DISCLAIMER: This fic will be cross-posted in AO3 and FanFiction net
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I don't own the Marvel characters. If I did, I probably wouldn't be writing fan fiction, I'd be writing scripts. This one is loosely linked to my fiction Mrs Dalwhinnie, although you don't have to have read that one to read this fic.
WARNING: Author has Chosen Not To Use Archive Warnings.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
You love someone because they sing a song only your heart can understand.
- L. J. Smith
Natasha hummed contentedly as she added the finishing touches, inhaling appreciatively as the delicious aroma of Maria's favorite brand of coffee drifted through their kitchen, she placed the single Gerbera on the breakfast tray she'd assembled for them. Maria was in bed and, Natasha hoped, still asleep after their evening – which had then ran into early morning - dealing with the consequences of unwittingly capturing the killer who had come to their door.
At first, they had both thought that the attack was work-related, although from the start Maria had not been entirely convinced, due to her attacker's ineptitude. When they had investigated the contents of the worn backpack he wore, they'd found certain items that together appeared to make up a "kill kit", which had resulted in a bit more speculation on the motivation for his attack, but again, in their line of work, that sort of paraphernalia wasn't necessarily conclusive evidence one way or the other. So they'd used some of the zip ties that he'd brought to securely restrain him, finding a certain ironic symmetry in that, and kept searching. Then, in his jacket pocket, Natasha had found a small plastic box that contained his calling cards. They'd taken one look at the contents and then just looked at each other in astonishment, as the comical realization struck, Maria had accidentally bagged herself a serial killer.
Natasha glanced again at this morning's edition of the Times, which she'd picked up whilst gathering some breakfast supplies. Yesterday evening the headline had been all about the 'fear in the city' caused by the "Courier Killer", today it spoke of the 'weight that had been lifted' from the minds of the women of Manhattan, declaring his capture to be due to an outstanding piece of police investigative work.
Their disavowal of any knowledge of the case, and making the police the saviors, was - Natasha knew - the price that had to be paid for keeping their private lives private. But 'once again', Natasha fumed - unconsciously growling under her breath – Maria was forced into the role of the unsung hero.
After all the years working at S.H.I.E.L.D. Natasha had an intimate knowledge of just how often the impact of Maria's work was ignored, or somehow disregarded as irrelevant. It grated on her how the effects of the daily responsibilities that Maria undertook as part of her job were consistently overlooked, not only by the people who benefited incidentally from her dedication, but also by the people who were 'in the know'. People who, she felt, should have noticed and taken the time to appreciate just how much work it took to co-ordinate the preparations, operations and clean-ups that they seemingly just took for granted.
In Natasha's eyes, Maria had never, and should never, be an unsung hero.
Therefore, when she'd awoken this morning, it was with the determination that she was going the spend the weekend showing Maria that she was grateful for, and appreciated, all that she did, no matter how much of a 'drop in the ocean' that gesture might be.
Setting the newspaper aside for more detailed perusal later, Natasha lifted the laden tray and made her way past the couch, where Liho was peacefully snoozing, across the soon-to-be sunlight wooden floor to their bedroom.
Glancing across at the bed she could see that Maria was either still asleep, or pretending to be, so she quietly placed the tray on top of the kitschy dresser they'd found in the Chelsea Flea Market one morning when they'd been out enjoying a lazy Sunday stroll.
As Natasha turned, she fondly contemplated the love of her life, or, well… she snickered inwardly at the sight…, she fondly contemplated what she could see of her, as Maria was snuggled down under the covers, barely visible under the sheets.
Natasha suddenly sagged back against the dresser as she had a revelation. Had she accidentally stumbled onto the explanation as to why people were so blasé about Maria's role? Because she performed her job so flawlessly, it meant that she kept herself hidden from sight. In fact, she realized, if she thought about it that way, then Maria was the true spider of their relationship. She utilized her abilities every day to weave and maintain intricate webs that saved lives around the world, by ensuring the right equipment and personnel, were in precisely the right position, at exactly the right time.
Natasha had known for a long time that she was one of the very few people that were privileged enough to 'see' the real Maria, but she hadn't considered it in quite this way before.
