The One Where Natasha Finds Out What She's Capable Of
Natasha loved her powers. They were an all-access pass to whatever she wanted. One Rumor, and Wanda would stop playing. One Rumor, and Tony would stop banging around in his room that doubled as a workshop. One Rumor and Peter would turn down his music that was always blaring.
One Rumor and Steve would pay attention to her for an entire afternoon.
Natasha wasn't sure how far it could go. How far it would go. She found out one day during free time, when Peter was chattering up a storm next to them.
Steve was with her, and Natasha knew that she only had a few moments before he went chasing after Dad, desperate for his attention, and he'd leave Natasha out in dust, alone, and her temper snapped. She stormed over to Peter's room, where Bruce, Wanda and Tony were all sitting with him.
(Why did everyone love Peter so much?)
(Why didn't they love her that much?)
"I heard a Rumor you couldn't talk for a long time," she half snarled. Peter's eyes glowed, but nothing happened. Peter gazed at her, wide-eyed, and Natasha stomped away the guilt that pooled in her chest at the hurt look in his eyes.
"LA LA LA LA," Peter trilled. "Still works!" he cheered.
(The hurt look was still in his eyes)
Steve was standing by Peter's door when Natasha came out, leaning against the wall. "Come on," she grumbled, dragging him into her room and slamming the door shut.
When the bell rang, Steve half ran out, desperate to be first to the table, yet another ploy to get Dad to like him. Natasha rolled her eyes and walked out slowly. Tony grinned at her smugly when he saw her walking out alone. "Your puppy run to another master?"
"Shove it," she growled. She felt hurt that ever since she'd Rumored him to see what Peter's powers were like, he'd stuck to him like glue. She used to like him, but not enough to try and Rumor him back to her and Steve. At least now she got Steve's undivided attention.
In all her misery, she forgot about the Rumor. She remembered when Peter slipped on water that wasn't there before she could've swore or Steve would've fell, too and tumbled down the marble stairs.
"PETER!!!" Tony cried in fright, running down the stairs until he reached him, Bruce and Wanda on his heels. "Mom! MOM!!" Tony yelled, cradling Peter's head to his chest. Bruce looked sick, and Wanda was clutching his arm for comfort. Natasha stood frozen at the top, horror dawning on her face.
"It's alright, dear," Mom said soothingly. In her horror, Natasha hadn't noticed her arriving. "Your brother will be just fine." Tony let go of Peter reluctantly, stepping back and wrapping an arm around Bruce, who still looked sick.
Peter got some minor cuts and bruises.
The only major injury was a broken jaw, that required his jaw to be wired shut for six weeks.
oOo
No one said it, but Natasha knew everyone blamed her for the silence that descended over the mansion for the next six weeks. She could see it in Tony refusing to hold back on her during sparring, in Bruce's eyes flashing green whenever he looked at her, at Wanda's almost furious playing whenever she drew near.
Natasha felt guilt pool in her gut whenever she saw Tony and Bruce gently coaxing Peter to sip at the obviously nasty concoctions Mom gave to him, at Wanda filling the silences that Peter clearly despised with beautiful melodies.
While Natasha did feel bad, she couldn't deny the heediness of power that she felt every time the words exited her mouth. The feeling she got when the other person's eyes turned white, and the undeniable triumph that ran in her veins when they did what she wanted.
It occurred to her at that moment, she could be the most powerful person in the world.
But then she'd see Peter's miserable eyes whenever he had to eat, she'd see Tony pacing nervously whenever he couldn't work into the late hours of the night and make sure he could shoot right, she'd see the panic on Wanda's face when she couldn't do the one thing she was good and she'd realize that while she could be the most powerful person in the world, it wouldn't be worth the misery it caused.
But there was one selfish desire she decided to allow herself. One final wish.
Steve came into her room that night, as usual, wearing his hair in its normal slightly gelled thing he had going on.
Natasha cupped his face in her arms and pulled his face close to hers, until their noses were touching. Steve immediately blushed. "I heard a Rumor," she murmured, feeling the usual high of power when his eyes glowed white. "that you loved me."
Steve's eyes slowly stopped glowing, but his gaze changed from fond to adoring. "Natasha," he murmured, eying her as though she was a goddess, and she loved it.
She instinctively pressed their lips together, feeling Steve's arms wrap around her waist and couldn't stop the victorious grin that crossed her face when he gazed at her wonderingly, as though he didn't know that something as beautiful as her could exist.
Years later, when Natasha would kiss a different man every day, and would tuck in a daughter from him into bed every time, she realized that there was a difference between wanting to be loved and wanting to be worshipped.
And she realized that she found out too late.