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April fourth is a day Maria dreads every year it rolls around. It’s never been a happy day for her, no, it’s always a day that reminds her of what could’ve been - of what she’s lost. So, when Fury tells her to take the weekend off, no matter what happens at work, she does; albeit very reluctantly.
On Thursday, it’s late when she finally finishes work, almost 10 pm - because she wanted to make sure that everything important got signed off or filed before leaving for two days. The hallways are quiet as she walks through, her bag slung over her shoulder with her laptop inside, just in case.
She steps into the elevator and presses the button that takes her down to the parking lot. It’s glass so she turns to admire Downtown, Washington DC. The sky is dark and cloudy, and there are barely any stars visible, but the street and building lights make the area glow, it looks beautiful, and Maria could look at it forever; especially the way the lights dance and twinkle on the Potomac River.
The view is short-lived and within a few moments, she’s in the parking lot, which is considerably emptier than it was earlier that morning when she first arrived. Her car is easy to find; she has her own parking spot complete with a sign that says, ‘reserved for Deputy Director Hill.’ She gently places the bag down on the backseat before climbing into the driver's seat.
It doesn’t take her long to get home at all, unsurprisingly the roads are very quiet at 10 pm on a random Thursday. When she finally steps through her front door she lets out a soft sigh. The apartment feels very cold, usually, she likes coming home to an empty apartment because it means she can do her own thing without having to worry about explaining why she’s so late or why she hasn’t eaten since breakfast; but today it feels a little lonely.
She tries not to think about it as she shrugs her jacket off and hangs it up by the door, along with her bag and shoes. She makes her way over to the kitchen and debates whether she should eat or just go straight to bed, a quick look in the refrigerator makes the decision for her; there’s nothing in there but a few vegetables that are definitely not edible and a little bit of leftover lasagna that she probably also shouldn’t eat because it’s been there for almost a week.
“Fuck,” she mumbles to herself as she shuts the door and steps out of the kitchen, and heads towards her bedroom; deciding to just call it a night.
The following day, Natasha heads to Maria’s office for lunch, like she does every Friday, and for the first time since she and Maria started having their lunch together a year ago, her knock isn’t met with Maria’s gravelly voice saying, “come in.”
Natasha waits a few moments before knocking again, maybe she’s in a meeting - Natasha thinks to herself. She tries again and is met with silence, so she tries to open it, her mind quickly jumping to the thought of Maria being in there sick or injured. It’s locked. Maria never locks her office.
Natasha glances around the room and notices that Maria’s assistant isn’t there either, but all her things are on her desk, so she must be in the building somewhere.
Then Natasha’s mind jumps to the thought of Maria being in there with someone and tries to ignore the way her chest tightens at the thought of that. She shakes her head slightly, as if to shake the thought from her mind, and decides to pick the lock, just in case something is wrong - she tells herself.
Natasha is met with an empty room. Maria’s desk is tidy, usually, it’s covered in stray pieces of paper and random sticky notes, but none of that is to be seen - for the first time in a year she can see the dark wood of the desk.
But this doesn't answer any of her questions, so she grips onto the paper bag holding her lunch a little tighter, and turns to leave the room.
“Oh Agent Romanoff, Commander Hill isn’t in today, would you like me to pass on a message for you?” The young woman, Maria’s assistant, asks as Natasha steps out of the room.
“No thanks, Izzy. Where’s Hill today?” Natasha questions and the girl just shrugs her shoulders.
“I don’t know, Fury just told me that she’s taking the whole weekend and that she isn’t to be disturbed, I didn’t want to pry,” Izzy explains, and Natasha nods her head before shooting a tight-lipped smile in the girl's direction and walking away.
She heads to Fury’s office, which luckily for her is just around the corner. She doesn’t even bother knocking, just walks right in to find him sitting at his desk looking at some papers.
“To what do I owe this pleasure, Romanoff?” Fury asks without even looking up at her to see who just walked into his office.
“Where’s Hill?” Natasha asks and that grabs Fury’s attention, there’s a hint of a smirk on his face; about what she doesn’t know, and she chooses to ignore it.
