Chapter Text
“Are we there yet?” Natasha heard Yelena ask Alexei just as she woke up from her unintentional nap.
They were on their way back from Camp Lehigh, a long drive from Washington to Ohio. Alexei rented an RV to keep up the facade that the trip had been a normal, all-American family summer vacation, instead of the highly classified training at a covert S.H.I.E.L.D facility to become part of a response team of remarkable people to face extraordinary threats — Fury’s party line, not Natasha’s.
Natasha, Pietro, and Wanda had been given the choice to join — at age 16, they had been deemed old enough by Melina and Coulson, so they have been doing it for a little over three years now — and Yelena, well… Natasha, Pietro, and Alexei had argued that, since all of them were going, it was only fair she did it too.
Between the three adults, they had enough money to rent out a spaceful ride, with enough room for everyone, and Natasha couldn’t be more grateful. The drive wasn’t long by American standards — 8 hours tops — but she was sure that if they all had been crammed in a minivan for the duration of the trip, someone wouldn’t have survived.
(Probably Yelena if Natasha had any say in it.
Or Pietro.
Or Alexei, if Melina had any say in it.)
“You’ll know when we get there, malyshka,” Alexei replied like he always did, an endless patience Natasha envied sometimes.
She was about to stretch and go find herself some coffee when it finally registered that something was pinning her to her cot, someone curled to her side with their head on her chest and lightly snoring.
Brown hair and a faint cinnamon smell told her it was Wanda.
Natasha couldn’t help the smile curling her lips upward, her hand moving to stroke Wanda’s hair absentmindedly. The fact she had managed to sneak into her bed without waking Natasha should have worried her — gone soft, an old, faint voice in her head whispered.
But it had been years — two more than the time you’ve spent there, another, stronger voice reminded her — and, in those years, Natasha had learned to heal some of her wounds, learned to let herself be comforted instead of being the one comforting. It was as free as it was terrifying, something she still struggled with strangers.
But this was Wanda. Wanda, who always, somehow, managed to make Natasha’s day better no matter how crappy it had been. Wanda, whose smile and laughter twisted something warm in Natasha’s chest. Wanda, who made her feel like she had her head in the clouds, but her feet planted firmly on the ground.
Wanda, whom she was in love with.
Natasha smiled, the realization she was in love with her best friend no longer frightening her like it had the first time. After allowing herself to sit with the feeling for a while, she realized it made sense — the way it was always Wanda whom she turned to for comfort, the way butterflies flew up a storm in her stomach whenever she was around.
She drew comfort from her touch, her presence, her smell. Despite everything she had been taught from a very young age, loving someone didn’t make her weak, not by a long shot. Natasha felt powerful, like she could conquer the world, and it would be easy because she would have this feeling with her.
Her touch eventually roused Wanda from her sleep, the girl burrowing herself deeper against Natasha’s neck and grumbling before cracking an eye open.
“Hey there, sleepyhead,” she teased with a smirk.
Wanda huffed, not making a move to get up. “You were sleeping too.”
“I was going to get up, actually, but there was a dead weight on top of me,” she laughed as Wanda glared at her, its effect diminished by the sleep still present in her eyes.
“You could have gotten up,” Wanda yawned, settling against Natasha more comfortably and closing her eyes again.
“It’s fine,” Natasha resumed stroking Wanda’s hair. “I’ll wake you when we get home,” Wanda just mumbled in agreement. “Sweet dreams, kroshka.”
//
She could tell Wanda wasn’t sleeping anymore from the way her breathing started to come out unevenly, but she hadn’t made a move to unfurl herself from Natasha’s side or open her eyes, so she just let her stay there, soaking up their proximity as she softly caressed her hair.
But, of course, Yelena would choose that precise instant to interrupt their moment.
“We’re here, pridurok,” she swiftly kicked the side of their cot, smirking as she startled both of them. “Get up.”
Natasha glared at her, quickly schooling her features into a more neutral expression when Wanda turned to her after getting up and stretching.
“I thought you were going to wake me up,” she teased with a sleepy smile.
“You weren’t really sleeping,” Natasha fired back, delighted by the blush that covered Wanda’s cheekbones at being called out.
