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love is for children, so steve and natasha have a little arrangement.
it’s just a stress relief that they’re both desperate for, but the guilt written on steve’s face every time they’re done lets natasha know that he feels like he’s just betrayed peggy. natasha’s feelings for steve are complicated as is. she trusts him, that’s why this arrangement works and there’s this tugging feeling in her chest that the red room would call childish. it’s complicated and trying to compete with peggy makes things even more complicated. so she doesn’t try to compete, but she also can’t rid the feeling she gets when she’s around him.
steve makes it all the more difficult when he asks her where. when he has the decency to ask and she tells him with a grunt that it doesn’t matter. really it doesn’t, it never has because there’s no risk involved. it throws her off when he pulls out. that edge she was nearing disappears and she holds back a sigh as he aims for the grass. she thinks she’s going to be left on that cliff, but steve drops to his knees. “you don’t have to.” she starts simply because she’s still not used to this.
someone caring that she gets off too even in the aftermath.
“shut up.” he replies as his mouth attaches to her and all natasha can do is throw her head back.
she doesn’t let him do the same thing next time. instead, she wraps her legs around his hips and pulls him close. lets him have the release and he gives her fingers where she needs them most and they’re both falling off that edge together. he kisses her neck and helps her ride it out, tells her that she’s so good, and god she wants to slap him for it, but warmth zips down her chest and she doesn’t have the energy to unpack why that is.
no one has cared about her like this, until him, and it feels like a knife is wedged between her ribs when it ends because she’s not bucky either apparently.
“now that i know he’s alive,” he pauses, “i gotta focus on that.”
bucky can compete with peggy. natasha never could even if she tried.
even if she wanted to.
love is for children, she reminds herself.
//
wanda is a force.
natasha isn’t mad when wanda picks apart her brain to uncover things from her past she thoughts she had compartmentalized so well that they’d be tucked away forever. now, they’re at the forefront of her mind. she’s sure she deserves it. it’s like karma for the pain she’s caused; the blood on her hands.
she can’t sleep. she can hear screaming in her head.
red room. mission. kill. yelena . traitor. useless. mission. kill another. mission. clint . seduce the target. kill, kill, kill. mission. yelena . kill. murderer. gutless.
she needs relief from the panic rising in her chest, but she doesn’t trust anyone to do that for her. clint’s off with laura, trying to build a life natasha could never dream of. maybe maria could help, but maria gave her boundaries all those years ago due to her own trauma and natasha can’t be mad about that. she can’t ask her for what she wants without giving something back and she can’t give maria that feeling. she gets that causality doesn’t work for everyone and even though she’s made herself available to strangers, she’s not so keen on that anymore.
she blames that on hanging around steve too much.
instead, she finds herself pulling out handcuffs she hasn’t used since the avengers really got up and running. she tightens it against her wrist far too tightly and then attaches it to her bedpost. it becomes a habit again because as twisted as it is, it calms her down enough that she can get enough sleep to be mission ready.
wanda is a force, but she’s kind even after everything. she offers what she’s cooked for dinner, timidly, but offers nonetheless. wanda wears her heart on her sleeve and is full of emotions natasha wishes she was brave enough to let herself feel. sometimes she hears wanda crying with grief in the hours natasha finds herself pacing around the compound.
pietro was kind too for the brief moment natasha knew him, but he reminds her of yelena, and it makes her feel sick, so she ends up literally trying to outrun her demons on the treadmill after a punching bag proved to be useless in quelling her nerves.
yelena. traitor. red room. ohio. murderer.
she finds herself dry heaving in the bathroom of the gym after running too hard and too long.
if the red room could see her now; heaving with weakness.
she hears the telltale sign of the women’s locker room door hissing open.
“natasha?” it’s wanda and natasha tries to recall when wanda had even entered the gym.
god, she doesn’t need this right now. it’s not wanda fault. it’s not. she doesn’t blame wanda for any of this. these are her own problems, her own past that she has to wrestle back again.