“I gave her a long weekend, with strict orders not to even think about work.”
“Why? Is she sick?” Natasha asks, trying to keep the concern out of her voice, but if the returning smirk on Fury’s face is anything to go by; she’s failed.
“Not sick, it’s her birthday on the fourth, and she has the tendency to work herself into the ground around this time of year,” he explains and turns his attention back to the papers in front of him.
Natasha frowns at that, because Maria works herself into the ground every other week, why is this any different.
“She’s at her apartment if you need to see her, but it better not be about work,” Fury grumbles, tightening his jaw as if to scare Natasha. That would work on the other agents, but not her and she finds it comical that he even tried it. She just narrows her eyes at him and steps a little closer to the desk. “You know where her apartment is, go bother her instead, god knows she could use the company.”
Natasha considers it, but that can wait, Maria deserves at least one day to herself, so she slumps down into the seat opposite Fury and pulls out her lunch with her signature smirk on her face.
She happily tucks into her lunch, pulling each item out of the little brown paper bag and sets it out on Fury’s desk. He eyes the food and just shakes his head exasperated and turns his attention back to the papers he was reading when Natasha crashed his afternoon.
“Does Hill let you do this?”
“Usually, she joins in. Neither of us like going to the break room or the cafeteria,” she shrugs her shoulders as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Fury makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh as he shakes his head at her. Natasha just narrows her eyes at him before tucking into her food. They sit in a comfortable silence with Fury leaning forward every now and then to steal some of Natasha’s food.
Maria spends her first day off cleaning her apartment, she dusts and mops until every surface is practically sparkling. She barely lets herself relax for even a minute because she knows if she does her mind will wander to a place she doesn’t necessarily want to go right now. So, she does all the housework that she’s neglected over the past few weeks.
By Saturday evening she’s exhausted. It’s almost 9 pm by the time she manages to drag herself off the couch to make some dinner - just a simple pasta dish.
She sits down at the table by the window to eat it and the silence that engulfs the apartment is almost suffocating. The bad thoughts start to creep in through the cracks in her well-worn armor. She tries to focus on the food in front of her, but it turns out that pasta isn’t all that interesting.
Her birthday has never been a celebration, not like it is for everyone else. It’s a day when she’s reminded of how much of a burden she is to those around her, that people don’t care about her enough to want to celebrate her.
As a kid, she was always invited to these big birthday parties and her dad would force her to go to them, just so he didn’t have to deal with her for a few hours probably. She would see her friends and classmates get to be the center of the universe just for a day, they’d get gifts and cake, and everybody would make them feel loved and wanted. Maria always hated going to them because it felt like she was being taunted with a life she could’ve had.
Her birthdays were always the polar opposite of her friends. There was no joy, no celebration, just anger and hatred. Her father would drink more than usual and would do everything he could to remind her how much he wished she wasn’t alive.
One year she worked up the guts to ask why she didn’t ever get to have a birthday party. Big mistake.
“Because you shouldn’t be celebrated. Killers aren’t celebrated,” he’d hissed. “You killed my wife Maria, and you think I’d want to celebrate your existence?”
Maria had stayed quiet and tried so hard to blink away the tears because she knew if he saw them then he’d make sure he gave her something to cry about.
“Nobody wants you, Maria, nobody cares enough to celebrate you, nobody ever will, you’re nothing, now get out of my sight and don’t think you’re ever going to one of those little parties ever again, they’re making you stupid,” his words were slurred and Maria couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, she spun on her heal and hurried upstairs to her room, which was nothing but four walls and a bed that was older than her.
Maria blinks back the tears threatening to fall as she stares down at the bowl of pasta. Her appetite is gone now, and all she can think of is her father's hands on her and the pain they caused her every year until she was fourteen and learned to leave the house for a few days when her birthday rolled around.
She places the bowl beside the sink, not bothering to clear it away, and wanders to her bedroom. She sits down on the edge of the bed and wipes her tears away with a rough hand. She’s angry, angry at her father, angry at her mother for leaving her alone with him, but mostly she’s angry at herself; because she’s allowing him to affect her this much despite it being ten years since she left home and never looked back.
