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Your leg bounces nervously and no amount of careful breathing seems to calm your nerves. You pick at the cutlery on the table, spinning the knife between your fingers too fast and it clatters to the ground, causing the people on the sidewalk to turn their heads in your direction.
“Sorry!” you apologize with an awkward wave, bending forward to pick it up. When you sit back in your chair, you see her standing across from you.
Natasha looks as beautiful as the last time you saw her. Her hair is braided in a messy ponytail that rests over her left shoulder, with some strands hanging loosely around her face. Her green eyes are sparked with curiosity, her lips pulled into a soft smile. The wind blows from behind her and you inhale subtly to catch her familiar strawberry scent, but it’s not there. It’s different, but you know better than to have expected it to be the same after so much time apart.
“You haven’t aged a day,” you mumble, standing to hug her but she takes the seat across you before you can.
“I wish I could say the same about you,” she teases.
“You have no idea how hard it’s been without you,” you say, sitting down again.
“I know. And I’m sorry—”
“Don’t apologize for what you did,” you interrupt. “Your sacrifice brought everyone back.”
“It did,” Natasha repeats, although with much less conviction than you.
A waiter comes up to your table with a menu and glass of water.
“Can we get another menu and water?” you ask him, glancing over at Natasha. The waiter nods, backing away from the table to head back inside to the restaurant.
“How have you been?” you ask Natasha, failing to hide your eagerness. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I missed you, too,” Natasha says.
“I wish you would’ve visited me sooner, but I’m not complaining,” you say.
“I know.” She sighs. “The time just…wasn’t right, you know?”
The waiter returns with another menu and glass of water, which he places in front of Natasha.
“But I’m glad you’re back, even if I had to wait a little bit,” you continue once the waiter is out of earshot. “When you…” It’s surprising how much it still hurts to talk about, even as Natasha sits across from you, as perfect as the day she left. “When Clint came back from Vormir alone, I thought I’d never see you again.”
Natasha looks away from you.
“But then Bruce snapped his fingers—” You click your own together for emphasis “—and brought everyone back. Including you.”
“Y/N—”
“And I know you’ve been busy this past year, and so have I,” you say, “But we’re here now, and I’ve never been happier.”
“Are you ready to order?” You hadn’t even noticed the waiter creeping up with his notepad.
“Oh, uh, sure. I’ll have the chicken sandwich no pickles, please,” you say. “What about you?” You look at Natasha, and she shakes her head.
“I’m not really hungry right now. Maybe later,” she says to you.
“Okay.” You shrug and hand the waiter your menu. “That’ll be it for now.”
“Sure.”
You turn your attention back to Natasha, afraid she’ll disappear if you don’t.
“Do the others know?” she asks.
“Know what?”
“That you were seeing me today.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s been a little tough trying keep in touch with them,” you answer. “But I know you keep up on current events. Steve’s retired. Sam took up his mantle, which can’t have been easy, but he’s doing his best. Bruce is off doing intergalactic stuff with Captain Marvel— do you even remember her?” You laugh.
“I do remember.” Natasha laughs along with you.
“Clint is in New York, and Tony…well, his legacy carries on,” you finish.
“And you’re here,” Natasha says.
“I’m here. With you,” you add with a beaming smile. “Thanks for showing up, by the way. I was a little worried you wouldn’t.”
“You think I’d stand you up?” Natasha chuckles.
“I don’t know. Maybe.” You suddenly feel very self-conscious. “I’m just really glad you didn’t because…there were some things I wanted to tell you.”
“Go on,” she encourages.
“I knew I should’ve said something before the Time Heist, because there was no guarantee that I’d see you again, and well…I was kind of right,” you start, your leg bouncing with anxiety again. “But now that you’re here again, I want to be completely and fully honest with you.”
Natasha patiently waits for you to continue.
“I…” Your voice trembles. “I love you, Nat. And I wish I hadn’t waited to tell you that. Because there were so many things I wanted to do with you.” You hold your hand out across the table, but Natasha does not take it, looking at you with pity and sadness.
“I wanted to wake up next to you every morning. I wanted to remind you how special and amazing you were. I wanted to call you mine and show you off to the world.
You lower your gaze, failing to hide your tears. “I don’t know if you ever felt the same way about me, and it’s okay if you didn’t, because I just wanted you to know. I’ve been kicking myself every day that I didn’t ask you to be my girlfriend, and that I didn’t tell you that I loved you, and—”
“Y/N?” Natasha interrupts.
You look up at her and see that her eyes are full of tears.
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this when I was still alive?”
You sit outside the restaurant, waiting for someone who will never arrive. The people walking by watch you in concern as you appear to have a conversation with yourself, talking and gesturing to the empty chair across from you.
The waiter tries to refrain from letting his judgment show when he takes your order and you start addressing a third party when you’re clearly sitting alone. When he finally has to bring out your food, he notices how you’re suddenly quiet and withdrawn, a new redness rimming your eyes.
“Here you are,” he says, setting the plate in front of you.
“Thank you,” you whisper.
“Can I…Can I get you anything else?” the waiter asks.
“No, I think I’m all right,” you answer, although it couldn’t be farther from the truth.
“Can I take the menu back?” he goes on. “Or are you still waiting for someone?”
“No, go ahead.” You gesture to the menu that hasn’t been opened. “I’m all alone.”
Because Clint lost her, and Bruce couldn’t bring her back.