“leave me alone, wanda.” she snaps anyway and she immediately feels guilty when she hears the doors hiss again cueing wanda’s exit.
she sighs, sitting against the stall door, letting her head fall back with a soft thud. wanda is grieving and natasha’s just thinking of herself and she wills herself to be better than that. wanda deserves better than that; she’s more than proved herself as one of them; an avenger.
//
she helps wanda in the best way she knows how; through training. they’re at the gym, the whole team except for thor whose obligations lie in asgard. clint is working on his legs, tony is pushing his limits with chest presses, sam’s trying to outdo steve with bicep curls, and bruce is… well, he’s walking on an incline treadmill just because it’s good for his heart.
she helps wanda because natasha knows that strength training her muscles is not what she needs and wanda seems lost on that fact. she helps wanda with endurance, they create a workout routine. she pushes wanda to physical limits and then tells her to use her powers. she wants to strengthen wanda’s mind more than anything because that’s what’s going to be required of her in the field. running, climbing, and jumping are all a part of it and maybe it’s useful to be able to lift heavier things, but wanda’s strength is her mind. so natasha helps her train that.
but wanda is a force that sometimes breaks and natasha finds herself offering comfort to her. she understands the loss of a sibling in an entirely different way, but pain is pain; hurt is hurt, and natasha knows hurt more than anyone else in this compound. she understands its complexities and intricacies. it’s why she understands steve and tony and sees their similarities even if they think they’re on opposite ends. it’s why she can offer comfort to the mighty hulk.
“who would’ve thought the cold-blooded natasha romanoff - if that’s really your name - is so good at bringing someone down from panic?” tony’s voice echoes in her head.
she does the same for wanda.
//
it’s simple, really, how it all starts. wanda’s been with the team for nearly eight months and natasha is braiding her hair since wanda asked her to. then, suddenly, they’re talking about relieving stress and wanda’s making a joke about how complicated it must be to get relief with another person as an avenger because who do you trust? natasha doesn’t have an answer for that, but she does say that it’s been a little more difficult lately. she doesn’t explain that her arrangement with steve has ended; she doesn’t even allude to the fact that she was using another avenger to relieve stress.
“i just need to get out of my head sometimes. more, lately.” natasha explains.
“because of me?” wanda asks quietly. like she’s afraid natasha’s still mad at her and it makes natasha uncomfortable because she doesn’t think it has to do with wanda and it never did.
“it’s not your fault.” natasha settles with because she doesn’t think its necessary to explain all her feelings to wanda. “this is done,” she explains when she finishes the final braid.
wanda turns and that tension that could be cut with a knife is there again. it’s the same tension she’s been feeling the past couple of weeks. wanda’s eyes are on her and hers are on wanda, and suddenly they’re in wanda’s room removing themselves of their clothes in a flurry, and wanda’s talking about boundaries while natasha’s lips are on her neck as she looks at the sight of wanda’s room.
wanda’s room is so vastly different from natasha’s. natasha’s well aware her room is akin to a cell except for a bed that is too comfortable lately and an alarm clock she’s considering taking a knife to. wanda has photographs with the other avengers, flowers and plants, decorations scatter across the walls, and the bed is full of plush blankets and pillows that look inviting.
their first time together natasha lets wanda think she has control, that’s what natasha always does, but when wanda asks her to lay down on the bed, natasha breathes out her decline to the request and ends up straddling wanda’s thighs instead while her teeth graze against wanda’s neck.
they’re not there yet. she’s not there yet - to comply to all of wanda’s wants.
wanda doesn’t seem to mind too much when her back is arching just so off the bed.
//
they’re running down alleyways away from some enemies when wanda gets blasted into a wall. natasha stops to fight them off while sam flies back for wanda and picks up her unconscious body. then they’re running (well, sam’s flying with wanda in her arms and steve’s basically jogging) into a safe house to hide while they wait for their extraction. steve takes care of the blood on wanda's shirt because he feels guilty; she knows because she's feeling the same way.
she sits at wanda’s bedside in the infirmary back at the compound waiting for her to wake up because she knows that’s what pietro would have done for wanda. she sits at wanda’s bedside because she can’t stand the thought of anyone in her avengers family feeling the way she does - being as messed up as she is; feeling alone. especially not wanda who has made her room into a home quicker than natasha ever has or ever will. wanda who still laughs and smiles, who cracks jokes at the others on a rare occasion she’s feeling up to it. natasha doesn’t want to see her lose any of that to the battering bruises and aches that come with being an avenger.
so she sits in the infirmary against her instincts to remove herself from such a place.
wanda seems surprised, but grateful when she wakes.
