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Natasha…. Natasha didn’t know how she’d gotten into this situation.
Actually, that was partly a lie.
She knew how it had started.
When she had first become a SHIELD agent, she’d sworn not to make any friends beyond Clint, Fury, and Hill. The Red Room had trained her to be a spy, to not feel, to not have any attachments. Not her sister, not her parents, not any friends.
Sure, she knew the Red Room was terrible, she'd blown up the leader for god’s sake. Nat knew that none of the emotional bullshit should be believed, but it was something she’d believed for so long. A habit to not let anyone near her.
Clint was her first friend after the Red Room. The first exception of her training. He’d been the one to help her change her life by not taking that shot against her, to get into SHIELD, to get rid of the place that had tormented her for so long.
Fury was her second friend. He’d employed her, not caring about her past as a spy against him. He’d trusted Natasha with missions that would be disastrous if carried out against him, not even thinking she would betray him.
Hill was her third friend. When people would talk behind Natasha’s back, or even directly go against her orders as she rose in rank, Maria had been there to set those fuckers in their places. Nat had been able to talk about what the Red Room did to her body, how even though she didn’t want children, it was not her choice. Maria had told her about her own infertility issues caused by years of being around the harmful substances SHIELD handled. It was… nice to be able to confide in her.
( And if Natasha had had a baby crush on her for a while that was nobody's business but hers.)
They were her friends, and she was steadfast in not letting herself have any others.
But then came Mary.
See, most SHIELD agents were not subtle in their distrust of Natasha. It made sense, though it still frustrated her to no end since her past was not something under her control.
She was a former Red Room agent, an organization that had taken many of their friends’ lives. Not a lot of people were willing to work with her because of that.
This distrust had brought one good thing for Natasha though. It had been a pretty boring meeting, and she had been enduring the usual passive slights and outright insults when a woman had stood up.
(“I’m so sorry to interrupt our meeting like this,” The redhead woman, Mary, as it said on her nametag, “but I cannot tolerate the incessant hatred towards one of our younger members here.”
Mary hadn’t directly pointed at Natasha, but she knew the woman was talking about her all the same. Idly, Nat wondered if the woman knew who she was, or if she just didn’t care. It would be a nice change of pace.
“I understand the concern over her past with the Red Room, but Director Fury trusts her, and any direct insults to her are ones to your boss's intelligence,” Mary said passively, with all the air of a woman unbothered by everyone else, then raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t insulting him, are you?”
Immediately all the agents and leaders began sputtering, denying the woman’s accusations.
Well, all agents except one.
“Sure, Director Fury trusts her, but she still shouldn’t be trusted with this meeting's information. Besides her past, she is also a female. Females are just too emotional to not gossip about it to everyone, right Missy?” Chad, of course, he was called Chad, asked Mary in a patronizing tone, leaning on the table.
The temperature in the room dropped a couple degrees as Mary glared at the audacious man.
“If I had infinity, I would not be able to dissect everything wrong with that sentence. One, your commander, Maria Hill, is a woman. She is responsible for the success of over 543 missions, and counting. That number is way over the number of bare women you have ever seen in your life. Do you think she is too emotional to not gossip to everyone?” Mary asked evenly, eyes alight with malice as the pathetic excuse of a man shrunk in his seat.
He sputtered through various excuses, ranging from “But it’s true!” to “You're a woman of course you’d say that!” and even “At least I know your behavior is all because of hormones, that one doesn’t even have a uterus to produce them!”
Natasha wondered if it would be counterproductive to strangle the man with her bare hands.
Mary hadn’t even given him a spare glance before turning to the rest of the meeting's members. “This meeting is dismissed, and will only be continued when you all can get off your miserable asses and become competent members of society.” With that, the woman walked out the door.
Raising an eyebrow at everyone else in the room, Natasha got up and followed Mary out of the room.
