you hated stark parties. they were loud, messy, annoying and did you mention loud?
being an introvert was a difficult task at the avengers compound, where these sort of events were being held every two weeks.
sighing, you gulp down the last of your drink. today you chose a coke, since you didn’t want to get drunk and embarrass yourself like the others always did.
“having fun?”
“no!” you say over enthusiastically. natasha snorts and shakes her head at you from behind the bar. she looks stunning, wearing a tight black dress that hugs her body perfectly and her red hair loose and wild. she never goes heavy on the make up, you noticed. not that she needs it, she’s breathtakingly beautiful without it.
“you should at least dance to one song, maybe you’ll even enjoy it.” she says, pulling you out of your not so friendly thoughts of her.
“i refuse.”
“don’t act like a petulant child.”
“don’t act like my mother.” natasha smirks. god that smirk. “if you call yourself mommy, i’m leaving.” the redhead shrugs.
“you handed it to me on a silver platter.”
“whatever.” you roll your eyes.
“i’ll have a manhattan, please.” a man slides up next to you on a barstool. natasha nods and begins preparing his drink. you don’t fail to notice the man’s lascivious look as he stares at her. it makes your blood boil. you know she hates when men sexualize her. and, truth be told, you hate it too. maybe not always for the right reasons, but most of the time they are. natasha romanoff is the best person in the entire world. she is also your favorite person in the entire world. she’s super smart, she’s so funny you almost peed yourself an embarrassing amount of times in front of her, she’s brave, she’s so goddamn brave you sometimes wish she wasn’t so she wouldn’t put herself at risk. but that’s the thing about natasha, she does that because she cares. she cares so much about everyone, and contrary to what people would think, it’s not because she feels guilty for her past, but because she’s good. her heart is so good, so kind. and she’s strong, the strongest. you know what she went through and still, she remained good. that takes a hell of a lot strength. and yes, she’s hot. she’s so fucking hot sometimes you can’t believe she’s even real. but she’s so much more than that. she’s your best friend, and the woman that you-
“thanks, gorgeous.” the man’s voice brings you back to reality and you look at him, hoping you’re shooting lasers out of your eyes and burning him. natasha simply nods and looks at you from the corner of her eye. you know what that look means, you know what every look means. if he tries something, i’m gonna shoot him.
you purse your lips to stop yourself from laughing loudly, your anger long forgotten when she enters your line of sight.
the man clears his throat, trying to gain her attention.
“so, you from around here?”
“no.” she tells him. then, she gives him a fake smile. “if you don’t mind, i’m pretty busy.” he does not seem to take the hint, so you turn to him.
“she’s asking you to leave.”
“and who are you?”
“one of tony stark’s closest friends. you wouldn’t want to be black listed for his parties for eternity, would you?” the man widens his eyes a bit. “yeah, i thought so. now, leave.” you shoo him away with a gesture of your hand, almost dismissively and he, thank every god that exists, gets up and leaves.
“my knight in shining armor.” natasha tells you, smirking. “you saved me.” you wish she was right. you wish you had done it to save her instead of yourself. but, to be frank, you didn’t. of course you don’t want her to feel uncomfortable, but you know she can handle herself just fine. the one who couldn’t stand it was you. you are an idiot. an idiot who’s hopelessly in love with her best friend.
“sorry, i know you can defend yourself. i just-“
“you just what?” she raises an eyebrow. you know that expression. it means she’s challenging you to tell her.
“i just hate men.” for a second, she looks almost disappointed. but you probably imagined that.
“yeah.” she nods. “i’m gonna head to the ladies room.” and then she leaves.
you sigh and run your hands over your face. natasha romanoff is going to be the death of you. but oh, what a sweet death.
“when are you gonna tell her?” sam’s voice makes you lift your head up.
“tell who what?”
“tell natasha that you love her.”
“i’ve already told her that a million times.”
“no.” he shakes his head. “that you love her love her, that you wanna kiss her.” you scoff.
“never. oh and also, could you keep it quiet? what if she hears you?”
“then finally you will both admit that you’re in love with one another and stop giving each other longing glances across every single room you’re in.”
“i don’t give her longing glances.” you lie. of course you do.
“uh-huh.”
“whatever samantha. don’t care, didn’t ask. plus i don’t even know if she likes girls.”
“she likes you.”
“as a friend.”
“you are so goddamn stubborn…” he begins saying, but his voice fades into the background when you see her. your breathing stops. she’s dancing. she’s swaying her hips and smiling and she looks so fucking angelic you want to pinch yourself because, surely, this must be a dream. but then, your heart drops to your stomach. he’s touching her. he has his fucking hands on her hips as he dances behind her and she isn’t pushing him away. you feel sick to your stomach. “hey, you there?” sam waves his hand in front of you. “hey…?” he trails off. then he probably follows your line of sight because he ohs in understanding. he says your name and pity drips from it. “they’re just dancing.”