As Yelena went to wake up Pietro in the same fashion she had done with them, they gathered all their stuff and exited the RV, meeting Melina outside.
“Where’s Dad?” Yelena asked when she joined them.
“Returning the van,” the pager on Melina’s hip beeped loudly, causing her to frown when she checked it. “Damn.”
“What?” Natasha asked, worried; her mom was always the most collected out of all of them, so something that caused her to curse was bound to not be good.
“Your father and I have to go to work,” she said, purposefully keeping the explanation vague since they were in public.
It wasn’t as bad as Natasha was expecting but still didn’t sound too reassuring that S.H.I.E.L.D wanted them to go in right after they had come back from training.
“Did they say what for?” she asked in a lower tone, still worried.
“No, but it doesn’t sound serious. No need to worry, dorogaya,” Melina reassured her with a smile, always being able to tell how Natasha was feeling. “You are going to have to drive back home, though. We are getting picked up.”
Natasha hesitated before grabbing the car keys. “Actually… I’m not going home right now.”
Melina’s eyebrow quirked up in a silent question that was voiced by Wanda.
“You’re not?” she sounded surprised. Natasha had forgotten to fill her in. “Where are you going?”
“Clint and I have a date,” she shrugged nonchalantly, knowing her mother would understand it.
“What?!”
Of course, Alexei would come back just in time to hear the tail-end of what she said and make a scene. Melina knew what she was talking about, however — over the course of the years, they had come up with codes to refer to work and training in public without drawing attention.
An out-of-state mission was a field trip, training at a covert facility was summer camp. Training one-on-one with someone from their team was going on a date. She knew Alexei knew that so it was hard to know if he had simply forgotten or was just putting up the overprotective father front.
“We have a date,” she shot him a glare.
“Will you be home for dinner?” Melina asked as Alexei grumbled under his breath, face twisted in a scowl.
He had definitely forgotten what it meant.
“That’s the plan,” she assured her mom. “Will you?”
“Hopefully,” Melina sighed and Natasha spotted an undercover S.H.I.E.L.D car pulling up at the curb. “Pick up some pizza on your way home, okay? Bell peppers.”
“And sausage!” Yelena piped up.
“And mushrooms!” Pietro added.
“And extra cheese!”
Natasha rolled her eyes, but her lips curled up in a smile anyway. “Will do.”
//
“Would you like some help?” Clint mocked her, amusement evident in his tone.
“Shut up,” Natasha grumbled, cursing loudly in Russian as her arrow missed the target once again.
They had gone through a couple of rounds shooting firearms already, Clint annoyingly doing better than she had been expecting; the same couldn’t be said about her and his arrows.
“You know, I do this for a living,” she turned to glare at him, finding the smirk on his stubbled face even more aggravating. “You asked for my help.”
“I offered you a deal,” Natasha corrected him, grabbing one more arrow from the quiver. “You teach me how to use your stupid little arrows and I make a decent shot out of you.”
“And yet, you’re here, refusing my help,” she could feel his eyes watching her as she settled into her stance. “Your elbow’s too high. Use your mouth as an anchor.”
“See, this is why my father thinks we’re actually on a date,” Natasha complained but did as she was told.
Clint guffawed next to her and she couldn’t help but laugh too. “He knows it’s not possible, right? I mean, you’re all loved up with someone else, and I have a boyfriend.”
“Yeah, well,” Natasha’s arrow hit the target this time, just not exactly where she was aiming at. “He’s very oblivious.”
“So he doesn’t know you’re in love with Wanda?” he asked as she grabbed another arrow. “Relax your hand on the bow.”
“I haven’t told anyone,” she smirked when the arrow finally landed where she hoped it would. “So technically, no one knows.”
“Not even Wanda?” His question threw her off, and she missed her shot again.
“She knows,” Natasha tried again, hitting the target this time.
“Have you talked to her about it?”
She turned to him with a scowl, the last arrow in her hand. “How is this any of your business?”
“Look, I’m just saying,” his tone was defensive. “You can learn all the skills in the world to impress her, but it won’t work if she doesn’t know.”