The woman was leaning on the wall, letting out a frustrated breath. Mary didn’t notice Natasha till she tapped her on the shoulder. She jumped, fists snapping up in a defensive position, but fell when she realized it was Nat.
“Sorry, sorry. I thought you were one of the men coming out to talk to me. Some people, amiright?” Mary said with an awkward laugh, crossing her arms.
Natasha nodded, then spoke. “I wanted to… thank you for defending me. That is a rarity I don’t get to appreciate that often.”
Mary sighed, wearing a bittersweet smile. “You're welcome. I just wish you didn’t need to deal with that. Hell, I wish I didn’t need to deal with that.”
“Lord knows we could do with less ignorant men,” Natasha responded, and Mary snorted.
“Yes, yes we could.”)
It was after that Mary began to check on Nat when she could. She always stopped for small talk when she could, bringing Natasha her patented lemon squares that tasted like heaven , and always stood up for Natasha even when she said to just let it go.
Mary reminded her of Yelena in a way, defiant and bold, though with much fancier language than her little sister had ever used.
But she was also different in many ways. Mary had more slanted eyes, was way older than Yelena was when Nat had last seen her, and was definitely way more patient.
The woman was kind to her, and Natasha would go so far as to call Mary one of her very few friends.
It was around two years after they met that Mary had invited Natasha to her office with a promise of lemon squares and some important news.
(“So,” Natasha began, shutting the door to Mary’s office, “you said you had something important to tell me?”
The blonde nodded, shifting from foot to foot as she often did when nervous. “Uhm, yes. You know how I told you about me and Richard trying to conceive?”
Nat nodded, though she felt a pang at the mention of conceiving. Despite having mostly come to terms with her infertility, it still hurt. It would never not hurt.
Besides that, Natasha was pretty confident in what her friend was going to say, and a feeling of excitement started to rise in her stomach.
“Well, yesterday I took a pregnancy test and….” Mary took a deep breath in, “I’m pregnant!” Mary smiled brightly at her and kept talking. “And, I want you to be the godmother of them.”
Natasha froze, already halfway over to hug her friend. Mary… Mary wanted her to be the godmother? Surely she knew that meant if something were to happen to Mary and her husband, a very real possibility considering both were SHIELD agents, Natasha would be the one to take the child in. Did the woman really trust her that much?
Unfreezing, Natasha went to hug her friend, wiping away tears that sprung up unwillingly as she did so. “You trust me that much? You… you know my past.” Natasha asked, her voice much quieter than she intended.
Mary squeezed her tight. “Of course I do Nat. You have given me no reason to not trust you. I’ve wanted you to be the godmother ever since I found out I was pregnant.” The woman stiffened. “That is if you want to be their godmother.”
Natasha squeezed her friend back. “Of course I do, of course.” She said shakily, echoing the woman’s previous words.
They had sat in Mary’s office for a while, talking mostly about Mary’s pregnancy, until Natasha was called away for a meeting, her friend following after her soon.)
Only two weeks after the reveal, Mary had stopped going on missions and then went on maternity leave. Partly because she didn’t want to risk the baby. There were so many different substances, alien, drugs, or otherwise that her job at SHIELD exposed her to. She didn’t know what half of that would do to her baby, even through carefully gloved contact.
The other part, though, was because SHIELD was giving her less and less work to do. Mary thought it was because they didn’t want to be responsible for any complications or miscarriages. When Natasha thought about it, it would probably be very hard to sue SHIELD with how hidden they could be.
Then again, Mary could probably do it.
Perhaps they just didn’t want to lose Mary, one way or another, as she was one of the best field agents. She took around ten solo missions on average every year, usually more if they were shorter ones.
In the end, though, none of those protections had really mattered.
None of them had worked.
It hurts Natasha to remember that day, arriving at the hospital, both excited and a bit nervous to meet her godchild. How clueless she had been then.
(Walking through the doors of the hospital, a fresh wave of nervousness hit Natasha like a truck. She was going to meet her godchild for the first time! It was a rare source of light in her otherwise dark life, just like Mary was.
