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Natasha takes a motorcycle from HQ down to the city, enjoying the wind whipping along what little skin she leaves exposed. She doesn’t take the bikes out often outside of missions, so it’s a nice change of pace from the grind that work has turned into recently. Riding for the sake of it is fresh and uncomplicated and joyful.
She has some fun weaving down West Side Highway and makes it to Stark Tower before sunset, with at least an hour before her meeting. Once, this might have been cause to search out a coffee shop or a boutique to kill time, but today, Natasha heads up to the Avengers floors early.
She gets off on the 89th floor and starts making herself dinner. Everything is where it usually is, and Natasha decompresses while boiling pasta, cutting up meat and vegetables, simmering down a sauce, and sauteing. She opens a bottle of wine and eats on one of the deep leather couches, looking out over the city as the sun goes down and lights come on.
Idly, she wonders why she never spent more time here. Back before Ultron had simultaneously torn apart and brought together the Avengers, she’d had a room at Stark Tower, all of them had. But she’d never stayed there more than a few nights in between flights to other places. Toni had dreamed up a whole dramatic team plan, but no one else had bought into it.
Now, exhausted under the weight of co-leading the independent Avengers Initiative, Natasha can’t help but dream of the good old days and might-have-beens. She doesn’t even notice the time passing until the bottle of wine is empty and night has completely fallen. The view outside the Tower is obscured, and she sees her own reflection against the darkness.
Her thoughts have wandered down darker paths, the things she tries to avoid thinking about. The time before the upstate location, the old team. She goes to wash up, trying to shake it all off.
She hasn’t really succeeded when the elevator dings.
\ \ \ | / / /
Toni’s plane is delayed. When she finally lands at JFK, she tells her driver to push it, hoping to make her meeting with Natasha.
A year ago, or even a few months ago, she’d have laughed at the idea of looking forward to seeing Natasha. Their history was fraught with tension and not nearly enough good moments to ease it. Over the last few months, though, things have… gotten better. Much better.
It’s a nice change. For the first few months after Toni left the team, she and Natasha avoided face-to-face contact and stuck to correspondence. There was a lot to engage on. Setting up the new facility, routing out the remnants of Hydra in the US and abroad, and charting a course for the Avengers moving forward were just a start. Since Stark Industries still covers the majority of the Avengers’ funding, Natasha was the official liaison with the company, and as such she and Toni were more or less required to be in constant contact.
Luckily, it didn’t go as badly as Toni had feared it would. Over email, without their history and egos to get in the way, they managed to get a lot done. In between filling each other in on the various moving parts, they started gossiping about mutual acquaintances—Fury, Pepper, and certain key lawmakers on Toni’s end, and Rhodey, Steve, and Maria Hill on Natasha’s. Toni really started to dig Natasha’s subtle but biting sense of humor, and Natasha kept talking to her, so she had to assume the spy was starting to like her more, too.
They’ve tentatively progressed to in-person meetings every week, and Toni has been shocked by how well they click. They’re both dedicated to their work and share a lot of views on methods and expedience. But beyond that—Natasha has missed having someone she can relax with, since Maria has gotten too busy recently, and Toni misses having someone she can act petty with, since she and Pepper stopped dating. The changes that have taken place in their personal lives over the last year, in the team and their romantic relationships, had left gaps that were still sore. Together, they’ve started to heal.
Not that Toni talks about working with her ex, or knowing that her best friend is working a few minutes away and still doesn’t have much time for her. Not that Natasha talks about losing the first person she’s wanted a relationship with in years, or more or less watching the best friend she’s ever had walk out of her life into retirement.
It’s complicated. But both Toni and Natasha are used to, and can handle, complicated.
By the time Toni makes it up to the 89th floor, it’s beyond any reasonable time to have a meeting. Inbound traffic was a bitch, even more so than usual, and it’s fully dark outside. She wants to touch base with Natasha at the very least and apologize for missing their appointment.
Again, if she’d been told a few months ago that she would apologize to Natasha for missing a meeting, she wouldn’t have believed it.
