Chapter Text
Thursdays are quiet nights. Even midweek, The Web can be fairly busy in the evenings despite its small size, what with being in the middle of New York. But Thursdays always seem to be emptier for some reason she’s never cared to think too much about. It’s nice to have a break from the bustle of it all sometimes.
Natasha prides herself on remembering her regulars, rarely forgetting a face. There’s a couple that comes in every Tuesday and Friday – they both drink appletinis, and the tall one always drinks one more. One guy comes in more often than is probably healthy, sometimes he’s American and sometimes he’s British – his drinks are different depending on the accent.
On Thursdays, a woman in a red coat sits at the bar. Always on the far left and always wearing the red coat. She orders a raspberry martini, and then moves onto rum and coke until she decides to leave. However long she stays seems to vary. She always tips well.
Natasha is friendly with her patrons, has even made a couple of friends through it, but on the whole, she’s the bartender and they’re there to get drunk. Wanda – she eventually learns the woman’s name – used to frequent with a tall blonde boy. He drank speedballs and talked faster than anyone she’d ever met, but Wanda used to smile the whole time they were there.
One day she showed up without him for the first time. She didn’t smile, nor did she talk to a single soul whilst she sat until closing. She still ordered her raspberry martini, followed by a rum and coke, and she still tipped generously.
When she showed up again the next week, once again by herself, once again a solemn look upon her face as she stared at the empty seat next to her, Natasha slid a raspberry martini into her hands with a soft, “On the house,” and Wanda starred back up at her with such surprised, teary eyes that she decided a good old fashioned barkeep therapy session was in order.
Now, Natasha finds herself glancing at her watch as she wipes down the bar on a Thursday evening. The bar is even quieter than usual and each time the wind outside rattles the doors slightly, her head tips up to try and catch a glimpse of that familiar red coat.
She always arrives just past 9PM, the current time being closer to ten, and Natasha starts to wonder if perhaps she’s not coming. In three years, Wanda has only missed Thursday a handful of times, and she wonders too if everything in the woman’s life is on such strict routine.
The door creaks again, an annoyance that Natasha has relayed to Maria countless times, but the building is old and it comes with its quirks. She can’t help glancing up, an old habit she’s never been able to shake, constantly aware of her surroundings. This time, however, there’s a flutter of red and the scuffle of boots in the doorway as rain is shaken off, and Natasha raises her eyes to meet Wanda’s ever-present smile.
“Hey stranger,” Natasha greets when she’s close enough to hear. The music is turned down lower to accommodate for the smaller crowd, but Wanda leans over the bartop anyway, “I thought you were standing me up today.”
Wanda sinks into her usual seat, folding her damp coat over her lap. She cringes slightly as the rain soaks into her jeans and Natasha finds it entirely too endearing, “And miss out on our little chats? Never,” a raspberry martini is placed in front of her.
Her boss had kept her late, and there had been all manner of problems at home, and before she knew it her entire evening routine had been thrown off and she was in more dire need of her stool at the bar than she can remember being in a long time.
The Web was recommended to her by a friend of a friend one time, and she and Pietro had decided to check it out on their shared night off, needing a new spot since their last one ran down. The drinks were strong, the music was good and Thursdays were always quiet enough that they could chat easily without feeling like they were also the only people in the bar.
It was nice, and it became a weekly tradition for them, as well as a surprisingly effective way of de-stressing after work. When Pietro died she found herself at the bar on Thursday before she could even think about it, craving even the last remnants of his memories. It turned out that a bar is also the perfect place to drink your feelings away and she found her way back the next week with a plan to do the same until the barkeep had remembered her order and soothed her with various stories of her own.
She had talked to her until closing and Wanda had finally felt visible for the first time in weeks. She made the decision to continue her Thursday tradition, and Natasha continued to check on her every time, offering Wanda tentative tidbits of herself in turn until she had grown horribly, irreparably attached.
She’s not sure if she would call them friends, now. She does know that she looks forward to her soft, casual tone and her stupidly handsome smirk. And she does know that her drink of choice is scotch, but secretly anything with enough vodka to kill a man. And she does know that her arms look particularly nice when she wears that sleeveless black number as she’s cleaning the bartop. She’s not sure if any of that actually adds up to friendship though – she knows what it sounds like and she doesn’t want to address it.
She’s dragged out of her thoughts by the usual pleasant gravel of Natasha’s voice and it takes her a second too long to realise she’s been asked a question.
“Sorry, I was in my own head,” she sips her drink and Natasha’s eyes are bright with amusement. She tries not to blush too visibly, thankful for the dim lighting.
“Stressful day? I could usually set my watch by your timings,” she leans her elbows on the bar and Wanda tries desperately not to stare too hard at any of her.
“I’d rather forget that it all happened, honestly,” her nose scrunches slightly in the same way it always does and Natasha finds it just as adorable every time.
“Well then, you’ve come to the perfect place,” she smiles wide and Wanda can’t help but mirror it.
“What about you? It’s very quiet in here tonight,” she glances around a little and Natasha follows suit.
She hums low for a moment, “Thursdays always are,” Wanda watches her lips tug into that signature smirk, “You’re the highlight of my day, every Thursday.”
“Not your whole week?” she shoots back innocently over the rim of her glass and Natasha’s soft laugh has butterflies swarming in her stomach.
“I count down the hours as soon as you leave,” she jokes as she takes Wanda’s empty glass, tilting her head in a silent question for another.
She shakes her head, simply happy to watch as Natasha disappears into the back room, the soft clink of glass against glass before she returns. She often runs the place by herself on Thursdays and Wanda has offered to help out several times. She bargains that she wants to repay her for the freebies, but Natasha firmly declines every time.
“Your hair is lighter,” Natasha reaches a hand out over the bar to run it through the loose strands in front of her face, telling herself that it’s definitely not just an excuse to get closer to her. Wanda’s heart rate skyrockets.
“Oh, um,” she tries desperately to remember words in English, “Yeah,” she settles for meekly.
“It’s red,” she comments, and Wanda is surprised she can tell in this lighting, though she supposes she’s probably used to it, “I thought it was brown this whole time.”
“I did too. Summer this year seems to have changed it completely somehow,” Natasha finally lets go of her hair, and Wanda tells herself that she doesn’t miss the contact.
“I like it. Now we match,” she smiles again and Wanda wonders how long she can keep this up before she simply expires in her seat one day.