It’s almost eleven by the time she’s finally settled in bed, the covers pulled up to her chin as she lays there with her eyes closed, willing for sleep to consume her. But it doesn’t, she spends the rest of the night tossing and turning; unable to turn her brain off.
She glances over at the clock on her bedside table and sees that it’s almost 6 am, with a sigh she decides that sleep probably isn’t going to happen and climbs out of bed. Her bare feet land on the cool wooden floor sending a shiver through her body.
She goes about her morning routine, forgoing her shower to change into her running clothes. Once she’s changed, she makes a beeline to the coffee machine in the kitchen, opting for an espresso and eating a banana whilst she waits.
Once she’s out of the apartment she takes off on her usual route, going down by the Lincoln statue, past the Washington Monument, then up past the White House; where there are already small groups of people gathered taking pictures - beating the usual rush of people. She admires the building as she runs by it; she’s been inside many times but being able to see it every single day feels like a privilege that she shouldn’t take for granted, people fly from all over the world just to get a glimpse of it.
So, she stops for a moment and sits on a bench just enjoying the quiet spring morning. She’s sitting there for around five minutes before a young couple approaches her and asks her to take their photo in front of it. She takes a few for them and hands the camera back to the woman with a stiff smile.
With that, she continues her run, up past the White House and through the streets that are now a little more alive compared to how they were when Maria started her run.
Almost two hours later she returns to her apartment, her limbs ache, her muscles feel like they’re on fire, and her whole body is sweating but she feels a little lighter than she did before she left. She was able to switch her mind off even just for a little while.
However, as she unlocks her front door something feels off, the place wasn’t how she left it earlier that morning, she reaches behind her and pulls her gun out of its holster behind her back and holds it out in front of her, eyes scanning the hallway. Nothing is out of place there.
She steps cautiously into the living room area, her gun still held out in front of her, and finds a mess of red hair sprawled out on her couch. She lets out a soft sigh and carefully places her gun onto the coffee table when she realizes who it is. She leans over a little and narrows her eyes slightly as she looks at Natasha, who is lying there with her eyes closed; though she’s not asleep because Maria can see the soft smirk working its way onto her lips.
“I was starting to think you’d gotten lost,” Natasha says before opening her eyes and turning to look at Maria with the soft, teasing smirk gracing her lips.
“What did I tell you about breaking into people's apartments?” Maria questions, flopping down onto the armchair opposite Natasha, as gracefully as she can.
Natasha sits up at that, her eyebrows knitted together as she looks at Maria, “I didn’t-”
“Yeah, yeah, you didn’t break anything, you’re too talented for that,” Maria cuts her off, and the two of them smile softly at one another.
Natasha turning up at Maria’s apartment isn’t unusual, in fact in more recent months it’s almost become a regular thing, just not this early in the day.
“What are you doing here?” Maria asks, her voice softer than usual.
“I brought birthday gifts,” Natasha says pointing to the cups of coffee sitting on the table along with a few paper bags that Maria can only guess are pastries.
“I don’t-” celebrate, the word dies on Maria’s tongue the second her fingers graze Natasha’s as she takes the coffee from her hand.
As if Natasha reads her mind, she says, “well today you do,” with a soft smile behind her own cup of coffee. “I brought pastries too, your favorites, go on dig in.”
And they do. Maria tries to ignore the way her stomach does a backflip every time Natasha looks at her with a soft glint in her eyes. She tries not to overthink this, this is just what friends do, and Natasha looks at everyone with those soft emerald eyes. Then Maria notices the name on the paper bags, her favorite bakery a few blocks away from her apartment - her stomach is practically doing cartwheels at this point because she never told Natasha that it’s her favorite place. Maybe it’s just a coincidence but then again nothing with Natasha is ever a coincidence.
Maria realizes that she is yet to grab the drink, and Natasha is eyeing her cautiously, as though she’s worried that she overstepped.
