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It all began on a chilly March evening before they even started dating. Natasha wasn’t very keen on making friendships, even so, she considered Wanda one. The witch had surely wormed her way into Natasha’s heart more easily than others. But that didn’t make the spy any better at being open.
Natasha's blood-soaked past liked to haunt her, as much as she tried to drown her demons. The red never seemed to wash off her hands and the guilt smothered her. That’s what keeps her up on said March evening. It’s too cold to be outside without a jacket but she doesn’t care. The wind bites at her as she sits on the front steps of the Avengers compound. A bitter part of her wants to suffer in the cold, half-convinced that freezing to death would be better than living with her emotions.
Crisp air fills her lungs, cooling her body further. The stars twinkle above her and she focuses on them as hard as she can, begging her mind to be quiet.
“‘Tasha?”
Natasha glances over her shoulder. A concerned Wanda approaches her, wrapped up in an olive green jacket and carrying a red and black pattern blanket.
“Aren’t you cold?” Wanda sits down intoxicatingly close next to her, draping the blanket over both their shoulders.
Natasha shrugs, turning her attention to the scars patterned across her left knuckles. They’ve faded over the years, but Natasha saw them as clear as day. They served as a cruel reminder of her days in the Red Room, being forced to throw punch after punch until her knuckles would bleed and her arms threatened to give out. She picks at the skin bitterly.
“Something on your mind?” Wanda ventures gently, leaning her shoulder against Natasha’s.
Natasha’s instinct tells her to say no, shake her head and not say a word. She couldn’t change the past and talking about it felt stupid. But Wanda’s looking at her so softly, sincerity conveyed in her bewitching green eyes.
“Just thinking about the past.” Natasha simplifies, tone coated in anguish.
Wanda frowns slightly and shivers, not from the cold, but from the implication of the words. She pulls away from the redhead, thinking back to their very first encounter. She’d used her power to put horrible images of the past in Natasha’s head until she was near catatonic, misguided by her grief and by Ultron.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, little witch.”
Normally, Wanda didn’t mind the nickname, even if she had protested at first that she was taller than Natasha. Natasha countered by pointing out that she was younger, therefore her little witch. But now, it seemed like the moniker served as a reminder that Wanda was in fact, a witch, who’d used her power for harm.
“It was back in Sokovia. I’m sorry if that brought up something you didn’t want to remember.”
Natasha shakes her head, still picking at the scars patterned across her knuckles. Wanda’s gaze settles on this, frown growing.
“You didn’t show me anything I didn’t already know. And I don’t blame you for what happened then.”
“I would understand if you did.”
“Maximoff, if I judged you on past mistakes, it would be extremely hypocritical of me. God knows I’ve done some horrible crap in the past.”
“That’s not your fault, Nat.” Wanda declares quickly.
From what little she knew about Natasha’s past, she’d been forced into committing the crimes she had. She had no choice. Wanda acts on impulse. She grabs Natasha’s left hand to stop her from picking at the scars. She presses a soft kiss to her knuckles instead.
Natasha’s breath catches in her throat, uncharacteristically stupefied. She’s sure her cheeks had turned pink, but if anyone pointed it out, she’d pin it on the cold.
“See? You don’t blame me and I don’t blame you,” Natasha finally manages to say, “Now enough of this feelings talk and shit, talk about something else.”
Wanda chuckles but doesn’t let go of Natasha’s hand while she rambles about absolutely anything else in the world.
---
It continues a few weeks later when Wanda hears a muffled yell from down the hall. She scrambles to Natasha’s room, throwing open the door in a panic.
“Natasha?”
She rushes to her bedside. Natasha was clearly stuck in whatever nightmare she was having. Sweat had formed on her hairline and her eyes were squeezed close as she muttered, switching between Russian and English.
The trepidation Wanda felt threatened to make her heart beat right out of her chest. What had Natasha done for her when she’d had nightmares? Wanda tries to think but the memories are foggy. She only knew Natasha was always there for her and she had to do the same.
Wanda catches Natasha’s left hand, interspersing kissing her knuckles with gentle words of reassurance.
“It’s okay, Natasha, it’s just a dream,” She repeats patiently, “I’m here. You’re safe.”
Without realizing it, Wanda slips into Natasha’s mind with her power. She’s suddenly hit with the image of a younger Natasha, one with fluffy bangs and tears in her eyes. She was standing at the sink, scrubbing desperately at the blood on her hands.
An older woman was standing behind her, glaring at Natasha harshly in the mirror.
“You’re weak,” She spat, grabbing Natasha’s shoulders to spin her around, “You have no place in this world.”
“I have no place in this world.” Natasha parroted back quietly, bracing herself for the punch she knew would be coming.
Wanda snaps back to reality, trying to make sense of what she’d just seen. Her head spins at full tilt like the carnival rides she and Pietro used to go on when they were little. Natasha continues to thrash in her sleep, begging an unseen figure to leave her alone.