When the elevator opens, she hears the sink going in the kitchen. The rest of the wide space is empty, but there’s a drained bottle of wine and a lone glass out in the lounge. Toni smiles, warmed by the idea of Natasha making herself comfortable in Toni's space. She kicks off her heels and throws her blazer over the couch, leaving her in a gold satin tank top and tailored, deep red pants. Iron Woman colors, because Toni doesn't ditch her style for business.
When she enters the kitchen, clearing her throat politely, Natasha looks over her shoulder with a smile.
“Hey. Traffic?”
“Yeah,” she sighs. “Sorry I missed our appointment. It’s kinda late to go over intel reports. Want to stay overnight and meet tomorrow? Your room’s still your room.”
“Glad you didn’t move anyone in there.”
“You’re lucky. Housing in Manhattan? I’ve got investors chomping at the bit.”
Natasha puts the last dish on the drying rack and turns around. She’s still smiling at Toni, with far more affection than she’s used to. They’ve hit cordial, warm, even, but Toni’s never seen her sustain a smile for this long except around Clint’s kids. She remembers the wine bottle and relaxes. Even super-spies deserve a night off, after all.
“Have you eaten?” asks Natasha. “I made some marsala earlier, there’s leftovers.” She turns to the counter, where a mug stands waiting, and pours in some water from a kettle off the stove.
“Ate on the plane. Is that tea?”
“Yeah. Thought it might…”
Thought it might help , Toni fills in. Neither of them mention that it’s Bruce’s tea, but the fact— the absence—hangs over the room.
And, that’s when Toni’s rarely-used people skills kick and in she realizes that Natasha’s smile was just a little too wide to be sincere.
Natasha goes to stir the tea and her spoon clatters to the counter. She reaches for it jerkily and pins it against the counter, but all of a sudden Toni can hear her breathing go shaky, see her shoulders curling in.
“Hey, what’s all this, what’s the matter? Natasha?” She steps forward, but Natasha waves her off.
“Nothing, I’m fine.” She takes a deep breath. “Just—tired.”
She still hasn’t picked up her spoon, though. And Toni does not know how to address this. “Long day… sparring?”
Natasha sighs, then flashes her another smile. “I should go to bed.”
Okay, so that wasn’t right. Toni tries to fix things the best way she knows how: giving her something.
“You know what’s good with that tea, there are some biscuits up here—”
Toni moves for the cupboard at the same time as Natasha tries to step out of her way. They bump.
“Whoops, uh—”
“Sorry—”
Natasha turns to move away and they nearly bump again, stopping with barely a few inches between them. Toni turns and sweeps her hand to let Natasha step by. Instead, Natasha touches Toni’s arm softly and steps closer. Her expression is far too naked, eyes wide and shiny as she leans in.
Toni has a horrible flash of memory of Pepper leaning in the same way at a gala years ago, and she’s filled with the same panic and confusion. The difference here is that Natasha doesn’t just lean in and wait for Toni to kiss her: her hand moves to Toni’s neck and pulls them together.
It’s not Toni’s habit to avoid a kiss, so a few unbelievably long seconds go by of Natasha’s plush lips on hers, her scent in Toni’s nose, her warmth on Toni’s skin. Finally, Toni comes to her senses and ends it, holding her by her upper arms. Natasha’s hands skate down Toni’s sides, brushing her hips before she lets them drop.
“Nat, you’ve been drinking.”
She huffs scornfully. “I can’t get drunk off wine. But I’m sorry.” She turns back to the counter and grabs the sugar pot, busily opening it up and fixing her tea.
Toni stands still for a minute, unprepared for what she’d seen in Natasha’s eyes. Vulnerability, hurt. In Natasha?
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, I’m sorry, can we just pretend that didn’t happen?” She laughs at herself, waving a hand as though to waft away the kiss.
It plunges Toni into another memory from even longer ago. Way back in grad school, she’d been a reedy nineteen-year-old about to finish her master’s degree. Matthias was an undergrad, twenty, older than her but seeming so much younger. He did the same thing Natasha had done: kissed her and tried to pretend it hadn’t happened. But Toni had been more optimistic back then, more open to human connection, and she’d pushed her friend to tell her what was wrong. Turned out, his girlfriend had cheated on him and he wanted to feel like he was still attractive to someone.
