Chapter Text
Paris is overrated. Natasha’s aware of how blasphemous her opinion might sound to many, but it’s one she can’t help but hold. It’s not uncommon to hear people talk about the enchantment they feel simply by walking down the cobblestone streets or by sitting down at a café to watch others go about their day, and while she could concede that Paris is indeed as picturesque as cities come, with a culture and history rich and profound, its allure has always proven elusive to her. If there’s indeed a certain magic in its streets, it’s as though it was interested in encompassing everyone but her.
From where she stands on the main deck of the yacht, though, reminiscing about the last week she and Steve have spent in the city as she takes in the waters of the Seine shimmering under the moonlight, she thinks that maybe, just maybe, she was wrong.
Despite the four years that have passed since she and Steve said I do, agreeing to take time off for just the two of them was not an easy sell. Their daughter notwithstanding, it seemed preposterous to embark on their honeymoon with The Daily’s anniversary issue imminent and Steve’s exhibit opening up at the gallery in a few months, but their friends and family were having none of it. They had put off their honeymoon long enough, they’d all argued, and between the promises from both their mothers to send pictures of Isabel every day and the not-so-veiled threats from Pepper to have IT lock both of them out of the system, she and Steve had reluctantly agreed.
And so began their week of pure, unadulterated bliss. Void of distractions, time felt as if it had slowed to a crawl, spanning endlessly and giving her and Steve the opportunity to leisurely explore every nook and cranny of Paris. It’s then that the city finally exploded in vibrant color for her, too. She’d been to all the sights before, but somehow, taking all of it in has never felt the way it has when she and Steve were strolling through them together, hand in hand. It’s as though the glass houses in the Jardin des Plantes gleamed brighter in the morning sun and the history of the pieces in the Louvre – the backgrounds of which she was already privy to – elicited something more visceral with Steve’s additional perspective. But it wasn’t only the sights. The wine at every dinner tasted richer, the strawberries on the Fraisier sweeter, and at the end of each day, when they inevitably ended up lost in one another, it’s as though their touches lingered, electric.
A shiver runs down her spine, breaking her reverie, but whether that’s from the delicious memories of the previous days or the kiss Steve dusts to her shoulder as he wraps his arms around her from behind, she’s unsure.
“Something’s brewing in that mind of yours.”
“Funny,” she says, turning in his arms and placing her palms flat on his chest. She looks up at him from underneath her lashes as she points out, “That didn’t seem to bother you all week long.”
“I never said it was a bad thing.” His chest rumbles with a chuckle as he clasps his hands at the small of her back, pulling her in closer. “What’s going on, baby?”
“I just…” she bites her lip, reluctant. But then his forehead creases ever so slightly with worry, prompting her to shake her head. “I’ll admit that when you suggested we go to Paris, I was apprehensive-”
“Nat,” he interrupts, his expression falling. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I don’t regret coming here,” she clarifies quickly, sighing when confusion paints his features. “Everyone always talks about Paris like it’s some magical place, and I just never understood it.” She shrugs. “Every time I come here, I’ve always felt as though there’s something missing.”
Steve smirks. “A dinner on the Seine courtesy of Tony Stark?”
“I mean, I’m definitely not complaining,” she says, tilting her head back as they both share a laugh. “But-”
“Monsieur, madame.” They both turn to see Julien, their host, standing by the doorway leading back to the main cabin, a sheepish smile on his face. “Pardon the interruption, but we have arrived.”
Vaguely, she hears the thanks Steve sends Julien’s way, but if there’s more to the exchange, she doesn’t hear it. The second she looks back out into the water, she’s immediately greeted by the sight of the Eiffel Tower, its lights scintillating against the dark night sky, and for the first time, the image causes her to gasp.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” she asks, turning to look back at Steve to see if he, too, is captivated by the view.
“It is,” Steve says, a boyish smile on his lips and his eyes alight with unbridled adoration – only his eyes aren’t trained on the glittering marvel behind her, only at her.
Clarity strikes her then, crystallizing before her. Her change of heart when it comes to this city has nothing to do with the fact that she’s never actually taken the time to slow down and explore it. “It’s you,” she whispers, grinning. “You’re what’s been missing. You’re-”
“Natasha.” He says her name breathlessly, and before she can even blink, he tips chin up and leans down to slant his lips over hers. Her hands come up, snaking around his neck as she rises to the tips of her toes and pulls him even closer, pouring all the words she wants to say into their kiss. For she realizes that it’s not just Paris that he’s helped her see the magic in. It’s life, too – their life – and if everything seems as though it’s brighter and more hopeful and more joyous, it’s because they get to go through it together.
“Thank you for choosing me,” he says later when they pull away and he leans his forehead against hers.
She sighs contentedly, smiling. “Thank you for being worth it.”