Approaching the main receptionist desks, Nat was surprised by the empty line. An alarm bell went off in her body, but she stupidly ignored it. It was probably just a quiet day for them. There was only one person at the desks, a young blonde woman wearing a light pink pantsuit.
The poor receptionist jumped in her seat upon seeing her. It made sense, Natasha could be a particularly intimidating figure for only being 5 '5".
“I was wondering what floor the labor and delivery room is on? My friend Mary Parker is giving birth here but I don’t know where.” She asked the woman, Barbara Wynne as it said on her nametag, calmly.
The woman fumbled for a second, before showing her a tablet. ‘I’m deaf. Are you able to sign?’ Natasha nodded, and Barbara let out a sigh of relief.
‘What did you say?’ Barbara signed quickly. Natasha just repeated her question in ASL.
‘Name?’ She asked, still looking both scared shitless from Natasha and excited that she knew ASL. Right, which name was she using for going out in public again? It changed a lot.
‘Nadia Alyona Rabinova.’ She liked using some of the same initials, which made things easier to remember.
Barbara didn’t respond for a moment, presumably searching up the room where Mary resided. The computer flashed black and then white as it loaded the results, and Barbara paled.
A small knot formed in Natasha’s stomach at the horrified look Barbara had given the screen, but she steeled herself. If something had gone wrong, she would already know….
Right?
Barbara looked at her, masking her worrying expression with ease.
‘Floor 4, room 23E, second wing, Ms. Rabinova’ Natasha nodded and began walking away when she heard Barbara mutter something under her breath. The woman probably didn’t mean for her to hear it, but she did.
“Good luck Nadia, you’ll need it.”
The pit in her stomach grew deeper at that, dragging itself down slowly every second it took to get to Mary’s room. The trip itself was only four minutes but might have well been four hours. Nothing was wrong, she kept having to remind herself. Somehow, she would know if it was.
Arriving in the hallway outside Mary’s room, Natasha was surprised to see Richard, Mary’s husband. While they weren’t close, she knew that he was unfailingly loyal to her friend. Unless forced to, he would never choose to be outside while his wife was in labor.
“Richard?” She asked tentatively, walking towards him slowly. “Why aren’t you with Mary?”
Richard looked up at her voice, eyes red and face stained with tears. “Natasha…” He said, voice breaking as more tears formed in his eyes.
The pit in her stomach dropped. She felt sort of like she did that fateful night, having someone ripped away from her, but to a lesser extent.
Except this time she couldn’t even say goodbye.
“Tell me she’s alright, Richard. Tell me it went fine.” Natasha said desperately, even though she knew the answer. Mary wasn’t alright. Mary would never be alright again.)
Mary had died in childbirth that night.
Her child had come out the wrong way, feet first, causing a massive tear in her uterus. Despite the doctors working overtime to try and staunch the bleeding, there had been so much blood. It was too much for her to recover from losing.
It was only her steel control of her emotions that kept Natasha from losing her composure right in that hallway. She couldn’t show emotions. She had to be empty. She had to be.
An illogical part of her suggested that perhaps, this was why the Red Room warned against her making friends. Friends died, leaving you with only memories and emotions to distract you.
Richard hadn’t fared much better, breaking down the moment the doctor had told them of Mary’s fate. Loud, broken noises echoed down the hallway until the doctors managed to get him a room to recuperate in. Natasha had gone with him.
She didn't know what else to do.
She felt… lost. Like a soul wandering the earth without a body, disconnected from everything. Her normally sharp senses were dull, distant from her like when you're underwater.
Natasha didn’t remember much for a couple hours after that, just lying down on a couch in a cold, sterile room. Her last coherent thought was that this would definitely not help with her fear of hospitals.
When she had awoken, it was Richard shaking her gently. She nearly punched him in the face on reflex. Reality crashed into like a runaway bus as she looked at Richard's somber expression.