Wanda continues to pepper soft kisses to Natasha’s knuckles, promising no one would hurt her now. It takes a few minutes for her eyes to flutter open.
“Maximoff?”
Natasha sits up quickly, taking deep breaths. She pulls her hand out of Wanda’s, moving to wrap her arms around herself. Wanda moves to give her space, suddenly feeling as though she invaded the redhead’s privacy.
“Sorry I barged in, I thought you were in trouble and you were just having a nightmare, I guess, and I wasn’t sure what to do, and I accidentally saw some of it, I’m sorry.” Wanda rambles inanely.
Noticing the raised eyebrow look Natasha gives her, Wanda shuts her mouth. They sit in tense silence until Wanda speaks again.
“Who was that woman?”
Natasha shakes her head bitterly.
“Madame B. She raised me.” She put air quotes around the word “raised”.
Madame B had taken her as an orphan and made her into the superspy she was in cruel ways. Her childhood was non-existent outside of that horrible place.
Wanda’s heart feels heavy. What she’d seen was scary enough secondhand and she couldn’t imagine living through it herself. Wanda moves next to Natasha, pulling the previously discarded blanket back over the both of them.
“What are you doing?” The redhead asks.
“I’m going to stay with you tonight.”
Natasha already feels like she’d shared too much with the witch, embarrassed to have done so.
“I’m fine, Maximoff, you don’t have to stay with me.”
She was sure she wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep anyways but Wanda didn’t need to know that. Wanda only shakes her head.
“It’s not for your comfort then, it’s for mine.” She insists.
She didn’t want to leave Natasha alone. It would have been wrong, she thought.
Feeling as though she’s fighting a losing battle, Natasha doesn’t protest again. She simply settles back next to Wanda, ignoring how their proximity made her heart race.
And who is she to complain when she wakes her the next morning with Wanda’s arm around her waist, surprisingly well rested. When Wanda stirs, she kisses Natasha’s knuckles before sliding out of bed, promising to be back with cups of coffee. She leaves Natasha there with the stupidest smile on her face, one she would later deny having.
---
It keeps going a few months later when they officially start dating. Wanda becomes familiar with every aspect of Natasha, every expression, every like and dislike, every scar, and every habit.
Natasha was supposed to come back from a mission that night. Wanda had made macaroni and cheese for the spy when she got in, even though it was late. Wanda liked to tease her, asking her if she really wanted the “orange powder garbage” when she could have anything else. Natasha always insisted that the “orange powder garbage” was her favorite.
But when Natasha walked in, she didn’t immediately beeline for Wanda the way she normally did. She paused in the doorway, face hidden in the shadows.
“Nat?” Wanda asks, voice mixed with concern and confusion.
“I was hoping you’d be asleep.” Natasha’s voice was hauntingly monotone.
“You know I was always wait for you,” Wanda replies slowly, taking a step forward, “Natasha, what’s wrong?”
“I lied.”
Wanda’s brows furrowed in confusion. The redhead wasn’t making any sense.
“What?” She reached for Natasha’s hands, tugging her into the light.
Immediately she gasped. The right side of Natasha’s jaw was covered in cuts and purple bruises were blossoming across her collarbone. Her eyes were red and puffy from what looked like crying.
Natasha winces, looking down at her boots. Wanda gently tilts her head up again with a finger under her chin.
“What happened?”
Wanda swears up and down that if she tracked down whoever did this, they wouldn’t live to do it again. Her grasp on the other girl’s hand tightens.
“I lied and I messed up, Maximoff,” Natasha’s smile is horribly bittersweet, “The way I always do.”
Tears spring into Wanda’s eyes at the absolute defeat written across the redhead’s face.
“You’re not really making sense.”
Natasha shakes her head, sighing and squeezing her eyes closed for a moment.
“I told you this was going to just be a simple recon mission.”
Wanda nods.
“It wasn’t. One of my old Red Room trainers resurfaced. Madame B.” Natasha explains, voice wavering.
The witch grimaces. Wanda knew of Madame B, an evil woman who often appeared in the nightmares she had to calm Natasha down from. She knew of the sanguinary in her wake, the ghastly things she’d done to scar Natasha for life.
“I went to try and bring her down. I didn’t want her to start the Red Room up again,” Fresh tears slide down Natasha’s cheeks, “But she had more backup that I accounted for and I-I--”
She chokes on the words, which only serves in setting Wanda further on edge.
“I failed. She beat me and I couldn’t track her down again.”
“Natasha…” Wanda brings one hand up to her cheek, brushing away her tears with her thumb.
The redhead jerks away. She felt as though she didn’t deserve Wanda’s comfort. She’d failed, she’d lost, she’d lied and fucked up. She hadn’t even wanted Wanda to see her like this. It was a far cry from the unbreakable person she normally prided herself on being.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied and I’m sorry you had to see me like this. I thought I was done running from my past, but I guess I’m not and I screwed up and--”
Natasha cuts herself off with a sob. All the sadness and hurt and anger she’d been holding in suddenly exploded and she sank to her knees, bringing her hand over her mouth to muffle her cries.
