because the glimpses of the friendship between Laura and Natasha that we saw in the films were not enough, and I firmly believe they were close friends.
a few time jumps in this one - but hopefully they're clear enough.
enjoy.
"Clint," Laura says.
"Yeah babe?" he answers distractedly.
"You said you haven't been back here in years, right?"
"Uh, yeah, why?"
"It's clean."
He frowns in confusion as he turns to meet her worried gaze. "What's clean?"
"The house," she explains. "There's no rotten food in the fridge or cupboards, no garbage, no dishes in the sink, nothing left from the picnic…" she ticks off on her fingers. "And the yard isn't absolutely overgrown like it should be."
His eyes widen as he understands what she's telling him. And it takes him just seconds to piece the likely explanation together. "Nat…" he whispers, hands rising to hold his head as it drops in grief.
She had suspected it, but until Clint uttered her name, Laura hadn't quite believed it. She feels her eyes fill as the realization sinks in that even though Clint had been lost and drifting in grief, Nat had still been taking care of things.
Laura blinks rapidly and her breaths quicken as she fights to steady her emotions.
Nat had been taking care of her home, Laura thinks sadly. Even with all the responsibilities and expectations she'd had weighing on her shoulders, she had made sure to take care of things for them.
"I don't know how she kept her shit together," Clint says with a shake of his head, his expression miserable as he thinks of his late friend. "I fucking lost it, and she was running the Avengers, keeping Steve and Tony from killing each other, working on a way to fix everything, and apparently she found time to fly across the country and clean my fucking house."
Laura reaches over to grab his arm and squeeze it soothingly. "Nat liked to take care of the people she cared about," she offers softly, feeling the weight of those words.
But even as she soothes her husband, Laura feels her own emotions threaten to overflow. Being in the house would've been a painful reminder of what Nat had lost, and yet she still went in. She had probably had dozens of things pulling at her attention, but she'd still made time to clean the house.
"God, I didn't deserve her."
"Clint-"
"She was too good to me. She put up with all my shit, saved my life god only knows how many times, and kept me grounded. I didn't deserve that."
"You did, Clint," Laura says patiently. "Don't forget you saved her once too. She got to where she was because you made that call all those years ago."
Clint just shakes his head and heads out to the barn, grabbing his bow on the way. Laura lets out a sigh. She knows not to expect him back anytime soon. A punishing workout is the only real way he knows how to work things out. He's been through the wringer, what with battling aliens and losing his best friend, and he hasn't really slept yet, but Laura knows he'll still be out there for hours firing arrow after arrow.
"Clint?" Laura asks as they're lying in bed, hours after the initial realization of Nat cleaning their house.
"Yeah?"
"I think Nat came here often during those five years," she says softly.
He turns to face her and a gentle frown creases his brow. "What makes you say that?"
"It's too clean," she replies, watching as his frown deepens. "Even if Nat cleaned everything shortly after you left, five years is a long time to be left untouched. There should be dust."
"Maybe she cleaned it more recently," he offers, but Laura can see in his expression he doesn't believe his own words.
She shakes her head. "Even if she'd cleaned everything recently, there still would've been traces of being untouched for five years. The sheets and the rooms would still be musty...believe me, that smell is not easy to get rid of. And the yard work would've taken more than a day to handle if it had been left that long…"
Her eyes well with tears as she pictures Nat moving through the empty house, dusting surfaces, cleaning and changing the sheets, and airing out the rooms.
Clint turns over abruptly without saying anything and picks up his phone, apparently intending to make a call despite the late hour. He puts it on speaker and lays the phone between them.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Cap. It's Clint."
"Hey, Clint," he replies tiredly. "How's your family?"
"We're good," Laura answers. "Thank you for everything you did, Captain."
"Please, call me Steve," he answers with a soft exhale. "And…I'm sorry."
"Got a question for you," Clint says quickly, not letting the apology and offer of condolences linger. It's still too fresh.
"Sure."
"You were with Nat at the Compound over the last five years, right?"
Steve is silent for a moment. "Some of the time, yeah. Why?"
"Do you know if she made any trips to the farm?"
Steve is silent again, and Laura's not sure what to make of it. "Yes. She did," he answers eventually.
Laura's eyes squeeze shut at the confirmation of her theory. "How often?" she asks softly.
A sigh. "At least once a month."
Laura thinks of what Clint's told her about their time heist plan. "When was she here last?"
Steve pauses again, and Laura can tell this time it's hurting him to give the answer. "The day before we went back in time."
"She told me she was tying up a couple of loose ends," Clint says, his mind going back to that last night. "I asked if she wanted me to come with, but she told me to get my head straight."
