Chapter Text
When you think of home several things come to mind. Warmth, love, space, family. You always thought it would be a place or a setting. Everyone always describes their dream home. They always picture the details like the grand entryway, the lighting, the pool, how many bathrooms. Some people describe their childhood homes. It’s what made them feel safe. What made them feel the most secure.
Home for you has always been many things. It’s never been one solid fixture as your life progresses. When you think of home, you can’t help sporting the silly grin on your face. You can’t help but picture your wife. Her plump lips always seem to be the perfect shade of pink. The way they pull into that sideways smile that always manages to look sexy on her. You think of your wife and the way she seeks you out in a crowded room. Her hands always find the small of your back or her shoulders bump yours. She does it just to ground you whenever she can see you getting overwhelmed. She can read you in that way. You think of home when you picture her dancing in the kitchen with your four-year-old son attached to her leg while she rocks your 11-month-old daughter in her arms. She dances around the room swiftly, singing into the abyss, as she bends to pick him up too. She’s always juggling them both and she does it so well. She manages to sway her hips in a way that makes you giggle. She knows you’re watching.
When you think of home you think of your children. As nervous as you were, having them here and alive makes everything worth it. Even when Ryan is crying about his missing sock, or Emma is teething, or neither of them wants to sleep in their own beds. Home is the place in your heart they reside every day that it beats. Home is your safe haven. They’re what keep you alive.
When you park your car in the driveway of your physical home you sit there. You reminisce on all the times you didn't really feel you could have either. When your dad would call and pretend to be interested in your life. He would promise to come and see you soon. You would wait so long for him to come. You remember plenty of days where you would sit on the front step of your childhood home. Dressed and ready for your adventure with him. You didn’t care where you would go. All you wanted was him. Nothing else mattered. Hours would go by. The clouds and the sun would go away. The darkness would take over. Still, you sat and waited for him.
“He’s coming,” You would tell your mother after she begged you to come in. “He’s coming. He’s just late.” You’d say. It’s the lies you told yourself that kept your love for him alive longer than it should have been.
As you look at the home you built with your family, you’re reminded how different things are for you. The toys on the front lawn. A sprinkler for the kids to play out in the sun still sits. Ryan’s big wheel is seated just before the front steps. Steps similar to the ones you would sit on as a child. Neither of them has to wait for you to show up. Neither of your kids will ever know what it’s like to wait on the steps for you. Your house and the home you’ve built is your safe haven. It stands in all its glory. It’s the very place you feel your best. It’s the place where everything happens. Where everything has grown. It’s a nice simple, quaint house. It’s a bit big if you see quaint as being big. Four bedrooms two and a half bathrooms and a giant backyard. All of the details people describe in their dream home you have. It’s only right.
“Fill it with love,” Natasha would murmur into your chest at night as you searched endlessly for the perfect home. You had been to many open houses, a countless number of housing websites, two realtors, until you stepped on the grass of this very property.
The backyard is what sold you on the house in the first place. When you and Natasha toured the place neither of you was sold on it. You just couldn’t see the vision. That was until you saw the backyard with the private porch. It’s where you imagined your family enjoying their time together. It’s where you imagined your daughter would come when she was feeling upset or tired. Where your son would entertain his friends. Where you and Natasha could watch the stars together as you grew old.
“For the kids to grow” is what you would always say. Grow they did.
Many nights and early mornings you and Natasha would come and sit out here. She would cuddle into you with her head on your shoulder and a tea in her hand. She would tell you all her hopes and dreams. She would tell you how many babies you could have. How eventually she would retire and open up her own dance studio. She wanted ballet to be used for good. She wanted to show girls that dance could be something else for them. You’d always listen with a hum. Listening to Natasha's dream was the best thing in the world. She was a dreamer when she allowed herself to be. With you by her side, anything was possible. When she was done talking, you would tell her the same. Natasha was home. Natasha is home.
Today is a bit different. The sun is dim as the December winds blow across your window. No one is outside today. They’re all in enjoying the heat inside and each other. For a second you wonder if you should potluck. Throw a party. Celebrate. Anything. Not only your successes at work but the time you’ve spent building your home. As you look out of the window of your car you decide that you can’t wait to go inside. You rush to turn off the car before shuffling out with all of your belongings in your hand. You haven’t been home for a month. The longest you’ve ever been away from home.
