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Natasha comes to, body stiff and the taste of copper on her tongue. She hears her door open, unsurprised. She knows it is Wanda. This had become a habit of theirs, checking in when one of them was having a particularly bad night. Natasha would be awakened by the sound of a scream, quickly choked off. Wanda would feel the rolling, gripping terror that Natasha felt during her nightmares, projected straight through the wall and into Wanda's own mind, waking her up like a slap.
They had both resisted at first, wanted to help the other without accepting help. It became clear rather quickly that this wasn't a reasonable arrangement, and they are slowly getting used to this new openness, this new vulnerability. A few months ago Natasha would have called it a new weakness, but she was beginning to rethink that - or at least trying to.
Wanda slips in, the door closing behind her with a soft click. As usual, she wears an oversized T-shirt to bed, big enough it goes down to the middle of her thighs. Natasha watches it swish as Wanda walks, trying to steady her breathing. She shifts over, making room for Wanda in her bed. This had been the hardest part for her so far: she had never really shared a bed before. On missions, sex was reserved for impersonal hotel beds or the beds of her partners, with the bed sharing only the means to an end: intel, blackmail, what have you. Between being a trained assassin and being an Avenger, she had never really had time (interest? energy? courage?) for dating. So her bed was her private place, her sanctuary. She did not offer it lightly.
Wanda slides in next to her, not yet touching. She smiles at Natasha softly, and despite her still pounding heart and the taste of blood in her mouth, she smiles back tentatively.
“Hi,” Wanda says, voice gentle but a bit rough around the edges from sleep, resting her head on her hand.
“Hey,” Natasha replies, voice hoarse.
“Bad one this time?”
Natasha almost blows it off, still in the habit of hiding herself away. Seeing the look in Wanda's eyes, a look of empathy and care but not of pity (never of pity), she sighs. “Yeah,” she says, clearing her throat. “Yeah, uh, worse than it's been in awhile.”
Wanda just nods. “Okay. What can I do?” The subtext of this question: What do you want me to do? What will you allow me to do? But Wanda knew better than to ask in a way that is too direct or too indirect. They had been doing this long enough now that they had a sort of dark dance routine memorized, a beautiful and poignant piece that shouldn’t need to exist, but it did. Of course it did.
Natasha closes her eyes, erratic heart finally slowing. Wanda’s voice was like a balm, not repairing her cracked edges, but soothing them. Protecting them. Natasha keeps her eyes closed (an act of deep trust and deep fear simultaneously) and takes a breath in through her nose. “Can you just hold me?”
“Of course,” comes Wanda’s voice in the dark, and soon she feels a hand gliding softly over her stomach, settling onto her opposite side. The hand never losing contact, never doing anything surprising. Wanda knows what she needs, she always knows, and Natasha tries not to think about how much that both terrifies and thrills her. Wanda pulls herself closer, resting her head on Natasha’s shoulder. “Is this okay?” Wanda’s breath washes over her collarbone and Natasha shudders involuntarily.
“Yes.”
They lay quietly for a few moments, the taste of blood finally receding from Natasha’s tongue. She isn’t sure what possesses her to do it, but without thinking Natasha leans down and presses a kiss to the top of Wanda’s head. Natasha freezes instantly, but her rising panic is quelled when she feels Wanda’s lips smile into her skin. She exhales and tries to relax her tense muscles. She hears Wanda’s breathing even out not long after, arm still wrapped tightly around Natasha’s torso. Natasha leans her head closer to Wanda’s, whispering goodnight to her in Russian and lets the feeling of Wanda’s warm body tucked into hers lull her back to sleep.
With her last nightmare being so bad, she shouldn’t have expected a reprieve. Yet it is with no small amount of bitterness that she realizes it’s happening again. But this time, the dream is different. Normally it’s something regarding her past, and she’s forced to see her own regrets played in front of her, or forced to live them once again. Rarely it’s about the Avengers, about her friends that are becoming her family. Tonight, it’s about Wanda.
Although she was at first aware it was a dream, that awareness has slipped away, and suddenly she is standing next to Wanda as men are grabbing her, slapping a collar on her that somehow incapacitates her powers. She tries to use her hand-to-hand combat skills that she and Natasha had practiced so much, but the men are too strong, and there are too many of them. Wanda looks up at her, pleading. Natasha has been watching this happen with an odd kind of detached terror, unable to look away but somehow unable to move to help her. She watches Wanda’s eyes widen, and traces their path to her own hands. They are held up in front of her, pointing a gun at Wanda’s head. “No,” Natasha says, horrified, “No!”
“Natasha?” Wanda’s voice comes to her now, thick with fear. “Natasha, what are you doing? Natasha, please!”