They chat idly between orders like usual, whiling away the evening in the comfort of each other’s company. Wanda doesn’t move onto rum and coke like usual, and Natasha decides not to push her despite her curiosity.
“Do you usually talk to your customers this much?” Wanda asks, even though she knows it’s a bad idea. She doesn’t want to know, she wants to hang onto her little fantasy that she’s unique a little while longer.
Natasha cocks an eyebrow, “No, you’re just special,” she admits, intrigued, though reluctant to admit just quite how far special runs.
Wanda blinks at her as if she was expecting any other answer, a soft, “Oh,” escaping her lips.
“It wouldn’t be a very good business if I gave free drinks and stopped to chat to everyone that walked through the door,” she points out and Wanda’s cheeks flush adorably, “I’d like to think we’re friends, though maybe that should require us to see each other outside of my business.”
She knows it’s a fine line to walk, getting attached to a customer, but she really has grown fond of Wanda over their late night conversations. It would be nice to be able to spend time with her without the looming reminder that she’s another customer at the end of the day.
“That sounds nice,” Wanda smiles into her water, “When are you free?”
“Most mornings,” she tilts her head to think, “I might be able to get someone to cover me one evening, and…” she twists her wrist to glance dramatically at her watch, “in thirty-seven minutes.”
Wanda’s brows crease in amused confusion, “Where are we going to go at two in the morning?”
“Well, I live right upstairs,” she points to the ceiling, “Perks of owning the bar. You could come up for a cup of tea with some proper lighting.”
“What if I find out you’re ugly?” she teases just to see her smile.
“I’ve never had any complaints before, but I guess that’s up to you to decide,” she steps away to announce last call to the few remaining customers.
The patrons take their time to leave, and Natasha has to shoo a small group out by hand that Wanda watches with barely contained laughter. She’s still biting back her giggles by the time Natasha gets back to the bar with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.
“I’ve got a few jobs to do in the back before tomorrow, but a lot of them can wait until I open,” she gestures over her shoulder, “You’re welcome to follow me, instead of sitting there by yourself.”
The kitchen area is clean and tidy despite the short staff for the night, just the collection of glasses to be washed that really stands out. Natasha readjusts her sleeves to make sure they don’t fall past her elbows and Wanda thinks that maybe this shirt is just as good as the sleeveless one.
She insists on helping with the glasses, as much as Natasha tries to refuse, “It’ll go faster if you wash and I dry, just let me help,” she drags the towel from over Natasha’s shoulder and picks up one of the glasses from the drying rack. Natasha squints at her for a moment before sighing, resigned to allowing her to help.
“What do people normally talk about when they’re friends then? Work? Dating lives? You got a partner?” it’s a thinly veiled question and she knows it, frankly she’s been avoiding relationship talk in favour of the unhealthy fantasy that maybe she has a chance. She doesn’t even know if she’s gay.
“Oh, uh,” Wanda laughs, taken slightly by surprise, “I did– well, there was one guy, and they were really lovely, but it didn’t work out. Maybe in another universe, where our circumstances lined up better,” she seems sullen as she stares blankly at the glass she dries and Natasha regrets ever having asked.
“I’m sorry, maybe she should stick to our usual conversations,” she places another glass in front of Wanda, pleasantly warm from the hot water.
“No, it’s okay. What about you? You must have a long list,” the chance to learn more about Natasha’s love life isn’t one Wanda is going to pass up easily.
“What are you trying to say about me, hm?” she raises an eyebrow at her with a sideways glance and Wanda gapes at her.
She drops the glass in her hands to hold them up in apology, “No, no! That’s not what I was implying at all! I just meant that– Well, you’re so pretty and cool, and confident– and surely there’s any number of men who would be lucky to even know you so–”
“Wanda,” Natasha interrupts, jabbing her softly with her elbow, “It’s okay, I was joking – and who said they were men?”
The crease between Wanda’s eyebrows makes itself known again and Natasha feels an overwhelming urge to smooth it out with her thumb. Instead, she cleans the last glass with more vigour than is really needed as she watches the gears turn in her head.
“Women?” is all Wanda ends up managing, her heart beating out of her chest so hard that she’s afraid Natasha will hear it somehow.
“Bit of both, some in between,” she grins, “And the list is fairly long, I’ll give you that,” she tries to distract herself from the confirmation that Wanda is definitely straight. She’ll get over it all eventually. They can still be friends.
“Cool,” Wanda says, half distracted as she places the last glass on the side.
Natasha has never been fond of talking about herself too much, and this conversation isn’t one she particularly wants to have right now anymore, so she pushes herself away from the sink and turns on her heel towards the door, “Just got to lock up and then we can head upstairs.”
Wanda follows her into the main room of the bar and it’s odd to see it with the lights on properly, the space feeling much larger than the little bubble her world is usually reduced to when Natasha is around. She follows from a few feet away as she paces around, scooping up any items left behind on her way to the door.
She pulls a keyring out of her pocket, holding a large, old looking key up to the lock, “You sure you don’t want to go home? I know it’s late,” she looks over her shoulder at her.
“I’m alright,” she waves her hands, “I work a lot of late shifts anyway, and I have tomorrow off.”
“Perfect, then,” she locks the door with a solid thunk and strides off in the direction of other doors to be locked.
Eventually, they head through the kitchen again to a small corridor. There’s another door that looks like it leads outside and a staircase at the end of the hallway. The kitchen door is locked, and Natasha leads her up the stairs.
The apartment is surprisingly spacious for the middle of New York. Decorated in a nice midpoint not quite empty enough to be minimalism – clean and tidy, but in a miraculously lived in way.
“Tea?” Natasha drops her keys into the bowl by the door before kneeling down to kick her boots off next to a rack of five more pairs that are all very slightly different. Wanda’s shoes manage to blend in with them all too, and they share an amused glance, “Or something stronger works too.”
“Tea is fine, thank you,” her jacket is hung up in the entryway too, and Wanda continues to glance around the room as she follows Natasha into the kitchen area.
The space is open plan between the kitchen, dining area and lounge. There’s a few photos dotted around, mostly of Natasha with various other people, a couple more of her with one dark haired woman specifically. She’s pretty sure she’s seen her around the bar a handful of times.
The kettle clicks on and Wanda turns back around just in time for Natasha to ask what flavour of tea she’d like. There’s a small collection of boxes in the cupboard and Wanda’s eyes are drawn to a pink one towards the back.