Right.
She’d lost another sister friend.
Richard began talking, snapping her attention back to him.
( “The doctors said that we can see the baby now,” He explained quietly.
Natasha stood up before even realizing what Richard had said. We. He wanted her to see the baby as well. Part of her thought that Richard would blame her. That because of her past, she was dangerous and caused Mary to die.
“...you want me to see the baby too?” She questioned, falling back onto the couch. Richard shifted nervously where he stood, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Mary made you the kid’s Godmother, right? I figured you’d want to see them too.” He said, then continued quickly, “Unless you don’t want to yet.”
Natasha shook her head, standing back up, shaking off the dizziness from the constant up and down. “I want to see them.”
Mary would want her to see them.
The walk from the spare room to the nursery wing was very short, something Natasha didn’t think was a coincidence.
The nursery wing was painted with light blues, yellows, and pinks. There were some pastel rainbows on the walls. Some were normal, some had slightly disturbing cartoon faces. The floor wasn’t tile, instead a warm brown cedar that made Natasha’s boots squeak loudly. The colors were a welcome reprieve from the all too familiar clinical whiteness of the hospital.
A woman who Natasha vaguely recognized as the doctor from before, Nguyen Anh , spotted them from the receptionist desk where Barbara was working. Nguyen was the first to say something as they approached the desk.
“Morning Ms. Rabinova and Mr. Parker. How are you two fairing this morning?” The Vietnamese woman asked carefully. Neither responded to her question, and she sighed. “I can’t imagine what either of you two are going through right now.” Again, no response beyond a nod from either of them.
“Right.” She turned to Barbara and signed something that Natasha couldn’t make out from her angle. Probably asking which room they were in.
Barbara searched something up, then responded to Nguyen. The doctor turned back to Natasha and Richard.
“He’s in room 2-F, I can lead you there if you want.” She informed them, gesturing down a hallway to their left. Richard shook his head. They would be able to find the room easily enough.
Distantly, Natasha felt something small light up in her at the woman's words. He. Her godchild was a boy.
Right as Natasha turned to leave, Barbara waved at her quickly. She raised an eyebrow at the sheepish looking woman, who signed ‘I am sorry for your loss. I should have warned you.’
Natasha nodded, turning around without a word to follow Richard.
The door to her godson’s nursery was decorated white, yellow, and green butterflies. She didn’t know what that meant, but Richard must have with the small smile on his face.
“White and yellow,” He said, a small tear in his eyes, “means love. Green means growth.”
She didn’t say anything about that. Natasha knew they were from the hospital, but something in her felt like they were from Mary. Mary had loved her son so much, even if she never had gotten to meet him. Tears formed in her eyes, but she wiped them away.
Richard opened the door slowly, a feeling of building anticipation inside them both. The room was decorated with more butterflies, but also some hearts, stars, and a vase of Sowbread, Lilies, Buttercups, and Hydrangeas. A nurse sat on one of the couches, silently watching them. All that was a background to what was Natasha’s main focus.
Next to the side table with the flowers, there was a small white cot. Natasha could just see the barest hints of brown hair from where she stood.
Richard began walking to the baby, but stopped when he realized Natasha wasn’t walking with him. He met her eyes, nodding his head towards the baby. Her feelings from when she woke up rose again. He should be the first one to see the baby.
After a minute, Natasha walked with him to see her Godson.
He was adorable.
Bare wisps of brown hair covered his pale head, small eyes squeezed shut tight in sleep. She knew underneath the eyelids they were a dark brown. Even so young, he looked so similar to Mary. She couldn’t explain how. He wore a red and blue onesie, one Natasha remembered buying for him.
Mary had said it was her favorite one.
“What did you name him?” She asked Richard quietly, staring at the baby boy. Mary had been planning to tell her after the baby was born, but… she never got the chance to. More tears formed in her eyes, and she just let them fall.
“Peter. It was Mary’s grandfather’s name.” He answered, voice shaking despite himself.