Most saw, as she did if she looked across at her wife hidden under the bedclothes, just the top level. They saw the mask that Maria displayed, the stoic Commander, the "Ice Queen" or "Hardass Hill" persona that Maria had to present to the world to be able to do her job effectively. The business-like attitude and pragmatism were very real, but Natasha had spent time contemplating whether it had always have been so. Parts of the veneer had probably evolved through sheer necessity, from the overriding need to keep the day-to-day ordeals that made up her childhood a secret from the other adults around her when she had been growing up. The rest of the almost impenetrable shell must surely have developed as a by-product of her life in the military and her career in S.H.I.E.L.D.
Natasha thought back to those first months when she had first joined S.H.I.E.L.D. Even before her deprogramming had been completed, she'd already overheard a lot of scuttlebutt and rumors about the Deputy Director. How she would take great delight in cutting you off at the knees in front of the other agents if you made a slight error; how she could freeze you with a glance if you dared to speak out of turn; how she was a harpy and a ball-breaker, never holding back on voicing her opinion, especially in situations when it wasn't wanted; and how, although she was easy on the eyes, she was emotionless, a loner, an unfeeling robot made of ice and marble.
When she'd finally been cleared for field duty Fury had introduced them, no doubt interested to see how they would each react to the other. The person that Natasha had met was definitely direct, focused and the very epitome of no-nonsense, but they were also unbiased and understanding, with – she appreciated, as she came to realize this was the person who had managed to track and sufficiently predict her movements to place Agent Barton in her path at exactly the right moment - a brilliant tactician's mind.
Natasha was not really surprised at the dissonance between the two images, a woman in the role Maria occupied was liable to gather enemies faster than friends. Nonetheless, she'd started watching her closely as she was intrigued by the dichotomy of the perception people had of Maria, compared to the person she felt Maria was. On the occasions when she wasn't on a mission, Natasha had made it her personal crusade to seek Maria out, to try to spend time with her, unobtrusively trying to glean the crucial information she felt she needed to solve the puzzle that the woman presented.
What she'd seen was the way Maria's shoulders braced like a heavy load had been placed on them, just before everyone else realized an operation had gone completely FUBAR, and how her focus and dedication made everyone work harder to resolve whatever had gone wrong.
How her brow would furrow as her gaze turned briefly inwards, as the merits of proposed ideas were swiftly considered, until what she determined was the best option for the given situation was selected and that plan would then be concisely conveyed to the waiting team.
How, although her icy glare could pierce the soul of any person who might possibly be contemplating doing something stupid (and for some reason, at this point an image of Clinton Francis Barton came into her mind). At the same time as she was freezing you in place, and making you consider whether your will was up-to-date, her lip would be twitching minutely in well-hidden amusement.
How, over coffee, her eyebrow would arch at some of the more flirtatious comments Natasha had made, and a delightfully amused glint had flickered in her stunning blue eyes, before she flirted right back.
How, over a meal, she would fiddle with her hair, or would bite her bottom lip, or would laugh, or would… well, do any one of the myriad of enchanting things that she did that completely captivated Natasha, as they began to explore their new relationship.
No, as far as Natasha was concerned, her observations had led her to the conclusion that, as the Deputy Director, Maria was just perfect.
"How do you solve a problem like Maria?" Tony would usually throw out the challenge at some point during one of their informal evenings in the Tower and, on the occasions she was present, Maria would groan and roll her eyes in mock outrage, or sometimes real outrage, depending on the solutions that were proposed.
Natasha reflected, there were some facets of Maria's behavior that were definitely an affectation, perhaps used to keep people at bay or to deflect attention from her actual feelings.
What the other Avengers didn't seem to notice – except perhaps Clint, who knew Natasha well enough to know if she saw something in Maria, then there must be something to see - was the way in which Maria interacted with all of them, her ways of managing their different personalities. To Natasha's way of thinking, it was more a case of "How do you solve a problem like the Avengers?"
With Tony, Maria would be a wisecracking, smart aleck, keeping him on his toes with snarky and pointed comments when needed, following his mercurial conversations and mood swings with ease and using the threat of Pepper judiciously.
With Steve, she would reminisce with him on occasion about the Howling Commandos, but she'd also suggest movies and music for him to listen to, devising projects that needed his input, challenging him to live in the present, not the past.
With Thor, she would ask about Jane and how her work was progressing, the latest on the politics of Asgard, or ask him to recount the epic saga of one of his many adventures with the Warriors Three.
With Bruce, she would tend to have conversations about the charity hospitals he helped to run and sometimes they'd have intense sessions when they tried to resolve whatever political or operational concerns the different centres might be facing.
