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In the dictionary, family was very straightforwardly defined as “a group of one or more parents and their children living together as a unit.” Families cared for each other and could never truly leave each other, no matter how hard they tried. At least that's what Wanda used to think about “families”. But now, she wasn’t so sure. Since the loss of her parents and more recently her twin brother, Wanda was starting to question a lot of things she once thought she knew. Who was her family now? Where did she belong? Where was home? She used to think she belonged in Sokovia with her brother, serving as a weapon in taking down the Avengers. In a matter of days really, all of that fell apart, literally and figuratively. Now she was in a new country, alone, a part of the group she once swore to destroy.
Wanda felt like she’d been thrown into the ocean with her hands tied. She could barely keep her head above the surface at certain times, and a picnic outside with the Avengers seemingly proved to be one of those times.
The humidity in June was already brutal in upstate New York. In an attempt to beat the heat during their outdoor meal, most of the Avengers had taken to wearing summer clothes and greedily drinking ice-cold lemonade. That included Wanda. She had pulled her hair into a loose ponytail to at least keep it off her shoulders and was sporting a red and black patterned skirt and tank top. She wraps both her hands around her glass of lemonade, letting the condensation seep into her fingers.
Steve was grilling hamburgers off in the distance. Wanda watches as the smoke from the grill rises and distorts the otherwise peaceful air. She’s vaguely aware Sam, Tony, and Clint are sitting near her but isn’t really engaged in the conversation until Tony pokes her arm. It by no means hurts, even so, she winces, snapping her gaze to him. He pokes again at the inside bend of her elbow and she’s growing increasingly annoyed.
From her spot against the porch railing, Natasha’s grip tightens around her glass. She watches Tony and Wanda carefully.
“Those are not pretty spots,” Tony gestures to the red and yellow spots that marked her skin where he’d previously poked, “What are you, like a heroin addict or something?”
He’s teasing. She knows he’s teasing. It’s shitty teasing and it still hurts. Wanda’s ears start ringing, drowning out Tony’s next words. She sets her glass down and crosses her arms self consciously. Suddenly, she’s drowning. Her chair scrapes loudly as she stands up and mutters a half-formed excuse as to why she’s getting up.
Natasha almost calls to Wanda’s fleeing form but stops herself. She has to deal with Tony first. She storms to him, abandoning her drink.
“What did you say to her, Stark?” She narrows her eyes at him, glaring threateningly.
“Nothing!” He holds his hands up innocently, “Just asked about those weird scars on her arm.”
Natasha’s jaw tightens. Subconsciously, she presses a hand over the scar on her stomach, the one she always thought was the worst thing to look at. She hated when people would ask her about it and judge it. It was a story she didn’t like to tell. She completely understands Wanda’s reaction to Tony’s words.
“Pointing out other people’s scars is a shitty thing to do.” Natasha spits bitterly.
She goes inside in search of Wanda while also relishing in the air conditioning. Her feet carry her as she fights to control the internal rage she was feeling at Tony. She finds herself in Wanda’s doorway. She leans against the frame.
Wanda had her back to Natasha while she was digging through her closet. She yanks out a black zip-up sweatshirt and hastily pulls it on with trembling hands. Natasha knocks on the wall twice to get her attention. Wanda whirls around and Natasha finally sees the tears in the witch’s eyes. Her heart skips a beat.
“‘Tasha.” Wanda breathes, wringing her hands anxiously.
Natasha never had the heart to tell Wanda that no one else calls her “‘Tasha.” It had tumbled from Wanda’s mouth sleepily one night when she’d asked if she could stay with Natasha to stave off the nightmares and had since stuck apparently.
She remembers that night fondly. Wanda had laid in her bed with her. Natasha longed to reach out for her and pull her closer but for fear of overstepping boundaries, she’d settled for wrapping her pinky around Wanda’s and keeping the rest of her body to her side of the bed. Wanda had flashed her a tiny smile before closing her eyes. Natasha thought she looked so adorable with flushed cheeks and messy hair fanned around her head. Of course, when Natasha woke up the next morning, Wanda was gone and her spot in the sheets was already cold.
The redhead snaps out of her thoughts when Wanda sits down heavily on the edge of her bed. The sinister voices in her head are telling her to suck it up, however, she can’t seem to coerce the tears from her eyes. Desperately, the spy kneels down in front of her.
“Please don’t cry over anything that asshole says,” Natasha gently brings her hand to Wanda’s cheek, brushing away stray tears with her thumb, “He doesn’t deserve the satisfaction.”
