MCU (c) Marvel Studios
Truth in your eyes, see through my heart — it's open! Make me believe, gives life to path of chosen. It's the song that's forever in the flame within, the living end. There's no need to surrender, I will sing with it, the living end. — Tarja
Natasha took a deep breath upon stepping inside the house, luxuriating in the warmth and smells of cooking pancakes, sizzling bacon and sausages and fresh fruit. Toys littered had yet to litter the floor since the children weren't up yet, still she walked with care in case a stray Lego should catch her unaware. She smiled at a few of the photos she was in that hung up on the wall, her heart grew warmer when Steve stopped to stare at some of them, a pensive expression on his face. He touched one, tracing whatever he saw there, she wondered if he longed for a day when he could settle down with a wife and children of his own, (she hoped that she could be that wife, even if she could never have children). Laura was manning the stove, flipping the pancakes and meat; she looked over her shoulder, smiling at them. "Morning."
"Morning," Steve greeted. She gave a small nod, holding Steve's fingers. "Can I help with anything?"
Laura gave a dismissive snort. "Nah. Sit, I'll get a plate ready." Steve looked at her and she nodded, heading towards the kitchen counter with lined with stools. Laura placed a plate before him, piled high with bacon, sausages and pancakes. A tab of butter was melting as it swam in a pool of syrup on top of the fluffy pancakes. Laura put another plate in front of her, with less food. "Eat, kids'll be up soon." She went back to cooking, whistling a song from one of the Disney movies.
Natasha smiled, eyes twinkling as she glanced at Steve. "They'll give you a run for your money in the food consuming department," she teased him. "Hope you're reading for a food eating contest."
"You do realize I have a metabolism that is four times faster than an average person, right?" He bit a piece of bacon with a satisfying crunch. He took another bite; she watched as his lips pressed around the bacon, his tongue dart out just a tad to catch stray crumbs and her mind steered itself into the gutter, imaging what his lips and tongue could do to her — suck and tease her breasts, his head between her legs as his hungry mouth —
"Steve, milk or juice?" Clint asked, his voice broke her train of thought, her cheeks had a pink tint to them and she hoped nobody noticed. He held up a gallon of milk and a gallon of orange juice. "We got grape and cranberry too, if you don't like orange juice."
"Milk's fine," he said. Clint gave a not, pouring a glass of milk and giving it to Steve. He put a splash of milk in a cup of coffee and gave it to her. She smiled, as she took it from his hand. It was a French roast, designed for a French press and it smelled rich and aromatic. It reminded her of Paris and the cafés, people chatting and eating pastries as they sat in wrought iron chairs. The lazy Sunday mornings at the facility, when it was only her and Steve awake, sitting at the table and drinking a cup of coffee together in companionable silence, before they headed to the cafeteria to grab breakfast.
"Thanks." She took a swallow, enjoying the bitter taste of the coffee and the sweet creamy aftertaste of the milk (Clint always bought whole milk, though since they lived so far away from an actual grocery store, the milk came from a little old lady named Daisy, who owned a couple of cows and sold milk at $2.50 per gallon). She began to eat her food. The bacon wasn't too soft nor too crispy, there was a nice caramelized crust on the sausages and the pancakes tasted like buttery blueberries, no annoying bite of baking soda. "Delicious Laura," she said.
"This is really good," Steve agreed, shoveling food into his mouth. She smiled at him, glad to see him happy. Clint sat down next to him, eating a bagel with a few strips of bacon on his plate. They settled into a comfortable silence while Laura continued to cook. It was soothing, sitting here with her closest friends and the man she loved. She took Steve's hand, squeezing it and smiling at him when he looked at her. She could picture a life like this, in the quiet countryside: Steve would cook since she was hopeless in the kitchen and they'd have a child, they'd find a way around her infertility issue and have a child, a family and they'd live in peace. Retire from hero work and raise their child; the child would know nothing but love and protection — no poverty, no sick and frail body, no cold winter nights with an empty belly along with a threadbare blanket for comfort, official looking men to take the child from the only home he or she had ever known, a woman with ice cold eyes demanding perfection until toes and fingers bled.