“You really like raspberry stuff, huh?” she retrieves the box of raspberry and echinacea tea and places a bag in one of the cups as the kettle switches off. She chooses orange and cinnamon for herself.
“I like a lot of fruits. Raspberries and cherries happen to be my favourite,” she leans against the counter as she watches Natasha make their tea, “Why do you have it if you don’t like it?”
“It goes with your red aesthetic I suppose,” she jokes, “and I don’t not like it, but that flavour is Maria’s really. Sugar? Honey?”
“Honey, please. Who’s Maria?” she’s sure she’s heard the name before in passing, but she’s never stopped to ask about her more specifically.
“My wife,” she responds simply, watching Wanda out of the corner of her eye as she fetches the honey. Even if she doesn’t have a chance with her, Maria is someone she’d like her to know as a friend too.
Wanda has spent a lot of time staring at her hands, and she finds herself drawn to them again as Natasha carefully spoons honey into their cups. She wears a lot of rings, both hands, every day. Every one of them is silver. She’d have noticed a gold wedding ring. She double checks anyway.
There’s two rings on her left ring finger, both simple silver, one of them has a few small red gems in it – probably rubies. They go nicely with the rest of the rings on her hand. A joke then, perhaps. She never has been good with them.
The silence stretches on slightly too long for Natasha’s liking and she puts the honey back, “She’s not home until tomorrow evening, though. You don’t have to meet her if you don’t want to,” she laughs softly as she brushes it off, pushing the cup closer to Wanda.
Wanda isn’t exactly sure how to respond, and she takes a sip of her tea instead, trying not to flinch when it burns her lip. She stares down at the floor, noticing Natasha’s fluffy red socks, and she’s about to comment on her own choice of colours when Natasha speaks up first.
“Hi, baby,” she says, her voice high and sweet, and Wanda’s thoughts stall. Her logical brain knows that Natasha can’t be talking to her, but the rest of her brain is saying that there’s no-one else in the house, and the lilt of her voice makes her heart flutter slightly.
It isn’t until something soft brushes between her ankles that her brain starts up again and she realises that she’s talking to a cat. It winds itself between her legs, rubbing its cheeks across her calves as it makes its way to Natasha.
It hops up onto the island for Natasha to scratch behind its ears and Wanda practically melts at Natasha’s smile as she smooshes the cat's face, cooing lovingly at it.
“This is Liho,” Natasha explains, moving to stroke along his back as he meows, “He’s a spoiled brat.”
He meows at Wanda directly and she takes a step to stand next to Natasha and stroke him. He butts his head into her hand with enough force to jostle her and Natasha watches her say hello, talking to him in a soft voice as she sings his praises. She ignores the way her chest aches at the sight.
Wanda scratches under his chin and Liho purrs so loud that it makes her hand feel fuzzy, a happy little gasp escaping her, “You’re so handsome. Yes, you are.”
Natasha chuckles softly, leaning on the counter, and Wanda turns to look at her without realising how close they’d gotten. In the clear light of the kitchen, she notices for the first time that her eyes are green. There’s a small ring of brown around the middle and she loses herself in the tiny details she can finally see as Liho mews indignantly between them.
Natasha laughs again, her eyes crinkling slightly before she raises an eyebrow at her, “Something on my face?” she makes no move to pull back.
“Oh! Sorry, I just– your eyes are green,” she states. Maybe this woman isn’t as straight as Natasha thought she was.
“They are. Yours are too,” she states back, still openly amused.
Liho meows in a distinctly annoyed manner before he hops from the counter, disappearing over to the lounge area. Natasha continues to lean on her elbows over the counter, a touch too close to be friendly without the buffer of a cat in the way. Wanda’s eyes dip to her lips and her smirk widens further.
Her gaze snaps back up to Natasha’s and she knows she’s been caught. Her heart rises in her throat and she chokes on her words, stumbling over apologies and excuses as Natasha simply stares.
A hand lands on her forearm, stilling her hands where they twist at her rings and she raises her eyes back up to hers again, “You’re cute when you worry, you know that?”
Wanda blinks back up at her, bewildered and misty eyed, and it reminds her of that night all those years back, “I– what?”
“You’re cute,” she repeats, “And you don’t have to apologise – for anything.”
“I don't– What’re you–” she cuts herself off, trying to wrap her head around it all.
“C’mere,” Natasha’s hand slides behind her elbow to tug her gently closer, the other hand coming to rest against her jaw. Wanda’s eyes widen dramatically and Natasha hesitates, her hand almost leaving her skin.
“No!” Wanda blurts, “It’s good surprise,” Natasha’s stupidly handsome smirk is back before she leans forward, and her lips are softer than she could ever imagine.
She wraps her arms around her neck to hold her close, and Natasha’s thumb strokes across her cheek as she smiles into the kiss. She pulls back again, her pupils blown wide, and Wanda loses herself in her eyes yet again.
“Still good?” Natasha asks sincerely, her thumb stroking soothingly over the soft skin of Wanda’s arm. She nods, and her eyes drop back down to her lips again, “Maria won’t be back until tomorrow, but you’re okay with her?” She has to ask, has to double check with everyone, just in case. She desperately hopes Wanda understands.
Wanda doesn’t really understand why her having a roommate would be a problem, especially if she isn’t even here right now, and she nods again, “Yeah, of course.”
Natasha grins again, giving Wanda’s arm a last squeeze before she drags her back in with a pleased hum. The angle is a little awkward, leaning against the counter, and Natasha’s hands drop to Wanda’s hips with another squeeze in warning before she’s lifted up to sit on the counter.
She squeaks with surprise, holding on tighter around Natasha’s shoulders, and she can feel her huff of amusement across her cheek. The display of strength makes her heart flutter, blush dusting her cheeks.
Wanda’s hands sink into her hair, mussing up the curls and scratching lightly across her scalp. It drags a pleased sound from her chest and she presses herself further against her, pleasantly warm. She didn’t plan for it to head this way, genuinely content to have an innocent cup of tea, but she isn’t going to complain.
She’s in half a mind to pull back and check that this is all real when the lock clicks open in the front door and Wanda snaps back like she’s electrocuted.
She sits stock still as she watches Natasha’s expression. Her eyes are averted to the side as she listens to the clink of keys in the bowl and the shuffle of boots by the door, a smile across her face. She doesn’t make a move to extricate herself from Wanda to check, either. The roommate, then.
