Chapter Text
The Widow
Natasha and Laura had slid onto lighter topics when they finally saw Clint and Maria reappear from the gate.
Natasha had the insane urge to run towards the brunette and kiss her senseless, but the ache in her leg – and the soreness in her whole body, really – reminded her what a disastrous idea that would be. And she waited patiently for the two to reach them.
Maria came up to them and lowered herself onto the step below Laura, resting against the railing on the opposite side as Natasha, while Clint sat down next to Natasha, facing his wife.
“So,” Clint said after a bit, lightly clapping his hands together, “Want to take a gander at the Christmas gifts?”
Natasha rolled her eyes at the childish tradition that the archer had somehow gotten them to follow, but Laura’s face instantly lit up. She was about to agree to Clint’s suggestion, when Maria huffed.
“I already know what Natasha’s got me,” the brunette said, a sly smile on her lips.
Natasha raised an eyebrow at her girlfriend: do you, now.
Maria smirked back, “I’m not out in the field as much as you are, but I’m still a spy, you know.”
“What is it?!” Clint asked exasperatedly, his eagerness almost juvenile.
Maria’s eyes flickered with excitement, “She’s got me a Ducati.”
The brunette had guessed correctly, and Natasha narrowed her eyes at her. Touché, Hill.
“Damn, Tasha. A bike?” Clint whooped, “That’s pretty big for a Christmas gift.”
Natasha waved her hand dismissively, her mind already formulating a way to beat the brunette at their little game.
“Yeah, well, I already had one, but Maria hates riding behind me,” she said, a devilish grin splitting across her face, “She prefers to be on top or at the bottom.”
Natasha watched smugly as the brunette’s elbow nearly slipped from where it was resting on the step. Her smile soon morphed into a full-blown laugh, making Clint and Laura join her, while Maria simply grumbled and glared at Natasha.
“Well, you guys might have ruined the surprise for each other,” Clint said once he stopped laughing, “But we haven’t.”
Laura grinned at her husband before taking Clint’s hand, and the happy couple scampered into their house. Maria’s gaze tracked them as they went in, and then she grabbed the railing to haul herself up.
But Natasha touched her arm to stop her, “Stay?”
Maria looked at her for a second before smiling, “Of course.”
Natasha so badly wanted to ask her how she’d found out about the motorbike. But then, it didn’t matter too much. Maria clearly liked it. (And Natasha would do her investigation later, privately). She simply leaned back, following Maria’s movements as she made herself comfortable.
“So, what did you get me?” Natasha asked instead.
Maria’s smile instantly faltered, “I, uh, I didn’t get you anything this year,” she said, “I’m sorry, I got busy and I totally forgot.”
She looked so endearingly guilty, Natasha almost wanted to laugh. But she only blinked reassuringly, giving Maria a genuine smile.
“It’s okay,” Natasha said, “Unlike Robin Hood in there, I’m not going to get mad at you for not keeping up a silly tradition for valid reasons.”
Maria chuckled at that and then her gaze dropped to her lap, “I do have something that could count as a gift, though.”
Natasha’s senses were immediately on alert. The brunette’s voice was impossibly small – almost coy, if Natasha didn’t know any better – and she couldn’t fathom what had made Maria suddenly so nervous.
She nudged the taller woman’s leg with her own, “Maria?”
The brunette looked up to meet her gaze, her eyes soft and sparkling, and Natasha felt her insides flutter with delight.
“You remember that mission, from years ago?” Maria said, a lopsided grin tugging at her lips, “The one where you came to save me?”
Of course, Natasha remembered it. She’d been on far more daunting ops ever since, but that one stuck with her. It was the mission that had brought them together, in some ways. Natasha nodded lightly and the brunette’s smile widened.
“You told me never to kneel in front of anyone,” Maria said, her eyes locked with Natasha’s, “But I’m hoping you’ll excuse me this one time.”
And before Natasha could fully wrap her mind around the words, Maria stood up and came over to Natasha’s side, standing right in front of her. The brunette’s gaze was still fixed on Natasha’s face as she lowered herself by one step, her good hand reaching inside her coat pocket.
