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There was too much glass in this damn building. Natasha should have camped out in her office but instead she’d chosen the lounge where Tony’s architect clearly hadn’t accounted for the kind of storms that could light the place up like Times Square on New Years with every bolt of lightning. Natasha’s head was already thumping and her eyes were sore and scratchy, she really didn’t need to feel like her brain was being electrocuted every few minutes.
Nat tried her best to avoid looking directly at the fizzing blue-white glare of the screen that projected Okoye in the centre of the room.. The stern Dora Milaje general looked like she was impartially surveying a confrontation between two wild animals, mildly intrigued as to what the outcome would be.
Steve lounged on a couch across the room in sweatpants and one of his endless supply of tight fitted t-shirts, but he wasn’t the person Nat was pitted against in a battle of wills. In fact Captain America was doing his very best to pretend he hadn’t noticed anything at all.
“You can’t bench me,” Nat protested.
She wished she could attribute the whiny tone of her words to the fact that her throat was so raw it felt like she was swallowing razor blades but honestly every conversation with her mother today had reduced her to a pitifully moaning teenager. When she’d woken up this morning her room had been far too bright and Nat simply pulled the duvet up over her head and allowed herself to be dragged back to sleep by the warm cocoon of bedding. Only when she struggled to peel her eyes open hours later did she notice her sheets were soaked through with sweat and her body ached in a way it definitely shouldn’t after having slept for twelve hours.
But none of that was important right now. There were things that needed to get done and it didn’t matter how awful she felt.
Not so long ago Natasha could have sent Tony or even Clint scurrying with the glare she was laying on right now, but Melina wasn’t intimidated in the slightest. Ignoring Nat entirely, for a second time, Melina addressed Okoye again. “I will ask Antonia to send one of the Widows.”
Nat had a sudden and extremely vivid flashback to her friend’s back in Ohio being told that Natasha wouldn’t be coming out to play because she was too sick.
At Okoye’s nod Melina turned on Nat, “You will go back to bed.”
“I am fine.”
She was not. She felt like shit. Like she’d just survived a two day drinking marathon with Maria. Natasha had learned to tolerate alcohol and a bunch of other substances in the Red Room, she had no idea where Hill had learnt how to drink her under the table.
Natasha saw Okoye’s lips actually twist with a smile before the call was disconnected. Traitor. She knew it had been a mistake to have her mom come visit.
Melina stepped closer to Nat and laid a hand on her forehead. Nat didn’t even have the energy to slap it away.
“You have a fever.”
“You’re not a medical doctor.”
“No. I’m your mama. Better qualifications.”
Despite herself Natasha felt a warmth rush over her not wholly attributable to the fever. She dropped back onto the couch behind her. “Fine. No mission. But I am not going to bed.”
Suddenly animated, Steve jumped up from the couch. “I’m gonna go make you some chicken soup. Gotta keep your fluids up.” The look Nat gave him was clearly meant to impart just how much she hated him right now. Steve grinned.
Without quite realising what was happening Nat submitted to Melina’s guiding hands and found herself reclined on the couch, her head resting on a pile of cushions. The older woman tugged at the blanket slung over the arm of the chair, left there in case of a late night coordinating what was left of the Avengers, and laid it over Nat, even tucking the edge in under Natasha’s shoulders.
“You should try to sleep.”
Now that they were alone in the room Melina spoke in Russian. The day before Nat had sworn profusely after burning her hand attempting to make a grilled-cheese sandwich and it had earned her a lecture from Melina. Not for swearing, but for doing so in a language that Steve couldn’t understand. Which was apparently impolite.
Nat’s solution had been to teach a very unwilling Steve a selection of her favourite Russian curse words.
Usually it was fun to tease Melina but even if Nat hadn’t felt too exhausted to try she’d noticed the lines of worry around the older woman’s eyes.
“I’m really fine, Mama.”
Natasha still wasn’t entirely sure whether it was totally natural or decidedly strange to be talking with Melina in their native language, or to be calling her mama. But it felt like something they both needed, especially now that their odd little family had been reduced to only the two of them. The second family that she’d made with the Avengers had been torn apart too and in her own awkward way Nat had found herself pulling the frayed edges of them both closer, hoping there might be a way that she could stitch them together.
Melina hooked a strand of blonde tipped red hair that had escaped Natasha’s braid behind her ear. In the kitchen Steve was talking to himself like a YouTuber hosting his own cooking channel. Perhaps all Nat needed to do to keep this family together was let them love her in their own ways.