Wanda sighed for what felt like the millionth time that night, letting her eyes flutter open. Her hands limply dragged across the duvet, a gesture that had become second nature as her pregnancy progressed, as if it would soothe both hers and the baby’s restlessness. There was no point in trying to sleep if it wouldn’t come. She was unsure if it was due to her own anxiousness or the babies, though it did just about as much good to dwell on it as it did to try and sleep. The sound of the screen door banging shut followed by the heavy front door pulled her out of her reverie, her entire body freezing for a moment.
“Baby?” Wanda called out, reclining her head back so her voice hopefully reached the entryway; thickly swallowing. The house was quiet besides the sound of someone moving around. With a frown, she turned over her left shoulder, her eyebrows furrowing at the bright ‘3:46 am’ from the digital clock glowing back at her in a dreadful shade of neon red. Forgoing both the lamp on the nightstand and her slippers, Wanda made her way to the bedroom door, one hand on the knob and the other against the door as she pressed her ear to the wood.
Her heart beat faster from the sound of silence, biting her lip. She had options here. She could open the door, confront whoever was in the kitchen, pray to something that it was Natasha or someone she sent, and happily go back to bed. She could go lay back down, ignore whoever was in the house, and stay in a puddle of fear until something happened. Her last option was sliding shoes on, opening the door, and bolting out the back door. That somehow felt like an overreaction – like how whoever was in their home would have heard her and come to collect collateral damage. Given her struggle with sleeping throughout the entire night, the second option would be dumb as well. Instead she was left with the first option, confronting the intruder.
Despite the Nat in her head telling her to pick the third option, she opened the door, heart simultaneously dropping to a pit in her stomach, somersaulting, and jumping to her throat, before repeating in that order. The brunette carefully listened to the sound of a glass clinking against the kitchen table, followed by a cabinet door closing, its eerie thud echoing into the hall.
This only served to confuse her further, prompting her to exit the bedroom and slowly walk down the hallway, sticking against the wall. She chose to keep the lights off, knowing that if something went wrong, she knew the layout of her home without the lights on which would give her an upper hand against a potentially dangerous intruder – yet another thing Nat taught her.
The soft yellow light of the kitchen spilled out into the living room, not entirely unusual as Wanda always left the light above the sink on when Nat was working late. The sound of people talking, presumably two men based on the deep tones, ringing through the space. By the time she made it to the living room, she was beginning to question her choice of approaching whoever was in the kitchen having a drink, glancing around the shadowed part of the living room in something akin to despair. The best she could do was grab a throw pillow, knowing the lamps would cause too much racket and hung photo frames wouldn’t do much. She held the pillow in front of her, as if the steel blue pillow smaller than her pregnant stomach was as intimidating as an actual weapon.
With a deep breath, the brunette turned the corner, raising the pillow in front of her head, cowering just slightly. She waited, and waited, and waited. Nothing happened. No sound, movement, nothing but stillness. Breath still held in her chest, she slowly lowered her weapon of choice, squinting over the seam of it.
“Nat?” The brunette dropped the pillow in favor of pursuing the other woman, a shaking breath leaving her chest as tears filled her eyes. She paid no attention to the men sitting at the dining table, time seemingly moving in slow motion as she stepped over the pillow, arms already subconsciously reaching upwards to wrap around the redhead’s neck. Natasha stood silently with a look thrown at the men, her whiskey glass hitting the table with the same resounding ‘clunk’ it had earlier, meeting the younger woman in an embrace, her arms wrapping tightly around her waist.
“Hey, sweetheart.” The redhead mumbled against the brunette’s hair, pressing a kiss where her forehead met her hairline. She resisted the urge to smooth her hair down, more than aware of her men watching them. Wanda’s chin shook against where it was hidden in the junction of the older’s neck, sobs barely contained with deep breaths.
“Where were you?” She just barely managed to keep her voice even and maybe even a little serious, her emotions running rampant. She wanted to yell at her wife, sob, ravish her, and yell some more. Instead, she pulled back, one hand swiping at her eyes while the other continued to twist the baby hairs at the top of the redhead’s neck between her fingers.
“Did Carol not call you?” Natasha looked down at her with a no-nonsense look, her arms still wrapped, albeit loosely, around her waist.