And Natasha’s breath caught as Maria got down on one knee, producing a small velvet box in her hand, “Marry me?”
“You’re everything I have,” Maria said, her voice bold and clear, “And I’m pretty sure I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“I know we don’t have to get married to be together,” the brunette added quickly, “And I wouldn’t mind living that way, even if you say no.”
And right then, Natasha fell in love with the woman all over again. Maria had always left the ball in Natasha’s court, letting her set the pace as per her own comfort. And the brunette was doing that now as well. Giving Natasha the choice, not an ultimatum.
But Maria had no idea just how much control she had over Natasha. Natasha was sure she would do just about anything for the brunette.
Maria’s smile grew wistful as she went on, “I just wanted this one part of my life to be normal. Conventional. Amidst all the craziness of our lives otherwise.”
“I want to be yours,” the brunette whispered, “In every way possible.”
“So, Natasha Romanoff,” Maria breathed, opening the box in her hand to reveal the ring, “Be my wife?”
But Natasha didn’t bother looking at the piece of jewellery. It couldn’t possibly be more dazzling than her girlfriend’s sapphires.
And even though she desperately wanted to say something smart, Natasha couldn’t get herself to come up with a single quip.
“You sure you’ve weighed all your options before asking?” she said eventually, willing her voice to stay steady, “There would be no takebacks, if we do this.”
Maria smiled back fondly, “I’m sure, Nat. I don’t have any backup plans, when it comes to you,” she said, her eyes glazing over just a bit, “And I would understand if you need some time to think about it. I kind of sprung this on you, and you prob–”
“Yes.”
Maria stopped talking immediately, her lips still parted as she gawked at Natasha.
She had that familiar look of disbelief on her face. Natasha had seen it many times over the years. After their mission in Russia, when she had gone to the brunette’s office. When she’d first told the woman that she loved her. When she had kissed her for the first time. And when she had rescued Maria, during that mission.
Natasha hated the look almost as much as she loved it.
Maria blinked rapidly, her mouth opening and closing before she could finally find her voice, “Yes?”
Natasha reached out with her hand, rubbing her knuckles over the brunette’s cheek in veneration, “Yes.”
And she immediately leaned forward to kiss Maria, eager to get that expression off the woman’s face. What even made her think that Natasha would ever say no?
They kissed for a while before Maria seemed to realise that the ring was still with her. She pulled apart to pluck the ring out of the box, her fingers trembling just a bit as she slid it onto Natasha’ finger.
And Natasha’s heart once again stopped at the sight of the gorgeous ring.
It was a thin platinum band; simple enough, save for the small, horizontal hourglass shape in the centre, two diamonds filling the triangles. The Black Widow’s insignia.
Damn.
It was subtle and modest in every sense, but it still stood out. And it looked so different – and unexpectedly beautiful – in white.
“You’re obsessed with this symbol,” Natasha whispered, running a thumb over the ring fondly.
Maria laughed softly, “Believe it or not, I had briefly contemplated getting it made in black gold,” she said, “But you’re hardly the same person you were when I first met the Black Widow, it was only fair to show that change.”
The brunette suddenly gripped Natasha’s hand, “But I don’t want you to change,” she said, “I don’t expect anything new from you. Marriage wouldn’t make things any different between us. I’d just be able to call you my wife, instead of my girlfriend.”
Utterly moved by everything Maria had said until now, Natasha covered the woman’s hand with her own, “I know, Maria,” she said, smiling gently, “You don’t have to explain yourself. I get why you want to do this.”
Maria’s features instantly relaxed, and Natasha bent forward once again to kiss the brunette.
“I would love to be called your wife,” she breathed, and Maria smiled against her lips.
Natasha kept kissing the brunette, her hands reaching for her girlfriend’s – her fiancée’s – collar and tugging at it so that she came up and sat beside her.
They broke apart only because they needed to breathe. Natasha beamed at the taller woman, hardly believing her stars at having found her.
She cleared her throat discreetly, “I owe Clint 50 bucks, because of you.”
Maria quirked up an eyebrow, and Natasha continued, “A few years ago, right before the whole Shostakov op, when I’d guessed that you and Fury were up to something,” she explained, “Clint had thought you were going to propose.”