“You’re home early,” she calls, surprise evident in her voice.
“Conference was cut short,” the woman calls back, “I thought I’d surprise you, should I have called in advance?” she appears around the corner and Wanda recognises her from the photos.
“No, you’re fine. I’m always happy to have you back, Mia,” she turns slightly to greet her, caught between the two of them.
“Ah,” she says as she spots the two of them with a smile, “Company. Well I hope you two have fun, sweetie,” she says as she makes her way over. Very… close roommates perhaps?
She steps even closer and Natasha turns more fully towards her until she can stretch up onto her tiptoes to kiss her. Wanda sits there frozen, more confused than she has been all night until the light glints off of Maria’s hand where she cups Natasha’s face.
A ring. Left hand ring finger. White gold. Oh God, it wasn’t a joke. She is married.
And she’s just been caught kissing someone else in their own kitchen. She watches Maria pull back, her eyes drawn to one of Natasha’s hands still resting just slightly too high on Wanda’s thigh. She waits for her to piece it together, for her to chase her out of the house like a horny teenager and have her banned from the bar.
“Are you wanting the bedroom?” is all she says, aimed at Natasha with a knowing quirk to her lips. Wanda is hopelessly confused again.
“You can go nap if you want. We were just having tea, we can be quiet,” she smiles back up at Maria, smoothing out a crease in her shirt collar.
“Honestly, I’m wide awake. Jet lag is awful,” Wanda continues to watch them, entirely glued to the counter, her words trapped in her head. Natasha is happier than she’s ever seen her in the bar, the same look on her face as when she had leant in to kiss her for the second time earlier, and Maria looks at Natasha like she’s the only thing in the world that matters.
“Well, you’d be welcome to join us,” Natasha looks over to Wanda for confirmation, “I could make us something for dinner – or whatever you’d call a meal at this hour. Breakfast?”
She honestly doesn’t think she’s ever been so confused in one night before, and she blinks between them yet again, trying to wrap her head around everything that has just happened in the span of five minutes. She’s fairly sure that she’s just gone from finally kissing the woman she’s been hopelessly in love with for years, to being invited to dinner (breakfast) with her incredibly handsome wife. It sounds like a fever dream, and she isn’t honestly sure she hasn’t just fallen asleep at the bar somehow.
Maria looks over to Wanda and her bewildered expression. She turns back to Natasha and there’s an entire conversation in the single look she gives her.
The look she shoots back is incredulous, “Do you really have such little faith in me? I even double checked,” Natasha strokes her palm along Wanda’s thigh, trying for soothing.
Maria’s expression shifts to something more understanding as she focuses on Wanda again, “Well, I need to wash the plane germs off of me. So how about I go and shower, and we can make a decision with our little friend after?” she smiles genuinely at her and Wanda’s heart rate lowers ever so slightly.
Natasha and Wanda are left alone in the room once again, and Natasha turns fully back to her, hands comfortingly weighted on her thighs.
“Are you okay? You can go if it’s all too much. I’m not going to force you to stay,” she ducks slightly to look into Wanda’s eyes properly, a gentle hand at her chin to lift her head up.
“No, it’s okay,” she lifts her own hand to cover Natasha’s against her jaw, “It’s funny, actually,” she laughs at herself and a confused little huff manages to escape Natasha too.
“Yeah? How so,” her eyes are so soft as she continues to make sure Wanda is okay, and she honestly doesn’t know how she could even think this woman would cheat on her wife.
“I thought you were joking,” she laughs again, “About being married.”
“What? How could I get any more straightforward than ‘this is my wife?’” she stares at her, taking her own turn to be confused tonight.
“I don’t know! I didn’t know your rings were white gold and you had a girl in your house at two in the morning! It didn’t exactly feel like something somehow who was married would do,” she explains, exasperated but smiling.
“Well I am!” Natasha laughs back, “And to be clear, my wife and I have had extensive conversations about allowing each other to date outside of our relationship, and this isn’t upsetting anyone. Though normally my partners don’t assume I’m joking about my wife when I bring them home,” she pokes Wanda gently in the side with a grin.
“Well I get that now!” she sighs, finally willing her heart rate back to normal.
“So? What’s your answer, where do we go from here?”
“What are my options again?”
“Whatever you want to do,” she brings her hand up to kiss it, “I can cook us something to eat if you’re hungry, or we could just sit and watch a movie. You can go home whenever, I won’t be offended. And whatever we do, Maria can join us, if you want – or she can leave us alone. I just want you to be comfortable, I wasn’t joking when I said I’d like to be proper friends.”
Wanda’s heart melts, finding Natasha’s rambling worried side to be entirely too charming when their roles are reversed, “Friends? Is that what this is?”
“What, you don’t kiss all of your roommates too?” she grins and Wanda slaps her gently on the arm.
“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” she groans, letting her head loll forward to rest on Natasha’s shoulder.
“Nope. Never. And my answer depends on your answer, I suppose.”
Wanda lifts her head to look into those beautiful green eyes again, so sincere as she waits for her answer, and she feels like she’s holding her very heart in her hands before she speaks, “Then I’d love to stay – and I’d really love to kiss you again.”
“And my wife?” Wanda is absolutely certain that she only calls her that to rub it in further. She stops to actually give it some thought now that she isn’t actively panicking about being a homewrecker. Maria is beautiful in a striking way, in any other situation she’d be enticingly dark and mysterious with her cool gaze and formal attire. She’s also tall.
The way she looks at Natasha gives her a sense of softness that Wanda has a feeling very few people are lucky enough to see, and she figures that she shouldn’t pass up the opportunity if she’s been lucky enough to catch her eye too. If Natasha trusts her, then Wanda is inclined to as well.
“It would be rude to steal her wife away on her first day back from her trip,” she says in way of an answer.
“You sure?” Natasha’s eyes light up and Wanda remembers exactly how she ended up in this situation as her heart flutters in her ribs.
Instead of answering, she simply drags Natasha back in by her face for a kiss that is mostly teeth whilst they try to wrangle back their smiles. She sinks her hands back into soft hair and Natasha hums against her lips again.
She tugs her in flush against her and Natasha’s stomach rumbles audibly in the quiet of the kitchen. She pulls back, a little sheepish, “I wasn’t joking about the food either.” Wanda’s face lights up with laughter and Natasha’s ribs ache with the fluttering in her chest.