“N-no,” Wanda shook her head, wiping her sleeve under her nose, “N-no one did. I thought you we-were dead.” The word alone brought unwanted tears to her eyes, gasping in a breath. It was something she hated doing; worrying about Nat returning home any day of the week, especially after an exchange like today. She hated always being on the edge of her seat, waiting for the call that her wife was in critical condition or she was downright gone. And yet, she continued to love and in turn be loved by Nat, willing to live with that fear. Now that they had a baby on the way though, she was beginning to question that decision.
“I can assure you I’m very much alive, love.” Natasha chuckled, the rasp that had Wanda swooning over her after their first-ever interaction thickly coating her words. Yet, Wanda didn’t laugh like she normally would, frowning even more.
“It’s n-not funny, Nat!” Wanda watched as Nat winced slightly at the sheer shrillness of her voice, though she couldn’t care less. She crossed her arms on top of her stomach, resisting the urge to poke at Nat’s chest to further her point.
“I know. I’m sorry, baby.” With a sigh similar to Wanda’s earlier she pulled the woman back into her chest, softly rubbing her back. Natasha fully expected Wanda to pull away, to lecture her on how unfair it was to her, as if she didn’t understand. She did the opposite, though, melting into the embrace with a sob.
“I d-don’t… I- we can’t lose you, Nat.” Wanda blubbered into her neck, grasping at the fabric of the redhead’s shirt with balled fists. She allowed herself to cry, beyond caring about what the men in the room would think, letting her wife rock them softly.
At the questioning glances from Steve and Bucky, along with them softly murmuring to each other, Nat nodded. She momentarily stopped rubbing circles into the brunette’s back to raise a finger, circling it twice in the air as a silent command to secure the perimeter before they left before letting it drop to its original position. She let the younger cry, softly shushing her as her sobs grew into a volume that Natasha could only describe as painful. By the time Wanda had calmed down, both men had left, leaving the two alone for the first time in far too many days. “I’ve got you, Wanda. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” The redhead pulled back gently, forcing her wife to look her in the eyes. Wanda hiccuped as she searched Nat’s face, dropping her shirt to cup her cheeks, as if she needed to confirm the redhead was real.
“I love you so much, Wanda. You of all people should know you won’t get rid of me that easily.” With a softness that was reserved for only Wanda, Nat swiped the woman’s tears away, pressing twin kisses beneath her eyes.
“I love you too, Nat.” Wanda’s voice shook as she leaned up, softly pressing her lips against the chapped ones of her wife. She didn’t mind though, as it only further confirmed that she was in fact standing there with her, alive and healthy as can be. Natasha kissed back as, if not more, fervently than the brunette, sliding her hands under the fabric of a shirt Wanda must have pulled from somewhere deep in the closet. Even just the slightest touch had her melting and whimpering into her mouth, deepening the kiss with a swipe of her tongue against Nat’s lips. Nat all but easily obliged, trying to pull the brunette impossibly closer against her body. Wanda went easily, humming softly as they explored one another, as if they hadn’t numerous times before. Her hands smoothed everywhere on the redhead’s face, a sense of urgency taking control.
Before they could get any further, though, Wanda pulled away with a slight gasp, taking in deep breaths. “Is everything okay? Is the baby alright?” The redhead’s right hand curved around the woman’s waist to rest on her stomach, concern written across her features. Had she not been through a whirlwind of emotions, Wanda would have smiled at how concerned she was, instead the corners of her lips just barely raised.
“We’re okay. I think he’s upset that his mama wasn’t going to come home for a bedtime story.” Wanda fixed her wife with a stern look, raising an eyebrow. She didn’t mean for it to be as snarky as it had been, but she felt the older deserved it after not contacting her for days on end. She would’ve been fine if one of the members had so much as texted her, yet nothing. Almost as if the baby was agreeing with her, it kicked where Nat’s hand was resting. If there was one thing that was certain about their child, they wouldn’t be afraid to speak their mind.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. She thinks it's bedtime.” Natasha rolled her eyes, though a smirk pulled at her features. She could hardly be upset with the brunette. It had been nearly a whole week since she had been home, let alone been in contact with the woman. Had it been two years ago, she wouldn’t have cared. Would have left the brunette to wallow in her own disdain and anger for far longer without a care in the world. Now though, she couldn’t do that. Couldn’t leave her wife for more than a week, even before she was pregnant. It almost made her emotional to see just how far they had come. Almost.