//
wanda crosses an unforeseen boundary one night while they’re just watching moonraker because wanda’s somehow yet to see it and it doesn’t sit well that they’ve been friends this long and she hasn’t seen it. natasha keeps to herself that it’s not her favorite movie, that it’s just a comfort of hers.
it’s stupid really. what wanda does wouldn’t, under normal circumstances, be considered all that terrible, but with all of natasha’s trauma that seems to be right under her skin, the fingers that brush against the inside of her wrist while she’s trying to focus on the movie sets her off. she hates the way her breath hitches and she’s immediately moving off the bed to stare at wanda like she’s just been struck.
wanda looks confused and rightfully so, but she’s wanda, and she apologizes more than she needs to. “i get if you want to leave.” wanda’s eyes leave natasha’s to pause the movie.
there’s a soft confession sitting in the back of natashas throat, deep and emotional because as much as the red room has her messed up, she’s still human. she’s just not sure she’s ready to admit to wanda that her crossing a small boundary is nothing in comparison to every other experience. it’s nothing compared to the painful things people have forced her to endure. she’s not sure she’s ready for the way wanda will inevitably look at her and hold her because natasha has yet to explain to wanda the darkest parts of her past. truthfully, natasha doesn’t think she ever will because she’s entirely certain she can’t take someone looking at her the way wanda would. she could barely handle it with clint.
natasha’s not ready for wanda’s emotional fallout at the confession, so she swallows it back down. thick and heavy with emotion she thought she had secured away tightly years ago. she’s sure she has wanda to blame for her recent upheaval of emotions and she disagrees with clint and laura that that’s a good thing.
red. blood. hands. strike.
she shoves the panic down, forces it back down, and moves back onto the bed to straddle wanda’s thighs. “just caught me off guard.” she tries a teasing tone, but wanda’s frown is present still, so she puts her hands on either side of wanda’s neck and drops her head down to brush her lips against wanda’s, “don’t stress about.”
she’s just looking for control over the emotions she’s feeling and she knows it.
love is for children.
//
wanda calls her good one day and it drags her back to last year when steve had murmured those words to her. wanda’s on her back and natasha’s hips are dragging back and forth between wanda’s legs – her lips are on wanda’s neck and she embraces the feeling of wanda’s blunt nails digging into her hips. her hips stutter at the sound of wanda’s voice praising her, telling her that she’s doing so good, that it feels so good, and that same feeling zips down her chest.
there’s a saying that sticks in her mind, one she’s not overly fond of: everything happens for a reason. she’s grateful to steve because without their arrangement she’s entirely sure this one with wanda wouldn’t last very long. granted, she’s absolutely not used to someone being so careful with her, so emboldened to do so because had anyone else expressed this kind of gentleness with her she might consider kicking them out of the nearest window. she wouldn’t even allow steve to do so; try as he might. he did his best with what natasha allowed him to do.
for whatever reason, whatever tugs at her entire being, she can’t do that with wanda. she thinks it has to do with wanda saying she trusts her. words that had been desperately said during a mission and then again after to release the stress that they both nearly died. she doesn’t really have time to think about it, so she compartmentalizes that feeling she gets when wanda tells her ‘i trust you’ – especially with wanda’s lips on her neck.
“i wanna try something. is that okay?” wanda asks softly as her fingers brush against the back of natasha’s neck, her chest still rising and falling with a bit more effort than usual because they’ve been releasing stress for a while now and natasha thinks maybe it’s time they separate so they can get rest before the sun starts making itself known.
natasha just looks at her, thinking about how much wanda trusts her, and that maybe she should extend that trust she has for wanda in the field to right here in this room. still, control is not an easy thing for her to let go of.