"She wanted to make sure things would be ready for Laura and the kids when they came back," Steve explains softly. "I offered to go with her too, but she shrugged it off and asked me to keep an eye on you."
"Goddamnit, Nat," Clint breathes out. Silence envelops them all for a beat before Clint recovers enough to say, "Thanks, Cap. Let me know when you need me back there."
"Take your time. Everything's still in flux here."
"Okay. Take care of yourself, yeah?"
"Yeah, you too," he replies. "And it was nice to speak with you again, Mrs. Barton."
Laura smiles weakly at his formality. "Laura, please. And likewise."
The call ends and the ensuing silence feels suffocating. All Laura can think about is the fact that Nat had washed the sheets she was lying on top of less than a day before. She'd made the beds, cleaned the house and the yard, and then gone off to save the world, not knowing she'd never see the house again. Not knowing that they'd never see her again. Not knowing that she was going to leave them all hopelessly grappling for some sort of grounding as they tried to cope with losing a member of their family.
Laura smooths out the front of her skirt, and then takes a moment to tame a few stray hairs that are blowing in the gentle breeze. She takes a deep breath and then lets her gaze rise to the freshly planted tree intended to honour her friend. A frown creases her brow as she realizes that friend isn't the right word. Not at all. She'd known Nat for almost twenty years and in that time had seen the highs, the lows, and everything in between. She'd helped stitch up wounds, sat beside her as she tried to come to terms with crushing nightmares, helped introduce her to the ins and outs and what it was to have a family, held her gently as she suffered splitting headaches while fighting off the last dredges of the Red Room's brainwashing and conditioning, watched as she grew into her role as aunt, and cried on her shoulder when she brought home a broken and bruised but still alive Clint.
She's more than a friend; she's family, Laura thinks to herself. She gulps as the truth chokes her and she ponders whether it should be a 'was' family instead of an 'is' family.
She closes her eyes against the tears that are threatening to fall and tries to steady herself. Nat had always managed to come out of even the most dire and impossible circumstances, but this time Laura knows she's not coming back. She knows it deep in her bones, and yet somehow a small part of her is still waiting for Nat to pop up behind them all and utter some teasing remark, flashing that smirk she'd favoured so much.
Laura glances over to check on the kids, and finds that Wanda has joined Clint and them. With the knowledge that they are safe and being watched over, she turns her attention back to the tree.
"Hi, Nat," she says softly.
Listening to everyone murmur their thanks to Nat for what she'd done and share brief stories of their time together had been beautiful, but also made Laura's heart ache. When Clint had called her almost twenty years before, asking if he could bring home a young Russian assassin that he'd chosen to spare the life of rather than follow orders and kill her, Laura had been nervous. She trusted Clint's judgment and knew he wouldn't put her in harm's way, but the prospect of having a former enemy spy and assassin under her roof unnerved her.
"She's a good kid, babe."
"I don't doubt it. But she can still kill me forty ways from Sunday."
"She won't."
"You don't know that, Clint."
"I do, Laura. She's a good kid who had a shit childhood," he counters. "If you can even call it that," he adds bitterly.
Laura sighs. "I trust you, Clint, I do, but this…"
"I'm not going to force you to do anything, babe. If you say no, then I leave her here. But she's only been off base a handful of times for supervised excursions over the past year. She's stuck here the rest of the time, and almost no one will talk to her. I think meeting you will do her some good. Lord knows it did me a hell of a lot of good."
She lets out another sigh. "She's really changed?"
"She has," Clint confirms. "She's wracked with guilt over everything they made her do, and she's hell bent on making up for it."
"And you trust her?"
"I do. She spends every second of our visits into the real world checking for threats against us."
Laura blinks. "Was that supposed to make me feel better?"
"Us, babe. She's looking for threats against us. Not just her, both of us."
Laura bites her lip as she thinks hard about what he's asking, because she knows that after this there's no going back. The fact that Clint wants to bring her home means he's willing to share his most sacred of secrets with this girl. He must see something in her, otherwise he wouldn't have even brought it up.
"Okay," she says finally. "But she brings no weapons with her, and I get to meet her somewhere else before we take her to the house."
"Deal."
Laura sees Clint's silhouette appear in the entrance of the diner they'd agreed to meet in. It's several hours away from their house, a countermeasure in case things go badly. He is certain that she will like Natasha and they'll get along well, but Laura isn't quite so convinced.