A loud squeal jerked Natasha from her thoughts, tiny feet thundered down the steps. Cooper and Lila screeched as they entered the kitchen, darting behind Laura in their play. "Auntie Nat! Auntie Nat!" they chimed as they stopped in front of her for quick hugs. Hugs exchanged the two children squealed — Steve flinched at the volume, hands covering his ears — and bolted into the living room. The tv turned on, she heard familiar music, "SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!" Cooper and Lila shouted. Steve looked at her, flummoxed.
"What's SpongeBob SquarePants?" he asked, in a hushed conspiratorial tone. Cooper and Lila bellowed the titular character's name again.
"A demented talking sponge that lives in a pineapple under the sea," Clint said, getting up, "I don't like them watching trash." He stalked over to the living room to cajole his two older children into watching something less mind rotting.
"It's a cartoon," she said, patting his shoulder. "Pretty funny, I like Plankton, even though he always fails." She took another sip of coffee. "Clint hates it. Says it's a horrible show that rots your brain—"
"It is!" Clint shouted from the living room. "They even did a study that proves you get stupider watching it!"
"You never showed me this supposed study. No study, no proof," she called back. "We can watching together later if you want."
"Nah." He shook his head. "Kinda too old for kid shows, dontcha think?" he grinned.
"You're never too old to laugh at someone else's blatant stupidity," she said, taking his hand. The theme music changed to something more upbeat, there was a car horn and a snare drum. "Clint must've convinced them to change it," she said as Laura walked into the living room with two plates; the whining began as soon as Lila and Cooper saw their breakfast.
"Aww, how come we don't get syrup Mommy?" Cooper asked.
"Cause I don't want sticky fingers all over the place, there's enough butter on it anyway. Now, if you want to sit at the counter and eat you can."
Natasha chuckled when she heard the resounding no to that suggestion. Watching tv while they eat breakfast was more important than syrup anyway. "Are they always like this?" Steve asked as Clint came over.
"No, it's Saturday and their Auntie Nat is here." He looked Steve up and down. "You're ready to be Uncle Steve?"
She watched as Steve choked on his milk, eyes going wide, a look of horror affixed itself to his face. The last time they visited Clint's family was during the Ultron Crisis and she remembered Steve helping around the house (mostly outside) and avoiding direct involvement with Lila and Cooper. In fact, she never seen him interact with children, she wasn't sure if he visited children's hospitals or did anything with children. Tony did, she did, Clint did, Sam and Wanda did. Bruce didn't for obvious reasons, Thor wasn't around much so she wouldn't know. But she couldn't recall if Steve ever did any functions involving children. She knew they asked for him, one older girl even went so far to ask if she and Steve were going to get married (how that idea got into her head, Natasha had no idea). "I uh… well, erm…" he flushed.
"You not like kids or something? You did do Avengers' Day at the hospital right?" Clint asked, his nose wrinkling in bewildered surprise at Steve's reaction.
"Yeah, didn't stay long, took a couple of pictures with a couple of kids. Then I had something to do, so I had to leave early," he said, snapping his last strip of bacon in half and eating it. "I don't mind kids."
"But?" Clint prompted.
"Nothing," Steve said, "I don't mind them. It's fine. I'm just… uh… it's been a rough couple of months. Nothing to worry about."
She rolled her eyes. "You're a terrible liar," she said, a smirk on her face. "It's okay if you hate the little snot nose brats—"
"Hey, those are my kids!" Clint said. "And Nat needs to teach you how to lie better." He directed that statement at Steve.
"Oh, you know I love them," she said, smiling at him. "Believe me Clint, I've tried. Golden Generation morals are hard to crack. Anyway, Clint's not going to hate you if you don't like his kids." She shrugged. "What he will do is make you sleep out in the jet, so" — she reached over and swapped a strip of bacon from his plate — "I suggest you learn to get along with kids right quick."
Both men rolled their eyes at that. "I like kids just fine," he said and got off the stool. "I'll go prove it." He finished off his breakfast and went over to the couch where Lila and Cooper sat. She followed to the archway, watching Steve sit down next to the Barton kids. They exchanged greetings and for a while all was quiet it.
