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Melina informs Natasha and Yelena that she’s located several Widows that need to be freed from mind control. There are about eight of them all together, so Wanda and Kate join their girlfriends on this mission.
It’s supposed to be relatively easy with the four of them, but things suddenly go wrong. They’re ambushed by several more widows and end up being separated. They manage to succeed, but only after Natasha is grazed by a bullet.
Since no one witnessed the injury, Natasha being, well, Natasha, doesn’t let anyone know. It’s not a deadly injury. Being the infamous Black Widow, Natasha has survived way worse. After freeing the widow who inflicted the gunshot, she quickly bandages the wound beneath her suit.
On the way home, Wanda is the only one who notices that Natasha is quieter than usual. Yelena is excitedly flying the quinjet (she will never get used to the utter brilliance of the advanced technology) and Kate is eagerly going on as usual.
“That was wild!” exclaims Kate. “I can’t believe we did it. We did it!” She reaches over and takes Yelena’s free hand that isn’t holding the steering column.
Yelena kisses Kate’s hand and says, “We did it, detka.”
Their voices seem to fade away as Wanda turns to Natasha. Her girlfriend is sitting beside her, silent.
“Are you okay, Nat?” she asks quietly.
Natasha manages a curt nod.
“You haven’t said anything since we boarded the jet.”
“What’s to say?” snaps Natasha.
Wanda winces at the words as if they are a physical blow and Natasha recoils. The last thing she wants to do is hurt her girlfriend.
Natasha sighs. “I didn’t mean that, little witch. It’s been a long day.”
Wanda isn’t convinced, but Natasha using her affectionate nickname makes her feel the slightest bit better. Still, she decides to let it go.
The wound isn’t too deep, but the pain is spreading and Natasha feels herself growing drowsy from the stress of the day. She fights to stay awake as Yelena flies them back to the Avengers compound in New York.
When they land on the rooftop, Yelena and Kate are the first to exit. They’ve already planned to celebrate the difficult, but successful, mission with a movie night in their room after they clean up.
Natasha doesn’t wait for Wanda. Without a word, she unclips her seatbelt and climbs down the steps. She knows she should take it easy, but she doesn’t want to rouse suspicion in her girlfriend. She winces under her breath as she feels the strain on her injury. She exhales through her nose and forces herself to continue.
Wanda quickly follows, allowing a few steps’ distance between her and Natasha. She can tell something isn’t right with her girlfriend, but she knows better than to pry.
When the women get inside the compound, Kate and Yelena have already disappeared off to their room. Wanda and Natasha climb into the elevator and Natasha instructs F.R.I.D.A.Y. to take them to their floor.
It’s a simple command, one sentence really, but Natasha is left short of breath. Wanda realizes she’s leaning against the railing in the elevator, gripping it with enough force that her knuckles have turned white.
She can’t resist asking again. “Natasha, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she snaps. “I’m fine.”
Before Wanda can argue, the elevator dings. The doors slide open and Natasha rushes to exit.
Though Wanda and Natasha each have their own room, Natasha has stayed in Wanda’s room ever since they shared their feelings for one another. That’s why it’s strange when Natasha keeps walking down the hall, passing Wanda’s door towards her own.
Wanda freezes. “Nat?”
“For Christ’s sake, Wanda, can’t I have a moment alone?”
The effort leaves Natasha’s chest heaving, and she’s leaning against her bedroom door.
Wanda doesn’t say anything. She disappears into her room before Natasha can see the tears welling in her eyes.
Natasha is simultaneously relieved and devastated. She shuts her door behind her and leans against it, stifling a groan.
She stumbles towards the en-suite bathroom and switches on the light. She gingerly touches the wound through her suit and realizes there’s blood on her fingers.
“Shit,” she mutters to herself.
She peels off her suit, hissing when it reaches her bloody thigh. She drops the stained garment on the ground, standing in her sports bra and boyshorts.
It hadn’t looked like a deep wound at first, but the gauze she had haphazardly applied hours ago is now completely soaked through.
“Shit,” she says again. Blood is dripping down her leg, leaving crimson droplets on the white linoleum floor.
She knows she needs stitches, and going to the compound’s medical wing is out of the question.
Though Natasha would never admit it out loud, she’s terrified of hospitals, of doctors, of that stark, clinical smell that comes with all of that. It reminds her so much of the Red Room, even now, even all these years later.
Her hands are trembling as she turns on the faucet. The water turns pink as blood is washed off her hands.
She groans in pain as she bends over to retrieve the suture kit she kept stashed under the sink. She’s still bleeding and there’s no sign it’s slowing down.
Suddenly, her vision is growing blurry at the edges. She’s lost a lot of blood. Her training reminds her that she has to stitch up the wound now before she passes out.
Natasha stumbles to the bathtub and manages to climb inside.
At least the blood won’t make such a mess, she thinks bitterly.
Her hands are so unsteady, she can barely open the suture kit. She takes a deep breath, then another, and another, but she can’t get her fingers to cooperate.
“Fuck!” she shouts when the kit slips from her fingers and rattles against the porcelain tub.
The kit pops open upon landing, sending gauze, scissors, and surgical thread flying. She doesn’t have the strength to collect everything. Instead, she lays her head back against the edge of the tub, hair hanging in her eyes as she stares up at the fluorescent lighting.
“Natasha?”
She immediately recognizes Wanda’s voice.
“Natasha?”
She wrestles with her pride. She doesn’t want her girlfriend to see her like this, broken and bleeding, unable to stitch up a simple wound.
It doesn’t matter. Wanda calls out again, and Natasha can tell she’s inside the room. A second later, the bathroom door flies open.
“Nat!” gasps Wanda.