“will you lay back for me?” wanda’s voice is gentle.
everything in natasha is telling her not to, it took so long for her to do that with steve; to trust that he could take care of her like that, that she could let go of that control with him. she wants to avoid thinking about the way it made her feel, that it was comfortable and nice to let go of that. to not have to think so much.
“what’s the point of this if you’re not shutting off your mind too, natasha?” steve had inquired.
really, she’s dealt with more terrifying situations before. she can handle this, she can let this go this one time.
as she finds herself shifting so she can lie down, wanda’s hand wraps around her middle, and then wanda’s the one guiding her down onto her back, and natasha considers what it means.
it’s utterly terrifying that wanda can somehow be so gentle with her and she’s not running away from it.
clint; the rest of the avengers; steve, they’ve all made her soft.
wanda’s making her even softer.
//
wanda is a force, but natasha does try to avoid her. tries now that wanda is doing better than when she first got here, tries now that wanda isn’t crying all over the compound and skittish around the others. natasha tries to keep wanda at arm's length and tries to just use her for an outlet just as she did with steve; cordial when they have to be, fun to hang out with when they’re with the others, and unstoppable when they’re working together. just using wanda as a stress relief.
wanda is a force and natasha finds herself inevitably around her because they are the only two women who regularly live in the compound. sometimes they’re the only ones there besides vision because, other than the barton family farm, natasha has nowhere else to go. the concrete walls of the compound are her home. it’s damn near impossible to avoid her because there’s something pulling her to wanda.
“best childhood memory?” wanda asks her one night while they’re sitting on the kitchen counter and sharing a container of ben & jerry’s. they’ve been laughing and lightheartedly poking fun at their coworkers; their friends; their found family. they’re gossiping like school girls and it’s fun, natasha thinks.
until this moment where she has to think about the past.
natasha’s chin dips down as she smiles with melancholy in her chest, “moonraker.” is all natasha can give her because if she tries to sort through anything from her childhood she’ll just find pain and suffering that she’d like to forget. moonraker is the easiest to remember even though it stings all the same. melina put it on for her and yelena to watch because they’d been begging to watch a movie and it’s a movie everyone would actually agree on.
yelena, she thinks. ohio.
guilty, traitor.
when natasha looks back at her, wanda’s eyes seem to soften and she drops her spoon back into the tub of ice cream to hand it to natasha. there’s a familiar feeling of safety that creeps up her spine and wraps itself around her chest and squeezes uncomfortably. it wasn’t that long ago that steve was doing the same thing to her – how he still manages to make space for her to feel that.
it’s the same feeling she gets when she visits clint and laura’s farm. she’s just not sure she should be feeling that with any more people.
it’s dangerous. having attachments.
“that’s all?” wanda sounds more curious than accusatory and somehow it makes opening up easier. it reminds her of clint and how gentle he was in gaining her trust and never judged her for any of her past.
natasha shakes her head gently, finally taking the ice cream from wanda. the weight of her past is heavy and she breathes out, “ohio,” before promptly shoving a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth and then handing it back to wanda, “yours?” she hopes that wanda doesn’t press anymore on it, she’s not sure she can take that right at two a.m.
wanda tells her about watching tv with her family in sokovia, when everyone was alive and happy despite everything going on around them. how her parents ushered pietro and her into the living room every night with snacks, how you could feel the love radiating in the room.
wanda’s digging towards the bottom of the tub while she explains that’s why she loves bewitched so much because they’d all gather around their small television and smile, and grin, and hold each other in those moments. how much of a comfort all those old sitcoms bring to her because she loves that warm feeling she gets in her chest when she watches them, how it’s like comforting her inner child or whatever.
“i’ve been reading about that, i guess.” wanda explains as she eyes the ice cream. “healing your inner child.”
ohio.
natasha grins to hide the fact that this conversation is making her ache. “oh, how’s that going?”
wanda’s eyes meet hers and she passes the tub back to natasha, “good, i think.”
natasha’s fingers wrap around the container and it’s certainly not as cold as it was when they first swiped it from tony’s secret stash of ice cream that she discovered the second day they moved things into the compound. she focuses on the feeling, grounding her emotions the best way she can without running from them. something about the way wanda describes coming to terms and peace with her childhood makes natasha want to do the same, or at the very least not feel like the world is going to swallow her whole without a second thought.
