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Natasha had freckles. Most people didn’t know, because all her public appearances only happened after makeup had been carefully applied. SHIELD had hired professional makeup artists and stylists to carefully curate looks for their precious superheroes to have when they went for press conferences or interviews or even a few highly publicized missions every once in a while.
Natasha hated it. She hated having someone else in control over her clothes, her face, and every time she woke up the day of the interview to find an outfit hanging in a garment bag outside her door it made her feel like a kid again, when Melina had laid out all her clothes on her floor the night before she wore them. The makeup was the worst of all. Sitting for long stretches of time while someone else poked and prodded at her face made her fidgeted and unwary, and the coatings of concealer they applied to her cheeks made her feel cakey and fake, like she was made of plastic.
“Why can’t I just do mascara and highlighter and leave the damn freckles alone?” Natasha had finally burst out, after half a dozen interviews, where she had sat still in the stupid white makeup chair waiting for the stupid concealer color makeup to be applied to her cheeks.
”Because you look better this way,” the SHIELD event coordinator said coldly from the corner of the white room, and then he had turned on his shiny patented heel and walked out the swinging door.
Natasha dropped her eyes. Normally she was so good at shutting everything out, letting people’s words bounce off her shell. But those words had slipped past her defenses and slid straight into her heart, and for the first time in her adult life, Natasha Romanoff, the most feared assassin in the world, felt small.
The makeup artist—a sweet Korean lady who had done Natasha’s makeup the last few times and hardly spoke a word of English—stood silently by the makeup cart. Natasha could feel her pity, as she waited for Natasha to tilt her head up so she could finish applying the concealer to her freckles. Annoyingly, Natasha felt her eyes prick with tears, but she took a deep breath and looked back up at the artist, careful not to meet her eyes, but she felt the emotion welling in the back of her throat when the brush touched her cheek again.
Natasha knew she was being stupid. She was Natasha Romanoff, she should not care what some old man had to say about her freckles, or how she looked or what she should do with her makeup. But the thing was she had only just started liking herself again. She had only just begun to see herself in the mirror and not think murderer.
As the makeup artist moved on to her eye makeup, Natasha had an excuse to close her eyes. The reality was, the makeup artists always changed something about everybody. They swiped blush along Wanda’s cheeks to make her look less pale. They covered up the mole on the bottom of Steve’s chin. They brushed out Bucky’s hair and pinned it back in fancy styles Natasha knew the man would never choose for himself. They couldn’t fix Sam’s gap, but she had overheard them telling him not to smile as much in interviews. Natasha guessed they were the necessary steps SHIELD had to take to engineer their perfect heros. She shouldn’t let it get to her. The person on TV was not the same as the person she was.
The makeup person stepped back and said she was done. Natasha opened her eyes and managed a smile, before she got off the chair and left the room.
The green room for this event was a big open space with three leather couches and two different dressing/makeup rooms. Most of the team was done with makeup and outfit changes and were lounging in random places around the room. Sam was scrolling through his phone on the floor. Bucky’s AirPods were tucked into his ears and he was leaning against the wall, watching the ceiling fan. Their leader was currently on one of the couches, talking to a staff member. Natasha walked straight over to her girlfriend, who was on one of the other couches.
”Hey,” Wanda said, smiling at Natasha coming towards her. Natasha managed a smile back. Wanda loved her freckles. She always told her so, kissing them before they went to bed. But did she really mean it? Don’t let it get to you.
Natasha curled next to her girlfriend and let herself be absorbed in Wanda—the smell of her shampoo, the calluses of her hands. It quieted her mind for a while.
“Natasha, don’t lean back so much on the couch, you’ll mess up your hair,” the staff member who was talking to Steve a moment ago said, walking past them to get to the door to the green room. Natasha had an artful assortment of braids weaved together on her head right now that took about a half hour to do earlier today (a design that had been picked by yet another stylist, of course—a hair stylist at that, which Natasha didn’t even know existed).
Natasha sighed shortly through her nose but sat up. Wanda rubbed her back soothingly—she knew how annoying Natasha found these interviews. Nobody was a huge fan of all the interviews and public appearances. As far as Natasha was concerned, it was better when the team just went on missions and went home and kept to themselves.
”Alright guys.” Steve pulled himself off the couch. “We go on in five. Get ready.”
Natasha stood up from the couch. Two hours. Two hours and this would be over.
Even after the interview was over, the cold comment from the coordinator stuck somewhere in the back of Natasha’s mind. She left the concealer on after the interview was over—something she usually couldn’t wait to wipe off—even though it was starting to itch. She could tell Wanda noticed, but she didn’t say anything in the car back to the compound, so neither did Natasha.
