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Bits of rubble fall from Natasha’s boots with every step she takes, dust collecting on the doormat when she stops to punch in the code to their front door. The touchpad beeps softly under her fingers, and once 1609 - Liam and Everly’s birthdays - has been successfully entered, along with her thumbprint, the numbers flash white and the bolt whirrs softly as it’s retracted.
A dark house greets Natasha when she pushes open the door. The air is stagnant, which is probably a good thing considering that it’s close to 3 am. She shuts the door behind her, groaning tiredly as she leans against the wood. Pure silence rings in her ears, a welcomed sound after the gunshots and explosions that have left her temporarily deaf in one ear. After almost a week of chasing bad guys across Europe, it’s good to be home.
Natasha heads upstairs, doing her best to tread lightly on the hardwoods and skipping the exceptionally squeaky portions of steps. Every part of her body begs for sleep, her muscles sore from hours of espionage and combat, but she can’t bring herself to turn towards her and James’s room before she’s checked on her kids.
The weapons within her canvas duffle bag rattle against each other as she sets it on the floor, and though it hits the wood with a little more force than she’d like, nobody stirs at the sound. She pushes open the first door on her right, blinking as her eyes adjust to the dim light of Liam’s room. Her son, snuggled down under his planet-patterned comforter, lets out a gentle sigh when she crouches to press a kiss to his warm forehead.
“Mama?” he whispers, and though his eyes are closed, he turns towards her with a sleepy sigh.
She smiles and smooths his hair off his forehead. “Hi, baby. It’s okay. Go back to bed.”
He doesn’t protest, already burrowing back down into the bed. “Okay.”
“Goodnight little one,” she says as she stands. “I love you.”
Liam doesn’t respond, and she doesn’t expect him to. His breathing is already slow by the time she shuts the door, and then she walks down the hallway to Everly’s room. Her daughter, sound asleep in her crib, doesn’t wake when Natasha runs the pad of her finger over her cheek. She presses the lightest kiss to her daughter’s face, only pausing for a moment to watch her sleep.
Not a day goes by that she isn’t unaware of this luxury, of being able to come home to her miracle children after long and dangerous missions. Natasha knows all too well how easy it is to lose the people that she loves, especially in her line of work. Though Liam’s kidnapping was almost a year ago, memories of that night filter through her dreams more often than she’d like. The day they’d signed Liam’s adoption papers was the day she’d promised to never take her family for granted again, and the moment Everly was placed on her chest in the hospital, she knew she’d do whatever it took to keep that promise.
Both her and Bucky have three months left until their retirement is finalized, and though they both hate the idea of working while Everly is still a baby and Liam is about to go to school, they know it’d be stupid to not to make money while they still can. Or rid the world of dangerous people while they still have the chance.
The only thing more expensive than children is the prices on their heads should they fall into the wrong hands. Again.
Natasha sets the duffle bag down once again as she crosses the threshold to her and Bucky’s room, shedding her combat suit and vest and kicking them into the closet. She stoops to grab Bucky’s t-shirt off the floor and pulls it down over her messy red curls as she walks over to her side of the bed, muttering a soft curse when she stumbles over a discarded shoe.
Bucky rolls over with a groan. “Tasha?”
“Sorry,” she whispers as she climbs onto the bed. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” he says softly, eyes half open as he watches her pull aside the sheets.
“You’ve been awake this whole time?” she asks. “You shouldn’t have waited.”
“You shouldn’t be surprised,” he says sleepily as she burrows down next to him, curling into his warm embrace. “You know I can’t sleep without you.”
Natasha smiles and presses a kiss to his jawline, the stubble on his cheek prickly against her lips. He smells of cedarwood and eucalyptus, and though her skin is damp with sweat and filmy with gunpowder, he runs his fingers through her hair like he’s afraid he’ll never touch it again.
“How’d it go?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.
She’s nose to nose with him when she answers. “There’s one less mercenary group in this world, and for that I’m thankful.”
Natasha can feel his damp hair fall against her forehead when he lifts his chin to press a kiss to the space just above her eyebrows.
“I love you,” he whispers as she closes her eyes, letting his presence engulf her completely. “I’m glad you’re home. The kids missed you. I missed you.”
She hums, her agreement reverberating in her chest. She’s sure James can feel it. “I love you. So much.”
“To the stars and back,” he adds, quoting the most commonly used phrase in their household. A smile softens his tone as he kisses her again.
Natasha’s fingers automatically go to the necklace at her throat, three tiny stars on a silver bar. She never takes it off. Those same fingers go to his face, holding his chin gently between her thumb and forefinger.
“To the stars and back.”