“i have- had a sister.” she expresses softly, staring at the melting ice cream on the spoon. “yelena.”
“what was she like?” wanda asks and natasha can tell by the way wanda says she’s aware she’s pushing at one of natasha’s boundaries.
she’s not ready to cross that threshold with wanda quite yet. the confession is enough for her tonight. “i don’t want to talk about it.” she drops the spoon back down, she’s not feeling up to eating any more ice cream if she’s being honest with herself.
“then,” wanda swipes the container out of natasha’s hands with a small grin, no doubt happy to have stolen something from the great black widow, “i’m going to tell you about the pietro’s rock collection.”
natasha forces a laugh through her nose, “his what?”
wanda goes on to explain her brother’s pet rock collection; that together they would create little outfits for them. wanda had made a pirate hat for one of them out of a newspaper and pietro stole one of her doll’s cowboy hats. she was so mad at him for it, but then he named one of the rocks dick van dyke wanda says she just couldn’t find it in her to be mad at him.
natasha just watches her talk, intrigued by memories that seem to no longer haunt her, but instead bring her comfort.
love is for children.
//
marble. stone. break. guilty, guilty, guilty.
something possesses her to stand at wanda’s door with her arm wrapped around her midsection; fingers still wet with blood. she takes in a lungful of air before letting it out slowly to compose herself, to compartmentalize the pain radiating through her whole body. she should be headed to her own room to take care of her wounds by herself because that’s what she’s almost always done. or, if it’s bad enough, she ends up in the infirmary. there’s the rare occasion when someone else has to help her; usually clint. he’s the only one she’ll let see her so vulnerable.
he’s busy juggling three kids. which, she is over the moon for by the way, and she finds that somehow she’s managed to hold space to love those kids just as much as he does. she’s happy for him, happy he has that life and peace.
she just hates that she needs him right now and he’s not here.
she hates that she’s gotten accustomed to having help and now that she’s left without people she fully trusts she’s left needy. instinctually she hates it and yet she wants nothing more than to have someone help her out anyway. so she raps wanda’s door.
wanda asks her what happened to her and all natasha can actually tell is that she’s just trying not to be mad at her best friend for finding love and having a family. wanda then asks her if she’s jealous and natasha thinks it’s funny the way she wants to laugh gets caught in her throat.
“that’s not really my style, maximoff.” she jokes, “can i come in?”
“of course.”
though she’s hesitant, natasha lets wanda ease her pain with that magic that swirls from her fingers and lets wanda take care of her wounds. it feels nice to be taken care of and she finds herself closing her eyes at the warm feeling of wanda’s fingers on her ribs, carefully inspecting the bruises there. she’s so different from clint when he’s patching her up. there’s no joking about nearly dying or him calling her an idiot.
“just remember you’re human, nat. we break when we take too high of a fall.” he would tease, but the implication of what he was saying was always there. he was reminding her of her humanity, the humanity he pulled out of her when they first met.
wanda is so different. she’s softly apologizing every time natasha winces or takes in a sharp breath. she’s kind.
she wakes in wanda’s bed a few hours later, not even recalling when she had fallen asleep. when she inquires with wanda, who’s listening to music natasha’s not quite familiar with, wanda explains she passed out shortly after she finished bandaging her torso.
natasha apologizes as she sits up, “sorry, i didn’t mean to steal your bed.”
“you can stay, if you’d like.”
she’s too tired to move, her eyelids still feel heavy and her body hurts. so she does – she stays in the comfort of wanda’s presence.