The gun kicks in her hand, and she doesn’t even hear the shot ring out. She watches Wanda’s head snap backward, a bullet perfectly in the center of her forehead. Natasha has never been anything but precise. She opens her mouth and screams.
“Natasha!” Natasha’s eyes shoot open, body jerking upright. She looks over at Wanda, whose eyes are still soft and caring but with an underlying fear. She hates that she put that there. Natasha puts her fist in her mouth and sobs.
“Natasha, hey, it’s okay,” Wanda says gently, her accent peeking through more than normal with her concern. Natasha shakes her head, hard, body quaking with the force of her grief. “Yes, lyubov, it is. You’re okay. I’m right here. Is it okay if I touch you?”
Most of her mind is screaming at her to tell her no, no, I’ll hurt you, don’t come close . But the other part, the traitorous part that apparently controls her motor functions allows her to nod, and she feels Wanda come and sit behind her, against the headboard, and Natasha is gently pulled to lean back against her, sitting between her legs. She hates herself, but she turns into the embrace anyway, face pressing into Wanda’s shoulder. She continues to cry, trying to be quiet, but loud sobs still occasionally escape. She bites down on her fist to stop herself, burning with shame that mixes with her fear and grief, but is unfortunately not enough to overcome them. Wanda gently pulls Natasha’s fist from her mouth, placing a light kiss there. “It’s okay, lyubov. It’s just me.” She wraps her arms around Natasha, who is still curled between her legs, and rests her cheek on the top of her fiery hair. Natasha sucks in a breath, and continues to cry, not bothering to hide it now. Even as she craves Wanda’s touch, Wanda’s comfort, Wanda, she tries to speak through her tears.
“You have to g-go.” Natasha says, trying to say it with conviction but really just sounding shattered. “You shouldn’t b-be here.”
Wanda just holds her tighter. “Why?” she asks gently, beginning to stroke one hand up and down her spine.
“I’ll h-hurt you.”
“No you won’t.”
“Yes I will.”
“No, lyubov. You would never hurt me.”
“What if I do?” Natasha asked desperately, her sobs finally subsiding but the beast that is her fear, her guilt, still howling in the space where her heart should be.
“Nat, what is this about? Was it your dream?”
Natasha nodded, head still tucked under Wanda’s chin. “I-I dreamed that men came and took your powers and tied you up, and I couldn’t protect you. Then I was holding a gun and I- and I-”
“You killed me,” Wanda says indifferently.
“ Yes . While you looked me in the eyes and-and asked me not to do it.”
“Natasha, none of that was real. None of that could ever be real.”
“How do you know that, Wanda?”
“Do you trust me?”
The question caught Natasha off guard. “Of course,” she answered quickly, because she did. With anything.
“Okay. I want to show you something. It will be some of my own thoughts and feelings, and I hope they help you understand why you could never hurt me.” Natasha nodded, a little afraid, but willing to do just about anything for Wanda. Wanda pressed her hand against the back of Natasha’s head, cupping it gently. “Are you ready?” Natasha nodded again, closing her eyes as she felt Wanda’s magic begin slowly pushing into her thoughts.
Natasha was surprised to see herself staring at her, the softest look on her face she had ever seen. She was tucking a piece of hair behind Wanda’s ear, who was trembling in her bed. A nightmare, Natasha realized. This was the last time Wanda had had a really bad one, and they had stayed up together the rest of the night. It skipped to morning, and Wanda was apologizing about keeping her up. “Sorry,” she said again, earnestly. “Don’t be,” Natasha murmured, smiling. “I’m not.” The swoop of affection that Natasha felt at that moment was Wanda’s, she realized. Wanda was allowing her to see her memories as she had lived them.
After this, it was more sporadic. A shot of them on a battlefield, sounds of a war raging around them, as Natasha shot a man quickly who was approaching Wanda. Natasha felt Wanda’s heart burn with pride and appreciation. Natasha and Wanda, sitting together in the library and reading together under a blanket, completely at ease. Natasha felt Wanda’s deep trust and this time, a specific thought: If I could do this forever, with her, I would . One more of Natasha asleep in Wanda’s arms, Wanda slipping back into sleep feeling overwhelmingly safe and thinking Someday I will be able to take this pain away; for now, I am happy to share it .
Wanda gently pulls her magic away, and Natasha opens her eyes. “I trust you, Natasha. With all of myself, I trust you. You can trust yourself, too.”
In awe, Natasha lifts her head to look at Wanda, eyes that were before filled with fear filled with wonder. After seeing into Wanda’s mind, after literally experiencing things how she did, it was impossible to doubt her intentions. She genuinely cared about Natasha. Deep down, Natasha knew this, of course, but her doubts got the better of her sometimes. And by showing Natasha her own trust, which Natasha knew was not given easily, she was able to think that maybe, maybe , she wasn’t bad for Wanda. Maybe she shouldn’t be so afraid of what she can do. She would never hurt Wanda. She could never hurt Wanda, not on purpose.