“yeah.” you say, choked up. you hate that seeing her with someone else makes your heart burn from the pain. but it does, and it hurts so much. it was the first time since you admitted to yourself that you were in love with her that you saw her with another person. a man. stupid men and their stupid hands. tears well up in your eyes, but you won’t cry. you refuse to cry. not for love. never.
“what are you doing?” sam asks you as you walk all the way around the bar and crouch under it. “don’t.” he tells you when he sees what’s in your hands. you look at him dead in the eye and gulp down the whiskey straight from the bottle.
////
“woo! this is so fun!” you shout over the music. you’ve been dancing for almost an hour now and you were most definitely drunk. you don’t even notice sam and natasha calling your name.
“what are you doing? you hate drinking.” the redhead frowns.
“maybe it’s time for someone to go to bed.”
“yes, nat. go to bed.” you tell her.
“no, whiskey straight out of the bottle, i’m talking about you.” you laugh at sam’s long nickname but then you pout when you sway and almost fall to the floor. “you wanna take care of it?” he asks the spy and she nods.
“i’ll take her to bed.”
“and what will we do there?” you ask suggestively. natasha looks at you unimpressed.
“you, lay down. me, scold you.”
“are you gonna spank me?” you smirk. she swallows hard. uh oh, she’s mad. you raise your hands innocently in front of you and she rolls her eyes.
“let’s go.” you want to protest but you know better than that. begrudgingly you begin following her, but stop when the room starts to spin. natasha must notice it, because she turns around and puts her arm around your waist and your arm around her shoulders.
the walk to your room is silent, except for your giggles. you don’t really know what you’re giggling about, but she’s here so it makes sense to do so.
she helps you lay down on your bed and takes off your shoes. as she does so, you look at her. god, you love her so much. and god, you are doomed for life.
“you’re never gonna love me.” you blurt out. she looks at you and frowns.
“what?”
“you’re never gonna love me.” you tell her again, pouting. she waits until she’s tucked you in the bed to answer.
“of course i love you.”
“no.” you frown. “you don’t.”
“what are you talking about?”
“i’m so drunk.” you say out of the blue.
“come on, on your side.” you do as she says and position yourself on your side, so you don’t drown in your own vomit and die.
“you don’t want me to die.” you slur, almost asleep now.
“of course i don’t want you to die!” you open your eyes and look at her. she’s kneeling next to you on the bed and sorting out some pills for tomorrow morning. you’re most likely going to need them. she then puts them on your nightstand next to your water bottle.
“but you don’t love me.” you say again. she looks at you, frowning. you stare at her. her green eyes, so kind. her cheeks, you want to squeeze them between your fingers and call her cute. her eyebrows, so perfect. and her lips, god, her lips. they look so soft. you bet they’re warm to the touch. so kissable.
“you’re so beautiful, natty.”
she looks taken aback by that, but she quickly recovers and smiles softly.
“don’t try to sweet talk me into not being mad at you.”
“i’m not!” you protest. “you can be mad at me but you’re still the prettiest girl in the world.”
“you’re drunk.”
“and you’re beautiful.”
she says your name softly with a smile on her face.
“get some rest, detka.” her hand is softly combing through your hair.
“i love it when you call me detka. did i pronounce that right? probably not.” you mumble. she chuckles.
“you pronounced it right.”
“nat…” you say.
“what?”
“i love you.”
“i love you too.”
“no.” you pout. “don’t lie. it’s not nice.” she stops caressing your hair and frowns.
“what is it with you today? of course i love you.”
“no, nat. i love you love you.”
“i love you love you too.” she tells you.
“i love you like i wanna kiss you love you not you’re my best friend love you.” she blinks at you. for a bit she doesn’t say anything. then she briefly shakes her head and sighs.
“you’re drunk. you should get some rest.” your heart breaks. she doesn’t love you like that. you should’ve known. now you’ve ruined everything. tears begin welling up in your eyes and it isn’t long before you’re crying.
“hey, hey- don’t cry.” she tells you as she wipes your tears with her thumb.
“i told you you didn’t love me.” she says your name again and takes a deep breath.
“you’re not gonna remember this but- if you do, we’ll talk in the morning.”
and then she leaves. tonight you are crying yourself to sleep.
////
you open your eyes and stretch your limbs. then, you sit up and immediately groan. the most violent headache is currently splitting your mind into two. what possessed you to drink so fucking much? oh, natasha romanoff and her stupid beautiful self. and seeing her with another man, that definitely didn’t help.
you tsk and roll your eyes.
what even happened last night after you got hammered? how did you even get up to your room? did sam bring you here? did nat? no, she was too busy with someone else.
a knock on your door pulls you out of your thoughts and you tell the person to come in, and even though it comes out more as a mumble, they seem to understand, because the door opens. there, standing in all her glory, is natasha romanoff herself, accompanied by a small brown bag and a coffee, you notice after a bit.