//
months later they’re listening to mumford and sons’ babel record in the dark and lying on natasha’s bed because wanda can’t sleep and truthfully natasha likes listening to the music that wanda plays. it’s not exactly music to fall asleep to, the banjo is loud and the singer’s voice is loud – almost yelling. truthfully, natasha could fall asleep to it if she willed herself to. she’s learned to sleep through so much just to catch up on it between missions the same way a surgeon learns to do the same.
the songs make natasha’s mind wander, so many words are sung that pull at her mind and emotions. they resonate in a way she usually doesn’t like to think too long on: you’ll build your walls and i will play my bloody part, the ghosts we knew made us blackened or blued, i must live with my quiet rage, and i wrestled long with my youth.
“i have a lot of guilt,” she admits quietly in the dark next to wanda when the record stops playing and just the sound of cracklings can be heard. natasha wonders if wanda’s asleep or not because there’s no response, no movement of her turning her attention natasha, but natasha continues anyway. “about my sister.” she explains further. she’s leaping off an edge here, but it’s not graceful by any means. it’s not said the way the ruthless black widow would say it. her voice shakes when it comes out, but since her recent failed mission with steve she’s feeling more guilty than usual. the red in her ledger is bright and apparent in her mind right now and if she doesn’t let it out it’s going to consume her.
she’d pull wanda onto her if her body weren’t so sore from the mission. she’d pull wanda onto her if she weren’t possibly asleep. she’d pull wanda onto her if she knew wanda wouldn’t stop, but she knows wanda won’t touch her when she’s like this, and maybe that’s okay with her right now.
part of her hates that wanda’s got her figured out enough to know when she actually needs stress relief and when she just really, really needs a friend.
the other part of her, the part that clint knows, that inner child in her, is grateful.
“how did she die?” wanda asks, apparently awake even as natasha gazes at the clock beside her that reads 3:32 AM.
natasha shakes her head as if trying to relieve her mind of images of her past. her vision blurs as she tries to focus on the stipples in the ceiling, “i’m pretty certain she’s alive. just-” she pauses, breathes out of her nose, “-doesn’t want to see me.”
wanda presses further carefully with more questions and natasha hates the way her instincts kick in to end the conversation when she’s the one who brought it up. it feels like she’s 20 all over again explaining her life to clint, explaining why she is the way she is just because she has no one else to go to, and at the end of the day she’s human. just like him, just like wanda, and steve, and bucky, and everyone else haunted by a past. and god she hates that she’s panicking. it should be simple, she should accept this safe space that wanda has carefully made over their time together.
she hates the way she has to focus on her breathing and she hates the way wanda’s fingers on her cheek feel comforting because love is for children. softness is weakness and she’s supposed to be made of marble. if she’s not made of marble then what is left of her?
“come back to me.” wanda whispers and natasha finds herself anchored by the soft touch of her fingers that brush through stray hairs. “breathe.”
she is bone tired. there's a deep ache with every movement of her body, every blink and thought about a past that she couldn't outrun no matter how fast she may be. no matter how much she ignores how her lungs scream and bleed with each step away from wanda just so she can keep her at arm's length. and maybe she's so tired she thinks that she deserves some peace for a fleeting moment and she's gasping for air at the revelation that she has it somewhere in her to think that way. she deserves the air in her lungs and a heart that bleeds and beats. that with all she's done in past she deserves to rest and be held.
she lets out a lungful of air and for the first time in a while, she feels wetness slide down the side of her face and she finds herself apologizing. there are cracks in the marble and each one is soothed and filled with each brush of wanda’s fingers through her hair. wanda coaxes her with gentle words and a kindness natasha has never felt before. not with steve, not with clint, not even with melina – try as she might those three years, neither of them had the capacity to see past their own traumas of the red room. comfort was a difficult thing to offer.
“pain only makes us stronger. ” melina would say.
“i’m sorry.” natasha apologizes again, willing herself to slow her breathing down until she can take a steady breath and until the ceiling becomes clear again.
wanda shushes her quietly, wanda tells her not to worry, and that she’s also sorry for pushing on the matter. “besides, i learned from the best how to help someone panicking.” wanda teases before natasha feels her lips on her temple.
love is for children, natasha.
