“Alright, alright, I think it’s time I put Rosie down for a nap, so tone it down will ya?” Natasha asks as she takes an overwhelmed Rosie from Pepper’s arms.
“There’s a bottle in the fridge, love,” you tell her as she just gives you a thumbs up and takes Rosie upstairs to her nursery. The noise from downstairs dies down a little, everybody grabbing some lunch after Morgan mentioned how she was ‘dying of starvation’ and asked for someone to call CPS.
The one year old already seemed less irritated now, far away from all the noise and constantly being cuddled and passed around in everybody’s arms. She settled with her head against Natasha’s chest, her tiny fingers wrapped around the fabric of her t-shirt. Natasha closed the nursery door behind her, settling in on the rocking chair, slowly rocking back and forth as Rosie drifts off to sleep. You would generally fall asleep with Rosie on this chair but honestly, you could fall asleep anywhere. Natasha, on the other hand, was hyper aware. The feeling of her sleeping baby on her chest was something she had grown to love. It felt odd to care for something. After years of killing and destroying, to take care of something was entirely new. A new heat blossomed in her chest, tears inevitable now. This feeling in her chest was new but not unwelcome. She recognised it now, could put a name to it. The feeling of home.
She put baby Rosie in her crib and walked downstairs to find that almost everyone had left and you were tidying up the place of the stray paper cups and pizza boxes.
“Pepper and Morgan are in the guest room, they’re staying the night before they drive back tomorrow morn— baby, what’s wrong?” You drop the half filled cup of wine on the floor when you see her tear stained cheeks, rushing to take her in your arms, knowing she liked having some form of physical touch, something to ground her. She allows you to pull her close, sighing loudly. You keep quiet, ready to listen whenever she decides to tell you what’s wrong. After a couple moments of silence, wrapped in each other’s arms, she finally tells you what’s been on her mind.
“You know, before you, I didn’t have a home,” she can see the question in your eyes, wanting to point out the Avengers, Clint and Laura but she shakes her head. “I had a family, sure. But this, you and Rosie are my home, my everything. Growing up, I never had anything to myself, the Red Room didn’t permit it. And then, I was allowed to have things and I did, but they were never truly mine,” her voice wavers as tears threaten to spill again and you pull her closer, holding her impossibly tight.
“But you, you and Rosie are what’s truly mine and honestly, I couldn’t have asked for anything better, you’re both more than I deserve,” you’re both crying now as you hush her, gently rubbing your hand up and down her back, in the same motions the two of you often did to calm Rosie down.
“Hush, don’t say that. You deserve me and Rosie, and honestly, I couldn’t ask for anyone better to do this with. I love you and nothing will ever change that,” the conviction in your voice convincing her all the more.
“We’ll, good thing we decided not to get carpets until Rosie moves out for college, that wine stain would’ve been a bitch,” she tries to lighten the mood which earns a laugh from you, followed by a sniffle.
“Can I kiss you?” Natasha wonders out loud and lightly brushed her lips against yours in a sweet kiss which you almost immediately deepen. With your body so close to her that you’re almost one, Natasha knows, she’s finally home.