Nat dreams of falling, of reaching for her sister's outstretched hands and not being able to hold on. Yelena's scared face, blonde hair blowing in the wind, is the last thing she sees before she wakes up with a flinch.

She sits up. "Fuck," she whispers, burying her face in her hands. She's shaking, she notices. She can't get it to stop.

She stumbles out of bed, glances back to make sure Matt hasn't stirred (somehow), and grabs her phone. She walks up to the roof, not that it'll be much quieter to Matt, and dials a number after attempting to calculate what time it should be for Yelena before remembering that Russia is too fucking big and has 11 different time zones.

Yelena picks up immediately. "Hi," she says. "What's up?"

"Hey," Nat says softly, and Yelena probably hears something in her voice, something weak and fragile and in need of comfort, in need of proof of life.

"What happened?" Yelena asks immediately. "Are you hurt? Is someone else hurt? Did Murdock break up with you?"

Nat chokes out a laugh, which had probably been Yelena's intention. "That's hopeful thinking, on your part."

"I know. Well, what is it?"

Nat sighs. "It's nothing, really."

"You don't need to lie to me."

And that just reminds Nat of Ohio, of having to pretend but not pretend at the same time, of lying to Yelena so she'd have some semblance of a childhood.

What's with all these people tearing through her walls lately? "Don't make fun of me for this," Nat says, voice wavering a little. "I just- I had a nightmare and I wanted to hear your voice."

Yelena can read between the lines well enough. She knows how nightmares go for people like them. "Why would I make fun of you for that?" she asks after a pause. "It's perfectly normal, really."

"I know," Nat says. Sometimes, it's easy to forget that your vulnerabilities are not just your own.

Yelena takes a deep breath and lets it out with a whoosh. "Anyways," she says, "Alexei managed to accidentally poison all of us with his cooking."

Nat raises an eyebrow, noting the attempt at a distraction. "Really?"

"Yes, the food had gone bad without us knowing. It was miserable. Melina is never letting him cook ever again."

"This is a skill we could learn for missions."

"Giving people food poisoning?" Yelena asks incredulously. Nat can envision the half-amused, half-horrified expression on her face.

"It could serve as a distraction," Nat says, completely reasonably, "or a way to make taking out targets easier."

"You are evil. Being murdered is already bad enough without vomiting and diarrhea."

They talk for a little while more, and Nat can feel herself untensing, feel her hands stop shaking. After she ends the call, she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. The night seems mostly peaceful to her, though she knows Matt can probably hear more.

Speaking of Matt, the rooftop door opens up and there he is, holding a pair of Nat's shoes and a blanket.

"What's the blanket for?" she asks, gratefully taking the shoes and putting them on.

Matt spreads the blanket out on the roof, sits down on top of it, and takes her hand with a smile, pulling her down beside him. They lay down, and Nat attempts to watch the stars. While Hell's Kitchen doesn't have as much light pollution as the other boroughs, it certainly still has some.

Matt kisses the top of her head and murmurs, "What can you see?"

Eventually, they fall asleep right there, high up and separated from the rest of the world.


Nat joins Matt for a night beating up criminals in Hell's Kitchen. In between fights, they talk.

"I leave the aesthetics and color scheme in your hands," Matt says dryly at one point.

On a random rooftop, Nat declares, "I'm not wearing a fancy wedding dress."

Matt probably raises his eyebrows, but Nat isn't entirely sure with his mask on. "I'm sure you'd look beautiful," he responds, "but you do you."

On another rooftop, Nat says, "Do you have a preference on where it takes place?" Matt shrugs. She assumes that he doesn't.

In a dark alleyway, Matt says, "Father Lantom could officiate it."

Nat turns to him slowly, raising an eyebrow. "Does he know about me?" she asks.

"Yes, actually. It's kind of scary how much he knows."

"If he agrees, we'll send him something nice."

Later on, after Nat gets skimmed by a knife, Matt says, "I'll try not to get a black eye the night before the wedding." Nat snorts.

They find their way to another rooftop, sitting on the edge and swinging their legs over air. "Small wedding," Nat says.

"Small wedding," Matt agrees.

On a secluded street corner where most of the nearby streetlights don't work, Nat amends, "Maybe not small wedding. Have you processed how big our families are?"

Matt frowns, considers. "Maybe not small wedding," he concedes.

In another alleyway, Nat says, "I don't know how Pepper did it."

"Lots of dedication and pregnancy hormones."

"Y'know what? You could be right."

Immediately after a small fight with a gang, surrounded by all the gang members unconscious on the ground, Matt says, "Foggy and Karen will be my people. I assume Clint and Yelena will be yours?"

Later, after Matt has fallen into a dumpster and Nat has stopped snickering, she asks, "How often do you do this?"

Matt groans, digging himself out while making a show of pinching his nose. "Too often."

"Clint does it too."