"Where's your shield?" Cooper asked. "Did you lose it? Did it get broken? Can your shield get broken? Can a lightsaber cut it?"
"Do you like Auntie Nat?" Lila asked. "Are you gonna marry her? Can I call you Uncle Stevie? Oh, if you're gonna marry Auntie Nat can I be your flower girl? I wanna dress up like a princess and wear a flower crown? Please, please, please?"
"Did you punch Loki? Dad said you punched Loki… or was that Thor? Is Thor here? He promised me I can try lifting Mjölnir when he came back to visit."
"Do you wanna have a tea party with me later? You can be a prince! You look like a prince."
She laughed, leaning against Clint. She wrapped her arms around herself when Steve gave them a helpless look, his eyes begging them to pull him out of this. Help me, he mouthed.
"Nah-uh, you're on your own with this," Clint said, he left patting her on the back. She watched Laura point to the stairs and told her husband to go get Nathanial. Clint sighed, going to get the baby. She turned her attention back to Steve: Cooper and Lila tugged on his arms, both wanting him to play with them and answer their questions. He looked so out of his depth, she took pity on him; coming to his rescue.
"Lila," she said, picking up the little girl and setting her on her lap. "Hush. Uncle Steve will play with you later, alright?"
Lila nodded, a little smile on her lips as she leaned closer, cupping her hands around her ear and whispered, "do you like Uncle Steve, Auntie Nat?"
She blushed. "Why yes," she said, twisting Lila around so she can fix the girl's hair. "I like him a lot."
"Do you like him the way Mommy likes Daddy?" Lila asked. She flushed, glancing at Steve, who was staring at her, waiting for her answer. He shushed Cooper, when the boy tugged on his arm.
"Yes," she said, "now hold still otherwise I can't get these snarls out."
"Are you going to marry Uncle Steve?" Lila twisted about to see her better. "Well?" Lila asked. She swallowed, glancing at Steve. His ears were red; he was explaining to Cooper about how he lost his shield in a battle and had to leave it behind, but not to worry because as soon as he gets home Iron Man would give it back to him; Iron Man rescued Captain America's shield and was keeping it safe for him. She smiled, surprised at how well Steve lied. I guess even Captain America can lie when the situation calls for it. "Auntie Nat?"
"I don't know," she said, her voice soft, "he hasn't asked me yet, so I don't know if we'll get married or if he wants to get married to me."
"But you like him the way Mommy likes Daddy, so you hafta get married!"
Child logic always amazed her, and sometimes she wished life could be so simple. Peanut butter and jelly was the best, you turned into an angel or ghost after you die, babies came from watermelon seeds, if you loved someone the way Mommy and Daddy do than of course you're gonna get married, Santa was real and was best friends with the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy, the Avengers fought all the scary monsters — especially the ones that caused bad dreams and lived in nightmares; everything made sense to a child. She wished Cooper and Lila could stay young and innocent forever, never knowing how cruel and hateful the world was. "Shush, baby girl," she said, smoothing Lila's hair, "go get your brush and hair ties and I'll make your hair look like that of a prima ballerina, okay? You like that?"
"What's a prima ballerina?" Lila asked. She smiled and tweaked the girl's nose.
"She's the first ballerina, she gets all the lead parts in the ballet. Kinda like a ballerina princess." She caught that glimmer of excitement in Lila's eyes at the mention of princess. "You want to be a ballerina princess?"
"Yes!" Lila squealed, Steve flinched at the volume, the little girl ignored his scowl and bolted off to get her hair ties and hair brush.
"Bring bobby pins too, Lila!" she called as the girl ran to the stairs. She smiled at Steve, who was trying not to stare at her while paying attention to Cooper. "What?" she asked at his expression.
"Nothing, I just never—"
"C'mon, Uncle Steve!" Cooper tugged at his hand. "I wanna show you my Hot Wheels collection and the track I have! It's really cool! You can launch them at each other! C'mon!"