“He, Nat. Our baby is a boy.” Wanda shook her head, a fond smile tugging at her lips. She’d be damned if their baby turned out to be a girl. Months of being wrong and the redhead would only become cockier.
“And how do you know? For all it’s worth, sprout could be an actual sprout.” Nat shot back, raising an eyebrow as she moved away from the brunette. She downed the rest of her drink easily, swiping the back of her hand against her mouth with a satisfying sigh. Knowing how much it irked the younger to leave her dishes out, she deposited in the sink, with a silent promise of washing it the next day, moving towards the cabinet in the back corner to put the Whiskey back in its case.
“Unless that turkey baster was filled with something else, I highly doubt there’s a plant inside of me.” Wanda crossed her arms over her belly, both eyebrows raised and her lips pushed slightly forward, as if willing the older to test her. Nat chortled at that, stopping in the middle of the kitchen to fully take in the joke. Her hands landed on her hips, smiling at the younger.
“That was a good one, baby. I wouldn’t be so convinced though, based on how much watermelon I’ve bought in the last two weeks alone.” She fixed the woman with a cocky smile, padding towards her. Despite her joking tone, Wanda looked at her incredulously, nearly scoffing at her.
“Keep talking, Nat. You won’t be laughing when you’re left high and dry until he’s born.” She merely shrugged, more than willing to stick to her words and deal with the consequences of them if it meant Nat listened.
“You wouldn’t.” Natasha’s face set, her smile dropping, eyes squinting. Despite the fact that she herself was the one who managed their relationship for a good chunk of it, she knew how stubborn the brunette could be. She just hoped she was joking, for the sake of both of them. She was met with another shrug, neither confirming nor denying her claim. Natasha only sighed in response, dropping their teasing altogether and instead wrapping an arm around the brunette, turning the light off as they began towards their room.
The house was quiet as the two made their way to the bedroom, the darkness of the house still washing out the hallway. It was easy enough to fall in step next to one another, a move written into their muscle memory, if not their biology at that point. Tension pulled between the two of them, apparent as they each approached their own side of the bed. With the grace of something similar to a toddler, Wanda sat on the edge of the king mattress, quietly observing her wife.
Natasha moved around the room silently, shedding her weapons in various drawers, her path methodical and obviously walked before. She paid no attention to the brunette’s eyes following her around the space, nor did she see how tight-strung she was, her back rigid and eyes glossed over. And yet, she could still feel it. Though she did nothing but carry out the little routine she had, changing into something far more suitable for pajamas than dress pants and a crisp, buttoned shirt, locking herself in the bathroom to finish up.
Wanda pursed her lips at the sound of the en suite locking, dragging her feet up and under the covers. Humming, she reached for the glass of water on her nightstand, sipping the beverage in the dim light of bathroom light spilling out from around the door. She took her time, listening to her spouse rummage around. It was funny just how domestic it all felt, how the boss of a mafia that spent her free time killing people could be so… soft.
There was a time when she thought she would never leave what she had considered this godforsaken bedroom, tied to a bed that wasn’t hers and stripped of every joy she had ever known. Yet, here she was, free to roam wherever she wanted, with a wife who doted on her like there was no tomorrow, the shimmer of love in her eyes. It made her want to laugh at how ironic the whole thing was. How could she, a small-town girl with a bad attitude, end up with one of the wealthiest people in a whole nother country, pregnant with their child? Arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back to reality, setting her glass down before looking at the redhead.
“Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.” Natasha’s raspy voice vibrated against her stomach, head perched on the topmost swell of it. Wanda allowed her hand to drop so she could hold the redhead’s face, tilting her head just slightly.
“Just… thinking.” She smiled softly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She met the woman’s eyes, holding them even as the urge to look away grew stronger.
“Talk to me, Wanda.” Nat urged gently, a softness much like the one earlier shining through. Wanda lived for these moments, yearned for them. The moments in between, the ones no one bats an eye at, yet, everyone longs for.
“You know I love you?”
It was less of a question and more insecurity, uncertainty momentarily crossing her features. At this, Nat’s expression mirrored her earlier one, confusion on her face cocked to the side.
“And I love you.” The redhead decided to play along, though she had no idea where the brunette was going. She watched as the younger blinked, her eyes clouded with skepticism and something else.
“Show me. Show me how much you love me.”