“Don’t worry I didn’t poison it or anything,” Natasha says, there’s a smirk on her lips, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes this time. Her brows are furrowed ever so slightly, and her eyes are narrowed.
“Well now I’m thinking you have,” Maria shoots a soft smirk back once she finally drags herself away from her mind. She brings the coffee to her lips and takes a small sip, it’s only then that Natasha lets out a soft sigh of relief. Maria tries to bite back a smile because she got her coffee order correct too.
They enjoy their coffees in a comfortable silence until Natasha reaches for her own pastry and the crinkle of the paper bag fills the air.
“So, what are you now? Forty?” Natasha teases, earning a glare from Maria.
“Ha. Ha. Very funny Romanoff, I’m twenty-eight,” Maria says, taking a bite of her pastry, she lets out a moan at the taste of it. The second the noise leaves her throat she realizes what she just did and feels the blush work its way up her neck, across her cheeks, and to the tips of her ears.
Natasha doesn’t say anything about it, but she does freeze on the spot for a moment before a teasing smirk worms its way onto her face and says, “twenty-eight? Maria, you’re in your prime, you should be out partying.”
Maria couldn’t think of anything worse than being surrounded by sweaty strangers who are trying to get off with each other all night. She visibly shudders at the thought, “yeah, no thanks.”
Natasha lets out a soft chuckle, one that she only seems to let out when her guard is down. It’s then that Maria realizes just how relaxed Natasha looks sitting on her couch, her feet are resting on the coffee table, and her head is resting on the back of the couch; looking at her now you’d never guess that she’s the almighty Black Widow. Here she’s just Natasha, Maria’s closest friend.
Before Maria’s mind wanders any further, she stands up from the armchair as though she’s just been burnt, “I’m gonna shower, make help yourself to whatever you want, I won’t be long- unless you were planning on leaving then that’s okay, I don’t expect you to s-”
“Enjoy your shower, I’ll be here when you’re done, I have big plans for the day,” Natasha says with a wink.
The commander nods her head slowly and turns on her heel, heading towards her en-suite bathroom, silently berating herself for being so awkward. She can command a room of hundreds of people, and she does almost every day, but the second she so much as glances in Natasha’s direction she loses all rationality.
It doesn’t take her long to shower and change before she’s back out in the living room with Natasha standing there ready to leave.
The day is slow and relaxing, or at least it feels relaxing to Maria, she’s not a hundred percent sure what that’s supposed to feel like.
They spend time in the city, walking around and enjoying the spring sunshine. Natasha shows Maria her favorite spot and they sit there for hours just talking and watching the people around them.
By the time they get back to Maria’s apartment the sun is almost setting, and Maria expects Natasha to just sneak away after spending the entire day together. Except she doesn’t, she stands there looking Maria in the eye with something that looks suspiciously like excitement glistening in her eyes.
“The night isn’t over yet commander, I need you in your finest outfit, I’ll be back to pick you up in an hour,” Natasha says with a wink before she turns on her heel and walks down the hallway. Maria’s eyes are transfixed on the gentle sway of Natasha’s hips before she realizes what she’s doing and scolds herself silently.
She does as she’s asked and puts on her finest outfit. A suit - a deep red, perfectly tailored suit, that she saves for special occasions. Usually for SHIELD events or galas. But this feels like the perfect time to break it out again.
She’s wearing a plain white button-up underneath, with the top few buttons undone, showing off the right amount of skin. Maria gives herself one last look in the mirror and runs a shaky hand through her dark hair. There’s a slight wave to it and she feels a little self-conscious - usually, she wouldn’t give it a second thought, but this is Natasha she’s going out with.
The longer she stares at herself the more ridiculous she feels, her body starts to morph, her shoulders look too broad, her limbs look too long and everything just looks wrong. Then her eyes fall to the suit and everything feels too tight, she starts to second guess wearing it - maybe Natasha expects her to look more feminine, to wear a dress or something.
But she quickly shakes that thought from her head, Natasha never expects her to be anything other than herself, it's one of the reasons they get on so well. Besides, she doesn't even own a dress so the suit will have to do.