"Just think of this as Parenting 101, only without the responsibilities that come with child rearing," she said, watching Cooper tug at Steve. The boy was determined to haul Captain America to his feet, regardless of the fact that Steve was a solid brick of muscle clocking in at two hundred and forty pounds. Steve wouldn't budge from a spot unless he wanted to or someone like the Hulk, Thor or Iron moved him physically. She patted Steve's shoulder. "Go get 'em Uncle Stevie."
"Don't call me that," he said, getting to his feet. "Whoa there, Cooper." He caught the boy before he fell and hit his head on the corner of the table. "Don't want ya to knock your head now. C'mon, show me your Hot Wheels." He followed an excited Cooper to another room. She shook her head, smiling as Steve left.
"Auntie Nat!" Lila said, holding a box filled with hair supplies. "I got everything! You can make me a real princess ballerina!"
"Kneel down and hold still," she said, and Lila did as she was told. She brushed the girl's hair, working some coconut oil onto her hands to smooth Lila's hair. She hummed as she worked. "Tell me if I pull to hard. A ballerina's hair must be nice at tight."
"Okay, Auntie Nat, you aren't though."
She enjoyed doing this, explaining about ballet and the life of a ballerina to Lila as she worked. This was the closest she'll ever get to being a mother, to having a daughter and it pained her. Children had never been a tangible aspect of her future, the Red Room made sure of that. The first time she met Clint's children, Lila had been a baby. She watched Lila grow up, bought her Christmas and birthday presents (Russian nesting dolls, Barbies, stuffed animals), helped her with her hair when she visited, answered her questions and played with her when she asked. She enjoyed it, Lila adored her, and Laura was thankful with the help. "Hold still Lila," she said as she tucked and teased Lila's hair into a petal design. "You're going to look beautiful once I'm done."
"Can you put make-up on me?" she asked. Natasha frowned, unsure if Laura would allow that. "Please?"
"Only if your mama says it's okay," she said, remembering the cold Russian winters of her youth in Volgograd. Wearing he grandmother's shoes, pearls and fighter pilot jacket — Regiment 588th emblazon on a sleeve — pretending to be flying a plane and shooting down Nazis; letting her grandmother put eyeshadow on her eye lids, rouge on her lips and blush on her cheeks, standing on her grandmother's toes and pretending to dance and listening to her voice tell stories of Baba Yaga or to stories about the war and how the Nazis called her grandmother and her friends Nacht Hexen. Then her parents died, and her grandmother struggled as the economy floundered and the Soviet Union began to crumble, the KGB coming and dragging her away from her dying grandmother, how she screamed and cried — Babushka! Babushka! — and her first night in the Red Room was cold and dark. The small girl known as Natalia spun a chrysalis of blood and death, emerging from it as the woman known as Black Widow, gone was the innocent girl that laughed and wanted to be a ballerina and meet the handsome soldier known as Captain America.
"Auntie Nat?" Lila asked, drawing Natasha from her thoughts. "You done? Can I go ask Mommy?"
"Oh, um…" she picked up a bobby pin and stuck it into her hair to hold a loose part in place. "Yes, you can go now." Lila squealed and ran off to show her mother and father her hair. She looked up to see Steve standing there, hands holding his belt buckle. "Hey."
"You okay? You seemed kinda lost in thought," he said, sitting on the couch. He picked up a sparkly hair clip with a butterfly on it. He poked the wings, eyes widening as the butterfly's wings bobbed.
"There's springs," she said, pointing to the delicate silver springs, "so when Lila runs the wings bob."
"Huh." He set it down. "You're good with her. She likes you; noticed it last time — during the Ultron Crisis — it was sweet." He licked his lips. She smiled, patting his hand.
"Thanks. It's not much, but… I like being Auntie Nat." She picked up the unused hair supplies, putting them back in the box.
