Chapter 13
One of Tony's numerous vinyls was being blasted in the nearly deserted compound. Natasha was swinging in the living room in rythm, a bottle of champagne in her hand. She didn't dance much anymore, her body was not ready to repeat gestures that were once familiar yet filled with sorrow now.
Wanda was looking at her from the couch, a full content smile expanding on her lips. It felt good, just right.
The pair had made sure to make fun of Tony's taste in music – well, mostly Natasha. The witch hadn't exactly had the opportunity to extend her musical culture. So the redhead kindly sat with her on the floor to tell her some stories aboud the bands, or simply to share her personal taste. Wanda was glad, she could use this sort of information.
This night, she learnt how much Natasha was passionated about music in a very methodical manner. As much as she wished to, the spy would never listen to music when she was oustide – in an unsafe environment, to be precise. She would only listen to it in her room, sometimes to calm her moods. Natasha liked lots of various genres, each of them suited for an emotion.
Wanda was plainly fascinated by the stunning woman. Fascinated by the way her mind worked so logically. Fascinated by her ability to keep herself sane after all she went through. Fascinated by her incapacity to see how everything she managed to do was impressive.
Natasha was simply wearing sweatpants and a black tank top. But god, Wanda couldn't get enough of her. And she was caught staring by the redhead. She could try blaming her state of lust on the alcohol, but Natasha remained too careful : she noticed that Wanda hadn't drank, of course. The spy never missed a thing, it was a bittersweet skill.
“Want some ?” she offered the bottle. “He won't notice,” she informed, as if it mattered – they both knew it didn't. Wanda had no issue with wasting some of Tony's money or ressources, she still wasn't a fan.
She shook her head in rejection, “I'm afraid I'll do something stupid.” The honesty of her confession stole a magnificient smile from Natasha, as if it truly meant something good to her. She saw right through the witch, it made her feel slightly uneasy.
Natasha had that insane confidence that had intimated Wanda at first. She could flirt with anyone without seeming uncomfortable, whereas the witch felt like she was rarely at ease – but it was different with Natasha now. It didn't feel hard to talk to her.
“I believe it's time to paint your nails,” the dark-haired woman announced, displaying a playful grin. Natasha shook her head in disbelief, “Oh, come on... Are you twelve ?” Even if her remark technically sounded mean, her tone was very loving.
“This is protocol, Romanoff,” she seriously answered. “Otherwise this is not a real sleepover.”
She's really annoying was all Natasha could think, but she didn't fight this time. She just sat on the couch, giving up easily, “Fine. But don't ruin my nails.”
Wanda let out a small excited noise before leaving the room to get her obviously black nail polish – it was the first thing her new team bought her. Pepper's idea. All the spy could do was mutter a delicate “Oh my god...”
She rolled her eyes when Wanda came back with the biggest grin, when truly, she hadn't felt this good in months.
The witch was looking at her intensely, “Can I touch your hand ?” Natasha's first instinct was to make a snarky remark about how it would possible to apply nail polish if she didn't, but she stayed quiet. So that she could let what just happened sink in.
Wanda asked before doing anything, even if her answer would most likely be positive considering she had previously agreed with the concept as a whole. She still asked.
Natasha often despised being so heavily traumatised for lots of reasons, and she found a new one at this instant. Wanda's kind natural attention would have brought her to tears if she didn't have the ability to manage her emotions. She felt very relieved she could, because she didn't want to ruin the moment.
“Yeah. Go ahead,” she finally replied, steady and confident. Therefore, Wanda took her hand, laid it on her own thigh for practicality – which she quickly regretted, it arose a warmth in the area, which was spreading everywhere.
Natasha was also sensitive to the woman's touch. Her hand felt warm and electric, like she had been woken up from a long dream. She couldn't tell if it was because of the witch's powers or because she was falling hard. Anyway, it wasn't good.