You go through the backdoor crossing the private porch. There are shoes and coloring books, and baby toys scattered across the place. You wouldn’t have it any other way. You drop your things by the back door. You kick off your shoes while sifting through the mail on the kitchen counter. None of it matters right now. The house is silent. Everyone is still asleep. It’s a bit odd but it’s still early. There’s still time for the endless amounts of energy you cannot wait to enjoy.
“Babe” You yell up the stairs. You stand at the bottom waiting for a response but there is none. Your hand grips the railing, you’d glance out of the window facing the driveway one last time. Your brand new Jeep was seated right next to Natasha’s Volkswagen. She keeps her Stingray at the compound. You remember the discussion you had about her truck not being a family car. Not that yours was much of one either, but the kids’ booster seats fit.
You trail up the stairs peeking into the kid’s rooms. Ryan first. He’s lying out on his stomach with his head under the pillow. For a brief second, you wonder how the boy doesn’t suffocate in his sleep. You bend to tuck his Lighting McQueen blanket into him. You move the pillow further up the bed. He never moves. Next is Emma’s bedroom. You tiptoe into hers. If she sleeps a little longer you get more alone time with Natasha. Her bedroom is a neutral grey. It’s safari-themed otherwise. She’s in a position much like her brother. You lean down to kiss her forehead before scurrying out of the bedroom. You close their door and call out to Natasha again. “Babe!”
You finally reach your bedroom door. It’s ajar and you can see Natasha’s form just under the blankets. You slide through the crack hoping the floorboards don’t creek under you. She’s asleep. Shirtless and peaceful burrowed under the covers. You smile and throw your jacket onto the floor. It’s an expensive jacket and any other time you would freak but you can’t resist. She’s too cute. Her face is screwed up into a pout, her right hand stretched towards the headboard, with her face pressed into the pillow. You see where the kids get their sleeping position from. You focus on Natasha and her form for a few seconds. She’s worried about something. The hand towards the headboard tells you as much. Whatever it is you would promise to make it better.
You climb in and cuddle into her as best you can. You sneak a kiss onto her forehead, and then her cheek, and right after her lips. She groans. She knows it’s you. You can tell she’s tired. She’s been handling the kids on her own since you’ve been gone. Sometimes you would send Wanda over to check on her but she would always assure you that she was fine. Work was just getting to her. Late nights and all that. She turns to you and peeks one eye open. At your smile, she snickers.
“Hey,” She says. She rubs her face into the pillow with a deep breath before settling again.
“Hey back,” You say. You share a sweet kiss. Sometimes it feels like forever. Like you could get lost in her lips and her touch. Things have been rocky between you. You haven’t been as close lately and with being away for a month you’ve grown to miss her. You always miss Natasha.
Finally, she throws her leg over your body and you share the silence. She hums into you before opening her eyes again.
“How are you ?” You ask her. You reach up to push the stray hairs from her face. Natasha blinks. For a second you wonder if she will say something but she doesn’t. She sighs before snuggling into you.
“Your children are maniacs,” She says. “They kept me up all night. Your daughter wouldn’t eat her vegetables no matter how much I tried to mix them.
“Sounds like her mom.” You smile. You watch Natasha’s face again. You give her that look. She’s not feeling well. You know it and you don’t want her to lie to you.
“I’m just recovering, I promise.” She bites her lip.
Her hands move to take yours.
“If you’re sure,” You say. You kiss her forehead again to feel her temperature. She knows what you’re doing but she let you anyways. “I have work tomorrow again.”
You can feel her pull away slightly but your grip tightens. You don’t want to let her go just yet.
“I was thinking we could spend the day home,” You tell her. “Just us. No one else.”
“Really?” Natasha looks up at you with those green eyes. So hopeful. So loving.
“Yes, I already called Fury on the way here to tell him you’re out for the day so don’t call.” You tell her. “I told work not to call unless it’s an emergency.”
“Okay,” Natasha nods. You can tell she’s slipping again. She needs sleep. You wish she would tell you what’s wrong. “Missed you.” She mutters against your collarbone.
“I missed you too, Natasha.” You whisper into her hair. “I always miss home.”
Natasha falls asleep in the safety of your arms. She awakens with the expectation that you will be there. She only finds an empty bed and a note from you when she awakens.
Work had an emergency.