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Natasha and you were teammates. Ever since Clint brought her to SHIELD, you and she had worked together. You made a great team. That is why Fury decided to pair you up on a mission. It was an undercover mission.
You and Natasha were “newly married”, and you both had moved into a beautiful little suburban house. Having harboured a long time crush on said woman, you were eager to agree to the mission. After all, what was the worst that could happen?
Two weeks were spent in domestic bliss. You barely remembered that you were on a mission when you went to bed with that goddess of a woman every night and when she held your hand out in public. You were practically floating on a cloud.
It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, however. Being a “lesbian couple” in a suburban neighbourhood in the middle of nowhere definitely has its setbacks.
You and Natasha had been called many slurs and horrible things during your time there. It didn’t seem to bother Natasha because she knew it was fake, but each insult carved at your heart. You knew it wasn’t real. So why did it hurt to be called those nasty things?
When you were young you were proud of your orientation. Out of middle school and into high school was when your internalised homophobia began. You could be happy for others that were proud to show their true selves, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be comfortable with your own true self. You never really worked on it which was probably why all of your feelings of shame and self-hatred were coming back.
You did notice, however, that whenever someone said something particularly rude, Natasha would either pull you closer or rub her thumb soothingly over your hand. You didn’t know if she could sense your unease or if it was just an act. Either way, it helped a little.
One night you had run out of pads and needed to go to the store. You didn’t want to bother Nat about it because you knew she was busy tracking some leads. Plus you just didn’t want to bother her. You hated asking people for assistance.
You told her you’d be back soon, and she told you to hurry back. It was times like those when you could imagine what a life with her would really be like. Each time it also managed to dig you into a deeper hole. By the end of the mission, you were sure you wouldn’t be able to get out. Your love for her was too strong.
The convenience store was really close to your house, so you decided to walk. After a couple of minutes, goosebumps started to form on your skin. Your heart raced and the hair on the back of your neck stood on edge. You weren’t sure if you were just being paranoid, but you felt like someone was watching you… following you.
Quickly dialling Natasha, you listened to the ringing of the phone. Your breath hitched when she picked up.
“Hey, you okay?” Natasha asked over the phone.
“Yeah… yeah, just… Just wanted to hear your voice…” you mumbled. You heard Natasha’s breath stop before you heard her fumbling around. That was code for trouble.
“Where are you? I’m coming to get you right now!”
You could hear the boots behind you getting closer and closer. Heart beating out of your chest, you murmured, “We’re out of time.”
“No! Don’t you hang up on me! Keep the line connected. I’ve got your location just… just hang in there, okay?”
You grunted when the man behind you pushed you into the ditch. He started calling you slurs, saying you were an abomination as he crawled on top of you. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, his rotting teeth pulled into a sneer.
You kicked him off of you and tried to run. You didn’t want to cause him too much harm. You knew you could kill him. You were much more strong and trained than he was. All that was keeping him going was his large body and anger. That wouldn’t help him for long, though.
You didn’t notice that he had a firearm. You should have expected it since you were in a small town in the heart of America. Still, you were shocked when a bullet tore through your calf. You yelped, stumbling to the ground. Glass from a shattered bottle on the side of the road forced its way into your palms. You gritted your teeth and got up.
The man was approaching you as he said, “Someone ought to teach you that a marriage is between a man and a woman, you nasty little fa-”
Before he was able to finish his sentence or get any closer to you, you punched him square in the jaw.
“Let me guess, I also hit like a girl?”
At that point he was as red as a tomato. He swung at you with all his might. You ducked out of his reach and he ended up falling onto the ground.
You barely noticed the car rolling up. You were too busy tackling the man and rolling around in the ditch. He kept on screaming about how you were a disgrace, how no one could love a disgusting “lesbian” like you, how you were going to rot in hell along with your stupid wife.
Tears were rolling down your face as you punched him again and again and again. All of your internalised self-hatred was being fed. Each comment was like fuel to a nasty fire burning within. You didn’t realise that he had gotten a hold of one of the shards of glass until he began to stab you with it. Shocked, you froze up a bit. He used your moment of distraction to flip himself on top of you.
He hardly made any progress with the shard because he was plowed into his side. You curled up on yourself and cried. Years of pent up self-hatred and shame came flooding out of your eyes.
You heard your name being called out. It was Natasha. You were too embarrassed to look up. There you were, curled up into a pathetic sobbing ball. If only the ground would come up and swallow you whole. She must be thinking you’re so weak.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re alright.”
She picked up your body and placed you in the backseat. “Let’s get you home, baby girl.”
When you both arrived at the house, Natasha took you to your shared bathroom. She took out a medical kit and began to patch you up.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered. You felt so defeated and weak. Normally you’d be fine, but after all those years of internalised homophobia and shame, you couldn’t take any more.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, darling. What’s got you so upset?”
You sniffed. No one knew about your orientation. It had never come up. You worried that Natasha would be disgusted with you. That she’d refuse to continue sleeping in the same bed as you, that she’d stop giving you small kisses on the forehead and holding your hand. That she’d stop treating you like a friend because she was scared that you’d have feelings for her. You did, of course, but she didn’t know that. She never had to know either. It would be better that way.
“Was it the things he said?” Natasha asked, reading you like a book. You nodded and curled into yourself. You knew Natasha was smart. She’d put two and two together. Your secret would be out, and things would never be the same.
“Hey, look at me. None of those things he said were true.”
“Yes they were,” you cried.
Natasha frowned. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, darling. You are perfect. It doesn’t matter who you like, you are still the most amazing woman I’ve met. You’re not a disgrace, and you’re not a mistake.”
Sobs came flying out of your mouth as she pulled you into her arms. You soaked her shirt with your tears as she ran her fingers along your scalp. You cried against her chest until there were no tears left in you.
No one had ever told you those words. Those same words you would say to anyone else a million times before you even thought about telling them to yourself.
You were wrong in assuming that Natasha would be disgusted with you. She didn’t even blink when you two went to sleep in the same bed. She still gave you forehead kisses and held your hand in public.
You were right about one thing, however, after the mission things weren’t the same. It started with her hanging out with you more. You chalked that up to your bond that had grown. But then she started getting you gifts. Flowers and chocolates, stuffed animals, pictures of you two in frames, and a heart shaped locket.
It was Valentine’s Day when she finally worked up the nerve to ask you out. One thing was for sure. Things would never be the same.