Chapter Text
The sound of Wanda's alarm clock screeching at 3.30am left you certain you'd never held such contempt for a sound before. Even with Natasha kissing at your hairline. She, of course, was immediately awake and alert when the alarm started screeching. Wanda, by contrast, appeared perplexed and entirely unsure of what was happening. Eventually, with a lot of encouragement from Natasha, both of you were brought to a state not quite resembling the Russian's wide-awake excitement, but you struggled through your bleary-eyed fatigue.
Around an hour after you'd awoken, the three of you were on the road. Shivers racked your body amidst gentle urges from Wanda to take small sips of the warm drink she'd made you. You stared at the window, counting lampposts by their golden rays dazzling beneath the dark night sky. The car ride was quiet, a silent anticipation, or perhaps apprehension, bubbling in the air. Behind the tinny 2000s pop songs pouring out of every small speaker in the car, laid three separate lines of thought, each non-linear and each belonging to a different woman.
For Natasha, the current concern was safely delivering to the airport the two most important people in her life. Her driving wasn't something to worry about, though, so her mind soon drifted to protecting you and Wanda once you arrived in California. She'd have preferred to live outside of LA and travel into the city, but after several strained phone calls in which she was rudely told her concerns weren't pertinent, ending with a terse hang-up, she'd given in, not wanting to dampen the experience before she'd even reached the state. She remained phlegmatic as her mind wrestled with thoughts of being found callous or contemptible by her new colleagues, and the consequences of not integrating successfully with the team. She had no clue if she had her previous job role to go back to if this new title and leadership responsibilities didn't suit her skill set, and that panicked her. Having her wife worry about money was never something she'd wanted the Sokovian to experience again. To the extent that she seemed avaricious, she would regularly ask for pay rises at work to better provide for her wife. Now, all that seemed to hang in the balance.
Wanda had been considering similar things. Whilst she didn't worry about their financial situation to the extent Natasha did, knowing they had savings in the bank, she was frustrated by the Russian's need to "provide" for her, as though she were some damsel in distress, unable to work and earn for herself. Wanda had long prided herself on building a strong career of her own, and, without explicitly telling Natasha so, she'd made sure the Russian knew just how undervalued her contributions felt. She loved her wife to bits, and when she'd said at her wedding that she'd follow the woman across the world she'd meant it, but she really wished Natasha would take notice of the sacrifices she was willing to make.
You, sitting alone in the backseat of the car, hadn't found yourself with such woes. No matter where you went, as long as Wanda and Natasha were beside you, you didn't mind what happened. With no living relatives to speak of, you knew that they were your family now. Regardless of whether you'd summoned the courage to tell them the true, colossal extent of your feelings for them, they were your people.
"Gate 5! Baby, we're in gate 5, grab your suitcase, okay, let's head over there." Wanda ushered you across the airport, spending every moment doting on you besides those she had to spend conversing with staff.
Natasha was stopped at security numerous times: having stowed a small pocket knife in her trousers leg which was confiscated quickly (and you were lucky not to be escorted from the whole airport); wearing a metallic belt meaning she had to be patted down; and for having a small amount of bone in her foot replaced with metal when she broke it during a ballet recital in her younger years. You hadn't even known she'd practised ballet, you'd thought to yourself with furrowed eyebrows.
You weren't given long to dwell on the thought, for Wanda was so eagerly guiding you towards a restaurant for a cooked breakfast.
"I'm starving," she exclaimed loudly as soon as she sat down.
Natasha seemed less interested in food; her focus for the past five minutes instead had been on her watch. Her wife picked up on it quickly.
"Tash, baby, the flight is at 8, so the gate will open around 7.30, so we've got a whole hour before we need to even be at the gate. We're fine for time, okay?"
The Russian had nodded, realising how irrational she was being and tucked into the food the Sokovian had ordered for the three of you. You hadn't seen Natasha so anxious before. Maybe she didn't like flying, you thought to yourself.
You reached out to grasp at her hand, and she let you, a little dejected and unwilling to fight your touch. Trying to catch her eye was difficult, so you kissed the back of her hand, and kept doing so until she finally looked at you. A tiny smile tugged at her lips, one you couldn't help but reciprocate. You kissed her hand again, and her grin grew.
"How's the food, sweetheart?" You asked her, loudly enough that you could be heard over the typical hum-drum of an airport, but softly enough that she should feel comforted by your voice.
"Nice, thank you." Her answer, though concise, let you know exactly how she was feeling, had your suspicions not been confirmed before.
Besides the fact she was obviously tired, she was anxious, over what you weren't certain, but when she felt such a way she had a tendency to retreat into herself and grow quiet and laconic. You knew just how to break her out of it.
"Do they have any cinemas in California?"
Her eyes lit up. "They do, baby - our flat is quite near to an independent theatre that shows classics and arthouse films. We could make it a tradition to go once a week, if you wanted?"
