Chapter Text
It doesn’t matter whether Natasha is battling an army of aliens, training in the avengers compound, having a conversation with an overgrown tree limb, or whisking the lumps from pancake batter at 2am, all because she finally listened to the rumbling acidic sensation in her stomach. She was always on guard. Never fully at peace, never relaxed. Even on those days she sat back with her feet propped on the desk that resides in the avengers office. There was always an unwelcome sensation of fear. She’d never admit it to anyone. Maybe Steve, or the oversized tree limb. Only because he doesn’t speak back but in his own form of language, I am groot. She was Natasha Romanoff. The black widow. She didn’t go about her life riddled with fear, and most certainly not at 2am with dead silence filling the compound, the only sound being her shuffling feet and the whisk scraping the bottom of the plastic bowl. Absolutely not.
Maybe if she’d throw back a few shots of tequila, she’d finally be able to admit to herself that she was always in fear. Maybe she’d come to an understanding with the emotion. Maybe she’d understand that it stems not from the backstory of scars and bullet wounds that mark her body, but from memories of a place she promised her own mind she’d never return to. Not even in thought.
But that was becoming a problem. She had broken that promise to herself, but not without the help of the avengers newest recruit. Well, one of the newest recruits. But Natasha didn’t pay much mind to the web shooter and whoever else. No, she paid more attention to the brunette that walked silently in the shadows of the compound. The pale woman whose face never appeared relaxed, eyebrows always furrowed as if she was concentrating on a word puzzle, or getting into someone’s mind.
Natasha didn’t blame the young girl. She had once been used as a weapon, herself. Forcing herself into minds in her own manipulative ways. But sometimes, when the redhead woke from sweats, fighting back panic attacks from the nightmares she became riddled with after the.. incident, she had to remind herself that Wanda was only a kid. Doing what she thought was right.
That’s why Natasha doesn’t sleep, if she can help it. It’s why she stays up all night, fighting off the urges to enter the kitchen and make food at an ungodly time. But tonight was different, she had pushed herself in training, feeling a bit restless with the recent peace around the compound, needing to keep occupied. And she hadn’t eaten. Which is why she now finds herself whisking pancake batter, all by her lonesome.
That was until the slow clicking of a door caught her attention from down the hall, followed by shuffles of feet, moving almost sheepishly towards her. Placing the bowl on the counter, Natasha turned towards the sound, preparing for anything. Or anyone. As she subconsciously reached behind her back, hand resting on the cold and solid handle of her blade, she soon relaxed as she made out the features of the individual that rounded the corner.
“ Wanda.” it came out in an almost silent huff, Natasha furrowing her eyebrows to show the question that she hadn’t yet asked.
She watched the brunette slowly walk onto the kitchen tile, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear before standing awkwardly. You could tell she felt out of place, just by the way she fiddled the silver ring on her thumb. “I’m sorry, I got thirsty.” She spoke quietly, her accent curling around the ends of her words.
Slowly turning her back to the woman, Natasha spoke in the same manner. “Don’t apologize.” She paused, before looking towards the fridge. “Do you want bottled water?”
“That would be fine.”
Natasha slowly opened the door, reaching in to grab a bottle of water before gently shutting it, sliding it across the island towards Wanda. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Wanda twisted the cap off, immediately swallowing the bottled cold water, the plastic crunching as she nearly finished it off in a matter of seconds.
Natasha raised her eyebrows, a small smirk on the corner of her lips. “I’d definitely say you were thirsty.”
Wanda tilted her head, a light pink adorning her cheeks as she sat the bottle down on the island top. Natasha was a bit surprised when the woman pulled herself up on the stool, placing her forearms down on the cold marble, but still fiddling with the ring on her thumb. Turning back around, she cleared her throat, cutting what she assumed to be light tension as she moved to pour the batter into perfect circles on the pan, the scent of butter and cooking batter filling her nostrils.
“I’d definitely say you are hungry.” Wanda chuckled, a sound Natasha wasn’t used to. In fact, she’s sure no one had grown used to the sound, or were ever given the chance too. And Natasha almost felt honored to be the first of the avengers to get a chuckle out of Wanda, though she wouldn’t admit that out loud.
A small smile made its way across Natasha's lips as the turned to look over her shoulder at the brunette, and only then did she find it harder to remove the smile, as Wanda was already returning her own. Nodding her head in agreement, Natasha turned her attention to the pancakes, flipping them in order. Seeing Wanda smile made her feel good inside. She wants this place to become a home for Wanda. She already had her fair share of discussions with Steve and Clint, advising that they go out of their way to make her feel welcome. And even then, she didn’t miss the glint in Steve’s eyes at her words. Almost as if he was implying that she do the same, or maybe he was taken aback by her insistence. Either way, Natasha was satisfied in this moment. Compared to her previous encounters with the younger woman, this almost felt intimate.