She won’t care, she’s just your friend - Maria’s mind whispers, almost like a little devil sitting on her shoulder taunting her, reminding her of everything she can’t have.
Maria frowns at herself in the mirror one last time, trying to pretend that she feels confident with how she looks, but it doesn’t seem to work. A quick glance at the watch on her wrist, tells her that it’s been forty minutes since Natasha left, meaning she has twenty minutes to get herself together and stop acting like a nervous high schooler.
Maria is pacing up and down in front of the window overlooking the city when a soft knock makes her jump slightly. Her heart speeds up and her palms are sweaty suddenly; she quickly wipes them on her pant leg and answers the door to reveal Natasha Romanoff wearing an emerald dress. It's tight in all the right places, with a swooping neckline and it ends just above her knees with a thigh slit that goes high enough for Maria’s mind to go blank. Blue eyes rake over pale skin, and her mouth goes dry as she drinks in every inch of Natasha – her makeup is subtle, and her hair is straight, and Maria doesn’t think Natasha has ever looked better than she does in this moment.
“Hey soldier,” Natasha says, leaning against the door frame with her shoulder and a devilish smirk plastered onto her face. Her deep, raspy voice brings Maria back to reality and she quickly snaps out of her trance, trying her hardest to fight away the blush threatening to rise to her cheeks at the nickname. “You look amazing.”
She’s no longer able to fight off the blush once those words leave Natasha’s lips, it creeps up her neck, crawls across her cheeks, and settles at the tips of her ears – she's sure she looks like a tomato.
“I uh- this old thing? It's- you look good too,” She stumbles over her words and curses herself and blames it on the time of year making her act so weird.
Natasha’s smile grows a little softer and so do her eyes, before she stands upright, her heels making her almost the same height as Maria. “Ready?”
Maria just nods her head and with that, the two of them are heading towards the restaurant. They’re in their own little bubble floating through the city in some sports car that Natasha has somehow gotten her hands on.
It doesn't take them long to get to the restaurant at all, and once they’re standing outside Maria recognizes it immediately – she mentioned it a few weeks ago during one of their lunches, it was just an off-handed comment about how she’s been meaning to try it for months but never has the time. Now, here she is with Natasha looking at her as though she’s the only person in the world and her stomach has now bypassed the flips, it’s doing a whole gymnastic routine.
It takes every inch of self-control not to just grab Natasha and kiss her right there. But before the thought cements in her brain Natasha is stepping forward and holding the door open for her.
It’s dimly lit inside, with candles on each table and a band playing slow music in the background. It feels as though they just stepped into a romantic movie, almost every table is filled by couples. They’re led toward the back of the restaurant, and the waitress stops when they reach a booth, which is more private than the other tables.
The two of them slide in, opposite one another whilst the young girl is introducing herself and is saying other things that Maria is paying absolutely no attention to because the way the candlelight is bouncing off Natasha’s skin is breathtaking. It makes her hair look redder than ever and Maria takes a picture with her eyes, wanting to savor this moment forever.
The waitress eventually leaves after taking their drink orders and now they’re alone. Maria sits up a little straighter, her hands fidgeting on the table in front of her. “This is really nice, thank you for this Nat.”
“You don’t need to thank me, it’s your birthday, you really think I'd let you spend it alone?” Natasha asks and Maria just shrugs her shoulders and diverts her eyes to her hands clasped together atop of the table.
“How did you know?” Maria questions, though she already knows the answer.
“Fury,” Natasha chuckles when Maria rolls her eyes playfully.
“This is the first time I’ve ever celebrated my birthday you know,” Maria says quietly before she can stop herself, leaning in a little closer with her eyes staring down at the candle flickering between them, as though she’s revealing one of her deepest secrets.
Natasha frowns at her words, and Maria isn’t sure whether it’s out of confusion or because she didn’t hear what she said.
“Why?” Natasha questions, her eyes locking onto Maria’s. They’re soft and even in the low light the green still sparkles, Maria’s words get caught in her throat for a moment.
“I- uh- I-” she feels the tears start to form in her eyes, she tilts her head back slightly to stop them and lets out a frustrated sigh, “god I should be over this by now.”
