. You ached with the thought of Florence being in that kind of pain.

You realised how unsure the future seemed, you just couldn’t imagine her saying lifelong vows tomorrow. 

Florence began to snuffle as she started to cry at the movie.

As the saddest scenes played, her cries were uncontrolled and gasping. 

‘Flo.’ You murmured, trying to bring her back into the room.

She turned in your lap, looking up at you with reddened eyes.

‘Come on.’ You murmured, encouraging her to sit up so that you could wrap her in a comforting hug.

Florence didn’t stop crying for a long time. Eventually, as the tears turned to hiccups, you led her gently back to your bedroom.

There wasn’t a question about her sleeping in the spare room.

She took off her pants and curled next to you in just her t-shirt and underwear. Her chest still moved rapidly with the after effects of her uncontrolled crying.

Her fingers curled tightly at the hem of your own t-shirt. You kissed her hair soothingly.

‘You’ll feel better tomorrow.’ You promised, not knowing if it would be true.

Florence’s breaths came more evenly and, sooner than you expected, you knew she’d fallen asleep. You stared up at the ceiling for a long while, trying to piece everything together.

.

The next morning went better than expected. Florence made it through several glasses of water and managed to reduce any hangover to just a headache. You were planning to leave at 2pm and had the address already plugged into your GPS.

You checked in with Florence regularly, gaining a thumbs up each time.

You felt an overwhelming rush of attraction when you saw her in the rainbow sundress that made her impossibly brighter.

Florence blushed at your reaction, and you saw her pleased smile.

‘Excited?’ You asked, regretting your question when a wave of tension immediately straightened her spine.

‘Nervous.’ She breathed, smoothing the dress unnecessarily. You both checked the time. 

You needed to leave now. Florence blinked away a brief look of panic before following you to the car.

Another benefit to such a low key wedding was the lack of press awareness. Your nondescript car would attract no attention today.

You let quiet music play on the stereo and Florence breathed steadily in the passenger’s seat, her eyes closed.

She exuded nerves and you glanced at her worriedly as you followed the directions to the house with the private beach.

When you pulled up in the driveway of a very expensive looking mansion. Florence’s eyes opened and her attention focused entirely on you. It was like your presence was the only thing keeping her breathing.

‘You ready?’ You asked quietly. You still had ten minutes until you were expected.

There was a half second, a hesitation where you knew that Florence was going to lie. 

She blinked slowly, her focus never leaving you.

‘What if the thing that makes me happy, doesn’t make you happy?’ She asked suddenly, voice abrupt.

You startled at the unexpected turn of the conversation.

‘You have to do it anyway.’ You answered with certainty. 

Florence took a deep breath.

‘I’m in love with you.’ She told you straightforwardly and your heart stuttered. ‘I know you might not feel the same. But I can’t go in there and not say this first.’

Your mouth dropped, time shuddered to a stand still.

Florence covered her face with her hands briefly, breaking her eye contact.

‘I’m sorry.’ She whispered, but there was a quiet resolve underlying her apology. ‘I had to tell you.’

Silence lingered between you as your brain tried to process the impossible.

‘Don’t apologise.’ You told her at last, voice hoarse. Florence was perfect. This had to be a dream. 

‘I’ve been in love with you for years.’ You admitted freely, tears beginning to run down your cheeks.

A bright smile cracked over Florence’s face like a sunrise in the morning.

‘Wow.’ She murmured. ‘We should have talked about this sooner.’ 

You laughed unexpectedly in agreement. 

Suddenly, Florence’s eyes widened.

‘I have to call off a wedding.’ She realised calmly, and you revelled in the easy determination that she approached even the most daunting task. 

She cracked the car door and you moved to do the same.

‘Wait here?’ She asked you, hand reaching out to stop you leaving the car too.

‘I need a getaway driver.’ She told you with a small smile.

You nodded, feeling high on relief and joy at the same time.

Florence walked into the mansion with her head held high.

Ten minutes later, she exited the same door. 

Her head was still high, but there were tears tracks on her cheeks.

She reentered the car just as you started the engine.

You backed out of the driveway, as Florence covered her face with her hands again.

You glanced over to her as soon as you were back on the road to your house.

Florence looked over at you and, despite the tear tracks, you saw your favourite smile of hers stretching across her face.

‘I can’t help feeling so happy.’ She told you, a little dazedly. 

You smiled so hard you thought your heart might burst.