Wanda leans into the redhead’s touch in a moment of vulnerability, sighing softly. Natasha brings her other hand to Wanda’s other cheek.
“Hell, he doesn’t even deserve to be in your presence.”
Wanda gives a watery laugh, finally meeting Natasha’s gaze intently.
“You might be the only one who thinks that.” Wanda’s trying to be light and teasing, but the pain bleeds through.
Natasha shakes her head.
“Little witch, you know those idiots care about you, right?” She tries to explain, “I care about you, at least.”
Fresh tears well up in Wanda’s eyes.
“I know you do.”
She knows that Natasha does care about her. The others? She’s not so sure about them, but Natasha had been looking out for her since she joined the Avengers. As much as Wanda allowed her anyways. An evil itch in the back of her mind liked to tell her that she was a burden and Natasha shouldn’t have to waste her time taking care of her. On those days, she hid behind fake smiles and forced her hands to stop shaking. On the days she could let Natasha in, she instead flashed true smiles at the spy’s dry humor and instead held onto her to stop the shake of her hands.
“Good.”
Natasha can’t stop herself from leaning in, rocking forward on her knees, and tucking Wanda’s hair behind her ear. Subconsciously, the brunette’s lips part and she exhales lightly. An invisible and persistent force pushes them together and for a split second, Wanda lets her eyes close.
Natasha suddenly falls back, clearing her throat awkwardly as she lets her hands drop. Wanda snaps back and they both look anywhere except at each other. Blush creeps up Wanda’s neck and she’s glad it’s hidden by her sweatshirt.
After a few moments of tense awkwardness, Natasha stands up. Wanda tracks her with her eyes, wiping away the rest of her tears. The redhead holds her hand out.
“Enough crying. Let’s ditch the boys and go get ice cream.”
“Okay.” Wanda laughs at the request, placing one sweatshirt sleeve-covered hand delicately in Natasha’s.
Natasha grasps Wanda’s hand through the fabric, giving it a reassuring squeeze before pulling her along.
---
Wanda smooths her skirt over her knees nervously. It was not that she didn’t trust Natasha’s driving skills because she truly did, but she worried about the implications of their outing. Was Natasha going to ask about the scars? Would she have to answer and relive the pain? Would the rest of the Avengers be mad at them for leaving? Would they have to explain themselves when they got back?
Natasha looks carelessly calm. She’s got one hand on the steering wheel and some hair in messy braids pinned back out of her face. Flicking her eyes over to Wanda as she hums along to the radio, she drops her free hand over the armrest, palm up.
Wanda instinctively reaches out, slipping one hand under Natasha’s and using the other to trace the lines on her palm. She wasn’t sure when she’d picked on the habit of tracing Natasha’s palm and didn’t know Natasha was aware of it until then. She calms, moving her fingertip across the other girl’s skin methodically.
Natasha’s smile is soft, demurred even. Her heart flutters in her chest and she forces herself to focus on something else other than the tickling feeling across her palm. The radio. She turns it up one more notch, singing along quietly.
The witch recognizes the song and has to giggle at the irony.
“What, not a Fleetwood Mac fan?” Natasha questions, “Don’t you witchy ladies have to stick together or something?”
“Stevie Nicks is arguably way cooler than me.” Wanda laughs.
“She’s got nothing on you, little witch.”
“Except for a good band. I don’t have that.”
Natasha waves her hand in dismissal before settling it back into Wanda’s hold.
“Well I think you’re cooler, even without a band.”
Wanda’s cheeks turn pink, and not from the heat. She turns her attention back to tracing Natasha’s palm, letting herself be unconcernedly happy for a shining moment.
---
Natasha’s favorite ice cream shop is a cozy and small place owned by a husband and wife. They speak to her in Russian, greeting her as if they were old friends.
This makes Wanda chuckle and question how often Natasha visited this place. She also wondered if she’d shared this spot with anyone else.
“Do you take all your dates here to impress them?” Wanda teases, elbowing Natasha’s ribs playfully.
“Only you, little witch.” Natasha’s reply is sweet but at the same time, she’s moving to elbow her back.
That answered Wanda’s question. A little part of her relishes the idea that Natasha trusts her enough to let her into a place she cared about. A place she hadn’t taken anyone else.
“What’re you getting?” Wanda asks, scanning the menu board.
“Definitely a scoop of the cappuccino flavor. You?”
Everyone under the sun knew Natasha was a caffeine fiend and evidently that extended to her desert as well.
Wanda tilts her head, trying to make a decision.