Peter. It was a name Mary had mentioned before, and Natasha couldn’t help but think it fit the baby that laid before her.
Placing a hand over the baby, she murmured softly; “Пока я жив, ты будешь в безопасности, Маленький Питер.”
If Mary could not be here to protect Peter, then Natasha would step up.
Richard smiled at her. It was a soft smile, the kind that looked like it would break at the slightest breeze of wind, but was somehow still happy. He didn’t know Russian, but somehow knew what she had said.
She stared at the child for a couple moments, then moved back to let Richard pick Peter up.)
After that fateful night at the hospital, she and Richard became closer.
Not romantically, god no, Natasha could never like him like that. Plus, she’d only ever had crushes on women so far. They found friendship and some sort of odd solace in each other, both brought together by their shared loss of Mary.
Natasha helped Richard take care of Peter when she could. She didn’t exactly like children, she never had. The younger ones were too messy, both physically and emotionally, and the older ones were sometimes too angsty to deal with. Plus the whole ‘Red room traumatized me into oblivion by making me shoot targets shaped and painted like babies’ thing.
Peter was the exception to that. Whether because he was Mary’s child or something else, she didn’t know. He wasn’t overly fussy, spoiled, or mean. Not on purpose, at least. He was messy and sometimes had loud tantrums, but that was to be expected of a child.
She took Peter in on nights that Richard was away on SHIELD missions and helped take care of the young boy when the loss of his wife became too much for Richard to handle.
She wouldn’t say it became easier for them as time passed, but it wasn’t quite as stressful as before. Natasha had thrown herself into more SHIELD missions, while Richard had quit SHIELD entirely.
It was a bit of a surprise to see him leave, and maybe a bit sad, but she understood why he’d chosen to.
Being an agent at SHIELD was one of the most dangerous jobs out there. Even if you managed to make it to retirement without dying, you still had lots of enemies to worry about. Very powerful ones at that.
If he were to die during a mission or something of the sort, the only person left to take care of Peter was Natasha. Problem was, she was also a SHIELD agent, a former Widow as well. If she too died, Peter would be left with social services.
It was an option Richard wasn’t too favorable of, and Natasha had to agree. He’d grown up in the system himself, and was moved around a lot for being a ‘troublesome child’. 17 homes in 15 years before he aged out of the system.
Only a month after leaving SHIELD, Richard got a job at a florists shop. Nothing too fancy, but well paying enough for him and Peter. Turns out he was talented with flowers, gaining a large group of regulars and some nice promotions.
It was a surprisingly quiet ending for such a great SHIELD agent.
And.. life was fine.
For a while.
Natasha can recall the moment her shaky life was upended again.
(Natasha sat in Peter’s ocean-themed nursery, scrolling lethargically on her phone so she wouldn’t fall asleep. She was a SHIELD agent, used to staying up for hours on end. But not when she was taking care of a five-month-old on the verge of teething.
Seriously, Peter’s teeth hadn’t even started to fully come in yet and he was already fussier than normal.
If it were any normal day, she wouldn’t be the one taking care of Peter. At least, not this late.
Or maybe early in the morning if the 12:03 am on her phone meant anything.
She’d never taken care of Peter at night. Whenever Richard asked her to look after Peter, it was usually just for a day and he’d take the boy back at nightfall.
Richard, however, wasn’t in state currently. A nice couple from Florida called into the flower shop he worked at about a week ago to ask if he could decorate for their wedding. Richard had refused at first, but they said they would pay him $400, with room and board.
While not exactly strapped for cash, raising a child alone was expensive. Things like food, housing, electricity, and schooling all costed a lot. Plus superfluous things like birthday gifts, toys, etc.
So he’d agreed to the price of $400, and had flown down about two days ago.
Personally, Natasha thought it a bit weird to spend so much on one day, especially flowers.
