Summary: Natasha is spellbound by the Sokovian witch. A fact the Black Widow finds hard to swallow. Set after Age of Ultron. AU to the rest of canon.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters; nor do I owe the universe from which they originate from. Stan Lee, I salute you, Sir.
Spellbound
Nat wasn't one to get distracted. That unprofessional trait was simply not in her wiring.
Natasha should have kept walking across the bridge that overlooks the training room floor. She should have continued with her day. And yet, though she scolded herself with these facts, she does nothing but continue to lean against the railing fixated on watching the willowy, timid looking girl across the training floor. Wanda Maximoff.
A lot had happened over the last month or so; they had become a strange little leftover family; the remaining Avengers. Everyone coming and going; but Nat, Steve and the new boy recruits, Sam, Vision and Rhodes stayed. And Wanda. The young girl alone in the world now. Nat had been particularly aware of that from the start, nearly a year ago now.
The moment Pietro died- so did the little witch. Nat had watched her in secret, intently and constantly, watched as the young Sokovian struggled and fought to breathe again. But she did. And she was getting better.
Just not quick enough, Nat suddenly noted to herself wincing, as she sees Wanda go sliding five or six feet across the training room floor, having been knocked sideways by Sam accidently.
"I am okay." Wanda assured, her accent thick, her voice tremoring. Clearly she had been winded. Sam was already helping her up, apologising with a crooked smile and running a hand through his hair. Genuine concern painting his handsome face.
Although she didn't mean to and really tried to stop it, Wanda couldn't help but flinch as Sam's hand grasped her arm.
Thankfully he didn't notice; such a minute movement in the thin muscles beneath her paper white skin it was. But Natasha did.
"Thank you. I am okay." Wanda repeated, offering a small smile which Sam instantly returned before turning to fray with Rhodes once more.
"If you had been keeping an eye on your surroundings as well what I was doing, you would have been able to dodge that. Wake up." Steve said rather sternly, full army-man mode, as she returned to her own sparring position across from him.
Wanda didn't respond verbally but her eyes grew wide and sad as her cheeks began to rough red along with the very tip of her nose in shame. Almost as soon as it had happened though she regained composure and shot a swirling bolt of red towards Steve; who just like Sam, hadn't noticed the small reveal into Wanda's emotions.
But Natasha did.
With a frustrated growl she made herself turn around; turning her back on the scene below her. She hadn't exactly been friendly to the new girl; that just wasn't her way. And she hadn't spoken to her much; but again that just wasn't in Natasha's skills set. And yet, every cell in her body seemed to vibrate towards the young Maximoff- which Natasha didn't like one-little-bit. It freaked her out. It angered her. Scared her. By all means she should hate the soviet twin; the girl who had invaded her mind; raped her thoughts. And yet; she couldn't look away or stop 'noticing' the kid whenever she was near.
It was ridiculous of course; Wanda was fine, perfectly capable of defending herself, and yet as Nat unconsciously turned back round to spy the twin, the girl just looked so…fragile. Every time she messed up or stumbled or clumsily misfired Steve would berate her, declaring them rookie mistakes; something Wanda should have learnt by now.
Natasha promised herself she was only going to watch in case Steve went to Drill Sargent on the kid, which he could sometimes do; especially since he was used to training young men. It was Natasha who trained Wanda more often. The two old Avengers had decided to mentor their own younglings. Steve had Sam; Natasha had Wanda. They both supervised Vis and Rhodes but ultimately that fell to SHIELD direct and Tony.
"It's your job to observe Romanoff. Nothing wrong with that." Natasha convinced herself, once more settling into the railing as though she was watching some performance on stage.
Another ten minutes passed with Natashaa just- watching; leant against the railing, high above the training arena, absorbing the scene before her greedily. Wanda threw bolt after bolt of swirling scarlet at Steve; displaying a beautiful red light show above their sparring heads. Nat's eyes drew away from the crimson magic to rake over the girl's body. The young Sokovian danced on her toes, a fluidity and gracefulness when she moved; but a few hours into training, the girl would grow younger in her agility; grow smaller in her stance and presence. Nataasha's chest began to ache as her keenly trained eyes noticed how Wanda's skinny legs trembled like a new-born giraffe. Natasha couldn't stop herself any longer and within a moment, stood behind Wanda.
Wanda spun around as Steve smiled widely at Natasha; only to realise the Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, was standing centimetres away from her. When her large green eyes met Natasha's own, she instantly bowed her head, her red tipped fingers curling into fists in an effort to hide the scarlet wisps still swirling out her digits. She didn't want to upset or anger Natasha after…after what she did to her. She suddenly felt greatly ashamed and disappointed in herself. Small. Worse yet, Wanda could feel said emotions colour her cheeks hotly as she stood between her two superiors.