“Black cherry.”
Once they get their cups of ice cream, they settle on the hood of the car. The sun was starting to set, illuminating the sky in an orange hue as the stars started to peek out. Natasha steals little glances at Wanda out of the corner of her eye, trying her best not to openly stare. Still, she thinks Wanda looks so beautiful with the sun making her eyes shine and lightening her hair a shade.
Of course, in an attempt to get the sun directly out of her eyes, Wanda turns, knees bumping Natasha’s. Natasha still thinks she looks stunning.
“Can I try some of yours?” The redhead asks.
Wanda nods, holding her cup out in offering. Natasha takes a small spoonful. Deciding she likes it, she goes for a bigger portion.
“Hey!” Wanda laughs in protest, clutching her cup protectively to her chest.
“Sharing is caring, little witch.” Natasha simpers, smirking annoyingly.
Wanda rolls her eyes.
“You can have some of mine if it’ll make you feel better.” The spy teases.
“Coffee is gross,” Wanda’s nose scrunches, “Not all of us are addicted to caffeine.”
Natasha scoffs.
“I’m not addicted.”
Wanda tilts her head in disbelief.
“That’s what every addict says.”
She was fairly sure that if Natasha didn’t have her morning cup of coffee, she’d go through severe withdrawal symptoms.
“Whatever, Maximoff.” The redhead waves a hand in dismissal, making Wanda chuckle.
The newest Avenger takes a moment to soak in the moment. She certainly hadn’t imagined her new life involving eating ice cream with the world’s most badass super spy. It was definitely odd but she wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Even though the sun is setting, it’s still hot. Wanda’s sweatshirt definitely isn’t helping. She looks over at Natasha only to be met with a soft smile. The unease that had built up left her body completely. She pulls off her sweatshirt, marveling at how the air instantly feels cooler.
Natasha doesn’t once dare look at the scars. It’s not her place to ask. Wanda of course realizes this. She knows the redhead won’t pry. But she feels ready to offer up the information.
“They’re from all the needles the Hydra scientists prodded me with.” Wanda says matter-of-factly, holding her arm out.
Natasha can hear the agony in her words nonetheless. Yet, she remains silent to let Wanda tell the story freely.
“I never really knew what they were. What they put in my body. I just remember it always hurt.” Her voice wavers as she stares at the scars, refusing to look at Natasha.
Natasha suddenly feels like crying at the unjustness of it all. She thinks back to the pain she felt in the Red Room, being tested on and being forced to fight to survive. She was never sure what they were doing to her or what was next, she only knew it always ended in some sort of pain. The fact that Wanda shared these excruciating feelings and moments threatened to tear Natasha apart.
She wouldn't wish it on anyone, especially not Wanda. Internally, she’s damning the Hydra scientists and swearing to get revenge on them. She’s yelling at Tony for pointing out the scars. She’s wishing Wanda never had to experience it. Externally, she’s frozen.
Wanda sucks in a shaky breath, feeling as though she’d shared too much if Natasha’s silence was anything to judge by.
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?” She mutters, tilting her head up to stop her tears from falling.
Natasha’s never been good with words or emotions for that matter. Blame her checkered past. But she wants to tell Wanda she thinks she’s the strongest person she’s ever met and that she's extraordinary. The spy can’t seem to find the right words to say any of that.
She settles for reaching out to put her hand on Wanda’s cheek, gently tilting her head until they’re facing each other again. Natasha is awestruck, which does not help with her loss of words.
Wanda tilts her head in question at Natasha’s silence, raising an eyebrow. Before she can get out a word, Natasha’s kissing her softly. Slowly, like all the time in the world solely belongs to them in that one moment. Hopefully, like it conveys the things she doesn’t quite know how to say.
Wanda gradually melts into it, leaning in and letting one hand fall against Natasha’s waist. They break apart breathlessly and Wanda lets out a little giggle.
“You taste like cappuccino ice cream.” Wanda tells her.
Natasha chuckles lightly.
“I thought you didn’t like it.”
“I do now so get back here.” Wanda reaches up to thread her fingers through Natasha’s hair.
She kisses Natasha again, wistful and affectionate. She’s sure she’s smiling stupidly and that Natasha can feel it, but she doesn't care.
The thing she does care about is that she's found a new definition of “family.” Family is the person who dries your tears and takes you out for ice cream. Family is the person who understands you better than anyone else. Family is the person who looks after you no matter what. Family was the person who made anywhere feel like home.
Natasha is Wanda’s family.