She groaned quietly, throwing her head back on the rocking chair. Exhaustion hung heavy on her body, like a ten-ton blanket that dulled every sense. She hadn’t had much sleep the past two days, and had tired herself chasing Peter around the house. For a kid who couldn’t walk, he sure could crawl fast.
Even with the weight of sleeplessness on her, Natasha could not sleep. Maybe it was the constant paranoia ingrained into her very bones, but she felt like something was going to go wrong.
Natasha set the phone on the side table, only to immediately pick it up as it began to buzz loudly. If this is Clint and he wakes the baby up I’m taking all his arrows and shoving them so far up his ass he’ll taste steel for years, she thought viscously, fumbling with the phone.
There was no caller ID.
Not birdbrain, probably spam…..
I’m still going to answer it. It could be something important, after all.
As the call loaded, she glanced at Peter, who hadn’t moved a muscle. Good. As much as she loved Peter, Natasha didn’t want to deal with a baby who’d been woken up suddenly.
“Hello?” She said tiredly, shifting forward in her chair.
“Apologies for waking you, but is this Ms…” The person on the other side stopped, probably trying to figure out how to pronounce her fake name, “... Nas tasya Rzaev?”
Natasha cringed at the pronunciation, but confirmed all the same.
“I’m Kono Yuria . Are you friends with one Richard Narayana Parker?” They asked. A lump formed in Natasha’s throat. The same feeling she’d gotten at the hospital crept into her lungs, settling like a rock in her stomach.
Please don’t be what she thinks it is…
“Yes, I am.”
“I regret to inform you of this, but Mr. Parker passed at about 11:23 pm today from a fatal car accident.” It felt like the world stood still for a moment as she processed the words. The moment ended as quickly as it started, the world spinning seemingly faster then before. Natasha clutched at her mouth, tears leaking down her face.
“The funeral preparations can either be handed to you, or Richard’s former government employer.” Kono said quietly, voice dripping with sympathy.
Natasha stared at the ocean walls Mary and her had painted for a long moment.
On one hand, she didn’t know if she could handle planning a second funeral in thrice as many months. The grief of Mary was still fresh. On the other hand, she didn’t know if she trusted SHIELD to bury her friend. Nat hadn’t known him a lot for that long, but he had been a friend to her.
“I… I think I’ll do it.” She whispered.
There was a pause before Kono responded. “Okay. There is also the matter of Mr. Parker’s young son, Peter.” Natasha looked at Peter, who had started squirming uncomfortably in his sleep. “You are listed as his godmother. Would you be wanting to take him in?”
It wasn’t a question for her.
Mary would find a way to scream at her from beyond the grave if she didn’t take him in.
“Yes. I am.”)
The funeral took place two weeks after Richard died, and one week after Peter turned six months old.
The funeral arrangements didn’t take long.
Only two weeks after Richard died, Natasha found herself sitting in a local funeral home. Peter sat in her lap, eyes rimmed red from crying.
White lilies and roses fell in bright tendrils across the tan marble walls, courtesy of some of Richard’s florist coworkers. They seemed out of place to her, but it was something she knew Richard wanted.
Many of his friends and colleagues, SHIELD or otherwise, had shown up for the funeral. They filled the rows of benches behind Natasha, occasionally getting up to see Richard’s coffin.
They wouldn’t see much, just elaborately decorated wood and the white orchids scattered on and around it. The car “accident” ( Natasha still didn’t believe that it was an accident) had been far too brutal, leaving behind nothing to bury or burn.
Just a casket of white flowers.
Natasha had watched silently as people walked to and from the front, tears streaking down their faces. She had none left to cry. She’d spent the last two weeks crying while planning his funeral, staring at Peter, knowing what he’d grow up without. It felt like there were no tears left in her.
Natasha had watched quietly as people milled around the home, tears falling down their faces. She had no more to cry. She’d spent the last two weeks doing so while planning the funeral, staring at Peter, knowing what he would grow up without.
All that was left was the fatigue that came with grief and tragedy.