“The idiot hadn’t known that back then, you weren’t even my girlfriend,” Natasha said, chuckling, “He then changed the bet that you would eventually propose.”
“Ah, that’s why you’d blushed like that,” Maria hummed, the memory coming back to her, “And that’s why Barton’s been grinning like a damned Cheshire cat ever since I showed him the ring.”
“I knew you guys weren’t just ‘going for a short walk,’” Natasha said, making Maria shrug sheepishly.
“Why’d you do it today, of all the days?” Natasha asked after a bit, “You’ve had the ring for 3 months now.”
It was true. She’d found the box, even though the brunette had hidden it rather well. And, much to her own amazement, Natasha had only been astonished – not scared – at the thought of Maria proposing. She hadn’t run for the hills. Or maybe, she had. Run for the Hill.
The thought was amusing, and Natasha smiled to herself as she caressed the ring on her finger. She hadn’t seen it until now. All the while, there had been several occasions when she’d had to curb the urge to open the box and take a peek. But she hadn’t given in to the temptation, not wanting to ruin the brunette’s surprise.
And it was so worth it. Because everything about the way Maria had proposed right now – from the place, the circumstances leading up to it, down to the ring, itself – had caught her off guard.
Natasha saw Maria’s shocked expression, and smirked back at her, “You might be a spy, but I’m the Black Widow.”
Maria chuckled at that, shaking her head fondly, and Natasha flashed her a cheeky smile.
“So, tell me,” she said, “What took you so long?”
Maria sighed, her eyes dropping to Natasha’s hand, the one with the ring.
“I wasn’t too sure about asking you,” the brunette began, her voice small, “I didn’t want you to feel like I was doing this because I wanted more from you.”
Maria took Natasha’s hand, her thumb ghosting over the ring, the edges of her eyes crinkling as she smiled to herself.
“But last night, you told me that you don’t feel caged,” Maria said, finally looking up to meet Natasha’s gaze, “And I thought maybe – just, maybe – you would want this too.”
“I do,” Natasha said the words instantly and obliviously.
And Maria gave her the most delicate smile, the transcendent joy rippling across her face in brazen waves. The brunette’s loving gaze almost burned Natasha, and she dropped her eyes. But they fell right onto her hand and she found herself smiling for the millionth time that night.
“It’s a beautiful ring,” Natasha said, admiring the band yet again, “But, uh, I might not wear it all the time. I don’t want it to get lost, or something… and I don’t want people to know…”
Didn’t want people to know that she was engaged. Or married. Because in their line of work, such details could be easily exploited. And Natasha simply couldn’t lose Maria. Not like this.
She finally looked up to face the brunette, bracing herself for Maria’s disappointment. But the woman was just smiling warmly at her.
“I know, Nat. I understand,” she said, “I don’t even wish for you to flaunt that around. I’m okay as long as you like it.”
Of course, you get it.
“I love it,” Natasha said, smiling at the brunette, “I love you.”
Maria grinned at her, “So, what do you say, a June wedding?”
Natasha bit her lip, stopping herself from agreeing with a childish squeal, and cocked up an eyebrow instead, “Think you can wait that long?”
Maria leaned back just a bit, and Natasha was suddenly reminded of that night, years ago, when she had gone to the brunette’s house for the first time. When she’d gathered the courage to listen to her heart and take that first step, which ultimately got them here.
Her fiancée gave her a tender smile, almost as if she’d read Natasha’s thoughts.
“I’m sure you must have understood by now,” Maria whispered, her voice silken soft, “That I’m a very patient woman.”
The Soldier
Maria put their bags in the back of their car and then returned to wait by the door of the driver’s seat.
They’d stayed with the Bartons for a few days before Fury had called them and asked (ordered) them to get their asses back. Clint had been given a few extra days, for some reason (she’d have to ask Fury about that).
So much for being on medical leave, Maria scoffed internally as she observed the scene in front of her.
Clint stood beside his wife as she hugged Natasha, whispering something into the redhead’s ear that made her laugh. The couple then walked over to Maria and Laura gently wrapped her arms around her.
