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There’s a moment where the sun breaks through the window and Sharon forgets about the mission. She forgets that they’re not actually newly weds and that they’re not actually on their honeymoon. She forgets that the two of them were hunting down Hydra agents last night and not having dinner on the Champs-Élysée and then falling into bed with each other in a fit of giggles and kisses, slightly tipsy from the champagne. She forgets that the gold bands on Natasha’s bedside table aren’t actually theirs. It’s a brief and fleeting moment of forgetfulness but it’s there and Sharon desperately wishes it would stay.
There’s something about the way that Natasha sleeps that makes Sharon’s chest swell. She sleeps on her side facing Sharon, chest gently rising and falling with each soft breath, red hair sweeping across her face. Occasionally, she would scrunch up her nose and murmur something in her sleep, usually in Russian. It was intimate, seeing Nat with her guard down like this. Sharon wondered how many people have seen her like this. She wondered if she was special.
There was a strand of red hair that fell across the bridge of Natasha’s nose and Sharon wanted desperately to sweep it behind her ear. She wanted Nat to wake up with the brush of her fingertips. She wanted to whisper a quiet, “good morning, darling” and she wanted Nat to smile and kiss her softly in return. She knew this wouldn’t happen.
Then Natasha opened her eyes, they were still heavy with sleep but they were green like clovers. Sharon fell deep into that beautiful shade of green. Meanwhile, the light from the window lit her from behind, giving her a golden glow. She was like an angel.
“So beautiful,” a quiet and gentle whisper, filled with infatuation. Sharon hadn’t even realized she’d said it out loud at first.
That is, until Natasha responded in an equally quiet, sleepy voice, “I could say the same to you.”
Panic flared up in Sharon’s stomach and shot through the rest of her body. She opened her mouth to say something but Natasha cut her off in a laugh.
“It’s ok,” Nat smiled, warm and genuine, as if she had become one of the sunbeams that had peaked through their window. Once again Sharon wondered if how many people have seen this part of Nat, if Sharon was special. She added, “You don’t have to explain.”
Then, Natasha tucked the strand of hair, the one that had fallen across the bridge of her nose, behind her ear. Sharon vaguely felt like she had missed an opportunity.
“I just– I didn’t mean–“ Sharon started, unsure of what to say. She didn’t know why Natasha made her so tongue-tied.
Or maybe she did.
But that didn’t matter.
Natasha’s hand found its way to Sharon’s cheek. Her palm was calloused and something in Sharon’s mind reminded her that she’s killed people with that hand. With that bare hand.
But the way she stroked Sharon’s cheek was so gentile.
Sharon realized that, if she wanted to, Natasha could kill her right there. Nat had years of training on her, she could do it and it scared Sharon to think that maybe, just maybe, she would let her. She wasn’t sure why.
Or maybe she was.
That also scared her.
But Natasha didn’t kill her, instead, she leaned in and pressed their lips together. It was soft and tender, the two of them bathed in early morning light. Sharon things she can still taste hints of the champagne from last night on Natasha’s lips. Once again, she lets herself believe the cover story just for a moment.
She wonders if maybe, just maybe, it ever could be real. The way Nat kisses her tells her yes, it could be this way. It tells her they can have matching wedding bands, they can have a beautiful wedding and a lovely honeymoon. Their job, however, the real reason they’re here, tells her no. It tells her it’s too dangerous, that a relationship like that is a liability.
Sharon wants to hide from that. Just for now, under the warm covers of a hotel bed, Natasha’s lips against her’s.
When they pull away Sharon whispers, “Can we stay like this for a little while longer?”
And Natasha agrees, “Just a little longer.”