Her over sensitive mind burnt with only two things. Firstly, the guilt ridden fact that she still hadn't apologised to the older woman for what she did to her. The memory of a mentally broken Natasha makes bile creep up Wanda's throat before she forces the images away. And secondly, because of what she did, Wanda was pretty sure Natasha wanted nothing more than to be rid of her. Well…rightly so, Wanda decided with a heavy heart.
"Do what do we owe the pleasure Romanoff?" Steve asked sweetly, placing his hands on his hips in the classic Cap pose.
"I think you should call it day, Rogers. This one is dead on her feet." Natasha gestured towards Wanda without actually looking at the girl.
Wanda wanted to insist she was okay, insist that she could carry on, afraid of looking weak in the older woman's eyes but all she managed to do was shake her head; her voice having abandoned her.
"Oi…" Natasha's voice was soft. "Don't shake your head at me, I'm doing you a favour; he's a tight ass when it comes to training." She teased; but her tone was light and it made both Steve chuckle and Wanda shyly smile in response.
"Go on then; we'll call it a night." Steve gave in with a shrug. "That's a wrap guys." He called over to Rhodes and Sam who were seemingly fooling around anyway, playing what looked like 'off-ground-tag.' They hollered their acknowledgements before continuing their game. Vision bowed slightly forward from across the far side of the room, as though bowing to a Sensei, before gently placing down the heaviest weight available.
"You did well today kid. Keep it up." The Cap squeezed the young girl's shoulder as he passed; his praise pulling a sweet smile from Wanda's lips. Something in Natasha's stomach bloomed at the sight of happiness and relief shining from Wanda's green eyes. Her eyes were both stunning and saddening all at the same time, Natasha mused before jumping infinitesimally with the realisation that Steve was looking at her seemingly waiting for some sort of response. A response to what? She mentally kicked herself; irritated that she had done it again- got distracted by the sight of the young girl.
"Sorry, what?" She muttered, further irritation at herself as she felt colour bloom across her cheeks, when Steve gave her a shocked look.
"You weren't listening. What's wrong?" He teased with a hint of genuine concern.
"Mmm fine, just got…distracted." She tries to stop her eyes from glancing over at Wanda but she's sure Steve sees the quick flick her eyes because when she gazes back at him, he has an annoying coy, knowing smile on his face.
"I said I was thinking Thai for dinner? I don't think anyone's going to want to cook." The first thing the little make-do family learnt when they began living together was that, despite making rotas and sharing the load, cooking was the one thing no one could agree on. It usually ended up being Natasha or Wanda that cooked. Natasha nodded, already growing restless with standing there, Wanda's perfume and slight scent of sweat invading her senses and Steve's lighted eyes staring at her. She decided promptly to go for a run.
Natasha's trainers thudded through the undergrowth as she took a detour off the path and through the tall trees. The uphill and extra hazard of tree roots aided in her concentration; anything to get the little witch off her mind. Having lived her entire life to date in lies and espionage; never getting attached, never getting distracted or touchable, Natasha felt lost with herself. She continued running for a good arduous few hour before returning, sweaty and spent, homeward beneath the dark evening sky.
The call of the shower, cool against her skin, kept her moving, past the living room where the television illumination glowed softly, towards her bedroom. Natasha deliberately held her breath as she passed the young witches room; in the hope that perhaps it was the Sokovian's scent that made the superior spy's mind not her own.
Closing her eyes beneath the downpour, letting the water make swift work of dampening her soaking her red locks, Natasha found herself picturing Wanda. There, in the forefront of her mind, she could see Wanda from earlier today, after Steve had scolded her.
That little downturned mouth. The flash of grief and pain and agony beyond a simple reprimand shining from her large green eyes. A second and it was gone, but Natasha remembers perfectly. She opens her eyes and berates herself, snatching up the shampoo and distracting herself with the tiring task of detangling her sweat logged locks.
After a refreshing yet brisk 10 minutes, Natasha was clad comfortably in soft trousers and a vest. She trod barefoot quietly through the halls where many of her team now slept in their beds, towards the faint colours of the telly, still swamping the otherwise dark mansion with late night gaudy glows.
Steve was sat half dozing in front of some game, a beer half-finished in his hand. Natasha walked silently past him only to grind to a sudden halt, having spotted a sleeping young woman, none other than Wanda Maximoff, asleep in the corner of the room, on the small single seat by the window.
She was drawn close in a small little ball; her hair half obscuring her young face. Her feet were bare and for some reason Nat found herself transfixed on the young girl's delicate feet. The half-moon gently swept across the small body of the Sokovian girl, allowing Nat the perfect light in which to run her eyes over Wanda prone form.
A foreign animalistic, maternalistic burning instinct started to form within Natasha as she greedily lapped up the sight before her, a half formed growl began to bubble in her throat which Natasha uncomfortably swallowed, unsure what these mixed emotions meant.
She reluctantly looked away from the teen's feet up her long, ample legs, settling on her chest rise and fall imperceptibly with the shallow breathing of an overdue sleep.