“How are your hands so soft ?” the question left Wanda's lips without a warning. The spy had managed to get her to a state where her thoughts would escape her mind, unaccompanied by a moment of overthinking beforehand.
Natasha simply let down her head with a subtly soft smile. She truly was enjoying this... Maybe it wasn't so bad to create a genuine bond with someone whose opinion she really valued and not ruin it.
“Moisturiser,” she smiled again, fairly, “You're gonna need it once you go on missions all the time like us.” Wanda's wrist was still resting, and so was the witch – on Natasha's orders. She had seen a lot of injuries that had not been treated properly, she wasn't taking any chances with the Sokovian. “I moisturise every day when I'm not on a mission, without a miss.”
It felt odd to imagine Natasha put lotion on her hands, nay other parts of her body. Wanda liked the idea of the redhead taking care of herself in a simple way. She liked the fact that Natasha could effortlessly break someone's neck but managed to still look great.
Getting closer to her was a real blessing. It was incredible to see all the humanity of Natasha upclose. Wanda had never doubted it, but it felt good to know all of this.
“Yeah, I'll start looking for a good one.”
The music had stopped. The night had long fell. They were both lying somewhere in the living room.
Natasha sacrificied herself ; she rose to her feet and went searching for a new vinyl in Tony's wide collection. She came across one, kept it in her steady hands and stayed quiet for a while.
Wanda could read Natasha's silences better now : this one was heavy. It meant something she didn't know of. “What is it ?” she wondered out loud. Not a soul could tell if the spy would answer, or if she would reply with honesty.
The redhead sat on the floor, legs crossed and vinyl still in her hands. She breathed in deeply. She could feel Wanda's stare grow more attentive, behind her back. “I had a sister,” Natasha simply said.
From this moment, Wanda never thought about Natasha the same. This single sentence changed almost everything – for the better. The Sokovian felt significantly less alone. As much as she hated the idea of it, Natasha had lost a lot as well, which meant she understood the pain. She knew what Wanda was feeling, she was not pretending or trying to picture what it was like, such as Vision.
Natasha was a fighter. The kind who would risk everything to save the ones she cared for. The kind who would prepare her team for the worst if it meant it could make a difference in a one-time scenario. The kind who had been so hurt she couldn't even voice it.
She hoped – despairly hoped – Natasha would go on. And she did. “Yelena,” she smiled to herself. She hadn't pronounced this name in years, only to Clint when she had recounted some of her tragic life story.
“We used to listen to this album all the time. Dad introduced it to us. She used to sing that one song at any time,” she paused, to feel the memory better. “She didn't even understand the lyrics, and she didn't know some words. So sometimes it didn't make much sense,” she let out one of those laughters filled with wistfulness, slowly followed by one of Wanda's.
“We would blast it and jump around in the living room, pretending to fight ghosts. It was stupid...” she shook her hand, an earnest smile hanging on her lips. “We even broke a lamp once. Mom kept it a secret from dad.”
She turned to see Wanda, fully smiling at her with loud emotions in her eyes. They both smiled in understandment, and the Sokovian got up to sit beside the spy.
Wanda moved her hand next to Natasha's, giving her enough time to reject the gesture, but she didn't. Natasha stared at their hands, fingers interlocked, Wanda's thumb gently caressing her skin. She wanted to feel this safe forever.
After a long moment filled with peaceful silence, Natasha spoke again, “Look. We have matching nails.” Wanda let out an honest laughter, “We do.” A few tears fell from her dark green eyes, tears that Natasha gently wiped off with her free thumb, without a word.
“Let's go look at the stars,” she offered, but it sounded demanding – it was Natasha, after all. “Take a coat, it's cold out there in december.”
And this is how, somehow, Wanda ended up on the compound rooftop at midnight, shoulder slightly brushing with Natasha's.
Natasha was one woman of a kind, she'd act tough when people were around but when the witch mildly stroked her hand, her cheeks couldn't help but grow pinker.
She could easily get used to it.