Silence filled the air, before Wanda cleared her throat, drawing Natasha’s attention. The red head leaned her hip against the counter, glancing at Wanda and then back to the food, giving subtle acknowledgement to the woman. “I uhm..” Wanda spoke softly. “I’m hungry, too.” It was like a whisper, a bit of embarrassment lingering behind the words.
Natasha grinned, moving the pancakes onto a plate. “Good thing I made enough for two.”
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After that night, they had started to fall into their own rhythm, occasionally making smart remarks to one another that resulted in gentle smiles. Meeting one another past dark in the kitchen of the compound, exchanging small stories from their past. Natasha earned the chance to learn more about Pietro, a small smile always splaying across her lips as the younger woman told happy stories. And always following, a subtle squeeze in her chest, as she watched the brunette's eyes fall at the end of every single one. But other times, she often found herself chuckling at Wanda’s jokes, which the brunette only seemed to share around the older woman, most of which were aimed at the boy's ridiculous antics.
Sometimes it felt odd, growing close to another woman this way. Natasha always steered herself away from friendships to begin with. Any form of attachment was strictly prohibited in her line of work, and she knew that. Which is why she remained short and strict with anyone who showed kindness to her. She wouldn’t say she was forced to create a friendship among the other members of the team, but it definitely took her by surprise when she found it to be quite easy over time. And in the beginning, she had moments where she regretted it; opening up. Especially the first time she felt a sense of worry for her teammates, fighting against robotic enemies. At first it felt like weakness. But Steve had remained persistent in his words, telling her to open up, and to trust. It was easier said than done.
But she had never been friends with another woman. Not like this, no. She always despised the cliche idea of pillow fights and sleepovers shared in the same bed. Painting each other’s nails, and gossiping about boy crushes. That’s what friendships between women were like. And it didn’t suit Natasha in the least bit. But somehow, she found it natural to smile at Wanda. Guide her, and teach her, almost in a motherly sense. She found herself at rest as the two shared their life stories past midnight, sometimes blinking away tears before giggling at the emotions together. For the first time, Natasha wasn’t second-guessing her decision in opening up to the newcomer. In fact, she’d say they were almost friends.
It was early in the morning, approximately 7am, as Natasha glistened with sweat, the sound of her padded fist powerfully hitting the punching bag. Training was back in full force for all of the avengers, due to a discussion shared between Steve and Natasha the night before.
“I don’t like the peace. Or I do, but I’m not comfortable with sitting on my ass all of the time.” He spoke. “And neither should any of you. This isn’t just our job, it’s our life. In fact-“
And that’s how Natasha, Clint, Wanda, and Steve all found themselves in this enormous room, covered in windows from floor to ceiling, training as if they were preparing for a mission to come up at any given second. That’s exactly what they were doing.
Clint resided in his corner of the room, the sound of arrows flying through the air and hitting a round target against the wall. As for Wanda, she stood with her feet shoulder-width apart only a couple feet in front of Steve, who directed the woman on how to find her proper punching stance.
“Find your balance. You don’t want to be unstable, and easily knocked over.” He crossed his arms, examining her choice of position. “This won’t work.”
Wanda looked at him with a glint in her eyes and furrowed eyebrows. “Oh, it won’t?”
“Shall I demonstrate?” He placed his hands on his hips, lifting his chin. Receiving nothing but the plastered look on Wanda’s face, he sighed, positioning himself and throwing a weak punch in her direction. And just as quickly, it was caught in a cloud of crimson red, before swiftly being forced straight against his side, fully extended..
“You can’t always rely on your magic, Wanda.” He shook his head, looking quizzically at his hand before dropping it.
“Why not? It seems to work just fine.” Wanda spoke with a monotone voice, staring at Steve intently.
Natasha wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, before moving closer to the two. “He’s right.” The red head noted the look on Wanda’s face, which changed to a look of slight amusement, only pushing Natasha to continue. “You never know what could happen. It’s best to be fully prepared.”
Wanda raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly at Natasha. “Then why don’t you train me?”
The three were silent, Natasha’s chest fluttering at the idea of being so physically close to the woman. So close to someone she had formed a connection with. So close to a friend. She was almost unsure of it, the feeling in her chest igniting a red flag. But Natasha never backed down from a challenge, which Wanda's next words started. “Or are you too scared?”
Immediately, Natasha stepped foot onto the padded surface, looking at the younger girl with a newfound passion, a challenge. “Okay, let’s go. Give me your best. I’m not weak, like Steve. So don’t go easy on me.” She poked towards the man with a smirk, who had backed away and folded his arms tightly against his chest to observe, earning an eye roll.