Natasha clenched her jaw, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being right. Because he was wrong. Wanda knew how she felt about her, Natasha knew that, even if they had never outright said anything to each other.
Right?
“Shut up.”
//
Natasha made it back home with their pizzas a little after dinnertime, only to find the house still empty — aside from Yelena, somewhere, and Pietro sprawled across their couch, snoring softly.
It wasn’t an odd sight, all of them living in their own houses as much as they did each other’s, but it was odd that he was there and not in his own bed after such a long trip.
Smirking, Natasha decided to take a leaf out of her sister’s book: she stopped right next to Pietro, kicking the couch hard, smirk widening as he jolted awake.
“Do you ever not sleep?” she teased him, moving to sit at the other end of the couch, lifting his legs and placing them on her lap.
“Shut up,” he grumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “S.H.I.E.L.D’s training always kicks my butt.”
“Thought you were supposed to be an athlete,” she huffed when he poked her in the stomach with his foot. “Being a track field star and all that.”
“Yeah, well,” he grumbled. “It’s different. Not all of us have super-soldier serum coursing through our veins, you know.”
Natasha rolled her eyes, poking him in the stomach back for good measure. It was true though — having been experimented on by the Red Room had given both her and Yelena an advantage over the others; they could take on more, and bounce back quicker. They weren’t like Alexei, a full-on super soldier, but they did function at a higher level than other people.
“Why are you here?” she changed the subject. “Your bed’s more comfortable than this deathtrap. Or even mine or Yelena’s.”
Pietro grimaced, adjusting himself more comfortably on the couch. “This was closer. Wanda’s going through it.”
At that, Natasha froze for a moment, worry causing her heart to beat wilder against her ribcage. “What do you mean? Did something happen?”
It had only been a few hours since they got back, and aside from her, Melina and Alexei, the others had gone straight home. There was no chance something could have happened in the meantime to upset Wanda, was there? Natasha wasn’t sure, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to rest until she figured out what was wrong.
“I guess,” Pietro yawned. “But she’s not talking. She’s just blasting songs so loud I couldn’t sleep.”
Natasha felt her stomach drop — she knew this kind of behavior from Wanda. She knew music was her coping mechanism as a way to drown her bad thoughts. It put Natasha’s senses on high alert.
“I’m gonna go check on her.”
//
Natasha heaved a sigh as she approached Wanda’s room. Pietro was right — music was playing so loudly it could be heard from downstairs, Offspring’s The Kids Aren’t Alright blasting through the doors.
She hadn’t answered when Natasha called the landline first and she didn’t know if it was because she hadn’t heard it or because she simply didn’t want to be bothered.
Natasha should have known something was wrong, was racking her brain to try and remember what could have left Wanda so upset, but coming up empty. It stung, the fact Wanda would rather come home and wallow instead of coming over and just say what was happening like she usually did.
It had taken a while, Natasha remembered well, but ever since Wanda had let her in, learned how to trust her, she hadn’t shut Natasha out like that, or anybody really. This unpleasant throwback led Natasha to believe that she was the source of Wanda’s unhappiness and that hurt more than anything.
“Wanda?” she knocked on the door forcefully to be heard over the music. “Wanda, it’s me. It’s Nat. Can I come in?”
It took a moment, and there wasn’t a verbal response, but eventually, the music lowered to a stop, Natasha taking that as her cue to come in.
The sight that met her once she stepped inside Wanda’s room tugged painfully at her heartstrings — she was lying on her bed on top of the covers, curled up and hugging her pillow fiercely.
Her face was tear-streaked, eyes rimmed red and her voice was raspy when she finally spoke up, “What do you want?”
“I brought pizza,” Natasha said with a tentative smile that was quickly dropped when Wanda didn’t even look at her. “And I wanted to see if you were okay. Pietro’s worried,” she admitted. “So am I.”
She didn’t make an effort to walk further into the room; she had a feeling it wouldn’t be a good idea.
“I’m fine,” was Wanda’s cold reply, the presence of her accent — the one that only showed up when she was angry or sad — denying her statement.
