Chapter Text
…
Natasha hasn’t called many places home in her life.
Her first one is the one she barely remembers. All she has left of it are blurry pictures of snow and pine trees and the smell of cigarettes. Maybe that’s not even true, who knows. But she treasures those pictures dearly because they mean happiness for her, whether they’re true or not.
The second one she remembers better. The swing, the whistle, that damn song Yelena loved so much. Yelena. Maybe her second home is a person, not a place.
The third one is her favorite place to go. The Barton household is always filled with the smell of cookies and the sound of children’s laughter - a melodic tune Natasha hadn’t known before Clint had saved her life.
But the Avengers compound has become a home too, with time. Because here she can be herself truly. Without a mask, without secrets. Here, she fits in because they’ve all seen and done horrible things. And even though they don’t talk about them, the simple knowledge that they aren’t alone with their nightmares is enough.
It’s not unusual to stumble upon a member of the team at 2 am in the kitchen, staring into a cup of chamomile tea or holding a glass filled with Vodka from her not so secret storage.
She’s grown used to Bruce‘ nametags on food in the fridge that no one bothers to respect and the ensuing early morning discussions about boundaries and respect. But apparently superheroes are hungry all the damn time.
She’s grown used to morning runs with Sam because no one runs with the show-off that is Steve Rogers anymore, and no one is up as early as Sam and Natasha.
She’s grown used to her daily chess game with Steve at sunrise and to solving a crossword with Bruce during breakfast (to annoy the others mostly). She’s grown used to kicking the boys‘ asses at Mario Kart and during training, and to her weekly baking afternoons with Steve (he can bake and cook phenomenally, that man is a godsend).
She has even grown used to Vision. He’s... well. He’s trying. And he has learned to use doors. That’s a plus.
She’s not grown used to Wanda’s silent presence in a corner (really, any corner because Wanda apparently can’t be anywhere else and she’s always reading a book).
Because welcoming someone new into their home is weird. Well. No. That’s not true. Because she quickly welcomed Sam into it, even trusts him. (Which says a lot because Natasha doesn’t trust easily. But she trusts Steve with her life and he brought Sam into the team, so that’s a good excuse, right?)
Welcoming Wanda into the team and the house is different, even weeks after Sokovia. She could blame it on the whole Hydra thing or on the fact that the brunette has stolen one if her favorite jackets. But the truth is: it’s because the witch has seen it all. Every bloody detail of Natasha life that she fought so hard to compensate. Every person she killed, every ounce of blood she caused. And with seeing it she made Natasha relive every single one of those nightmares.
Living across the hall from the young girl feels like a continuous threat. Some nights a glimmer of red light surges into the hallway through a small gap below the door. Natasha knows that because she’s awake half of the night. Whenever she closes her eyes she’s haunted by faces, and more often than not cuffing herself to the bed is the only solution.
Every time the red energy dances through the young girl’s fingers during training a shiver runs down Natasha’s spine. She masks it with a cold demeanor and a ruthless fitness program but the truth is she’s scared. Terrified.
Steve - god bless his mushy heart - is somehow too blind to notice or he does notice and simply doesn’t care. He forces Natasha to be Wanda‘s supervisor and mentor, schedules training sessions for just the two of them and babbles about bonding.
Wanda is silent most of the time. She speaks only when she’s asked something directly and uses barely enough words to form a sentence. She learns quickly, absolves her training with focus and persistence. She spends every waking minute that doesn’t require her attendance at team meetings or training sessions locked up, on her own. Probably reading. Or crying, judging from the dull look in her eyes.
Natasha knows she’s grieving. Knows how painful it is to lose a sibling and how terrifying it must be for the young girl to be here in a new country all on her own.
But who showed young Natasha sympathy? Nobody. So she shuts all of that out and stores it away in a box.
——
It’s late.
Midnight has passed an hour ago, the clock hands wandering past the twelve under Natasha’s unmoving gaze. She hasn’t bothered with sleep, instead claiming her spot on the couch in the common room with a glass of vodka and a crossword Bruce left for her.