Steady now, her gaze fixed on Wanda's face, Natasha frowned at the dark brown hair hiding the girl's undoubtedly pale, beautiful profile from her eager eye. With the skilled hands of a stealth bred spy, Natasha ghosted her fingers over the girl's cheek, subtly and artfully moving aside Wanda's stray locks to give the assassin full access to the young girl's sleeping face.
"She can't sleep if she's on her own." Steve suddenly said, startling Natasha quite abruptly, who snatched her wandering hand from the 17 year olds cheek like she had been burnt.
Twirling round, she met the glint of Steve's watching eyes in the half light.
"What? Fucking hell Rogers." Nat cursed under her breath, once more tense and agitated at having been caught in the act of Wanda appreciation by Steve none the less.
"Didn't mean to startle you Nat." Steve replied sweetly; too sweetly for Nat's liking.
"You didn't… Never mind. Why is she not in bed?" Nat posed the question professionally, she was meant to be the girl's mentor after all.
"She can't sleep if she's on her own." Steve repeated, all mark of humour gone from his suddenly solemn face. Nat looked back at Wanda and felt a sickening lump rise within her stomach, it's effects creeping round her heart until she suddenly felt like smothering Wanda within her arms and never letting go. Nat growled, physically moving away from the teen and sitting beside Steve. These emotions were so much more than unusual or unexpected, they were UFOs in Natasha's psych.
"Not surprised. She's always been part of a pair." Nat sounded nonchalant but Steve could see how grim and serious her eyes were, still fixed on the sleeping girl. "You shouldn't be so hard on her in training Steve." Again, Natasha tried for nonchalant; an afterthought of an afterthought but still her eyes were pinning Wanda down intently; the Black Widow's lips set in grim seriousness.
Steve sat up a little, his face fallen to a look of a confusion as he ran through today's session.
"What are you talking about Tash?" He genuinely couldn't fathom a reason for Natasha's hushed warning.
"She's not a fighter like the others. She will stumble and fall and get it wrong, a lot. You need to be patient." Finally Natasha had turned around and was looking a little disappointedly at Steve, coming to sit beside him with a little grunt of exhaustion as her backside met the plush coach cushions.
When Steve still looked confused Natasha rolled her eyes.
"Look, you don't notice but when you bark at her all Captain Tight-Ass, it crushes her. Demoralises her already severely lacking self-worth. I know it seems trivial but she's only 17, she's mine, I mean my ward and it's up to me to protect her. That's all. Professional." Nat stopped, short, brisk. Did she say too much? She risked a look at Steve who was watching her closely. She ran through what she had just said again in her head…
Natasha grimaced as the realization of how much it revealed her interest in the kid. Sure enough, Steve had read beyond the slight at his training techniques and heard what Natasha was actually saying.
Don't hurt my girl.
The air was thick and pressing around them as neither knew exactly what to say. Natasha's mind was running ten to the dozen, not needing to be a mind-reader to know that Steve had worked it out.
"You love her?" He said as though it were a question but they both knew the answer was already out there.
Natasha pulled a truly disgusted face at Steve, her eyes wide and frantic. She had to deny it. Deny the ugly fact. She didn't love the little witch. She couldn't care less about the little witch. Fuck Steve and fuck Wanda and fuck anyone else who thought the Black Widow, Natalia; a product of the Red Room could love. Least of all, love a broken child of a war torn country who had brutalised Natasha by shoving her red stained ledger in her minds eyes.
"Just ease up on her okay." Steve had never heard Nat, his oldest friend, partners in many a life threatening crisis, sound as tired as she did right then. Her round, seductive face, pale and worn in the glow from the television; a truer reflection of her damaged psyche throughout the years; the years themselves too long, shone from the youthfully deceptive woman.
And with that, Nat was gone from the living room.
Steve sat and thought for a long, long time. He had known Natasha well. Too well in some respect, and this small yet magnificent revelation circled his head like confused angry bees. It wasn't until the morning rays of the peeping sun settled on his eyelids did Steve decide to drop the matter and retire to bed.
He tiptoed over to the sleeping young woman and carefully, effortlessly, tucked one arm around the girl's shoulders, the other weaving to hook the crook of her legs, where her knees bent, and lifted the small witch. She did not stir. And Steve briefly considered all the times throughout her tragic years that Pietro, her strong and protective brother, had carried her away from danger. The feel of Steve's arms and Steve's broad chest must have felt so natural for the sleeping girl, that he made sense when she curled into Steve as though he'd carried her a thousand times before.
Steve pushed down the unexpected lump of emotion emerging into his throat and engulfing his heart. Maybe the witch hadn't just had had an impact on Natasha.
He quickly hurried to her bedroom and deposited her on the bed, leaving before the girl's eyes could flicker open, wide and lost in the dark, her subconscious having alerted to her to the fact that she was once again- alone.
End of part one. Hope you all enjoyed this. Reviews kindly received. 😊