A goofy grin spreads across his face when he spots her and it's only then that Laura notices the petite girl next to him with bright red hair. Her expression is pure apprehension, and Laura finds herself a bit surprised. If she were as good a spy as Clint had said, hiding her emotions would be second nature...and yet here she was looking decidedly nervous.
"Hey," Clint says with a nod. "Laura, meet Natasha. Natasha, meet Laura," he says with a vague gesture between the two of them, his trademark grin wide on his face despite the near palpable tension in the air.
"Hi," Laura says gently as she takes in the sight of this 16 year old assassin. "It's nice to meet you."
Natasha's eyes are darting around, no doubt cataloguing exits, possible vulnerabilities, and identifying what could be used as a weapon. It's something Clint has always done, and so Laura recognizes the signs easily.
"Nice to meet you, too" Natasha says finally, locking gazes with Laura.
Laura finds herself a bit unnerved by what she finds in Natasha's eyes. They are practically void of emotion, but have such a depth of pain that Laura feels a protective instinct forming. Despite being well aware that the girl in front of her is responsible for dozens of assassinations, all Laura wants to do is wrap her up in a tight hug, and already she is beginning to understand why Clint made the choice he did.
Clint gestures for Natasha to slide into the booth and she does so after only a brief moment of hesitation.
"So how are you finding America so far?" Laura asks, doing her best to ease the inescapable tension that has settled into the air.
"It is very loud," she answers, and Clint chuckles. "But is very nice."
Laura hadn't realized it when she had spoken before, but she's surprised to hear the traces of a Russian accent and cadence in her voice. Clint had mentioned more than once how her American accent had been impeccable… But then again, perhaps it was simply a matter of comfort to be herself.
"Quite different from Russia, I imagine," Laura offers.
Natasha nods. "Clint explains things to me. He says this is my American culture education."
Laura's eyes slide over to Clint, who has sat himself next to Natasha. She finds a slightly guilty and yet also somehow unapologetic expression on his face.
"I'm afraid to ask what he considers to be an American cultural education," Laura remarks dryly.
Natasha's brows furrow ever so slightly. "Movies, books, and music," she lists, "and food."
"And how do you find the food here?"
"Everything is big. And greasy."
Clint just grins. "All the worthwhile stuff is."
"Don't believe him when he tells you ketchup is meant to go on everything. Some things don't need it."
A small smile curls on Natasha's lips. "I told him this. He didn't accept it."
Laura finds herself chuckling and Natasha's smile spreads a bit wider. "Not to worry, I'll make sure he doesn't lead you astray."
"Thank you," Natasha says gratefully with a nod. "This is very kind of you."
An hour later, Laura feels significantly more at ease. Natasha is clearly nervous, but is painfully polite and respectful, and Laura is really starting to understand why Clint had wanted to bring her home with him. There is just something about her that is tugging at Laura's heart.
"Do you want dessert, Natasha?" Clint asks, holding out the dessert menu.
Natasha's eyes widen slightly. "I do not need," she replies with a shake of her head.
"I asked if you wanted dessert," Clint counters gently. "Remember-"
"I can have things I want," she finishes, shame colouring her expression ever so briefly. "Yes, I remember."
Laura feels her heart clench at the thought that Natasha had once not been allowed to choose things for herself, and the words tumble out of her mouth before she can even realize it. "Let's have dessert at the house."
Clint's gaze slides to meet hers, and his eyebrow rises in a silent question of 'You sure?'
"We have all that ice cream you bought last time you were home, plus that cheesecake that's frozen, and I made an apple pie this morning that we could have," Laura continues. In for a penny, in for a pound.
"I do not want to be a burden," Natasha hedges. "I can go back to base, Clint."
"No, no, please," Laura says, reaching out and grabbing Natasha's hands that are sitting on the table between them. Natasha flinches but Laura pretends not to notice and makes sure to stay relaxed. "Clint will eat the whole thing otherwise."
"She's right," Clint says, trying to stay relaxed himself while still trying to coax Natasha into coming. "In one sitting no less."
Natasha pulls her hands away and back into her lap. "If is not too much trouble…"
Laura waves it off. "Of course not. Have you ever had apple pie?"
"No," Natasha says with a short shake of her head. "Is very American dessert, yes?"
Clint laughs. "Oh yeah, about as American as you can get."
Laura's mind drifts back to the present, and the tree comes into focus again. Nat had come so far from that young, apprehensive girl. She'd grown up into a strong and fierce woman who never let anyone feel sorry for her, but could also be incredibly gentle, thoughtful, and kind. It had taken her years but she'd carved out a person from the wreckage that the Red Room had left in their wake, and moulded it into someone she began to feel comfortable as.