“Congratulations,” Laura said, still hugging her, “And, please, don’t go and get married secretly. It’s my only chance at seeing Natasha in a pretty white dress.”
Maria chuckled rather breathlessly, blushing at the thought of Natasha in a wedding gown, “Even if we do, I don’t think we’ll be able to stop you from coming.”
Laura pulled back, grinning at her, and let her husband take her place. Clint’s grip was firm as he hugged her.
“I know I don’t really need to say this,” he said, “But I have an arrow reserved just for you, if you ever hurt her.”
Maria actually laughed at that, her gaze flitting to Natasha as she hobbled towards the car.
“I think I’d die by the Widow’s bite before you’d even find me, if it comes to that,” Maria said, “But good to know that Natasha has someone watching out for her.”
Clint let her go, smiling gingerly as he pulled back, just as Natasha reached them.
“Is he playing Brother Bear again?” the redhead asked, narrowing her eyes at the archer.
“A little bit,” Maria replied, smirking at Clint’s sheepish expression.
“The shovel talk isn’t necessary, Barton,” Natasha said, turning to look at Maria, “She knows the web she’s getting herself into.”
With that, Natasha wheeled around and walked away to the passenger’s seat, while Maria nodded at the couple one last time. She turned around and saw the redhead holding the door precariously with one hand while the other grabbed the handle beside the seat, prepared to haul herself into the car.
Maria briskly walked over to her side, “Stop,” she commanded, “Let me help you.”
Natasha scoffed, not even looking at her as she concentrated on making the jump, “I can do it.”
Maria would have chuckled at the role-reversal, but she was far too concerned.
“Nat, you have a goddamn rod in your leg,” she said emphatically, “Please, let me help you.”
And, let’s not forget, the multitude of stitches along your waist that you’re hardly ever careful about. And the many, many cuts and bruises that you haven’t even bothered to patch up.
Natasha shot Maria a glare before her gaze dropped to her shoulder. She looked at it for a while, like she could see Maria’s wound right through the jacket and the shirt and the muscle. The redhead eventually looked up, and Maria stared right back at her: I might be the one who’s gotten shot, but you’re not any less hurt.
Natasha sighed finally, “Fine, but could you keep these inside first?” she said, passing over the crutches.
Maria took them and moved towards the back seat to do her bidding, and before she could even realise it, Natasha had hopped and gotten herself into the car.
Maria was by her door in a flash, fully prepared to yell at her. But the redhead was staring ahead, her expression a perfect poker face, and Maria fell quiet. That was the look Natasha would don when she was trying to cover up her pain. Maria had seen it far too many times by now.
She hung her head, shaking it helplessly, and walked over to the other side of the car. She got into her own seat, adjusting her position before rolling down the window to bid the Bartons farewell.
Clint came forward and rested his elbows on the ridge, looking over at Natasha. He saw the redhead examining her own nails, appearing supremely bored, and he shifted his gaze back to Maria, “You could have just asked me, you know.”
The reply was at the tip of her tongue, but Maria stayed silent and merely shrugged. As if sensing her hesitation, Natasha turned to look at her. The redhead blinked slowly; a small, hopeful smile tugging at her lips, like she was trying to apologise for the little trick she’d pulled. Maria’s shoulders sagged, and she gave her a reassuring nod.
And just like that, Natasha’s face lit up with a grin, her eyes locked with Maria’s even as she answered Clint, “Her fiancée, her problem.”
And she’d stolen the words right out of Maria’s mouth.
“I can almost hear you thinking.”
Maria’s eyes were still fixed on the road ahead even as she said the words. She heard Natasha sigh beside her.
“How… how’s the shoulder?” the redhead asked, “You sure you don’t want to let me drive?”
That’s not what you were thinking.
“It’s fine, and we’re almost halfway there,” Maria said, shooting her a quick side glance, “There’s just a few hours left.”
Natasha scoffed audibly at that, knowing that it was going to be a lot more than ‘just a few’ hours of travel. But Maria’s one-hand-driving game was top-class, given the number of times she’d had to simultaneously drive and shoot the rivals she was pursuing (or being pursued by).
