Thumbs
Natasha despised it when her co-workers approached her to take their shifts. She was too proud to ask anyone for help, even when she was sick. But now she loved taking extra shifts just to spend time with you. Natasha spent all her spare time at your apartment, which was above your shop. She barely went to her own place. After almost two weeks of her spending every night in your house — you proposed the idea of her moving in — very subtly — at least that was what you thought. But Natasha could see your anxiety behind the faux calmness, and it didn't take her more than a second to say yes.
Natasha admired as you arranged the flowers in a garland, you eyed the final output again and smiled at the result. You were such a remarkable florist. You had her in your grasp since the first time she saw your talented work at Sam and Bucky's wedding and when you made cookies for her. Damn, having you as a girlfriend was a treat. Because of you, Natasha had domesticity, a sense of belonging that she didn’t know existed. You did nice things for her without special occasions, and that made Natasha fall in love with you even more.
After your first date, Natasha didn't waste time — she had ordered something from you almost every week in hopes of seeing you frequently, and you put in extra effort into her flowers. You even bought different varieties of flora especially to make her arrangement look colorful. Every time, Natasha looked forward to the way your beautiful eyes filled with delight when she liked a bouquet, and that was all it took for her to tell you she loved you. And you confessed your love instantly as well.
Your ringing phone brought her back from her thoughts. You placed the flowers on the workshop, still unaware of your girlfriend watching you as you answered the call. It gave her more time to think about you — as if she didn't constantly think about you.
A raise in your voice brought her attention to you, and she followed the direction where you went. Turning towards you, Natasha found you with tears in your eyes. In an instant, she was standing in front of you, taking your face in her hands as she asked. “What’s wrong?”
“My dad is in town.” Your voice was barely audible, and Natasha wouldn't have heard if she wasn't standing so close to you. “He wants to meet.”
“You don't have to go. “ Natasha knew that you had a rocky relationship with your dad. He wasn't much of a parent anyway. Very early in your relationship, she caught on that your dad wasn't a topic you wanted to dwell in, and she respected that. She gave you time to come to her and tell her when you felt comfortable. Natasha didn't think it'd take so long for you to confide in her, but it took you almost a year.
“I have to.”
“Then I am coming with you,” Natasha decided and as you shook your head, she repeated. “I am coming with you.”
You sighed in defeat because you knew better. You knew Natasha wouldn’t take no for an answer, so you just nodded.
***
You were always so confident and sure of yourself, but ever since you got the call from your dad, you had been distant. Your girlfriend insisted multiple times that you don't have to go, but she wasn't the only one that was stubborn in the relationship.
You preferred not to see your drunk father blabber about your flaws either, but you wanted to show him that you were in a better place. You wanted him to know that his shitty parenting didn't deter you from becoming a wonderful person. Not only that, but you wanted to return the money he sent you on your birthdays. Well, around your birthday. He never got the date right. He didn't even remember it. You shook your head, huffing bitterly at the thought. You intended to return the money when you turned 20, but your financial condition wasn't strong. Starting your own business was already hard enough, so you had to put your pride aside and accept any financial help you could get.
And that was how you ended up sitting in a bar at 11 am, with your hand gently wrapped around your girlfriend's thigh. She grounded you, and right now, you needed your anchor. You needed to remember that you were in a better place, you weren't the scared little girl that always flinched whenever you saw a sudden movement. Well, you still did, but you didn't want him to know that he still had any sort of impact in your life.
On the other hand, Natasha hated this — hated how you were voluntarily putting yourself in a position that was mentally harming you. You had told her about your father and from what she understood, he wasn't a good man. He wasn't the kind of man who would care about his daughter. He wouldn't have abandoned you and your family if he cared. She knew you didn't care about him either — it was some sort of sick revenge for you — to shove your happiness in his face. But Natasha wasn't oblivious, deep inside you were doing this to get some sort of validation from an absent father. As messed up as it sounded, you wanted him to tell you that you were doing good and that he was proud of you. Natasha didn't know much about families. Her family consisted of Steve, Sam, Bucky and you, but one thing she knew was that she'd do anything for her family.