She’s changed out of her mission suit. She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts, her dark hair in a ponytail.
Wanda’s blue eyes widen, filled with concern. She rushes to the bathtub and kneels down. She takes in the sight. Her girlfriend is covered in blood, medical supplies scattered around.
“Oh, Nat, what happened?” she asks. She’s running her hand through her girlfriend’s red curls in such a soothing manner that Natasha has to fight back tears.
“I-I was shot,” she mutters breathlessly.
Wanda climbs in the tub beside her with no regard for the blood staining her shorts and the hem of her t-shirt. She can tell Natasha’s breathing is growing shallow. She wastes no time in finding the wound. It’s not as easy as it sounds, considering there’s blood everywhere.
“Give me the surgical scissors,” Natasha manages to say.
“What? You can’t do this yourself!” exclaims Wanda.
“I’m not going to medical.”
Wanda shakes her head at her girlfriend’s stubbornness. “Nat, you have to.”
“No!” she says with a sudden renewed vitality.
“Natasha,” Wanda says sternly. She takes her girlfriend's limp hand. “You’ve lost so much blood. You have to go.”
“No.” This time it comes out like a whine, like that of a small child. There are tears in Natasha’s eyes and Wanda feels her heart clench in her chest.
“Nat—”
“Please, Wanda. I-I can’t.”
Wanda reaches over and gently wipes a tear that has managed to escape.
“Fine, I won’t take you to medical,” she says. “But I’m going to fix this, okay?”
Natasha nods weakly.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” Natasha whispers.
Wanda closes her eyes, concentrating on her powers. When her eyelids flutter open, her irises are a glowing red. She lifts her hands, palms facing upward. Tendrils of red magic curl forward towards the wound on Natasha’s thigh.
Natasha inhales sharply as a burning sensation takes over her body.
Then, as soon as it starts, it’s over.
Wanda’s magic disappears and her eyes return to their normal hue.
Both women turn their attention to the site of Natasha’s injury. Moments ago, blood had still been gushing from the gunshot wound. Now, the skin is pink and a little leathery, like a scar a few weeks into healing.
Natasha let out a sigh of relief and her lips curved into a hint of a smile. “You did it, little witch.”
Wanda nods, still reeling.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Wanda scolds when she realizes Natasha is trying to sit up.
“I’m fine now,” Natasha says, but she visibly winces as she moves her leg.
“No, you’re not! You were shot and you could have died!” Wanda shakes her head in disbelief. “I’m taking care of you tonight, and you’re going to let me!”
Natasha freezes, her lips parted in shock.
Before she can argue, Wanda climbs out of the tub and says, “Stay here.”
Natasha is caught so off-guard, she doesn’t argue. She remains seated until Wanda returns with a glass of water and a package of cookies.
“You need to eat,” Wanda says, thrusting the cookies towards Natasha.
“Eating in the bathroom? A little gross, don’t you think?” Natasha says dryly.
Wanda rolls her eyes, but she can’t help smiling.
For once, Natasha obeys. She eats the snack and finishes the glass of water. Wanda tosses the empty package in the trash and sets the glass down in the bedroom before returning.
“Come on, we’re getting cleaned up,” Wanda says. She takes off her shirt and bra, followed by her shorts and underwear.
Wanda climbs in the tub and undresses her girlfriend. Though they’ve been together for a while now, the gentleness of Wanda’s touch never fails to surprise Natasha. She slowly pulls the sports bra over her head and takes extra care when pulling her boyshorts over her injury. Wanda discards their bloody clothes and gathers the scattered medical supplies. She returns everything to the suture kit and places it on the counter.
Then Wanda pulls the shower curtain shut and turns on the water.
“Do you think you can stand up?”
Natasha nods.
Wanda drapes Natasha’s arm over her shoulder and wraps her own arm around Natasha’s waist. They slowly get to their feet, and Natasha winces.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
Wanda guides Natasha under the warm spray. The water turns red at their feet as it washes away all the blood. Wanda lathers shampoo in Natasha’s hair to clean the dirt and grime from their mission. Then she takes the soap and slowly lathers every inch of Natasha’s body. She makes sure not to add too much pressure to her injury, but ensures it’s clean.
When the pinkish water eventually turns clear and they are free of blood, Wanda plugs the tub and fills it with her favorite lavender-vanilla bubble bath.
When the bubbles reach the brim of the tub, Wanda turns the water off and sits down, leaning against the porcelain. She slowly pulls Natasha against her, so she’s sitting between her legs. Natasha closes her eyes and leans back into Wanda’s embrace.
“Thank you, little witch,” she murmurs.
“You don’t need to thank me,” Wanda says. “Just don’t ever do that again.”
Natasha opens her eyes when she hears the crack in Wanda’s voice. She turns to meet her girlfriend’s gaze, only to find tears in Wanda’s eyes.
“I was so scared I was going to lose you, Nat.”
“I’m sorry,” Natasha says in earnest. “I-I couldn’t go to medical. You know what they did to me in the Red Room.”
“I know, but you don’t need to hide an injury from me.”
Natasha hesitates. “I didn’t want you to think I’m weak.”
Wanda tightens her hold on her girlfriend, tucking her face into the crook of Natasha’s neck, where she tenderly places a kiss. “Needing help doesn’t make you weak. It only makes you human.”
Natasha leans into Wanda’s touch. “I’ve been a weapon, an agent, a spy…” She swallows. “I don’t think I remember how to be human.”
Wanda shakes her head. “That’s not true. You’re human in the way you love me, in the way you love your sister. You’re just not used to showing it. But you don’t have to hide from me.”
Natasha turns and presses a kiss to Wanda’s lips. “Thank you, little witch.”