Natasha wraps her arms around Wanda tightly, who quickly returns the favor. “Thank you,” Natasha rasps, voice still hoarse from crying. “I’m sorry I broke down on you like that.”
“You don’t have to apologize, Natasha. Thank you for allowing me to be here.”
Natasha sighs tiredly, burrowing her head into Wanda’s chest again. “I don’t deserve someone like you, Wanda. You are too kind to me.”
Wanda clicks her tongue, a single finger lightly hitting Natasha’s back. “Enough of that, lyubov. You are incredible. You are the strongest person I’ve ever met. No kindness is too great for you, and if anything you deserve someone far better than me. But until you kick me out, you’re stuck with me. I’m right where I want to be, and you’ll just have to accept that.”
Natasha lets out a wet laugh. “There’s no one better than you, Wanda. And I certainly don’t plan on kicking you out.” Although she had said it multiple times tonight, it wasn’t until now that she realizes what Wanda had been calling her. “You.. You’ve been calling me lyubov.” Wanda tenses minutely, lets out a breath.
“Yes,” Wanda replies carefully.
“Why?”
A pause, then: “I don’t know. It just feels right. Is that… is that okay?”
Natasha looks up at the other woman, who is looking decidedly bashful. “Yes. Yes, Wanda. I like it.” In response, Wanda’s mouth turns up in a nearly blinding smile, which Natasha can’t help but return.
“Okay,” She says softly. “Do you want to try to sleep again?”
Natasha reaches for her phone to check the time, squinting from the brightness. 4:48 am. “No. No, I think I’m going to watch the sunrise. Would you like to come with me?”
Wanda smiles brightly again. “I would love to. Would you like to take a quick shower? I can make us tea.”
Natasha grins at her, thankful that she knows her so well. “Yes, that sounds perfect. Can you bring my blanket up to the roof? I’ll meet you there.” Wanda nods, reaching down and giving Natasha’s hand a final squeeze.
She walks out Natasha’s door, presumably heading to change before she goes to the kitchen. The way she looks in the night is another bit of herself she will only share with Natasha, and Natasha feels her heart warm at the thought.
---
When she walks out onto the roof, she walks to the far end to find Wanda leaning back against the wall of the east stairway, sitting on Natasha’s blanket and sipping her tea, looking meditatively over the landscape. She is wearing black leggings and a simple t-shirt, her hair down. Natasha smiles at the sight. “You look beautiful,” she says, not thinking. Not thinking seemed to be her theme when she was alone with Wanda lately.
Wanda just grins, setting down her mug. She extends a hand to Natasha, which she takes and sits down next to her. “Thanks. So do you, as always.” Natasha scoffs. “I’m serious, Nat. You’re radiant.”
Natasha blushes, rolling her eyes. “Flatterer.” Wanda bats her with her hand, softly, and reaches over to hand her a cup of tea.
“Here’s your tea, stubborn woman.”
“Rude!” Now it was Wanda’s turn to roll her eyes, picking up her own cup of tea.
Wanda inhales sharply. “Nat, the sky!” Natasha looks up and sure enough, the sky in front of them was glowing with streaks of pink and orange, looking almost ethereal. She looks over to Wanda, who was still looking entranced, an awed smile on her face.
“Wanda,” Natasha says, and Wanda’s face turns to hers, her expression of awe not leaving when her eyes fall on Natasha. Natasha’s heart swoops with something strong (affection? love? She’d figure it out later) and she sets her mug down quickly. “Wanda,” she says softly, reaching over to cup her cheek. “Can I kiss you?”
Without turning, Wanda sets her mug down too. She places a hand over hers. “Yes, lyubov,” she says reverently. “Please kiss me.” Natasha turns more fully toward her, reaching to cup her other cheek too. Wanda’s arms move to fall on Natasha’s hips. Natasha connects their lips slowly, softly, trying to communicate all the things she’s too afraid to say into the kiss. Wanda seems to understand, because Natasha can almost feel Wanda’s affection and comfort coming off of her, wrapping them both in a different kind of shield than the ones they were accustomed to, the ones used only on a battlefield. They kiss softly for a few more moments, finally breaking apart to lean their foreheads together.
“Lyubov,” Wanda says now, pausing. Natasha opens her eyes, looking into the other woman’s.
“Yeah?”
“Would you go out to dinner with me tonight?”
Natasha grins. “Yeah. Yeah I would love to.” Wanda grins back, leaning in to kiss her again. They pull away, still smiling, and go back to lean against the wall. Natasha reaches over and takes Wanda’s hand in hers, rubbing her thumb slowly across its back.
That’s how they welcome a new day: together, hands intertwined, smiles on their faces and contentment in their hearts.