“What do you have in mind?” she asks, eyes still crinkled with her smile, and Natasha tries to will her brain into thinking about what food there is in the fridge instead of how lucky she feels right now.
“Let me check what we have,” she presses a chaste kiss to her lips that has Wanda chuckling softly again, entirely enthralled with the soft, playful side of a woman who is famously calm and collected.
The fridge is mostly bare, with her planning on shopping tomorrow before Maria arrived home. There’s a few vegetables left and some eggs that need to be used.
“Thoughts on omelettes?” she turns around to watch Wanda slide off of the counter and make her way over to her.
“Omelettes are good,” she rests her head on her shoulder to look at what there is to go with it.
“Sorry I haven’t got much. I wasn’t expecting to have to cook for anyone else until tomorrow. Grab what you want first, and I’ll make mine and Maria’s after,” she steps to the side to grab the necessary pots and pans.
Wanda peruses the shelves for a moment before pulling out a small tub of leftover boiled potatoes, red pepper, and cheese. She places them on the chopping board Natasha hands her, and makes her way through her draws to find a knife.
Natasha raises an eyebrow as Wanda sets to chopping the pepper into small chunks, and Wanda looks between them for a moment until it clicks, a disbelieving giggle escaping her.
“I promise I do eat foods in other colours. It’s not my fault that the only pepper you had was red,” she waggles the knife at her before finishing her half of the pepper, placing the other half to the side.
“Mhm. Sure, blame me for picking the only red thing in my entire fridge,” she teases, grabbing a jug to beat the eggs in as the pan heats up on the stove, “How hungry are you feeling?” she gestures to the eggs in front of her.
“I’ll go for two. I’ve got some potato for it too,” she nods to the potato as she finishes slicing it before grating some cheese, “Do you want enough cheese for you two, too?”
“Please,” Natasha says simply, cracking two eggs into the jug at the same time just to hear Wanda scoff as she shows off. She beats them smooth with salt and pepper and holds it out for Wanda to add any vegetables to be fully incorporated too.
“Do you have any garlic and paprika?” she saves the potato slices to one side on the chopping board.
Natasha opens the cupboard next to the stove, and she has to stretch to retrieve them, “Will garlic salt do?”
“Yes – and that’s terrible paprika,” she takes it from her thankfully nonetheless.
“What do you mean?” Natasha’s head is in the fridge again, scooping up pretty much everything left in there.
“It should be more red– don’t give me that look,” she scowls at Natasha’s smirk, “It should be a similar colour to cayenne. It tastes better.”
“Ah, I’ll keep an eye out for it then. Maria uses it more than me,” she starts chopping up broccoli and tomatoes, and Wanda decides not to question the choice.
“It sounds like this is more her house,” Wanda chuckles as she holds her hand above the pan to test the heat before pouring her eggs into it.
“Sometimes it feels like I live in the bar more than I do up here,” she throws her mix of various vegetables into the now empty jug followed by three eggs, “Usually Maria cooks dinner. She says that I eat ‘like a starved dog.’”
Wanda thinks about the raw vegetables that she’s got in her omelette that definitely won’t cook in time and she thinks Maria probably isn’t far off. She places her potato slices into her egg with some cheese before folding it in half.
“What do you do around the house then?” she watches Natasha chop up some more spring onions and pepper, presumably for Maria.
“I do like to cook, too. I just usually do breakfast and lunch,” she pushes the chopped vegetables to the side, “Now that I think about it, I don’t spend much time in the house by myself.”
“How so?”
“If I’m not at the bar, then I’m usually at the gym – or at Clint’s house,” she shrugs, “When Maria isn’t home of course.”
Wanda flips her omelette to check that it’s cooked before sliding it onto the plate that Natasha hands her, stepping out of the way to let her cook her own, “A barkeep and a gym rat. I should’ve guessed you’d have a wife. What do you do?”
“I’m sure that’s stereotyping,” she pours her eggs into the pan and covers them in cheese, “I guess you’re not wrong though. Ballet and judo mostly, sometimes I box with Maria.”
“Those are two very conflicting sports,” Wanda smiles as she takes a bite of her food.
“Compared to ballet when I was a kid, judo is the nice one of the two,” she folds her own omelette and places it on another plate, setting Maria’s up to cook too, “You do any sports?”
“Yoga? My job is fairly active, but I like the quiet when I’m trying to relax.”
Natasha smiles warmly, “I think you and Maria are going to get on really well. She spends her entire evening reading. That bookshelf is pretty much entirely hers,” she points over by the TV in the lounge, “Apart from the bottom shelf, which is mine.”
The bottom shelf is filled with various nonfiction texts, the rest of the case lined with a mixture of all sorts of genres, seemingly in alphabetical order.
“I’ll have to ask her for some recommendations,” she replies, and they sit in comfortable silence as they eat their food, Natasha checking on Maria’s omelette every now and then.
Eventually, Maria appears in the doorway and Natasha seems infinitely pleased to see her, “Perfect timing,” she says as she hands her the plate.
“Thank you,” she takes it from her with a kiss to her forehead.
She’s dressed in sweats and a worn-soft army sweater, her hair slightly damp at the ends where the water has caught it, and Wanda thinks she’s definitely made the right choice. She barely remembers to finish her own food instead of simply staring, and she catches Natasha’s knowing smirk as she goes to place her plate in the sink.
“How was the conference?” Natasha nudges Maria with her shoulder, “They never cut them short.”
“There were… complications. You know it’s all confidential, but I’m probably going to be super busy from next week,” she takes a solemn bite of her omelette.
“I can go, if you’re stressed. I don’t want to intrude,” Wanda points over her shoulder.
“No, no. You’re fine,” her smile is warm and sincere, “You must be the Wanda i’ve been hearing about, unless Nat’s been chatting up all the cute redheads at the bar,” her eyes crinkle slightly and Natasha punches her softly in the shoulder with an affronted glare.
“She talks about me?” surprised is an understatement. She’d expected that Natasha hadn’t even thought about her when she left the bar, only interested in her patronism.
“Oh she doesn’t shut up about you. For months now, every Thursday night, it’s all about your laugh, and your smile, and your-”
“That’s enough,” Natasha slaps a hand over Maria’s mouth, and Wanda is fairly certain there’s a slight blush to her cheeks. Maria pulls her hand away to finish her food, and Natasha smiles sheepishly at Wanda, “I’m going to wash up.”