Toni can’t imagine Natasha having anything in common with an English Composition major. The Black Widow wouldn’t make immature mistakes like Matthias. But Natasha is staring at the spoon, tension whitening her knuckles, and nineteen-year-old Toni’s uncynical desire to help resurges.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” she says, softly but firmly.
Natasha glances up at her, then back at her tea, avoiding Toni’s gaze. But she seems to get the message that Toni’s not going to let it go. “It’s stupid.”
“Look who you’re talking to.”
She cracks a small smile, a real one. “I… you’re gonna laugh.”
“I won’t laugh,” Toni promises.
“I… I miss Bruce.”
Toni leans against the counter. So it was boy trouble. Humans never really get over the basics, do they?
“I miss him too,” she admits.
They stand in silence for a minute, sharing that solidarity, before Toni fills it. “So you went for the next best scientist, is that what’s going on here?”
To her surprise, Natasha laughs, rather than glaring at her for crudity. Her laugh sounds nice. Human. Not like the controlled, composed spy Toni’s known all this time.
“Something like that.” Natasha meets Toni’s eyes and bites her lip. “And Steve wouldn’t go for it,” she murmurs, staring determinedly back at her tea.
“He what?” Toni blurts.
“You can’t tell anyone,” Natasha says firmly. “About any of this!”
“Of course,” Toni says honestly. She’d never dream of using the open wound of Bruce’s absence against Natasha, not when all of them still feel it so keenly. “But Steve really—”
She shook her head.
“Jesus, I knew he was stupid, but that’s just a new level.” Toni shakes her head, wowed. “I’m not even mad that you picked him over me.”
“Like you wouldn’t go for him first,” Natasha comments, picking up her tea to take a sip and smirk at Toni over the rim.
“You know, dumb blonde really doesn’t do it for me?” Toni jibes. “And this shows he’s even dumber than I thought.”
“Come on, all that tension can’t just be from your egos.” Her eyes are sparkling, and Toni lets the conversation be pulled somewhere fun, if slightly embarrassing, rather than awkward and painful.
“I’m not gonna say I’d never go for it, but yeah, most of it’s not that kind of tension. The guy’s really just that infuriating.”
“You could say he really lights your fire, huh?” Nat teases.
“Doesn’t sound like he’s got a fire to light, if you couldn’t manage it. Did the ice kill his libido completely?”
Natasha laughs, though it looks like she feels bad about it, and puts down her tea. “Contrary to popular belief, not everyone is attracted to me.”
“Yeah, see? Dumb blonde. Stupid, very stupid.”
Toni is smiling fondly, with no idea when that happened. Maybe when Natasha showed that she was human, and went for rebound kisses with entirely unsuited people, and got turned down by a guy Toni would love to punch with a kiss every so often.
Natasha rolls her eyes at Toni but they’ve gotten closer, sometimes in the last few minutes, and it just seems natural when they both lean forward and kiss again.
And again.
It’s not hurried or passionate, just hot and easy. Toni can’t remember the last time she kissed a friend. Probably before Pepper, some scientist she’d worked with, that was her regular relationship aside from one-night stands. This hits all the same notes: sensual, fun, and safe.
They pull apart when Natasha’s hair gets in their mouths. Natasha pulls a red strand off her tongue, making such a classic ‘yucky’ face that Toni laughs full-body, until Natasha sinks her fingers into Toni's short, stylish hair and uses it to drag her back in for another kiss. Her body is warm and soft under Toni’s hands, though there’s strong muscle beneath the surface. They press close enough together that Toni begins to feel like the kitchen is entirely the wrong place for this.
“Shall we move somewhere more comfortable?” Toni asks, barely breaking away from Natasha’s mouth.
Natasha’s lipstick is smeared. It should look ridiculous, but instead when she smiles it makes Toni smile back. “Yeah.”
Natasha knows where Toni’s bedroom is, and tugs her hand to get them moving.
Toni’s walking on air. This feels like the best decision she’s made in the last year. Finally, something simple, pure, an unquestionably good: sharing her body and time with a friend.
Natasha kisses her again when they reach the bedroom and she stops thinking entirely.