And you were willingly putting yourself in a harmful situation, and if that was what you wanted, then Natasha would clean your wounds later. She would pick up everything you thought was scattered inside you and show you how wrong you were. Because in reality, you were amazing and to her, you were perfect in every sense, and she intended to display you just that with love.
Suddenly, a man walked into the bar, quickly recognizing you,, and you gave him a smile that didn't reach your eyes. Natasha felt your body tense up beside her when the same man — your father, took a place in front of you both. She placed her palm on your hand that was resting on her thigh, squeezing it — assuring you that she was here for you. The first thing she noticed about your father was his eyes. He had your eyes or, well, you had his eyes, and it made her shiver up. Natasha loved your eyes and seeing the same color reflected from a person that didn't have value like yours made her feel disgusted — vulnerable even, like he knew a part of her that belonged to you — only you.
But you, you were stiff as a board beside her. You still kept on with your faux show as you called for the waiter.
“Rum and coke,” Your dad ordered and when the waiter looked at you and Natasha, both of you murmured your preferred non-alcoholic drink. It was noon, and as much as Natasha wanted to drink away your father's words, she wanted to be sober for you.
"You're not drinking?" Your dad commented on both of your orders. He shook his head as he joked. “You're not 18 yet?”
“You wouldn't know, since you don't even remember my birthday,” You replied. You weren’t being sarcastic, you were stating a fact.
Your father scoffed, muttering something about you being a brat. None of you said a word when your orders finally arrived. Natasha was glad for that, she wanted to be done with this, so she could hold you. Your father took a massive gulp, eyeing Natasha in inspection.
“I see you're still keeping up the lifestyle,” He commented with displeasure, taking another considerable chug of his drink. Natasha was about to say something, but you quickly took her hand in yours, indicating her to just let it go. And reluctantly, she did.
Intentionally, you looked at the drink in his hand as you stated, “I could say the same about you.”
“Why did you want to meet me?” You spoke again. “What do you want?”
“I thought it was obvious. I wanted to avoid pressurizing you, considering your business and stuff. I told you not to put money in that stupid profession. Did you know that your sister returned all the money before she turned 20 and — "
Before he could continue with his rant, you cut him off. “I have the money. All of it. I don't need it, you know. My shop is actually doing pretty well.”
He scoffed again, shaking his head as he muttered ‘flower shop’ in a tone that could only be considered condescending.
You didn't let his behavior or the way he was looking down at you deter you. “And I make enough to support myself,” You added.
“It's easy to say when you don't have a wife and two daughters hanging on your neck. Demanding all these things whenever you wanted to work on your family -”
“You were barely home!” You raised your voice, not having the patience to listen to him as he talked shit about your sister and mother. “You weren't there. We were kids. Kids that you decided to have. If we were such a burden to you, then why even bother to have kids?”
"You know what,” You decided, clutching your girlfriend's hand tighter in your grasp. It was tight — too tight, and it must have hurt her, but she didn't say anything. You placed the money you owed him on the table and called for the server. “Here's the check. This is all the money you’ve ever sent me. Please don't contact me again.”
You thought — hoped he would apologize or ask you to stay or at least he would tell you he wasn't concerned about the money — that he cared about you. But he simply blinked, examining the check on the table, and that broke you. You felt like the little kid you once were, waiting for approval from a person who wasn't the father you needed him to be. A parent was supposed to love you no matter what and he — well, he just loved the booze.
Tears welled up in your eyes at the realization. Nothing mattered to him, not you, not your sister, and not even your mother. And you would have broken down on the bar's floor if your girlfriend didn't squeeze your hand at that very moment. Natasha curled her other hand around your elbow, balancing you to stay still and tentatively, you rested some of your body weight on her, and she held you, supporting your body precisely the way she supported you.