"Thank you," Laura whispers shakily. "You promised me once that you would do everything in your power to make sure he came home...and you did. You made sure he could come home to us. You made sure I'd have my husband, and my kids would have their father. And I- I can't ever thank you enough for that."
Laura's hands smooth out her skirt again, even though there are no wrinkles. The action is almost calming, giving her hands something to do other than wringing together or tear at her nails.
"But I'm angry with you, Natasha," she whispers fiercely. "How could you?! Didn't you know that we loved you? That losing you was going to crush us? Family doesn't pull shit like this," she chastises. "Didn't you know how much you mattered to us?" She pauses, feeling herself start to choke on the grief that's bubbling up and over. "How much you mattered to me?"
Laura knows it's the grief talking. She knows she isn't actually angry with Nat. But all she wants to do is scream at her that she shouldn't have been so casual with her own life. That she should have felt worthy of living and surviving. That she shouldn't have just thrown away her life, because it meant something. It meant a whole goddamned lot. Laura had spent the better part of almost twenty years trying to teach Natasha that she was more than what the Red Room had made her, that she was her own person, and that she mattered and was loved. And to hear that she'd chosen to give up all of that...
She sighs shakily. "I know you did it to save your family," she says, her anger having already begun to fade because she knows Nat did what she did out of love. Love for Clint, and her, and the kids, and the whole Avengers team. "But it- it wasn't supposed to be you. You went through enough shit in your life. You shouldn't have had to do this too."
Laura pauses as she shakes her head. "It's not fair that I had to lose you to keep my husband," she whispers. "That was never supposed to be the deal."
She wipes the tears that have escaped and lets out another shaky breath. She tries not to think about the what ifs of having Nat back, because she knows it would mean her kids would grow up without their father. And she hates that scenario, but she hates the one where her kids have to grow up without their Aunt Nat too. A new wave of anger rushes over her at that thought, because it's just not fair.
"I can't believe you're gone. I just- I'm-"
She stops abruptly as it becomes too much, the tidal wave of grief washing over her. Her eyes close as the tears begin falling again and her chin trembles with emotion as she tries to get the words out. There's so much she wants to say, but the grief is choking her and she can't find the right words.
She takes a deep, steadying breath. "I'm so grateful I got to know you. I can't imagine our lives without you. You were the best aunt, friend, and sister we could've asked for. I don't know what we did to deserve you...but we were so lucky to have you in our family."
Laura's gaze lifts up to the sky for a moment, finding clouds blurred by tears, before it drops back down to the tree in front of her. "I hope you know that we loved you, Nat," she manages to say, grief coating the words so they feel wrong as they leave her mouth. "So, so much," she whispers.
Suddenly Laura's knees feel weak, but before she can even start to fall she feels strong arms encircle her from behind.
"She knew," Clint whispers in her ear. "She did what she did because she loved us."
Laura's head shakes in denial. "I should have told her more. She always looked a bit uncomfortable when the kids told her, so I didn't say it much. But I should've told her all the time. After all the shit she went through as a kid...I should have told her every single damn day."
"She knew, babe."
"She deserved to hear it," Laura replies stubbornly.
"It was in everything you did for her, Laura. Making sure her room was ready when she came to visit, making her favourite meals and desserts, sending her videos of the kids and emails with updates on your life, mailing her drawings from the kids… She heard it in every one of those things and a million others that you did for her."
Laura's head tips forward as her body sags further. "I can't believe she's gone."
"Me neither," Clint murmurs.
"We had almost twenty years with her, but..."
"It doesn't feel like long enough. I know."
They fall into silence and Laura finds herself wondering what Nat had felt and thought as she dangled from Clint's hand on the side of the cliff. She wonders if she thought of her family and nights spent in front of the firepit at the farmhouse. She wonders if she thought of all those Sunday afternoons spent sharing bottles of wine as they talked about anything and everything, or the seemingly endless snowball fights with Cooper and Lila every Christmas, or the countless times the kids had fallen asleep draped all over her while watching a movie, or constantly teasing Clint about his latest renovation project going awry.
And Laura wonders if she thought about meeting a strange woman in a diner and later that day having her first taste of apple pie.
I couldn't type fast enough when I was writing this one. ideas and scenes just kept popping into my head, and I couldn't leave it alone. it's been sitting in my drafts folder for a long time, and it wasn't until the final scene of Laura in front of the tree popped into my head that I finally felt I had an ending for it. the friendship between them is one of my favourites, and is actually the first one I ever wrote about in this fandom.
anyway...liked it? hated it? did it tug at the heart strings?
do let me know - feedback is ever so appreciated.