She feels a soft warm hand reach over and gently grabs onto her own that’s resting on the table. “You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to, Ria.”
“No, it’s okay,” Maria swallows hard before continuing. “My mom died giving birth to me and my dad never let me forget that it was my fault that she died. He always got more violent around my birthday, he’d drink more, and it was just- it was never a good day. He’d always tell me that I shouldn’t be celebrated, that nobody would ever want to celebrate the fact that I’m alive and I guess he was right because nobody ever has.”
“He’s wrong,” Natasha snaps before she quickly composes herself and gives Maria’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You deserve to be celebrated; you should be celebrated every day for all you’ve done for this world. I want to celebrate you,” Natasha’s voice is so quiet when she says the last part, Maria isn’t sure that she hears her correctly.
Before she can question it, their waitress is back at their table with their drinks, and Natasha’s hand is gone from where it was resting atop her own. She takes their food orders before disappearing again leaving them alone.
They fall into a comfortable conversation like they’ve been doing this their whole lives. It's comfortable, and Maria doesn’t think she’s ever felt like this around another person in her entire life – she doesn’t want the night to end, she’s quite content to just stay here forever. That thought takes her by surprise because she’s never had that, never had anything that makes her want to stay in one place for a long time.
There's a warmth sitting in her chest that feels oddly comforting and only seems to bloom whenever Natasha laughs or smiles around her. It’s unfamiliar and she isn’t sure what she’s supposed to do with it, so she just tries to ignore it completely.
Their food eventually arrives, and it’s the best thing that Maria has ever tasted and Natasha thinks so too because there are noises coming from her that absolutely shouldn’t be made in the middle of a restaurant. Maria tries to hide the blush that flushes across her cheeks, but Natasha catches her and only seems to double down on making them.
After their food is finished and the plates are taken away, their waitress returns with a small dessert holding a single candle and the words ‘Happy Birthday,’ written on the plate with some sort of syrup.
Natasha thanks the girl before leaning a little closer to Maria and says, “I told them not to sing, I didn’t think you’d appreciate the whole restaurant staring at you.”
The words claw their way into her heart and an unfamiliar feeling bubbles up inside her, she’s never felt it before, and she has no idea what to do with it. She wants to reach across the table and wrap her arms around Natasha – but she doesn't; instead, she stares at her with the biggest smile on her face. Nobody has ever paid attention to her like that to make sure she feels comfortable; it’s such a small thing but it means the world to her.
“Are you gonna keep staring at me or are you gonna make a wish?” There’s a teasing smirk on Natasha’s face; it makes Maria’s brain short-circuit for a moment before she blows the candle out. “What did you wish for?”
For you to feel the same – Maria wants to say, but she doesn’t.
“If I tell you that, it won’t come true,” Maria’s voice is playful, and she’s glad Natasha doesn’t push the topic further, because that would ruin everything and Maria can’t lose this; she can’t lose Natasha.
Maria takes the spoon and scoops up a small piece of the brownie.
“Good?” Natasha asks and Maria nods her head. She’s about to offer some to Nat but before she can, the redhead grabs the hand holding the spoon and redirects it to her own mouth, green eyes locked onto blue the entire time. “Mmm, that is good.”
With that Maria silently slides the second spoon across the table and the two of them share the brownie, slowly chipping away at it – wanting to stay in this moment forever.
“Oh Nat, you have a little-” Maria wiggles her finger around her own mouth to show Natasha where the tiny bit of chocolate is in the corner of her mouth.
She tries to wipe it away but misses it each time, “did I get it?”
A soft chuckle tumbles from Maria’s lips; she leans forward with a shake of her head and reaches out to wipe the chocolate away with the pad of her thumb. Their eyes lock together again Natasha’s eyes are burning into her, watching her every move, and suddenly the room feels too hot. Without thinking she brings her thumb up to her own mouth and sucks the chocolate off it.
Natasha clears her throat and it’s then that Maria realizes what she just did. The air between them has shifted the tension is palpable. The brownie is sitting between them, completely forgotten.