Within a matter of seconds, Wanda had moved in swiftly, attempting to get in a few blows, all of which Natasha was blocking. But she had to admit- she didn’t even think the brunette had this in her. And she had to put it to a stop. Especially because the grunts leaving the younger girl's mouth with her effort aimed hits were far too distracting for Natasha’s liking. Focusing all of her attention on the girl's moves, the red head moved in with the right timing, wrapping an arm around Wanda’s waist and sweeping her feet from beneath her, leading Wanda's back to hit the floor loudly, a smirking woman above her, straddling her hips.
The moment Wanda opened her eyes, a small tension fell upon the two. The eye contact exchanging words that neither were sure held anything innocent, Steve clapping his hands together slowly in the background.
Normally, Natasha would have already been standing smugly above her victim. But with Wanda’s chest heaving, subtle cleavage adorned with sweat lining the top of her black tank top and eye contact that didn’t cease, Natasha found herself once again distracted until Steve spoke up loudly, leading her to swiftly rise from the woman, not even bothering to give her a hand up. “Not half bad. She’s not half bad.” He chuckled, shaking his head.
Ignoring the feeling left in her stomach, Natasha looked at Steve. “A little rough around the edges. But it will do for now.”
Wanda stood, brushing her hands together, her cheeks red from one of two things, as she looked downwards. Her face was stoic, no emotion shown on the surface. But Natasha didn’t notice, as she was also avoiding any form of eye contact with the girl, too busy searching for answers as to what just happened. On why it happened. The more she replayed it, drowning out the voices of Clint and Steve, the more frustrated she became, and the less in control she felt. Natasha didn’t like not feeling in control, especially when it came to her own emotions. All she knew for certain, is that what just happened wasn’t something that happened often. Because she never allowed it to. And somehow, a line had blurred in which she enforced long ago.
“I think that’s a wrap for me.” She looked at Steve, who nodded his head. But before even noticing his acknowledgment, she was headed towards the double doors that led to the rest of the compound, her thoughts frantically pacing within her mind.
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Natasha sat on her bed with her legs crossed, head laid back against the headboard, her eyes resting on the ceiling as she searched her mind for answers. At the moment, she felt weak. She felt unlike herself, and that alone was unsettling. But thinking back to an hour ago, straddling Wanda’s hips as their chests heaved in sync, she almost feels angry at the way her body reacted. And she hopes it went unnoticed by Steve, because she most definitely wasn’t looking forward to that conversation. Mainly because she is unsure of what she’d say, or how she’d respond to his concern. The man has been around far much longer than she has, and she knows he picks up on things just as well as she does. And it wasn’t every day, month, or even year, That Natasha found herself in this situation. Chest tight from emotions, body and mind focused on one thing, one person. Because at that moment, it felt like only the two of them were in the room. She found herself lost in the eye contact, the feeling of the woman beneath her.
Natasha and Wanda were growing closer every single day. But this was too far. It was out of the red heads' control, the way she lost herself in the younger girl. And she didn’t like it. Anytime Natasha finds herself getting too close to something, she purposely pulls away from it. It means weakness for her, and leverage for other people. She spent her whole upbringing alone. These people here, in this building, were her family. Something she never thought she’d ever earn, or deserve. And she still doesn’t know if she does deserve it. If it were up to her, she’d say she doesn’t. But Wanda was different from the rest, from the very beginning. She had brought back Natasha's deepest fears and memories, and somehow the older woman had found it in herself to forgive the girl. Not only that, but she had been opening herself up to her. She’d argue and say it was to help the girl feel at ease here, more welcomed and accepted. But when Natasha thinks back, she remembers the ease and comfort which flooded her as she watched Wanda stare intently into her eyes, listening to every word the woman would tell her. And Wanda didn’t run, she didn’t even seem uninterested. She listened, and would smile, or laugh, or cry. She didn’t make it easy for Natasha to stay closed off, not when she put so much effort into simply listening to the irrelevant and heartbreaking stories she’d share. Stories no one had ever heard before.
If Natasha was being honest, Wanda made her feel at ease. Something about her presence, her silent movements and small smiles made Natasha feel like her circle was complete. She couldn’t just throw that out of the window due to her own selfishness.
Sighing, Natasha sat up in her bed, looking out of the floor to ceiling window in her bedroom. The sun was beaming directly into her room, giving everything that resides inside a warm glow. Off in the distance, she could see Sam and Tony standing side by side, carrying on a conversation. Most likely bickering about when Sam would be getting his own sports car, like the rest of the team. Tony was persistent in his words, telling him he’d never get one. If Natasha was right, chances are he already had the make and model in mind.