The goal is to tire her eyes so much that they close from alone. If her brain follows their example, she might squeeze in a few hours of sleep.
The compound is quiet, the only sound coming from the refrigerator in the kitchen at the end of the wide living space. It’s a humming sound, constant, low, barely audible. It calms her mind.
But shortly after 1 am barefooted steps sneak down the hallway, announcing another sleepless teammate. Only a few seconds later Wanda steps into the sparsley iluminated living space.
Natasha watches the young witch for the seconds it takes Wanda to notice her.
Traces of tears are left on her cheeks, the hunched posture show the pain in Wanda’s back, a sign of both the strenuous training Natasha is forcing her to and the grief weighing on her shoulders. The oversized grey hoodie that she hides in is the same she has worn all week and she looks small and fragile in it.
Natasha’s heart clenches at the sight, whether she likes it or not.
Wanda seems so lost in her thoughts that she actually squeals when her eyes fall onto Natasha.
“Sorry,“ Natasha says, feeling a little guilty.
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’re here. I’ll go,“ Wanda replies, already retreating as if Natasha caught her doing something forbidden.
“No!“
Wanda flinches.
“You can stay. It’s your space too,“ Natasha offers quickly. “I don’t mind.“
Wanda stares for a few seconds, but relents. „I’ll just grab something to eat and I’ll be out of here.“
“You skipped dinner,“ Natasha remarks and watches the witch moving to the kitchen.
“I was not hungry then.“
“You know you don’t need to stay in your room all the time, right?“
“I do.“
“Know that you don’t need to stay there or need to stay there?“ Natasha probes gently. She doesn’t know why but in the three months since Sokovia she has never seen the witch in the kitchen or living space after dinner. And she has skipped at least half of the meals. Something tells her the girl has been avoiding not just everybody but especially her.
Wanda grabs an apple from the kitchen island and leans against the counter, as she stares at the fruit in her hands. “I don’t belong here,“ she says after a while, her accent thick in her words.
“You do.“
“Everybody is scared of me. And they’re right to be.“
“They’re not scared of you.“
“I know you are scared of what I can do.“
Natasha tilts her head to the side curiously. She didn’t know that she was that easy to read. “No,“ she corrects gently, “I’m scared of what you did.“
“Because of what I saw?“
She gives a short nod.
Wanda finally looks up. “I am sorry for the pain I have caused you.“
“I know.“
“And I am sorry for what they made you do.“
Natasha swallows hard. Those are just words, she tells herself. They mean nothing.
But they do. No one ever said that to her. No one ever apologized for taking young Natalia from her home and forming her into a deadly weapon. For taking her life. Her potential. Her innocence.
Her eyes burn, her throat feels dry and it costs her all her willpower to force the wave of emotions down. “Thank you,” she says after a while, still holding Wanda’s gaze, “but it’s not your fault.“
“I know,” Wanda replies quietly with a sad smile, “but someone should apologize. And it might as well be me since I made you relive it.“
“How’d you know?“
“Light. From your room. Nearly every night.“
Natasha nods. Makes sense if Wanda is sneaking into the kitchen long after midnight. “And you?“
Wanda frowns. “Me?“
“Are you sleeping?“
Both women know the answer to that question. But Wanda still shakes her head. “Not very well,” she sighs, “I have never... Pietro and I have always shared a room. It is weird sleeping alone.“
“Too quiet?“
Wanda nods, nervously stuffing her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie.
“There are playlist on the Internet with all kinds of sounds. They help.“
Wanda perks up at that. “Even snoring men?“
Natasha chuckles. “Yes. It won’t be the same, I know, but...“
“I will try. Thank you, Natasha,” Wanda says with a hopeful glimmer in her eyes.
“Join us for dinner next time. You can’t live off what the boys leave.“
“They do not like fruits, so I can manage.“
“Wanda. I mean it,” Natasha looks at her with a stern expression. “Three meals with the team each day.“
“Is that an order?“
“Yes.“
Wanda nods. “Good night, Natasha.“
“Good night,” Natasha mumbles in return, but Wanda is already gone.