You grinned. "Okay, that sounds cool. What have they been showing recently?"
"A few Godard ones, I'm pretty sure they showed Ikiru yesterday so hopefully a few Kurosawa ones in the future too. Oh," she clicked her fingers, "Saw Spike Lee on the list a couple of times - I wanted to rewatch High and Low before his remake comes out. I told you about that, baby, right?" You nodded. "Not sure how I feel about it... Denzel Washington is in it though and you know I love him so it could be cool. Umm, there was a Chantal Akerman marathon, I'm assuming Jeanne Dielman was left out because they'd have been in the cinema hours if not."
Watching the Russian absentmindedly ramble on was one of your favourite things to do; you could feel your cheeks beginning to ache from the incessant smile tugging at your lips.
"Pretty sure they had Wong Kar-Wai showings this week. Oh, and Agnes Varda, you like her, Wands. I wonder if they'll show any Tarkovsy-"
"He's the boring one, right?" Wanda suddenly asked. "The Russian one that's boring."
Natasha all but glowered at her wife.
"He created masterpieces. It's art."
"Boring art," she mumbled under her breath, avoiding Natasha's evil glare. "I'm just saying, I'd take Some Like It Hot or Gentlemen Prefer Blondes any day."
"Youre just saying that because you're in love with Marilyn Monroe."
"I am not in... okay, so, yeah, I am, but who isn't?!"
The pair's bickering acted as a soundtrack for the rest of your meal, switching between hot-headed debates about which actresses they found more attractive and more insightful discussions about their acting abilities.
"I just think Lauren Bacall was one of the most beautiful women to ever walk the earth," Wanda admitted, gazing off into the distance. Natasha caught your eye and stifled a laugh.
"Watch out, Wan, you'll make baby jealous."
"Humphrey Bogart wasn't half bad either," she added, still daydreaming, chin propped up by her hand.
"Eww, why'd you have to bring up men?" you grimaced.
Wanda found your disgust particularly hilarious. "I'm sorry, honey," she giggled. "You know I only have eyes for you and Tasha anyway."
She reached out to stroke the apple of your cheek, winking when you leant into her touch.
"Last call for flight 1349 to Los Angeles. Please go to gate 5 for boarding now."
The three of you froze.
"That's not our flight, right?" You asked nervously. Wanda frantically pulled out the boarding passes, searching for the flight number... 1349.
"Oh, fuck. It's ours, fuck! Tasha, quick, did we pay for the food? Oh, god, quick call someone over!"
An hour later, the three of you sank into plush leather seats aboard the plane. The last sixty minutes had been obstreperous beyond measure; a cacophony of vociferation and derisive comments as to whose fault it was that the three of you could miss the plane. Now you were all sat and could breathe again, you were noticeably more reticent.
"Would you like a glass of champagne? It's complimentary," a air hostess smiled down at you, finding your enervation amusing.
"I'm okay, thank you," you replied quietly, not sure you had the energy even to take the glass from her tray had you accepted.
She nodded, signalling towards Wanda and Natasha, both of which had their eyes closed in rest. As soon as they'd found their seats on the plane they'd already been eager for sleep. The hostess quietly gestured to ask you if they wanted some, and you shook your head; the incident of two nights ago still remained near the forefront of your mind and you certainly weren't seeking a repeat of the event.
It wasn't long after she walked away that Natasha suddenly awoke. Confused at her surroundings for a few seconds, her eyes appeared wide as she scanned the seats around her. Her gaze landed on you and she instantly calmed. You reached out for her hand, squeezing gently.
"We haven't taken off yet?" She asked quietly, stretching her arms out in front of her, not noticing the way you stared at her pulsating biceps as she did so.
"Uh, no, not yet. Another plane on the runway or something. They said we shouldn't be delayed too much longer now."
The Russian nodded, equanimous in her tired state; the stress of the past hour combined with that she was experiencing from work had clearly left her exhausted. Pushing the armrest between your chairs up, she leaned into you with a sigh. Heart soaring at how adorable she was, you wrapped an arm around her and pulled her even closer. Her face pressed into your neck, and she kissed at the exposed skin for a moment before relaxing fully.
You looked to Wanda on the other side of you, surprised to find her awake and taking a photo of the pair of you. A frown accompanied your pout, both of which the Sokovian, giggling, photographed.
"You're so cute," she grinned, reaching out to squeeze your cheek. "You can watch a film on Tasha's laptop if you want, baby. She won't mind."
"She might," came a sleeply muttering from the woman nearly drooling on your shoulder.
"She won't," Wanda mouthed, winking at you as she pulled the Russian's computer out and set it up on the small pull-out table built into the chair in front of you. She then passed you your headphones.