Pulling her from her thoughts, a light knock sounded from the opposite side of her door. “Natasha.” It was Steve. “I’m letting myself in.” He slowly opened the door, eyes quickly falling on the red head. Moving to sit on the edge of her bed, he sighed.
“I could have been naked.” Natasha spoke, a small smirk on the edge of her lips.
“Sure.” He sighed, looking around the room. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what?”
“What happened in the training room. What was that?” He looked at her, furrowing his eyebrows, proving how serious he was with the woman.
“It was nothing. In case you haven’t noticed, I train every day. I don’t need to work myself to death just to appease you, Steve.” Natasha slid her back fully against the headboard, before turning her head to stair out of the window again.
“Nat.” He shook his head, before slowly standing.”You’re stubborn.”
“We’ve known this.” Natasha chuckled, wringing her hands slowly.
Natasha wasn’t surprised to find herself having this conversation with Steve. He knew her very well. And the fact that he noticed her mind was a whirlwind, only further disappointed her. She was losing her power to hide her emotions.
“I’m here. If you need anything. If you want to talk.” A beat. “About Wanda.”
Natasha’s eyes snapped up at Steve, a puzzled look on her face. “Wanda?”
Shaking his head, Steve turned to walk out of the room, before coming to a slow stop in the middle of the doorway. Barely looking over his shoulder, he spoke. “Let yourself be human, Natasha.” And before she could respond, he was gone, having already closed the door behind him.
———————-
It didn’t take much for Natasha to find herself right back in the same groove with Wanda as she had before. And it would make sense, as Wanda most likely wasn’t going through the same emotions as the older woman. Natasha was the only one experiencing confusion regarding the encounter, at least she thought. Wanda’s soft smile was too hard for the redhead to ignore, especially when she continued to linger around Natasha, sitting beside her during every meeting, searching for her in the compound when she was bored. Natasha felt a sense of pride, knowing Wanda had begun to feel comfortable around her, looking up to her. It did nothing to ease the emotions in her chest, but it wasn't difficult to find herself lost in the moment with Wanda, the unsettling feeling in her stomach almost forgotten each time the brunette said her name, followed by some ridiculous story, the most recent being about Tony buying Pepper chocolate covered strawberries, leading the two to a small food fight. Ridiculous.
Natasha had completely taken Wanda under her wing, and not only in training. Every day she found herself swallowing the lump in her throat and cursing away the flutters in her stomach as she watched Wanda struggle with hiding her accent. A poor imitation of an American accent slowly growing stronger. The two would sit across from one another in the window ledge that overlooked the compound, Natasha demonstrating the change in accents and how to master it.
“How did you learn to do this so well?” Wanda looked at Natasha, bringing her knees to fold beneath her.
Shaking her head with a small smile, Natasha looked right at her. “I was trained to enter America as a spy. A Russian accent can’t be detectable, when you’re trying to fool others into thinking you fit in.”
“So you do have a Russian accent?”
“Not exactly. I did, at one point. But now, I’d say it’s more like an imitation. It’s not natural to me anymore. Maybe a few words here and there.” She shrugged, folding her arms and leaning back comfortably.
“But you are fluent in Russian?” Wanda asked, tilting her head.
“Da, V samom dele” Yes, indeed.
Natasha caught what she thought to be a look of surprise from the younger woman, followed by a subtle blush spreading across her cheeks. Wanda looked down at her hands, steadily twisting the cold ring that adorned her finger. “It is similar to my sokovian dialect.”
The brunette was very soft spoken, yet stern in her words. Natasha almost envied her capability to get so much across, with such few words that also lacked animation. Her voice often remained monotone, never raising or lowering. The same smooth tone gracing Natasha’s ears in a way that she found soothing. It was one of the many things that intrigued the redhead, making her pay close attention to the girl's words and stories. Natasha never had trouble focusing all of her attention onto the woman, listening to the way she spoke, the way her words would curl with her sokovian accent, and the way her eyes would express before her face or hands ever did. Natasha found herself constantly reading the girl, trying to break her way in. It was almost hypocritical, considering the fact that she didn’t like when the tables were turned. But she supposes she could tolerate it with Wanda.
A comfortable silence filled the air, Natasha moving her focus to the cardinals that flew frantically outside of the glass window, wings flapping so quickly they became a blur. And unbeknownst to her, was Wanda. Eyes looking directly at her, never straying.
At least not until the red colored synthezoid walked gracefully towards them, his steps going unnoticed until he stood only a foot away. “It is beautiful outside. Why admire it from here?”
Natasha didn’t focus on the words exchanged between Wanda and Vision, as she pondered and bounced his intricately yet simply phrased question around in her mind, coming to a metaphorical conclusion.
Sometimes the most beautiful things are better off out of reach.