Over the next few days, Natasha started changing her habits. Before, when she went to the grocery store, or for a walk, she would just leave her face bare, but now she started to apply concealer over her cheeks, even if she was just leaving the house for a five minute walk to the dumpster at the edge of the parking lot in the compound. She usually put on makeup when she went to SHIELD headquarters, but only on her eyes. Now, she was covering her cheeks in makeup as well. At the tower, when the team was just hanging out together, she didn’t wear makeup at all. But when Wanda tried to kiss her cheeks or compliment her freckles, Natasha would deflect it. Playfully hitting her with a pillow, or whining and turning her face away. She could tell Wanda was hurt by it, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain or let Wanda worship her face like she usually did.
One night, after a mission, Natasha was lying on her side of the bed, watching her girlfriend change into pajamas, humming a song under her breath as she pulled her loose T-shirt over her head. Natasha could tell a dopey smile was stretching her cheeks but she didn’t care. Her girlfriend was just so damn beautiful.
Wanda turned back around and smiled. “Hey, spider,” she said, crawling into bed beside Natasha.
“Hey,” Natasha said, cuddling up on her girlfriend’s side. But Wanda wasn’t ready to cuddle and go to sleep yet. She instead popped up on one side, propping herself up on her elbow and running her hand through Natasha’s hair.
Natasha looked up at her, confused.
“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” Wanda said. Natasha dropped her eyes to the sheets.
”Baby,” Wanda said, removing her hand from Natasha’s hair and using it to tilt her head up instead. “What happened?”
”Nothing,” Natasha said.
”I know that’s a lie,” Wanda said. “You won’t let me kiss you or compliment you and you keep pushing me away.”
”Sorry.” Natasha started tracing the lines in the pattern of the sheets with her finger.
”You don’t have to be sorry, lyumbimyy, I just want to know what happened.” When Natasha didn’t respond, Wanda continued. “You never wear makeup, and now you wear it whenever you leave.” She tried to meet Natasha’s eyes but Natasha wouldn't let her. “If you want to wear makeup that’s fine with me, Nat. I want you to do what makes you happy. But why the sudden change?”
Natasha rolled onto her back and looked at the ceiling, taking a deep breath. She felt those stupid stupid tears rising in her eyes again and she blinked to get rid of them.
”You know how they always cover my freckles when we go do interviews and stuff?” She started.
”Yeah…” Wanda said, moving her hand back into Natasha’s hair.
”And I hate it?”
“Yeah.”
”Well I asked last time why I couldn’t just leave my freckles because I hate the concealer and the event coordinator said that I look better without them.” Natasha’s voice dropped at the end, into an ashamed whisper.
”Oh, Spider.”
“And I know it's stupid,” Natasha said quickly, because she knew if Wanda kept talking she would start crying. “I shouldn’t care what some stupid guy thinks, or what anyone thinks. But it really got to me and I don’t know why.”
Wanda was silent for a moment, the soothing circles she was rubbing into Natasha’s scalp calming Natasha’s breath.
”Natasha,” Wanda finally said, “it is okay to get upset about what other people say about you. It’s okay to care about your appearance and what other people think. And that coordinator had no right to say that about you. We can talk to Steve about that if you want.” Natasha shook her head, turning her head over on the pillow as tears pooled in her eyes. She didn’t want to make a scene.
”I just need you to know, baby, that you are so beautiful. Your freckles are beautiful. And you should never have to hide them away.”
Natasha squeezed her eyes shut and she felt Wanda move over her. Then she felt Wanda’s lips brush against her freckles for the first time in weeks. The angle was a little awkward, but Natasha felt her shoulders drop at the same time that the first tears fell.
She turned to Wanda and Wanda let Natasha tuck her face into her shoulder. They stayed like that for a long time, until the whole room had stilled into a slightly ringing silence, before Wanda pulled back and looked into Natasha’s slightly red eyes.
“I love you,” she whispered quietly, leaning forward to kiss Natasha's freckles again. “I love every part of you, spider.”
”I love you too,” Natasha managed, before she tucked her face into her girlfriend’s collarbone again.
The change didn’t happen immediately. Natasha still wore makeup out when she was leaving alone, but when she was with Wanda (they could finally hold hands in public after they had posted about their relationship on social media a year ago) she didn’t wear it. At first, it was for Wanda. But then it became for Natasha. She felt stronger with Wanda by her side. And she stopped pushing Wanda away when Wanda tried to love on her.
Three months after their conversation, the makeup artist finished Natasha’s makeup for their next interview and turned the mirror towards her so she could see. As always, it was impeccable. But Natasha felt it could be better. She pointed to the makeup wipes, and gestured towards her cheeks.
”Could you wipe it there?” She asked. The nice Korean makeup artist nodded animatedly and quickly wiped the concealer off Natasha’s freckles, and smiled.
“Better?” She asked.
”Yes,” Natasha said. “Thank you.”
Sure she was a little scared that someone was going to tell her to go put the concealer back on, that the freckles made her look worse, but when she walked into the green room, Wanda’s smile made it all worth it.