—-
The next time Natasha and Wanda meet again after midnight, is about two weeks later and it happens the other way around.
Natasha is the one looking for a late night snack and Wanda is already there, sitting by the counter with a cup of tea, letting a spoon move through the liquid with her magic.
She seems lost in thoughts, but before Natasha can say something to announce her appearance, Wanda does. “You hungry?“
Natasha is surprised that someone was able to make out her presence, but then again, Wanda is a witch. There’s probably a long list of things Wanda can do that Natasha doesn’t even know yet. “Yeah.“
“Good luck finding something. Thor emptied the fridge earlier. I don’t think he left much,” Wanda chuckles and sends Natasha a smile while she does.
The sound is so new to Natasha that her brain malfunctions and causes her heart to do weird backflips.
“I’m just looking for a small snack. I think it’s time I let you in on my secret storage. We have to stick together if we want to survive, don’t you think?“ she asks and winks at Wanda.
Wanda’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
Natasha has been friendlier the last two weeks, still a little distant, but less brutal in her training schedule and more talkative than before. She tried because she couldn’t find it in herself to punish the young girl for something she had no control over any longer.
But offering to share her secret food storage surprises Natasha herself. Must’ve been that chuckle. Still, she doesn’t want to take it back because it makes Wanda smile and the younger woman looks like she needs a little light in her life.
She steps around the kitchen counter and climbs onto it next to the sink in one swift motion, reaching to open the top shelf. She pulls out a box with her favorite cookies (home baked from Laura) and turns around to Wanda. “Are you more a chocolate or gummy bears kinda girl?“
Wanda is staring at her as if she’s seeing something incredibly unexpected, two blue orbs wide open, lips slightly parted.
“Earth to Wanda.“
“Chocolate.“
“Good choice,“ she says with a smile and rummages some more until she finds what she’s looking for. Jumping down from the counter she hands Wanda a big chocolate bar. “It’s dark chocolate from Switzerland. A friend sends them regularly because she knows I love them.“
Wanda takes it carefully as if she’s holding the most precious thing in her life. “Thank you, I... I don’t know what say.“
Natasha shrugs and leans forward, her forearms resting on the kitchen counter, eyes trailing over Wanda’s overwhelmed features and her (she has to admit that) beautiful smile. “It’s just chocolate. A pretty good one but... Just chocolate.”
“I haven’t had chocolate in years. Pietro once stole some for our birthday. I didn’t like him stealing,” Wanda recounts. She stares at the chocolate bar in her hand with an unreadable expression.
“I didn’t mean to make you sad. I-“
“You didn’t,” Wanda interrupts quickly. „Really. It’s very sweet of you. Unexpected from the Black Widow, but sweet.“
Natasha lowers her gaze and looks at her hands. In her previous dream they were bloody and bruised, her knuckles scraped open. “I’m not her anymore,” she says quietly.
“I know.“
“I’m trying to make up for all the things I’ve done.“
“I know, I didn’t mean... It was stupid to say that,” Wanda apologized quickly. „I just didn’t peg you for someone who hides chocolate from the boys. That’s all.“
“In the Red Room we had no such things as chocolate or candy. But we hid food whenever we could because some days they punished us with food deprivation. It’s a habit, I guess, “ Natasha looks up to see Wanda watching her carefully.
“Like the squirrels. Only with better memory,” Wanda chuckles.
Natasha laughs. “Yeah. Like the squirrels.”
It feels easy with Wanda, comfortable. Maybe the young girl isn’t so bad after all. Maybe it’s good to have her here. At least she understands.
Natasha pulls a cookie from the box and breaks it in half. She hands one to Wanda. “Friends?”
The smile that stretches over Wanda’s face as she takes the cookie with her long, delicate fingers could light up the whole room. “Friends”, she repeats, the accent in her voice heavy again.
Natasha’s heart flutters when their fingers touch for a split second.
Oh no.
…