Maria winks at Wanda as she walks over to place her plate in the sink with the others, and she’s surprised to find that this whole situation isn’t as awkward as she worried it would be.
“Do you want me to help dry again?” she asks, pushing herself from the counter.
“That’s our job,” Maria answers instead, “You’re a guest. Your job is to sit there and look pretty.”
She isn’t sure why her stomach flutters the way it does. She definitely wasn’t expecting to have to deal with two different women complimenting her today.
“I think we’re breaking her a little,” Natasha nudges Maria, passing her a fork, “We can stop if you want, Wanda.”
“No, it’s- it’s nice,” she tries not to blush as she leans against the counter, “Natasha was telling me that you read a lot of books,” she aims towards Maria, “Have you got any recommendations?”
She hums in thought for a moment, drying off the rest of the cutlery, “Fiction or nonfiction?”
“Fiction, usually. But I’d give anything a go.”
“‘A Hat Full of Sky.’ Or anything Terry Pratchett. His prose is very fun.”
The last plate is handed to Maria and Natasha drains the sink, “I think we’ve managed to collect every one of his books. I’ve read a couple, but thermonuclear physics is a better bedtime story.”
“You only read that because Tony wanted you to come along to his fancy science party when Pep was sick,” she reprimands her lovingly for trying to show off, “And we only still have it because he thought he lost it and you thought it was funny not to correct him.”
“And it was,” she confirms, “He’s never noticed it in that bookshelf to this day.”
As soon as the dishes are done, Maria walks over to the bookshelf to skim through her collection. She pulls out a book with a strange cover and hands it to Wanda, “Here, you can borrow it. Just bring it back eventually.”
“You’re sure?” she takes the book carefully, flicking through it. The spine is cracked and the edges of the pages are worn soft from years of reading and re-reading.
“I think if Natasha likes you enough to bring you up here, then I can trust you with a book,” she doesn’t mention that it’s her favourite, but Natasha knows just how protective she’s been over it in the past and she tries to keep all of her emotions quietly inside as she watches them.
“Thank you,” Wanda says, placing the book on the coffee table for later.
“Told you you’d bond over books,” Natasha sinks into the sofa, “Want to watch a movie?”
Maria rolls her eyes, “We’re not torturing Wanda with James Bond.”
Wanda laughs softly at Natasha’s jokingly offended face, “Old or new?”
“They’re all old. But the older the better,” she grins.
Maria sighs in resignation, “I’ll go and make us some popcorn, then,” she offers.
“Oh, I’ll make us some drinks too,” she holds her hands out for Maria to pull her up, “More tea? We’ve got stuff for a rum and coke up here too.”
“What’re you drinking?” she follows them back to the kitchen.
“I’ll just have cider,” Maria calls to Natasha from the microwave.
“I think I’ll have vodka,” she grabs a bottle of cider from a cupboard along with a can of coke, turning to wait for Wanda’s answer.
“I’ll join you too then, please,” she watches Natasha pull another can of coke from the cupboard, balancing them all between her fingers.
Natasha pours their drinks with her usual grace as the microwave pops from across the room. She’s pretty sure that there’s at least four shots in Natasha’s glass before she tops it up with coke.
Wanda hums happily as she sips her drink, “I find bar soda strangely delicious, but it’s nice to have normal coke every now and then.”
Natasha’s face scrunches slightly in disgust and Wanda finds it painfully cute, “I am so sick of syrup sodas, you couldn’t pay me to drink one of them.”
“Unless you’re already drunk,” Maria adds, a bowl of popcorn in her hands as she scoops up her bottle.
“Everything tastes good when you’re drunk,” she counters, making her way back into the lounge, and Maria tilts her head in agreement.
Natasha settles herself comfortably into the middle of the couch again, and Maria grabs a book from the shelf before she tucks herself into the corner against the arm. Wanda takes the other side, curling her legs underneath her as she cradles her drink.
“Bond time, then. What do you suggest?” the bowl of popcorn sits on Natasha’s lap as she leans backwards against Maria, her drink within arm’s distance on the coffee table.
“Goldfinger?” she sips her drink again, entirely aware of the way Natasha’s thigh presses against her shin.
“Ah, Sean Connery. Classic,” she searches for the movie on the TV, the screen going dark as it starts moments later.
Natasha hums along to the theme tune, Maria’s head bopping ever so slightly behind her, and Wanda can’t stop the fond smile from creeping onto her face at the sight.
“You’re meant to be watching the movie,” Natasha reprimands with a smirk, catching her staring.
Wanda’s face snaps back to the TV, placing her drink on the table and curling up against the arm of the sofa. It pulls her away from Natasha, their legs no longer pressed together, and she just can’t stand for that. She places the popcorn on the table.
“C’mere,” she says, pulling gently at Wanda’s sleeve, and her head swivels back to her.
She glances between her hand and her face, a confused laugh escaping her, “What’re you–”
“We’re watching a movie. You have to cuddle, it’s the law,” she tugs her a little harder and Wanda squeaks adorably as she falls into her arms, full of giggles.
“Everyone thinks she’s so scary but she’s a big teddy bear really,” Maria comments over Natasha’s shoulder, her own chest secretly fuzzy with happiness as she watches the two of them.
“You’re the one with the nickname ‘Hardass Hill,’” Natasha refutes and more giggles bubble up in Wanda’s chest, “Are you laughing at us, huh?”
She takes Wanda by surprise, tickling at her sides. She tries to push her away but Natasha’s arms are too strong and she tries to beg for mercy as tears spring to her eyes, “No! I wasn’t,” she gasps out between laughs, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry.”
Her hands still at her sides, a mischievous glint to Natasha’s eyes as Wanda tries to catch her breath, still grinning from ear to ear, “Perhaps we can forgive you,” she says, mock serious.
“You’re awul,” Wanda sighs as she settles back against her, revelling in the comfort and warmth of her closeness.
“Neither of you two are watching the movie now,” Maria points out with a small smile, eyes focussed on her book.
“Oh shush,” Natasha slaps her thigh next to her, “You never usually complain when I talk through them.”
“I’m not complaining. I’m just letting you know that you’re contradicting yourself,” she turns the page, seemingly entirely unbothered if not for the growing smirk across her face.
“Stop making me look bad in front of pretty girls,” she retorts and Wanda tries not to blush.