If she was being honest, though, Maria was already tired. Her muscles were sore from being in that position for so long, and there was dull ache in her wounded shoulder that she knew was only going to get worse with time.
“We could take a break,” Maria suggested, spotting a drive-through restaurant coming into view, “You hungry?”
Natasha hummed in approval and Maria promptly veered the car into the queue with a couple more sedans ahead of them. They quickly placed their orders, and then Maria pulled over to an empty spot so that they could wait and finish eating.
They picked at their food silence for a while, not really putting any of it in their mouths, and Maria noticed the redhead’s gaze fixed on her lap.
“Hey,” she nudged Natasha’s arm lightly, making her look up, “I’m not mad at you, you know. About earlier.”
“Yeah, I know,” Natasha said, smiling back, “You have a high tolerance for douchebaggery.”
Maria laughed outright, “Well, where we work, it pays to be accommodative.”
Natasha shook her head, “It just makes you wonder…”
She trailed off, her eyes dropping down once more, and Maria nudged her arm again, “Hey, tell me.”
“I’m trouble, Maria,” the redhead said, sighing heavily as she looked up, “I disobey you almost all the time, and I’ve given you a hard time way more than once,” she let out a dry laugh, “I’ve barely been a decent girlfriend, what even made you think that I would be wife material?”
Maria observed her for a while, thrown off by the sudden openness. It was a rare moment of such bare vulnerability, and Maria didn’t know how to deal with it.
She was used to Natasha being all suave and cheeky. But right now, the redhead just looked small and insecure, and Maria could hardly bear to look at her. Maria didn’t know what had spurred this bout of self-doubt, but all she cared about right now was making it go away.
“You’re right,” Maria said eventually, “There are many things about you that annoy me to no end.”
Natasha looked up and pursed her lips, waiting for the long-overdue rebuke she thought she was going to get. Maria held her gaze firmly before she spoke.
“I hate the way you just guess – and guess correctly – the killer in every book or movie,” she said, “We get to watch, what, three movies in a year? And you have to go ahead and spoil even those for me.”
A smile threatened to escape the redhead’s lips, but she curbed it, her green orbs glimmering in anticipation.
“I hate how you don’t even try to make your handwriting legible,” Maria added, “Like, straight-up, your reports look like a bunch of ants just stepped into ink and crawled all over the paper.”
Natasha let herself grin, but it didn’t reach her eyes, and Maria found her own heart melting.
“I hate the way you downplay your pain, every time,” she whispered, “Because you don’t want me to worry. Or because you think you deserve it.”
The redhead tried to look away, but Maria drilled her eyes into the woman, willing her to face her.
“I hate the fact that even after all this while,” Maria continued, “You sometimes still don’t think you’re worthy of being happy. Of being loved.”
Natasha gave her a sad smile, and Maria returned a warm grin, determined to turn things around, “But despite all that, there are so many more things that I absolutely love about you.”
Maria looked deep into the redhead’s emeralds, the warmth in them filling her with a sense of peace.
“I love the way you care – more than you’ll ever admit – even when you don’t want to,” Maria began, “You used to do it even before we got together, and I was charmed by it back then as well.”
“I love the way you know what I need better than I do, at times,” Maria said, “Whether it’s a neck massage after a particularly shitty day. Or some literal ass whooping at the sparring ring, when I’m being too stubborn.”
Natasha finally grinned fully, and Maria continued, “I love the way you somehow manage to make me smile, even when life doesn’t give us any reason to.”
“I love how I keep giving you the choice,” she said quietly, “But you always choose what I want.”
“I love how you keep trying to win against me,” Maria said, her own voice hitching, “But you don’t seem to realise that as long as I have you, I’ve already won.”
“I love the way you love me,” Maria breathed, her eyes softening at the disbelief on Natasha’s face, “Quietly, but blindingly. Recklessly, but staunchly.”
Maria let out a sigh, the emotions weighing down on her as well, “Given that I’m hardly the easiest person to be around, I can’t think of anything more to expect from my wife. I know I can be –”
“Stop, please,” Natasha whispered, her voice strangled, “Don’t… just… I can’t…”
Can’t what? Maria wanted to ask, can’t believe that you could be this amazing? Can’t believe that someone could actually feel this strongly about you?