Wanda’s mind goes into overdrive. She cannot fathom why Natasha was apologizing to her for any of that. She kneels down, grabbing Natasha’s shoulder gently yet forcefully.
“Listen to me, you idiot,” She begins, catching the redhead’s slightly startled gaze, “I love you and nothing will change that. Not your past, not your present, not your future. You’re not a failure and you don’t have to hide from me, ever.”
Natasha lets the words sink in while she catches her breath. It doesn’t escape either of them that that’s their first “I love you” decree.
“You love me?” She finally asks.
Wanda smiles softly.
“If you didn’t know that already, you’re dumber than I thought,” She teases, dragging a watery laugh from the redhead, “Now come here.”
She leans back against the wall and holds her arms out. Natasha falls into them, resting her side against Wanda and hiding her face in the crook of her neck. Wanda reaches for Natasha’s left hand, kissing her knuckles. They stay that way for a long time, until the sun starts to rise and the macaroni and cheese goes cold.
---
A few days later, the cuts along Natasha’s jaw had faded into thin white scars. She stares at them oh-so indignantly in the mirror for a moment before turning away to find Wanda.
She finds the witch on the couch, nursing a cup of tea while watching some cheesy sitcom Natasha could never remember the name of. She settles down next to her. Noticing the downhearted look across Natasha’s face, Wanda leans over to press a gentle kiss to her jaw and then her knuckles.
Natasha flashes a soft, reserved smile. She nestles closer to the witch’s side, reaching out for her mug. She doesn’t feel like getting up to make her own cup of coffee. Wanda wordlessly passes her drink over. Natasha takes a sip and almost immediately spits it out. She quickly gives the mug back.
“What is that?”
“It’s chai tea.” Wanda tells her, laughing at the way Natasha’s face scrunched up in disgust.
“It’s gross.”
“It’s good for you,” Wanda replies, “Besides, the way you take your coffee is black is grosser.”
Natasha scoffs in mock annoyance.
“Whatever, little witch.”
Wanda chuckles again, setting the apparently offending drink down to wrap both her arms around Natasha and kiss her sweetly.
---
The pattern starts after that. Whenever Wanda thinks Natasha is having a bad day, there are two things she always does first. She kisses Natasha’s left knuckles and then the right side of her jaw, the scars she knows the spy feels most self-conscious about, the ones on display the most, the ones that reminded her of grim times in her life.
Natasha has an intense nightmare and can’t fall back asleep. Wanda kisses her knuckles, her jaw and promises to stay up with her that night. She asks what movie she wants to watch and drags multiple blankets to the couch for them, holding the redhead all throughout the night.
Bucky slips up and calls Natasha “Natalia”. He apologizes profusely and she assures him it’s alright. She knows it was a mistake but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. That wasn’t her anymore. Natalia was a monster from her past but sometimes it was hard to tell the difference between her and Natasha. Wanda waits until they’re alone to kiss Natasha’s knuckles, her jaw, and remind her that what she’d done in the past didn’t matter now and that she loved her.
The Avengers take a mission in Russia. Natasha remains tense the entire time, which worries Wanda. She rests a comforting hand on her back, rubbing soft circles. The team splits up to scope out the tiny village they’d be sent to. Wanda stays with Natasha. They’d only been walking for a few minutes when Wanda sees Natasha’s hands start to shake and her eyes glaze over. She pushes the redhead into an empty, if not slightly damp, alleyway. Natasha’s back hits a brick wall and she slides down to sit, dropping her head into her hands. Wanda patiently waits for her to calm down from her panic attack, whispering sweet words to her. She kisses her knuckles, her jaw, and vows that she wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
---
Natasha doesn’t pick on the pattern until about eight months into their relationship. She was completely and utterly exhausted from the three-day mission she’d gotten back from that night. She stirs the bowl of macaroni and cheese Wanda had placed in front of her while she waits for it to cool down. Wanda catches Natasha’s left hand, kissing her knuckles. She then tilts Natasha’s head with a finger under her chin to kiss the right side of her jaw.
It finally hits Natasha at the moment what Wanda’s doing. She’s kissing her scars as if to say “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.” She’s reminding her that she loves her no matter what and suddenly tears spring into Natasha’s eyes.
“‘Tasha, what’s wrong?” Wanda asks quickly, worry written across her features.
Natasha shakes her head.
“Nothing’s wrong, little witch,” She pulls Wanda into a tight hug, “Everything is right, actually.”
Wanda pauses momentarily, confused by the slightly cryptic response. She hugs Natasha back, running her fingers through her hair.
“If you say so.”
Natasha nods against Wanda’s shoulder, content in holding her close. She feels like the luckiest girl in the world because Wanda’s love for her is so pure and she never thought she’d feel love like that. But she does. She does and no one can take that from her.