“Wanda deserves to know what she’s getting into. You’re insufferable,” her words manage to convey only love despite their rude connotation.
“For what it’s worth,” Wanda speaks up, “I find it cute.”
It seems to silence Natasha for the moment, and she sticks her tongue out at Maria over her shoulder before settling back between the two of them properly to actually watch the film. Her heart thunders in her chest with such purpose that she’s worried Wanda might be able to feel it, and she burrows in further against her, leaning her head on her shoulder to try and soothe herself with her comforting presence.
Natasha quotes most of the scenes under her breath, having watched Sean Connery’s movies specifically more times than she can count. Maria and Wanda both find it entirely endearing, and they share a knowing look as they both reach for their drinks at the same time.
Maria places her book down on the table, flexing her hands, “My arms have gone slightly numb,” she complains as she tries to wriggle them under Natasha’s clothes.
“You know that always happens when you read like th–” she yelps, “Mia! Your hands are so cold,” she yanks her hands out from the hem of her shirt.
“And you are so warm,” she argues.
“I’m not your personal heater,” Natasha scowls halfheartedly.
“I’m told I have very warm hands,” Wanda says, reaching them up.
Maria holds hers out and Wanda cups them in hers. She hums in delight, “They’re right.”
Wanda absently massages the blood back into them as they warm up, holding them in front of her so that Natasha is fully sandwiched between them. By the time the feeling has returned to Maria’s hands, they’ve forgotten the reason they were even holding hands in the first place and they continue to rest in Wanda’s lap until the movie has finished.
The credits roll, and none of them make an effort to remove, too reluctant to let go of the cosy atmosphere they’ve created, the sofa becoming a warm escape from their lives. Liho has even settled himself over Wanda’s ankles at some point, his purring loud in the sudden quiet of the room. Wanda yawns, muffled into her shoulder and Natasha realises that it must be incredibly late for her to be staying out.
“Oh God, it’s so late. Do you need a lift home? I don’t think any buses are running for another hour or two,” she tries to sit up a little and Wanda climbs off of her with sluggish movements, Liho running off with a perturbed grumble.
“I have today off so I’m not in a rush to be anywhere,” her eyes droop a little, her head looking too heavy for her shoulders. The sight makes Natasha’s heart ache in her chest, wanting nothing more than to curl up with her again and go to sleep.
Maria seems to read her mind as always, “Do you want to stay the night? Well, I suppose it’s the morning.”
“It’s alright, I can probably walk back.”
“No, we’re driving you. The question is would you like to sleep here first,” Maria fixes her with a kind, stern stare.
“You’re not intruding, Wanda,” Natasha reminds her, a soothing hand on her knee, “We’re happy to have you here as long as you want to be.”
She stifles another sheepish yawn and Nataha and Maria both look like they already know the answer, “I’d love to.”
“Perfect,” Natasha squeezes her knee before pushing herself up to her feet. She stretches up to the ceiling, her shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of soft tummy and Wanda tries not to stare. Maria still manages to catch her with a knowing look.
They make their way to the bedroom and Natasha roots through her draws for some spare pyjamas for Wanda. She hands her an old university shirt that is definitely too big not to be Maria’s, and some soft sleep shorts. The shirt is comfortably baggy, hanging just past the hem of the shorts themselves.
Maria appears out of the attached bathroom, her face fresh and her teeth brushed, she kisses Natasha on her way back in. Wanda takes the bathroom to get changed, and Natasha uses the bedroom. When the door opens again, she joins Wanda in the bathroom to brush their teeth together, offering her a spare toothbrush. She’s in her own pair of shorts and a floaty crop top, and Wanda starts to think that maybe Natasha just looks great in anything that she wears.
Wanda looks adorable in her clothes (Maria’s clothes), and Natasha has to hold herself back from covering her in kisses right there and then as she sleepily spits toothpaste in the sink.
“I was starting to think you might have fallen asleep in the bathroom,” Maria comments as they wander back in.
She’s sitting against the headboard, reading a different book than earlier, and Natasha plucks it from her hands with a minty kiss to her forehead. She places it face down on the bedside table and Maria scowls at her.
“Bedtime,” she says simply as she pulls the covers back, and Wanda joins her without hesitation.
Maria climbs off of the bed to properly bookmark it and place it back down closed before climbing back in next to her.
The sheets are soft, the pillows are fluffy, Natasha is warm against her side and Wanda nearly falls asleep as soon as the duvet is pulled back up around her. She barely has the wherewithal to burrow further against Natasha, curling up against her side and slinging an arm over her stomach to hold her close before she passes out for the night.
Natasha presses a last kiss to the top of her head, the ache in her chest apparent yet again as Wanda’s breath tickles her neck. She winds her arm underneath Wanda’s neck to wrap around her shoulders and reaches the other out for Maria.
She rarely sees Natasha so happy with another person, and seeing her now, entirely content even as she tries not to fall asleep just yet, Maria doesn’t think she’s ever been quite so happy herself. She tucks herself against her other side, tangling their legs together and sliding an arm under her pillow.
Natasha kisses her good night, tilting her own face against her chest, and she falls asleep easier than she thinks she ever has.
Maria wakes to an awful lack of sensation in her arm, and she thinks that the position shouldn’t be so comfortable if it cuts off her circulation. They’ve all managed to stay miraculously still as they slept, and she tries to wrangle her arm back from under Natasha’s head without jostling her too much. She grumbles as she’s woken, a little crease forming between her eyebrows, and Maria bends to press a kiss to it.
Static flows through her arm and she massages the pin and needles out with a huff as she watches Natasha blink herself awake, adorably grumpy in the morning.
“Morning,” she smiles, and Natasha stretches her head up for a proper kiss.
“Morning indeed,” she hums happily, turning to see Wanda’s sleeping face still tucked against her shoulder.
She doesn’t have the heart to wake her yet, trying to extricate herself as smoothly as possible. She makes a small noise as Natasha slides her arm from around her shoulders, but she doesn’t seem to fully wake, burrowing happily back into warm covers. Liho has curled up behind her knees and she thinks that she might be obliged to come back simply for his sake.
“Breakfast,” Natasha states as she wanders into the kitchen behind Maria. There’s some bread left for toast, or maybe she could whip up some pancakes, “You want pancakes?”
“I’d love some pancakes,” Maria replies as she sets up a percolator for some coffee, “Do we still have any blueberries for them?”