“We're leaving,” Natasha announced, gently wrapping her hand around your waist as she nudged you to move out of that place and away from the bar and that horrible man you called dad.
When you left, you two felt his gaze on your back, and you straightened instantly. Without saying a word, your girlfriend walked in the wrong direction with you before calling for a cab.
***
If Natasha thought you were distant before meeting your father, she was so wrong. After that evening, you barely looked at her. You didn't hum while working, and you were almost always zoned out while hanging out with your friends.
It terrified Natasha — the fear of losing you was making her anxious. She was desperate when she asked Sam and Bucky, and they advised her to give you some space. Sam started dropping by frequently to your shop to joke around with you, and Natasha held you tighter every night. You were slipping away from her grasp, and it made the mere task of breathing difficult for her.
She could hear you sob in the bathroom every night, still, she didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say — she just held you every night — tighter than before.
One day, when Natasha returned home, she found you baking and humming a song. You hadn't baked since that meeting with your father. It was like you had retreated from everything that brought you joy. So to see you whisk batter and sway your hips to a tune she didn't care about enough to recognize made Natasha's heart swell and eyes well up in relief.
You felt your girlfriend and turned around to find her. “Hey,” You mumbled, avoiding her gaze. “I hope you're hungry.”
And that was when Natasha noticed the dining table filled with her favorite dishes and decorated with the beautiful arrangement of flowers. All of that done by you, she presumed.
Both of you didn't say a word until you got settled on the table with your respective plates filled with food. For the first time, the gaps in the conversation between you two were uncomfortable. You weren't used to this. You were used to comfortable silence, not fumbling words that were just there to prevent awkwardness.
“I'm sorry,” You apologized out of nowhere, maintaining eye contact with Natasha for the first time after so long. “I'm sorry for being so distant lately. I didn't mean to do that.”
Lightly, out of instinct or just sheer habit, Natasha placed her hand on yours and rubbed the pads of her thumb across your knuckles. “Sweetheart, I love you, you know that, right?” You nodded and she continued. “Then talk to me, please. You're clearly bothered by what happened with your father. And if you don't wanna talk to me, then that's fine too, just talk to someone.”
You nodded again. Natasha waited for you to say something — assert in some way that you were here with her — you were listening, that she hadn't lost you completely. But when no reply came from your side, Natasha sighed, shoulders shrugging down in defeat.
Natasha was about to get back to the delicious food you had prepared when you finally spoke again. “What if I turn out like him?”
“Hm?”
“Substance abuse can be hereditary. I read that when I was 13, and I was so scared to even try alcohol or anything addictive for that matter. What if I turn out like him — miserable, drunk, and angry. At the end of the day, I am his blood — his daughter.”
Natasha's heart broke at your words. She stood up from the seat and made her way towards you, gently cupping your face in her palms as she made you look up at her. “Hey, baby. No,” She ran her thumb under your eyes, ridding your face of the wetness there. “You're not like him at all. You are kind, caring, and patient, and he's a drunk old man. You could never be like him.”
“But I am his daughter,” You retorted, sniffling at the fear you had carried your whole life.
“You're only connected to him by a mere coincidence. He doesn't define you, baby. You do.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
Habitually, you got on your feet and brought your girlfriend flush against you in an embrace. Natasha let out a breath at that sudden movement before lacing her arms around you just as tightly. She hadn’t lost you. She realized that she could never lose you. As long as both of you communicate with the other, you'd be happy.
Natasha felt tears land on her shoulder, but she didn't say anything, instead, she just rubbed her hand around your spine in a soothing manner — letting you let all the held tears out.
And oh boy, you cried. You sobbed on her shoulder ferociously, while Natasha murmured words of assurance in your ears.
As planned, Natasha picked up everything you thought was scattered inside you and showed you how amazing you were; because to her, you were perfect.