And with Clint, well if just Natasha was around they would chat about Laura and the kids, and the latest goings-on at the farm, or if the other Avengers were present Maria might expound in a wholly dramatized fashion about his never-ending practical jokes around the Triskelion or the Helicarrier, and his unfortunate proclivity for air duct surfing.
But with Natasha, she was never anyone but Maria. And that was more than enough.
Maria's family network, Peggy, Sharon, Kevin, Phil, Melinda and, even Nick, knew Maria well enough to be allowed past these superficial layers.
The Maria that this privileged group knew was the one that Peggy had noticed, and Sharon and Kevin had met and befriended as a teenager, before some of the later layers had even been created. A Maria who was fun-loving, caring and considerate. A Maria who loved to let her hair down, both literally and figuratively; who played street hockey as if every match was for the Stanley Cup; who loved having friends over and making them home-cooked meals; who played stupid practical jokes and arm-wrestled to settle arguments; who drank beer and cooked S'mores under the stars, with her bare feet buried in the grass.
Phil, Melinda and Nick had also met an earlier version of Maria, one who wasn't as tempered by time and responsibility, but who had already been badly burned by the flames of loss. The baby agent, who developed into the talented Commander. This Maria cared deeply about the agents under her command, she argued passionately with her colleagues about the missions they engaged in, trying to ensure they chose the best options and resources in every case. She was committed, some might even say driven, to the ideal of bringing every agent home safely, and racked with guilt any time 'she' (and it was obvious to Natasha, in Maria's mind it was always ultimately her responsibility) was unsuccessful.
In the instances when missions failed and agents died, this Maria spent time with the families of those agents who were under her command, or handwrote letters to the families of the agents whom she didn't know personally, but who were in her direct chain of command. To these individuals Maria's dedication to the people in her team, and in her command, was legendary.
Natasha had been nervous, but also delighted, when Maria had originally properly introduced her, as 'her girlfriend', to these people who were so important to her, her self-made family. It had felt a bit strange, she couldn't lie, because she already knew most of them from S.H.I.E.L.D., and yet she also appreciated that they too had their own kinds of personal versus professional facades to negotiate, which had led to some interesting conversations over the years. Really… how many shovel talks should one person have to endure?
However, Natasha was absolutely sure that not even this close-knit family knew the Maria that her heart knew.
Natasha was allowed to see the Maria that she had always kept very well hidden. A Maria whose behaviors and insecurities probably resonated through from her early childhood, or lack of a childhood, and Natasha knew that she was honored to be the person who was allowed to be privy to those secrets.
Her Ria would curl up in her arms on the couch, her head tucked under Tasha's chin, berating herself for what she felt were her inadequacies and infuriatingly ignoring the completely unbiased snorts of derision that she would contribute to the diatribe. Natasha knew the frustrated should-a, would-a, could-a conversations that happened in their living room, when an unexpected turn of events caused casualties, or a mission to fail, would have amazed the vast majority of people in S.H.I.E.L.D. that considered Maria unfeeling. On the rare occasions that an agent had died on her watch, then the emotional fall out could last for weeks, as her stubborn wife would insist on overseeing the proceedings, even if she no longer had the time to liaise directly with their family to make all the arrangements herself.
Her Ria would mentally store up the harsh and unfounded words that were thrown at her, the ones spitefully thrown in her face and the ones whispered sneakily behind her back. Only allowing herself to be vulnerable and react to them, when she was in the safety of their home. Natasha had a secret list, and one day, one fine day, she was going to enjoy going through it and making them regret every word.
Her Ria would have nightmares and flashbacks about her father and the traumatic loss of her friends when she'd been in military service. Her birthday and the anniversary of that day were always especially hard.
Natasha reflected on how, over time, as they had talked and spent time in each other's company, her attraction to Maria had grown. Although, she'd had doubts, sure she was making a fool of herself, Clint had persuaded her that he saw Maria watching her in the same "gooey-eyed" way (his words, not hers), when she thought she wasn't being observed. So, she'd persevered. It was going well if, due to the interruptions caused by their work, a little slowly, before a worrying week-long stay in the MedBay due to a nasty injury pushed them both into letting their guards down. Once they had, they had realized there were so many similarities in their lives. Some strange, serendipitous circumstances meant that over the years their hearts and souls had been hurt in comparable ways.