They eventually finish up at the restaurant and Natasha drives them back to Maria’s apartment, insisting that she walks her back to her door – Maria knows better to argue against that; not that she wants to anyway.
“Thank you for today, Nat, it was- nobody's ever done anything like that for me before, I had a great time with you,” Maria says, tucking a strand of her own hair behind her ear.
“I had a great time too, you deserve to feel special on your birthday Ria,” Natasha smiles, and this is the most she’s ever seen her smile, the entire time they’ve known one another. She can’t help but wish she could see it more often, she likes this side of Natasha, the softer side of her. “I should-”
“Oh, uh- yeah, goodnight, Nat.”
“Goodnight.”
Natasha is about to leave, and Maria wants to grab her and tell her to stay. It doesn’t help when Natasha hesitates, she moves to turn on her heel, but something stops her, and she turns back to face Maria. Then suddenly the gap between them is non-existent, every nerve ending is set alight at the feeling of Natasha’s body pressed against hers. She feels warm, calloused hands come up to cup her face, they’re gentle – she never knew hands could be this gentle, they’re holding her face as though it’s her most prized possession.
Before her brain catches up with what’s going on she feels Natasha's lips pressing against hers in a soft kiss. At first, she freezes she wasn't expecting this at all. But Natasha’s lips are soft and delicate against her own. There are no fireworks or other explosions like you usually see in the movies – no, it’s a quiet warmth that spreads across her chest; kissing Natasha feels like coming home after a long day. It feels like she’s been waiting her whole life for this.
Natasha pulls away and Maria finds herself chasing after her lips, involuntarily, earning a soft chuckle from the redhead standing in front of her. Maria feels a smile tug on the corners of her own lips as she takes in every inch of Natasha’s face, there’s a soft pink blush painting her cheeks and she’s close enough to see her pupils invading the green of her eyes. She glances down at her lips, and they look more inviting than ever, just begging to be kissed again.
Natasha’s hands have moved to rest on her shoulders and in a moment of bravery Maria brings her own hands to rest carefully on Natasha’s hip, the fabric of her dress is soft under her fingertips, and every inch of her body feels as though it’s going to explode at any moment. She leans forward and kisses her again, Natasha’s lip's part almost instinctively allowing Maria’s tongue to slip inside.
There’s no urgency to the kiss; they have all the time in the world – everything else around them seems to disappear at that moment like they’re the only people in existence. Maria doesn’t want to let go, now that she’s had a taste of Natasha, she is not sure how she ever lived without it. Kissing her feels as natural as breathing.
They eventually pull apart with soft gasps, attempting to replenish the air in their lungs. Maria keeps her eyes shut, in an attempt to stay in their little bubble – afraid that if she opens them then Natasha will realize that she made a mistake and she’ll be out of there faster than Maria can blink.
Except, that doesn't happen. Maria feels Natasha’s forehead press against hers as they both try to get their breathing back to normal. She opens her eyes and Natasha is there, right in front of her with her lips slightly swollen and her lipstick smudged. The sight makes her heart beat a little faster.
“You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that,” Natasha whispers, still slightly out of breath - breaking her out of her trance.
“Me too,” Maria says, also slightly out of breath – both because of the kiss and how close Natasha still is to her.
She leans in and presses another kiss to Natasha’s lips; there’s more passion behind this one, Maria’s fingers dig into Natasha’s hips, pulling her inside the apartment and pressing her against the wall. She lets go of her waist with one hand to close the door, which earns a soft whine from Natasha at the loss of contact – but it doesn’t last long because Maria’s body is pressing against Natasha’s, there’s not a millimeter of space between them.
Natasha’s hands move to tug Maria’s jacket off, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud. The brunette uses that slight distraction to slip her knee between Natasha’s legs, causing a delicious moan to tumble out of her lips. The sound causes a warmth to pool in Maria’s belly, and she doesn’t know how she ever lived without this.
It doesn’t take long for Natasha to fall apart in her arms and Maria thinks, ‘maybe birthdays aren’t so bad after all.’