//
natasha gasps into a kiss and wanda swallows it until natasha whimpers against her mouth because wanda is so safe and that same feeling she had with steve is so much stronger in these moments with wanda. when wanda asks if the touches are soft enough or need to be firmer. wanda’s so sure to make sure natasha’s not using sex as a toxic coping skill; won’t be rough when natasha’s fighting the urge to get away from a kind of gentleness that she isn’t used to. the red room wasn’t kind. it’s instinct to cower away from wanda’s kindness, but wanda is a force. every soft touch, lingering stare, and gentle kiss breaks down a barrier.
they’re laid up in bed later, bare to each other in post bliss with nothing but a sheet covering them. one of wanda’s legs is settled between hers with their feet brushing against each other. wanda’s propped up by one arm that bends to carefully massage natasha’s scalp, the other one is laid across her stomach where fingers dance gently across natasha’s marred skin. scars of her past that apparently wanda is unafraid of. natasha’s bare for wanda to see, exposed in a way not many have been privy to. wanda’s eyes are on her, soft and kind. her lips are curved into a soft smile as she tells natasha how much she likes these moments.
likes this.
natasha thinks that what’s so gut-wrenching about wanda. how incredibly soft and soothing she is when they’re like this. no one before her had seen natasha spiral and beg to be touched, to feel something other than the ache in her chest and pain in her mind, and treated her so softly in return. steve was as close as anyone had gotten before wanda. prior to him it was calloused hands, booze-filled breaths, and selfish desires. wanda is good at consuming her, consuming all that pain and misery; all that trauma from her past. wanda is good at taking it and bending natasha gently so she can break safely in gentle arms.
it’s not even just when they’re breathing heavily into each other.
what’s more terrifying is the way natasha does the same for wanda. something she didn’t see herself capable of doing unless it was necessary. yet when wanda’s mind is wrought with grief, natasha’s there to hold her through it. to give her soothing touches and lips against her forehead. she’s there to wipe tears from wanda’s eyes and to tell her that she’s going to be okay, that they have each other, and that she’s not going anywhere.
she thinks the scariest thing she’s ever witnessed is when she nearly got herself blasted into the sky and wanda managed to save her by the skin of her teeth. natasha thought she was going to be alone that night, but wanda burst into the room, and screamed with tears in her eyes. she had shoved her hands against natasha’s collarbones in desperation before she pulled her towards her again, lips trembled at what natasha could only assume was the potential loss of someone she cared about again. the fear and paranoia that littered wanda’s eyes terrified natasha because no one had ever looked at her so desperately, nor pleaded with her that she not go anywhere that cannot be followed.
and it was the first time wanda kissed her and they didn’t end up tangled in bed. it was the first time wanda’s kissed her with so much emotion and kindness that natasha thought her chest was going to burst from the emotion of it.
she swallows her agreement with wanda. she likes this too, more than likes this, but she’s not ready to admit that out loud just yet.
she keeps it to herself.
//
natasha is panicking after a mission that reminds her of the red room. she’s panicking after saving a couple of girls and women that seem like they’re being used. her chest is tight and sweat drips down the side of her head as she enters wanda’s room without a second thought. she’s not even certain wanda is in her room, she couldn’t find the air in her lungs or the voice in her throat to ask FRIDAY to confirm wanda’s home.
natasha can hear the shower running, hear fleetwood mac humming behind the door leading to the bathroom, and a small part of her calms at the idea that there’s only a door separating them from each other. she shuts the door to wanda’s room and slides down against it to sit down.
she’s not sure how long she sits there. images of the red room flash before her as if wanda herself had pulled them forward again.
yelena. blood. soldier. guns. antonia. bombs. dreykov. kill, kill, kill, kill.
a hand on her knee makes her jump and she manages to pull herself forward and not the black widow that’s trying to creep out of her. not the monster and murderer she’s trying to run from because wanda touches her like she’s made of something soft. wanda touches her like she knows the battle in natasha’s mind with her past.