“We might. I’ll check,” she grabs the ingredients she needs from the cupboard before heading to the fridge for milk and half a punnet of blueberries, “You’re in luck.”
The percolator bubbles on the stove, and Maria listens to Natasha hum whilst she bakes, soaking up the morning and simply existing for a moment. She closes her eyes and turns her face towards the window where the sun is high in the sky, ‘morning’ is a loose term, she supposes.
The coffee finishes and she pours a cup for them both, milk and sugar for Natasha, leaving enough for Wanda if she’s up before it cools too much, “So am I going to be seeing her around more often then?” she places a mug next to the stove for Natasha, wrapping her arms around her waist as she ducks to press a kiss to the nape of her neck.
“I hope so. We never actually got around to that conversation yesterday,” she turns her head for Maria to kiss her cheek too, “I think her choosing to stay was enough for last night.”
“You should talk to her before she leaves,” she sways them slightly, enjoying how warm Natasha is from sleep.
“I will. I hope she understands it all,” she pours the batter into the pan in three small circles, placing blueberries in smiles and hearts that make Maria laugh, soft against her neck.
“She will. From what I can see, she likes you far more than you think,” she finally releases her to cook properly, standing back to drink her coffee.
“I was half convinced that it was all going to be a dream when I woke up,” she laughs at herself and Maria sends her a fond look as she sits down.
Maria eats her pancakes with compliments to the chef, and Natasha is about to plate up another set when Wanda appears blearily in the doorway. She rubs the sleep from her eyes, practically drowned in Maria’s shirt and Natasha tries not to smile too hard at how cute she is.
“Morning, sleepy head,” she calls instead, “I was gonna let you get a full eight hours.”
She steps further into the room and takes a seat next to Maria, “The bed was cold,” she says simply and Natasha’s heart melts in her chest.
“Coffee?” Maria offers, standing to place her plate in the sink.
“Please,” she half begs, and Maria hands her a cup with milk and sugar that she cradles like a lifeline, pleasantly warm as she tries to drag herself into awareness. A plate of pancakes is placed in front of her, syrup already on the table and Natasha presses a kiss to her temple.
“We didn’t have any red fruit. I hope you like blueberries,” she winks, returning to the stove to cook her own.
“I’m never going to live this down,” she takes a bite of her pancakes. They’re soft and sweet, and exactly what she needed, “These are perfect,” she hums.
“That’s why Maria lets me do breakfast,” she wiggles her spatula at her and Maria nods in confirmation as she takes her seat next to Wanda again.
“Where do you live?” she asks as Wanda finishes one of her pancakes, “For later, we’re not kicking you out right now.”
“It’s towards the edge of the city. You really don’t have to.”
“Nonsense,” Natasha takes the last seat on the other side of her, “We need to go shopping anyway.”
“If you’re certain,” she finishes the last of her food, “It’s in the outskirts, I can give you better directions on the way.”
“Okay,” Natasha squeezes her knee with a gentle smile.
Wanda and Maria talk a little more about their taste in books as Natasha finishes her pancakes and she’s exceedingly happy to see them getting along. She’s about to make some teasing remark or another when Maria’s phone buzzes on the table.
She picks it up, sighing deeply as she reads the name on the screen, “I have to take this,” she stands, her eyes apologetic as she makes her way back to the bedroom. She sends Natasha a look that very clearly means talk , before the phone is raised to her ear and she disappears around the corner with a tired, “Phil.”
“She never gets a break from work,” Natasha sighs, but there’s a proud smile on her face, “I hope that incident doesn’t cause her too much grief.”
Wanda places a hand over hers on the table, “She seems like she’ll be able to handle it,” her face is soft, reassuring and Natasha finds that she wants to kiss her again.
She brings a hand up to her face, cupping her jaw, and Wanda leans into the touch. She reminds herself that she’s allowed to do this now, that Wanda isn’t just the cute regular that shows up on Thursdays for a raspberry martini, and when she leans in Wanda meets her halfway.
She breaks the kiss with a smile she can’t quite shake and Wanda’s face is much the same.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get over that,” Wanda says and Natasha fights the urge to kiss her again to try and actually have this conversation.
“So that means you want to come again? Even with Maria?” she drops her hand from her face, to take one of her hands.
“Maria isn’t something for me to be with you despite, Natasha,” she squeezes her hand, “She’s someone incredibly important to you, and I love her too. If you’ll have me – both of you – then I’d love to come back.”
Natasha’s chest feels full to burst, the lump in her throat threatens to become tears, “As a friend that I kiss, right?” she grins and Wanda rolls her eyes, mock offended.
“I’d hope that we could be more than friends, even if I’m not at roommate status yet,” she quips back nonetheless.
“We would be more than happy to have you,” she leans in to kiss her again, “and I think Maria’ll be glad that she doesn’t have to hear me pine every Thursday too. Liho has also decided you’re his favourite already.”
Wanda’s cheeks ache from smiling, but she can’t bring herself to stop. She can still hardly believe that she’s even in this situation in the first place.
Maria walks back into the room to the two of them smiling like lovestruck teenagers. She shakes her head in fondness, “You’ll be joining us again then?”
“Hopefully more often than just Thursdays, if you’ll let me,” her smile doesn’t dull in the slightest, even as she turns to Maria.
“Maybe we could go and do something for a proper date,” she suggests, “I think we’re both free this Monday.”
“Monday sounds perfect.”
“And whilst I remember, I need to duck into work before we go shopping today,” she turns to Natasha, “Phil’ll be there too. I’m sure he’d love to say hi.”
“Of course. I haven’t seen him in ages,” she replies.
“I’ll leave whenever you’re ready to,” Wanda says, “I don’t want to keep you,” she stands to get dressed.
“Give me your phone,” Natasha holds her hand out, “I’ll put my number in whilst you get changed.”
Wanda unlocks her phone for her before disappearing, and Natasha hands it back to her before getting changed herself. She’s put a little heart beside her own name and it brings a smile to her face.
Natasha unlocks the door once they’ve all got their boots on, handing the keys to Maria as she opens it for Wanda.
“I like her,” Maria says when Wanda is most of the way down the stairs, lingering in the doorway with Natasha.
She watches Wanda reach the bottom, turning around to see why they’ve stopped. She waves down at her, seemingly unable to stop smiling today. “Yeah. Me too,” she reptiles needlessly as she follows her down the steps.