"I'm sorry," he said, "if there was… something I could do, I would. But—"
"It's okay, I've made my peace with it," she said, smiling at him but it didn't reach her eyes. The lie came easy to her; she had said it so many times. She almost believed it, believed that not being a mother was okay, that motherhood didn't define her. It was okay if she didn't have children. For a long time, it never bothered her, it didn't bother her when she told Bruce, didn't bother her with Bucky, didn't bother her when she was married to Alexi. Now it bothered her, because she was with Steve and she wanted to give him everything, and yet she was unable to give him that one things — children.
"You can be honest with me," he said.
"I am," she said, even though she felt like black oil covered her skin. She hated lying to him, but they — having a family was counterproductive to their moment in life. Living on the run from the governments of the world was not the ideal conditions to be raising a child in, plus Vision had said the Mind Stone was warning him about a threat and there was no telling about what the future had instore. She was glad for the fact that the Red Room sterilized her. "I am, Steve," she said again, unnerved by the look he gave her. He sighed, nodding and didn't press her.
"Auntie Nat!" Lila came running back over, grinning. "Oh, hi Uncle Steve."
"Wow, you look just like a princess," he said, smiling. "Did Natasha do your hair all pretty?" he asked as the girl spun around.
"Uh-huh." She held a small jar in her hand. "Auntie Nat, Mommy said you can put this on my cheeks." She handed the facial glitter. She took the jar and opened it, dabbing her finger in the cool gooey gel.
"Big smile and close your eyes," she said, and Lila did as instructed. She applied the glitter, making sure to put a star glitter at the corner of Lila's eye. "There all done, don't rub your eyes for a little bit until it sets."
"Am I pretty, Uncle Steve?" She asked, a cute blush on her cheeks. He nodded. "Can we dance? I'm a ballerina princess and you're a prince!"
"Oh well, uhm…" he flushed, ears turning pink. "I don't know how to dance."
"But… all princes know how to dance," Lila said as if that was self-evident.
"I'm not much of a prince, Lila, I'm more of a soldier," Steve explained, though it did nothing to quell Lila's insisting he was a prince. Clint came over with Nathanial, who was two and in a clingy phase.
"Do you wanna dance with Daddy?" Clint asked, knowing that look Lila got when she wanted to play prince and princess. Lila shook her head. "Aw, c'mon, Daddy's a great dance!"
"But Uncle Steve's a prince!"
"And you're a princess, so that makes Daddy a king which is better than a prince," he said with a wink. "So there!"
"Why don't you dance one round with your daddy, so Uncle Steve can watch and then dance the next round with Uncle Steve?" Natasha sad, thinking it was a suitable compromise to the problem.
"But I really wanna dance with Uncle Steve!" Lila said. "Please!" she looked at Steve. He looked helpless, hoping she or Clint would swoop in and rescue him. Neither did, so he sighed and stood up. "Yay!" She trotted over to him when he went to a clear spot in the living room. She put her feet on his toes and he held her. Steve began to move, trying to dance but it was more of a shuffle with a few butt wiggles through in for effect. "You're supposed to hum something or sing, Daddy sings."
"I'm not good at this," he mumbled, face going red. Natasha grinned, knowing that his blush went all the way down to his chest when he was embarrassed like this. He began to hum a jazz tune. Lila didn't appreciate classic American music though and she hopped off Steve's feet, hands on her hips.
"You're not doing it right, Uncle Steve!" she said, looking over at her father. "Daddy!" she whined and went over to him. "Can you dance with me? Uncle Steve doesn't do it right."
"Uncle Steve needs to hold Nate then?" Clint said, offering up the toddler. Steve paled at that, his eyes widening.
"Oh, no. I can't hold a b-baby!" he said, waving his hands in denial. "I could crush him or squeeze him to hard and… I just… I can't hold him."
"He's two Steve, he's a bit hardier than a newborn. C'mon, it'll be fine. I trust you." Clint held Nathanial out to Steve, but he shook his head. She rolled her eyes and stood up, going over to Steve and taking his hand. "Or you can dance with Nat," Clint mumbled.
"I'm going to teach you to dance," she said, putting his hand on her hip and taking his other, she placed her hand on his shoulder. "Okay?"