It was odd, because Natasha knew if anyone had asked Maria who had the worse upbringing, she would have said "Natasha" without hesitation. In fact, Natasha acknowledged that most people would agree with her. The Red Room was a organization that tortured children to make them into assassins but, Natasha thought, the people that had inflicted that warped upbringing on her as a child had all been strangers and as children they had lived – and died – in that environment. Maria had grown up being abused by her father, the person that - in the society in which she lived - was supposed to protect her from harm, and she had been forced by him to hide that reality from the world, which meant she had led a very withdrawn and lonely life. So from her point of view, it was actually Maria had endured the more damaging childhood.
Natasha gave a silent, derisive snort. Comparing levels of emotional trauma, was it any wonder that the two of them were so suited to each other. The most wonderful and amazing thing was, they had discovered that together they could cope with any of the appalling baggage that they had been forced by these people to carry. And, of course, there was so much more to Ria than that.
Her Ria loved to hold hands with her when they went out, just because.
Her Ria was a demon pillow fighter, who would attack when you least expected it with devastating accuracy.
Her Ria would spend hours walking all over Manhattan with her, as they joyfully discovered it's hidden spaces together.
Her Ria would play with Liho, sliding around the apartment on besocked feet, dragging feathers and catnip mice across the floor until they both lay panting for breath on the couch. Whilst seeing an episode 'Emergency Vets' would leave her distraught and teary-eyed, to the point that Natasha had banned her from watching any of the animal hospital TV series for the sake of their combined sanity.
Her Ria would indulge in long bubble baths, with scented candles and soft music, dragging a half-dressed and fakely protesting Natasha into them with a playful laugh.
Her Ria would keep them up 'til dawn, snuggled together under a warm quilt and quietly retelling the 'stories of them' to keep them awake, to watch shooting stars scratch wishes across the night sky.
Her Ria could drive her insane with desire, whether she was wearing her tight-fitting tac suit, a beautiful designer dress, or her oldest, baggiest sweatshirt and most disreputable shorts. All it took was one look.
Natasha sighed, was it any wonder she loved this brilliant, complex woman. Quietly walking over, she perched on the side of the bed and pulled slowly on the bed sheet, exposing the unbound, dark hair that was tousled and spread across the pillow. She lightly trailed her finger around the delicate shell of the ear that peeked through the silken strands.
"Ria, are you awake?" she queried softly, before she leant down and placed a soft kiss on the side of her wife's forehead. She paused to see if there was any reaction, and then continued to gently kiss her way past her temple, journeying slowly over ravishing cheekbones and edging her way along the sharply defined jaw line, before skipping across to press a kiss to the corner of Ria's mouth, when her ears caught the sound of a slight, hitched breath.
Natasha paused, leaning back slightly, knowing she now just had to be patient and wait until Maria conceded the game. It didn't take too long before she heard a suppressed chuckle, followed by the sight of a cheeky smile, that acknowledged Maria was, in fact, awake and knew she'd been caught faking it. Dazzling blue eyes peeked open, squinting sideways at Natasha, before she wiggled around to face her wife.
"Morning Tasha," she fake yawned, stretching, as if she hadn't just been caught red-handed. Before, on seeing Natasha's indulgent look, she gave up the pretense with a small shrug and a mischievous grin.
Natasha tenderly stroked her hair into some sort of order, replying, "Good Morning любимая."
As their eyes met, she could see Ria's were full of ill-disguised amusement which, at her words, melted into frank adoration. Her grin widening into the most beautiful smile, her eyes sparkling like the Aegean Sea on a summer's day.
Happiness is such an underrated concept, Natasha thought as she felt her breath catch in her throat and her heart seize with joy. She knew, at that moment, she could have stopped the sun from setting more easily than she could stop the enchanted smile that crossed her own face in response.
Placing a hand on the bed for balance, she leant forward and placed a tender kiss on Maria's mouth, feeling her smile die as passion took the place of laughter. Hands came up to tangle in her hair, pulling her weight down on top of Maria, as lips surrendered to the caress of her lips.
As it always did, her heart skipped a beat when they kissed. She just had time to give a fleeting thought to their breakfast, which was going to be cold, again, by the time they ate it, before concentrating fully on making sure the woman in her arms knew how much she loved and appreciated her.
In her heart, the song of their love built until it was all encompassing.
Notes: Любимая – Darling, Beloved (Lyubimaya)