“hey.” she greets you from the doorway.
“hi.”
“i brought you breakfast. figured you might wanna eat before taking an aspirin.”
“thank you.” you tell her and she nods awkwardly. then, she approaches you and sits down on the bed in front of you while your back is against the headboard. “did sam bring me here last night?”
“nope. i did.”
“oh… thanks natty.” she swallows and gives you a small smile that actually resembles more a wince than anything else. weird.
“so… did i do something embarrassing? please tell me i didn’t try to strip on top of a table or something.” she chuckles and shakes her head.
“you didn’t try to strip.”
“but did i do other embarrassing things?” she opens her mouth to speak but then, surprising you, she pauses and abruptly shakes her head. oh no. what did you do that is making her act so strange? you try to remember. you saw her dancing with that man and decided to get drunk. she says she was the one who brought you to your bedroom so something must’ve happened here. did you puke all over her or something? or even worse, did you admit your feelings? your eyes widen. oh no. oh no, oh no, oh no no no. that’s exactly what you did, you goddamn idiot! you remember now. you told her you loved her! you told her you wanted to kiss her! of course she’s being weird!
“nat-“
“you don’t have to say anything.” she cuts you off.
“i really wish that was the case cause i’m really fucking embarrassed but- i need to say something.”
“we all say dumb shit when we’re drunk.”
“i said the dumbest shit i could’ve ever said.” you deadpan. for a second you see a flash of hurt in her eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it appears. could it be that she- no, no, she didn’t feel that way about you.
“nat-“ she puts her hand up.
“don’t need to say anything, i’ll just forget it happened.”
“but nat-“ she says your name again, almost begging.
“please, just drop it. i get it, you didn’t mean what you said. it’s okay.” you open your mouth to say something but then you close it and frown. did she think you didn’t mean what you said? that’s why she wanted you to stop talking about it? because she wanted you to mean it?
“i-“ you look at her with wide eyes. this is it. you’re gonna tell her in the most beautiful, poetic way that you- “i hate men.” what? the redhead frowns. “i meant, i- ugh- i hate men but i especially hate them when they’re dancing with you.”
“what?” she asks now, seemingly confused.
“i saw you dancing with that guy last night. i got- ugh i’m so dumb- i got jealous. i got jealous cause i’m in love with you and… and i want to be the one who dances with you like that.” natasha does not say a word. you simply continue, because of course once you’ve started you can’t stop. “i’m so in love with you nat, i- you are literally my favorite person in the world. you are so smart and funny and kind and strong and- you can totally slap me and never talk to me again but if this is the last time we’re gonna speak i want you to know that- that i love you with my whole heart and i will always love you.” for the first time since you’ve met her, natasha romanoff is speechless. you don’t know if it’s because she’s desperately in love with you too or she’s simply thinking of different ways to kill you and get rid of your body. you really hope it’s the former. “um- could you- could you say something, please?” she blinks but still, nothing. god, you broke her. “nat- i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have-“ and she’s kissing you. natasha’s lips are on yours and you’re in heaven. or something above heaven because this is simply too perfect, too beautiful. she moves against you, softly, so softly, as if she’s afraid to hurt you. your arms are glued to your body and hers are too. almost as if you were scared to break the spell if you touched each other. the kiss is gentle, sweet, but it sends a shock through your body. you’ve never felt like that. kissing was simply not that interesting to you, but now you understand why people in romantic movies do it so often. natasha’s kiss is healing every broken bone inside your body, it’s like a cure, fixing, mending. but unfortunately, it ends all too soon. when she pulls away you let out a soft whine and she chuckles, almost making fun of you. you lay your forehead on hers and you both breathe in deeply. then, you open your eyes to find that she’s already looking at you.
“so, does this mean you love me too?”
“oh no, that was a platonic kiss.”
“natasha!” you whine and she shuts you up by placing another kiss on your lips.
“of course i love you detka. i’ve loved you for so long.”
“i wasn’t even sure if you liked girls.” you tell her as you lift your hand and caress her face.
“i wasn’t either but then…”
“then…” you raise your eyebrows.
“this beautiful girl showed up in my life and i couldn’t help but fall in love with her.” your heart takes a leap and you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning like a maniac.
“what an amazing girl.” you tell her.
“the best.”
“i love you.” you kiss her again. “i’m so happy i think i’m gonna vomit rainbows.” natasha lets out a laugh.
“don’t vomit on me or i’m kicking your ass.” you pout at her.
“you wouldn’t.” she looks at you, serious for a moment. then, she breaks into a smile.
“i wouldn’t.” you laugh breathily and purse your lips.
“i can’t believe i started this whole confession by saying i hate men.” the redhead laughs.
“i can’t believe you said that either.”
“hey!” her shoulders shake as she laughs. she looks so angelic when she’s happy. you sigh softly, dreamily. you might hate men, but you sure as hell don’t hate natasha romanoff.