She watched with tired red eyes as the eight SHIELD agents, many of whom Richard was friends with, fired their guns in a three volley salute Natasha had become too familiar with.
Peter pressed into her side, whimpering at the loud noise.
He’d been restless for the last two weeks, even more so now. Crying almost nonstop, never playing with toys, barely even sleeping. It was like he somehow knew what had happened. Somehow, he knew his father wasn’t coming back home.
The thought nearly broke Natasha as she exited the funeral home. But she couldn’t break. Not here, not so soon.
Peter needed her.
–
Natasha hadn’t stayed in Richard’s apartment for long after the funeral, only stopping to get some of Peter’s stuff and a couple photos.
She didn’t want to stay in that place, no matter how much she loved it. There were too many memories of both Mary and Richard. Like Peter’s ocean themed nursery Mary and Natasha had painted together, even though neither had done so before. Even the hardwood floor, which she and Richard had had to repair together because the landlord refused to.
There wasn’t many places Natasha could go. She was a SHIELD agent taking care of a baby of a SHIELD agent after all, many people would be after them both.
Maybe she could go to the safehouse in Prague….. But it was also in Prague, capital city of get thrown the fuck out a window. Dangerous for a baby.
Japan was a good option but too far away. If it was just Natasha, she would definitely be able to make the trip. Peter, however, would not sit still for a 14 hour flight without making a fuss. He was only six months old after all.
Most of her other safehouses weren’t safe, either for babies or just in general. All except…. New Jersey.
Just great.
–
Drooping oak trees surrounded Natasha, bright winter light shining into the small clearing they formed.
Natasha closed her eyes and breathed in slowly, relishing for a short moment in the crisp air. She was lucky that it wasn’t in the negatives, as was common for such a northern place in a forest.
Opening her eyes, she gazed at the safehouse. It was a small, rather unassuming grayish-white house nestled into some oak trees. Even if someone were to come here, which wasn’t likely as there wasn’t many animals to hunt nor food to forage for, it would be hard to spot.
It seemed fine for the most part. There wasn’t much damage. Only a smashed in window and a couple broken porch floorboards, which Natasha presumed was caused by a storm. She could only hope the storm didn’t damage any heating. It was January after all.
Natasha made no noise on the snowy forest floor as she walked towards the house. It was a very useful skill that Clint had grumbled about on several winter missions. He said she had to be some sort of shadow creature to not make snow crunch.
Personally, Natasha thought Clint was jealous and should go shove a stick up his ass.
Peter cooed happily from the baby carrier on her chest as they started moving, tugging at Natasha’s dark red hair.
Peter, who was secured in a baby carrier on her chest, cooed happily as they started moving. He tugged at Natasha’s scarlet red hair. Little pinpricks of pain flared up from her scalp.
“Ow ow, don’t do that Pete,” She whispered, a small smile slipping onto her face. He hadn’t been in the best of moods lately, and she hadn’t seen him smile truly for a while. So even though it wasn’t the best behavior, she didn’t scold him too much.
Natasha removed his little hands from her hair with one hand as she stepped up onto the fractured wood porch. The door’s paint was chipped away, though it wasn’t as noticeable since it was white paint. She slid her gloved hand on it and more fell off.
This definitely isn’t a place I can stay for long, she thought, opening the door.
The house was pretty bare, painted mainly in grays and light browns as far as she could. It wasn’t the best for Peter, but it’d be a safe place until he wasn’t so defenseless.
Natasha set her luggage against the wall, carefully maneuvering through the cramped area between the kitchen and living room. I’ll have to free up some space for when Peter starts walking, she noted absently. She definitely didn’t want him bumping into things
She fell onto the couch, emitting both a loud thump and the groan of someone who’s been awake for far too long. Like 27 hours.
Peter giggled, flailing his limbs around. Natasha smiled tiredly at him. She was glad Peter wasn’t one of those kids who hated the carrier. Careful of his limbs, she extracted the boy from his carrier.