“let me help.” wanda’s fingers brush through natasha’s hair, tucking it behind her ear. “can i show you?” she asks as she moves to sit next to natasha, to hold her. and natasha knows wanda would like to use her powers to pull a better memory forward, to help natasha through this.
they had talked about it a few weeks ago when returning to wanda’s room, both of them a little drunk off tony’s expensive booze (wanda way more than natasha) after a party he insisted on throwing. celebrating a win that natasha can’t recall this moment. wanda’s smile was bright as she giggled about it and natasha’s brow quirked in curiosity. she had learned to trust wanda the same way natasha trusted her. wanda had earned that after all this time.
natasha finds herself nodding, her hand dropping so she can pull herself into wanda’s embrace.
“what do you want?” wanda asks.
and natasha knows she’s asking what memory wanda wants to pull to the forefront of her mind, but she can’t think, so she just pulls wanda closer. embraces the warmth of their bodies touching. her fingers part against wanda’s cheek to hold her face better, so that her thumb brushes against wanda’s lower lip; to breathe with her. “anything.”
so wanda gives her her family. images of tony and steve laughing as they play a game with drinks in their hands. they’re all there. thor, clint, sam, rhodey. then there’s melina, cooking dinner that smells like a home natasha’s never known but always wanted. yelena is laughing and giggling as she throws grapes at natasha while she tries to catch them. it’s warm and comforting, and without control, natasha lets out a muffled sob against wanda’s shoulder.. it feels like it’s ripping through her body, but natasha comes out the other end feeling relief as the images swirl and instead of pain and torment she finds warmth and happiness. above all, she feels safe.
she can’t remember the last time she felt that way. ohio had been an impending doom, it was going to end, but this here. right now. she can’t foresee that end, doesn’t know when it’s going to hit and she tries to settle herself in the comfort of here and now. in wanda’s strong arms and in a bed she finds herself sleeping in more than her own.
wanda brings heavy lids and tired arms that wrap around her as sleep takes her again.
they’re in bed by the time the morning light breaks through the blinds. natasha wakes wanda with soft kisses and gentle touches until she wakes as well, eyes fluttering open. natasha’s voice is rough with sleep when she says good morning and breathes a hi. wanda’s smile makes her chest feel warm and though the feeling is foreign, she knows what it is.
love is for children, natalia.
she doesn’t care right now, not with the light littered on wanda’s face the way it is.
“hi.” wanda’s voice is equally rough with sleep, but it sends waves through natasha’s body regardless and she can’t help but push herself up so she can kiss wanda properly, so her hand can travel down warm curves until fingers are skimming over a place much warmer.
wanda hums at the feeling, “feeling better?”
“much.” her lips move to wanda’s neck and then to collar bones, “now let me make you feel good.”
wanda smiles and natasha builds her up, sends her over, and brings her back down before shifting so she’s settled between wanda’s legs – her favorite way to spend her mornings. she’s gentle and slow. they’re both tired, she knows it. wanda using her powers like that is draining and the emotional rollercoaster drains natasha more than she’d ever admit out loud.
wanda comes with a soft cry and fingers in natashas hair. her thighs clench around natasha’s head uncomfortably, but natasha doesn’t find it in her to care too much. in fact, she tries to send wanda over again but there’s a painful groan and wanda’s thighs fall to the side, so natasha rests her head on one of them as her fingers dance circles around the other one.
“i love you.” wanda breathes, then natasha can see how she holds her breath, like she’s just realizing what she’s released into the room. natasha kisses wanda’s thigh. her chest leaps to say it back, but the words were dead and gone on her tongue years ago. she could admit to wanda at this point that she likes her, but she’s beyond that, and that’s not exactly how someone responds to another who has just admitted they love the other.
natasha hums, acknowledging what wanda’s said as she makes her way back up to wanda to kiss her. say something. love is for children. “yeah?” natasha asks with a small smirk.
wanda just nods at her, “is that okay?”
“yeah.” is what she can muster because it is okay, it’s totally okay because when wanda says it again against her lips the voices of the red room die.
she hopes the way she’s kissing wanda makes it known to her. part of her wishes wanda would just hear her thoughts because that warmth in her chest is ever-present, but they both know wanda wouldn’t ever do that without her permission. natasha’s not quite there yet either. pulling memories is one thing, but reading her mind is a well-kept secret.
maybe someday she’ll find the words to describe the feeling to wanda back.
love is for children, but this is more than that.