"I just have to get a bit of work done, sweetheart, so I won't be very exciting for the new few hours," Wanda sighed, less than impressed with her predicament. She took your furrowed brow as a silent question. "Because I'm not going to be physically in the office for a while, my boss is taking it out on me and giving me extra work. I suppose it was a little presumptuous of me to suddenly announce that I was taking the next week off work but it's been quiet anyway; I thought it would have been fine." She ran her hands through her hair in frustration.
"Is it anything I can help with?" You asked.
"It's fine, honey, I'll just start getting on with it now. Pick a movie, I think Tash has a few downloaded."
You noticed Natasha was conventiently asleep now, lightly snoring against your neck. Feeling a little guilty, you did as the Sokovian said and loaded her wife's laptop up and began perusing through her list of downloaded films.
You eagerly landed on a Hitchcock thriller called Rope, and, slotting the headphones over your head, pressed play.
Natasha awoke halfway through, stretched out for a few moments, and, given you'd kindly put subtitles on so she could follow on, she watched the end of the film with you. The perspicacious cinephile had already watched the film and had intended to rewatch it, so wasn't too bothered. You took the opportunity to kiss along her hairline; she rarely acted this way with anyone. She always seemed to think she had to be in charge, to not display weakness... you treasured the way she nuzzled into you with a barely audible whine. Brushing your fingers up and down her bicep, you simply watched her for minutes at a time; studying the way freckles were sporadically dotted over her arms, examining each red strand messily falling from her head, watching each minute scrunch of the tender skin between her eyebrows.
Before you knew it, the credits were rolling. You stretched out, pulling the headphones from your head.
"Are we nearly there, Wan?"
The Sokovian, irritated though she seemed, closed her laptop a moment to give you her full attention. She reached forward, running her hands through your hair before sliding down to your cheeks which she cupped lovingly. Leaning in slowly so as not to disturb Natasha, who had fallen asleep again, she pressed a kiss to your lips, leaving another on the end of your nose. You bit your bottom lip whilst smiling.
"Another three hours yet, my love. I think we're nearly halfway there," she said softly.
Her eyes fell to Natasha, still curled up into you. Luckily, there'd been little turbulence on the flight so you'd been allowed to sit without seatbelts and no one had disturbed her.
"She's so sweet like this," the Sokovian whispered to you. "Wish she was this carefree more."
The wrinkles that seemed to have made themselves at home in the Russian's brow in the past few weeks had melted away as she slept. She hadn't mentioned any worries or stress she had, but you had a suspicion that the past few weeks at work had taken its toll. As proud as you were that she'd received recognition for her efforts, you wished she'd been given a break. It was straight back to work for your baby on Monday.
"You have time to watch another movie if you want, sweetheart," Wanda murmured. You nodded, a pleased grin on your face.
"Tasha has Some Like It Hot downloaded."
The Sokovian's mouth dropped. "She does?!" Obviously conflicted, her eyes darted between Natasha's laptop and her own, desperately wanting to watch the film with you, but knowing she ought to do her work... "Fuck it," she grinned. "Let's watch it, baby; I'll finish my work later."
The Sokovian cosied into your other side, and pressed play.
"Passengers, please prepare for landing."
You slipped your headphones off one ear as the air hostess from earlier walked past, a wide smile on her face. Wanda wasn't too fond of the way the woman was looking at you. To divert your attention back to her, the Sokovian took to tapping your arm and pointing out the small oval window.
"Look, baby. That's LA."
The air hostess wasn't ready to leave just yet though, to Wanda's chagrin.
"Excuse me, ma'am?" She tried to get the attention of the Russian still curled up into your side.
"Tasha," you whispered, lightly shaking her shoulder.
She groaned, ignoring your movements and only trying to cuddle into you more.
"Baby, you have to sit up," you urged, a little louder this time but not growing anymore physically aggressive with her. The last thing you wanted to do was push her away.
She finally listened to you, moving into the required seating position long enough for you to ease the arm rest down and lean over to do up her seatbelt.
The air hostess, satisfied that Natasha was safely buckled in, walked off. You attention returned to the Russian, whose attempts to remain asleep on your shoulder weren't impeded by the armrest now blocking her way.
"You really are exhausted, huh, honey?" You murmured, stroking your fingers through her hair. "Are you okay to drive to the apartment, Wan? I don't think Tasha is up for much."
She nodded, concern evident on her features when studying her wife.
"We can just get a taxi. I don't really want to carry those heavy suitcases now that this one's decided it's nap time," she said jokingly, stroking at Natasha's cheek.
"Five more minutes," the Russian sleepily murmured.
"Five more minutes," you repeated, kissing her forehead.
Ten minutes later, the Russian did have to wake herself up and find a spark of energy, for the plane touched down in California. Wanda led you off the plane with a gentle hand on the small of your back. The intense heat hit you immediately, and you grinned at the sight of rows of palm trees waving around in the wind, welcoming you to the new state.
Maybe this move would be just what the three of you needed; you really hoped so.