"O-Okay," he said, eyes a bit wide. Lila squealed in delight, telling Clint how awesome this was to watch Auntie Nat dance. She flushed, shaking her head to clear thoughts and hummed a simple waltz. "One two three… One two three… One two three…" she said as she moved with Steve, she winced when he stepped on her foot.
"Sorry!"
"Steve, relax and let me lead," she said, resuming the count so he understood the rhythm. He stepped on her foot again, she shot him a glare. "Relax and let me lead."
"Sorry, not good at this," he said, looking bashful, his gaze fixed on his feet. He stepped on her toes again. "Sorry, didn't… didn't mean to."
"Steve." She stopped, looking at him. "Don't look at your feet, don't think about it. Dancing is about feeling and moving. Kinda like fighting. You mess up when you start thinking in a middle of a fight."
"Dancing and fighting are not the same thing, though," he protested. She shook her head and tried to let go of him, but he tightened his grip. "Please," he said, voice soft, "teach me so I can" — he swallowed — "dance with…" he stopped, gazing daring away and he chewed his lip as if he wanted to say something else but he said, "Lila."
She looked at the little girl, who was whispering something to Clint. Her former partner grinned, nodding and said something back in a hushed voice. Whatever it was Lila found it funny for she covered her hands and giggled. She sighed. "Alright," she said, "but let me lead."
"Deal." He nodded, she began to hum the waltz again. This time he let her lead, a half smile on his lips as the twirled about the living room. At some point she gave the lead over to him. She fell into his warm blue eyes, the windows of his soul and she saw all the love and devotion he had for her, pure scintillating light, the darkness of his past not gone just morphed into scars that he can understand and accept. She helped him heal his soul and that was something powerful; an unbreakable connection. Her breath hitched, she didn't realize they had stopped dancing or that he held her against his broad warm frame. His lips brushed hers in a tentative kiss and she returned it, parting her lips on instinct to allow him to deepen it.
"Aw! She's your princess Uncle Steve!" Lila gasped, she squealed with delight as she jumped up and down on the couch. "You're gonna marry her and live in a castle! Right, Daddy, right?"
Lila's voice broke the magical spell, snapping her back to reality and she stared at Steve. She had pulled away so fast that his lips were still puckered up, wanting to continue the kiss. It took him a moment to realize what was going on, but he caught on and licked his lips. "So, Lila," he said, looking at the little girl. "Do you think you wanna try dancing with me again?" he asked.
"But Auntie Nat—"
"Auntie Nat is going to see if your mommy needs help," she said. She smiled at Lila and patted Steve on the shoulder before heading towards the stairs.
"She's outside," Clint said, she nodded her thanks and left the house. She didn't go looking for Laura, she knew Laura was in the basement doing laundry and mending. Instead, she went to the tree near the house, sitting on the swing and letting the afternoon wind ruffle her hair.
Lila's smart.
No, Nat's not falling out of love with Steve. It's more like she realizing that she wants that domestic life with Steve and doesn't know how to deal with it. Plus, she's a private person. PDA for a mission is find, but PDA (even around people she knows) is no. And remember this is a young love. Both she and Steve need to get comfortable with the fact that they are together and in love, cause they've been dancing around it for so long.
Just trust me. I know what I'm doing, I went to school for this.
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I love you silent readers! Please show me you're alive T_T
Also, I loosely base Nat's childhood off of what I've kinda figured out about it from comics canon (by reading other people's fics :P), what the MCU has presented and my own headcanons. The 588th was an all female bomber regiment during WWII and the Nazis did call them Nacht Hexen or Night Witches. "Night Witches" (German: Nachthexen; Russian: Ночные ведьмы, Nochnye Vedmy) was a World War II German nickname for the female military aviators of the 588th Night Bomber Regiment, known later as the 46th "Taman" Guards Night Bomber Aviation Regiment, of the Soviet Air Forces. Though women were initially barred from combat, Soviet Premier Joseph Stalin issued an order on October 8, 1941 to deploy three women's air force units, including the 588th regiment. The regiment, formed by Major Marina Raskova and led by Major Yevdokia Bershanskaya, was made up primarily of female volunteers in their late teens and early twenties