Tossing the thing aside, Natasha picked Peter up, lifting him over her head. He started clapping and laughing, a high squeaky one that usually came from babies.
“What?” She asked faux-seriously bringing the boy back down, “You think this is some laughing matter.” Peter giggled again, babbling as he reached out to try and touch her face.
Nat raised him up high, making Peter emit a delighted shriek. She started shaking him lightly, like a fake interrogation. “What? What is it you see that makes you giggle so hard?” She questioned, before bringing him back down.
Peter laughed, flapping his arms around. Natasha’s smile grew bright, far more than it had in the past few weeks. A feeling of lightness filled her chest, not unlike a balloon being filled with helium.
Even if Peter wouldn’t have his parents or anything near a normal life, Natasha would try. She would try to give him the best life she could. If not for Mary and Richard, for Peter.
-
Natasha stirred her scrambled eggs and hash browns idly, glancing at the calendar.
March tenth, meaning Peter was now eight months old… and that it had been two months since Richard had died. The familiar heavy weight of grief welled in her chest. Natasha pushed it away quickly, dishing up her and Peter’s breakfast.
Now was no time to be sad, she had some important stuff for today.
Though it wasn’t really that necessary, she wanted to paint Peter’s room blue. Color was good for babies, and there wasn’t much in the safehouse. Plus the white room he slept in was just depressing.
Natasha left the pan to cool down on the stove. No point in burning herself for it to be clean. She set Peter’s plate on the highchair table before sitting down with her own. The boy smiled and started going through his food at a rapid pace.
“Slow down Peter, you're gonna choke.” Natasha chided with a small laugh, picking at her own food. She didn’t particularly like hash browns, but Peter loved them. She did, however, like scrambled eggs. Especially with cheese in them.
Peter did slow down a bit, though the food still didn’t stay for long. Natasha shook her head fondly. This boy and food. He ate it like it’d grow legs and run away.
Picking him out of the highchair, Natasha put her food away in the fridge. She wasn’t really that hungry right now anyways, so it didn’t matter.
Rather than walking the three feet to the couch, Natasha secured Peter to her chest and hopped over the back and onto the cushions. Peter wasn’t scared, giggling in joy as she did so.
Settling into the couch, Natasha half-listened to Peter babble while she checked the news on her phone. There wasn’t much. Such and such US politician insulted other US politician for the fifth time this week, a college basketball game was won, a bunch of oil was being fou-
“Mama?”
Natasha’s head whipped down to face Peter, who was staring up at him. Did he just…?
“Mama!” Peter repeated, reaching towards her with a smile.
Natasha froze.
“Mama?” She gestured towards herself. Peter repeated her, still grabbing for her.
Oh shit.
…Peter thought she was his mom. It made sense, he’d never actually met Mary and had been shown no pictures yet. Small tears pricked in her eyes.
It felt a bit wrong for Peter to call him Mama. That was Mary’s title, he should have said that to Mary. She wasn’t his mom, just his godmother. Hell, she wasn’t even related to him!
At the same time, it didn’t feel entirely wrong.
He would grow up knowing who his actual mom was, and grow up hearing stories of both of his parents. She wasn’t erasing Mary, nor taking her place.
Peter would grow up knowing who Mary was, that she was his actual mom. He would grow up hearing stories of both Mary and Richard. By letting Peter call her Mama, she wasn’t erasing Mary, nor taking her place.
And, if it was, Mary would beat her ass in heaven.
She took Peter’s hands in her own, pulling him into a tight hug. Tears began flowing down her face, to which she did nothing to stop. “I’m not. I’m not your Mama.” She sniffled, letting go of Peter somewhat. He looked confused, face a bit red.
Natasha leaned forwards, letting their foreheads touch. Her shoulder shook as she spoke. “I’m so sorry Маленький Питер, I’m so, so sorry for what you will grow up without.
“I will try. I will try to be a mom for you. I promise.”