“Are you sure?” Natasha pushed, itching to walk across the room and wrap Wanda in a hug but holding herself firmly in place.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she flinched at Wanda’s harsh laugh. “There’s nothing wrong, is there?”
“Wanda…”
“What Natasha? What? Is there something you’d like to say?” Wanda hissed, finally looking over at her.
Natasha remained silent, biting her bottom lip so hard it almost drew blood. She was at a loss for words — there were so many emotions dancing across Wanda’s eyes, she could barely identify them.
Anger, sadness, resentment — jealousy?
“Have I done something wrong?” she finally asked.
She was met with silence, Wanda averting her eyes again, but she knew what was happening. One of the perks of knowing each other for as long as they had was that Natasha knew all Wanda’s tells: she was debating whether to tell her the truth or not.
“No,” finally came the answer and Natasha knew it was the truth. “You haven’t.”
Sighing in relief, Natasha took some tentative steps towards Wanda’s bed, testing her boundaries.
“Then what happened?” she asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Wanda replied, still refusing eye contact.
“Kroshka…”
“Don’t…” she interrupted her coarsely. “Don’t call me that.”
Natasha felt her stomach drop. “Why not?”
Wanda heaved a sigh, finally locking eyes with her again. The pain reflected in those usually bright green eyes twisted something unpleasant within Natasha.
“It confuses me,” there was a tremble in her voice as if she was fighting against tears.
Now Natasha was the one confused. She had used the term of endearment on Wanda many times before and was always met with a positive reception — the bright smile with a twinge of blush spread across her cheeks being one of Natasha’s favorite reactions.
She didn’t understand what was so wrong with it now.
“Why does it confuse you?”
“You don’t use it only on me,” Wanda softly accused her, a glare accompanying her words.
Things finally clicked for Natasha. She was a naturally flirty person, a facade that had shown up early in her teen years — she had always been good at mimicking what she saw on TV — and that came easy to her. Touches and terms of endearment were her love language (with Wanda and Melina especially), just like teasing and sarcasm, that flared up especially around Pietro, Yelena, and Alexei (and now Clint).
She knew Wanda had seen her at the camp with Clint. Had seen them sparring, training together, laughing, and joking around.
And then Natasha had said they were on a date. She flinched, cursing her poor choice of words.
She thought Wanda knew that it was different with her. Everything was (it always had been). Natasha’s words, her touches towards Wanda, meant something else entirely than they did with other people.
God, she was such an idiot. They both were.
“Do you love him?” Wanda asked, her accent heavy with barely concealed hurt and anger.
“Clint?” Natasha asked to be sure, and she nodded. “Yeah, of course, I do. He’s my friend.”
Wanda inhaled sharply, ire and sadness dancing across her eyes with the same scary intensity.
“Get out,” she asked, but Natasha didn’t move. “Please, Natasha, just… just leave me alone.”
“No, Wanda, you don’t get it—”
“No, you don’t get it!” Wanda cut her off in an angry outburst. “You don’t get how, how painful it is for me to have you do and say all these things to me and act like you do with me and then watch as you do the same with other people! To think I’m special, that I mean something to you, and to see you love other people like—”
Natasha crossed the rest of the room in three big strides, effectively stopping Wanda’s angry rambling by placing her lips firmly against hers.
She had been thinking about it, wanting to do it for quite some time and yet all her musing hadn’t prepared her for this feeling. It felt like drowning and a breath of fresh air all at once — encompassing, all-consuming, and yet liberating. Like she was finally doing what she was meant to be doing all her life.
“But I’m in love with you,” Natasha said, leaning to touch Wanda’s forehead with her own. “Pridurok.”
She felt more than saw Wanda’s tentative smile against her lips, her soft puff of laughter music to her ears, just like the first time she had heard it.
“I’m in love with you too,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper, as if sharing a secret.
It was Natasha’s turn to laugh, loud, liberating, unable to believe this was finally happening. She was finally allowing herself to feel, to love who she wanted to love. And by some crazy coincidence that she wasn’t about to question, Wanda loved her back.
It was an amazing feeling.
“I know,” and then she leaned in for another kiss just because she could.