The redhead shook her head, and then scrambled to stash her food on top of the glove compartment before rushing forward and kissing Maria. Maria kept her own takeout container away before cupping Natasha’s head, pulling closer.
They broke apart after a while, but Natasha kept her forehead pressed against Maria’s, her thumb gently stroking her cheek.
“For someone who claims to be emotionally challenged,” the redhead hummed, “You say the most perfect things sometimes.”
Maria laughed softly, “I try.”
“No, you don’t get it, Maria,” Natasha said, pulling back fully, “I love the way you love me too.”
Maria was going to tell the redhead that she didn’t need to repeat everything she had said, but Natasha cut her off before she could even open her mouth, “It’s ironic, really.”
“You’re the most stoic and reserved person that I know,” Natasha said, her smile radiant, “And yet, the way you love me is so… unabashed and unrestrained. Like it couldn’t come more naturally to you.”
“It’s as burning as it is healing, and sometimes, I just don’t know what to do with it,” the redhead exhaled, “Then again, I also don’t know what I would do without it.”
Natasha took Maria’s good hand and placed a fervent kiss on her knuckles, “But I’m sure I never want to find out.”
Maria gave her the warmest smile she could muster, “Sounds like someone just wrote her vows.”
The redhead dropped her gaze, a shy smile tugging at her lips, and looked away. Maria saw the rosy tinge on Natasha’s cheeks, and she had to remind herself to breathe. The woman was beautiful as it is, but Natasha blushing was downright fatal.
Damn, Maria smiled to herself at the choice of words, the woman is really going to be the death of me.
Maria visibly cringed when she heard Natasha slurp the last drops of her coke loudly.
Seeing the faux glare on Maria’s face, the redhead did it again, wiggling her eyebrows as well this time. And Maria had to smother her smile at the rather adorable scene. Natasha kept sucking through the straw, like she was trying to magically create some more of the drink, and Maria simply shook her head at her antics.
The redhead finally set down the cup, about a year later, and Maria smirked at her, “I see, you’ve finally had enough.”
Natasha licked her lips, savouring the aftertaste, “I could never have enough of you.”
And she’s back.
“Good, then,” Maria replied, grinning at her witty fiancée, “Do you need anything else? Do I need to pull over at a dessert place?”
Maria scanned the redhead’s eyes as she spoke. Do you have any more insecurities that need to be dispelled?
But Natasha’s orbs were clear as she smiled back, “Nope, just take me home, Hill.”
The road ahead was pretty much empty, and Maria risked a long glance at Natasha.
As expected, the redhead was gazing out at the scenery whizzing past them. Natasha had been spouting obscene-but-still-funny-as-hell quips at some radio podcasts that they had played, but she had fallen silent as they had neared D.C.
Maria wondered if the redhead was anxious about returning to their reality, after their little holiday. Wondered if Natasha was nervous about their road ahead. About their future.
As if sensing the eyes on her, Natasha turned to look at Maria and shot her a genuine smile. And just like that, Maria felt herself relaxing, and she turned her focus back to the road.
Because she realised that the destination didn’t matter. Neither did the journey. It mattered who was with her to make the trip. From the corner of her eye, Maria saw the fond smile still lingering on her fiancée’s face, and her own lips curved up. The company has been great so far.
Besides, they didn’t even need to be physically close. They’d been away from each other – fulfilling their respective duties – long enough to experience that just the knowledge was enough. The knowledge of their love.
And Maria knew that they’d have to be apart at times in the future as well, for reasons that would surpass all logic. But it wouldn’t make a difference. They’d eventually find their way back to each other. Back home.
Maria caught a glint of the light reflecting off the ring on Natasha’s finger, and her mind drifted back to what she had said when she’d proposed.
I just wanted this one part of my life to be normal.
Maria felt the sudden urge to laugh at her own words. Because their lives were so not going to be normal. They weren’t normal, their jobs weren’t normal, and their marriage was most definitely not going be normal.
Then again, normal was just too overrated.
Fin.