"Nice. One more thing for us to bond over."

Nat smiles at him fondly. "Let's call it a night," she says. "I know you have court in the morning. And you stink."

"Sure." Matt stretches, and Nat takes the time to admire his body. "This wasn't that bad a night, actually," he tells her. "Less bruises than usual."

"That's 'cause I'm here," she says with a smug smile.

Matt snorts. "Sure," he says. "Keep telling yourself that."


"You could have your wedding here," Clint tells her. They're sitting on his porch's swinging bench, watching Nate and Lila run around. "It's nice, peaceful."

"Why are you the one convincing me to use your place and not the other way around?" Nat asks with an amused smile, but as she looks around at the trees and the grass, she thinks she could envision getting married here.

Oh god. She's become a romantic.

Clint raises an eyebrow at her. "I knew you wouldn't want to ask that of me," he says knowingly.

"Fair enough," Nat says after a moment of mulling it over.

In the compound's training room a few days later after Nat's short spar with Tony, who's certainly getting better but is nowhere near her level, Tony says, "If I offered my lake house for your wedding, would you say yes or no?" He immediately gulps down some water, as if he's afraid of her answer.

Nat, who isn't sweating or out of breath at all, says, "I've already taken Clint's offer."

"Damn it."


Nat continues to go on missions.

She always comes back home.

(Less secretively, now. No use expending energy on sneaking to Matt's apartment when everybody who matters already knows.)

(She's nothing if not efficient.)


"Can I throw you a huge bachelorette party?" Yelena asks. She takes a sip of her coffee—a luxury, because they are sitting in public outside a New York coffee shop, and nobody has spotted them. "I hear that is what you're supposed to do. But I don't know anything about weddings."

"Please don't," Nat mutters, burying her face in her arms on the table.

"Why not?"

"You all are making such a big deal about it," she answers, voice muffled. After a moment, she sits up and returns to sipping on her own coffee like nothing had happened.

"The other Widows will be disappointed," Yelena says with a pout.

Nat scoffs. "They do know they're invited, right? I made that clear?"

"Yes, but I think they're planning something."

"You don't know what?"

"They kept me out of the loop. They don't trust me. This is your fault. You've compromised me."

Nat rolls her eyes. "If anything, it's the other way around," she points out.

"...Do you think I can blackmail Matt with something so that the two of you don't get married?"

"I don't condone blackmail."

"Right. Nothing to do with the person I'm blackmailing."

"You're absolutely correct."

Yelena examines Nat's face for a few seconds before leaning back and hopefully giving up. Hopefully. "Should we get ice cream, for old time's sake?" she asks after a few seconds.

"Sure," Nat says with a smile.

Nat orders vanilla. Yelena orders Neapolitan, because she thinks Nat is being boring.


"We're going over to my place for the weekend," Nat announces.

Matt pauses in his typing. He frowns. "Have I ever been to your place?" he asks.

"Once or twice."

"Huh. Why now, all of a sudden?"

"My parents are coming over. If we meet at my place, they'll pry less."

Matt shrugs. "If you say so."

"Relax. It's nearby. We'll still be plenty close to Hell's Kitchen."

Matt gives her a tired smile. "You know that's not what I'm worried about."

"It'll be fine," she tells him, taking his hand and pulling him up from his seat at the table. They stand there, inches apart, and Nat smiles as she leans up to give him a tender kiss. "Everything's going to be fine."

Everything turns out mostly fine.

Truthfully, Nat hasn't been back to her apartment in a while, and it's covered in dust. Matt spends the first few hours there helping her clean and sneezing intermittently while doing so.

"Don't worry," Nat says teasingly. "It'll make you seem more endearing." Matt just raises an eyebrow at her, nose mildly red, and promptly sneezes into a tissue.

"Natasha!" Melina says as soon as Nat opens the door to greet them, with Matt standing right behind her. "I missed you, truly!" They share a hug, and then it's Alexei's turn.

"My favorite eldest daughter," he murmurs over Nat's shoulder.

Nat snorts. "How many eldest daughters do you have?"

"One, obviously. Now who is this?" He pulls back from Nat and looks Matt up and down, as if assessing a threat.

"Hi," Matt says, holding out a hand with a warm smile that's just the slightest bit nervous. "It's very nice to meet you both for the first time."

Alexei continues staring at him for a few seconds before grinning. "Ah! Don't be so serious!" he says, engulfing Matt in a backbreaking hug.

"Oh!" Matt says, seeming not to know what to do with his hands. Right after they pull apart, Alexei pats Matt's back so roughly that he stumbles forward a step.

Melina frowns. "Alexei," she scolds, "don't scare the poor boy."

"If he is scared of this he should not be in this family," Alexei says.

"I was told of your recent injury," Melina says, patting Matt in the arm much more gently.

"You don't need to worry," Matt tells her sincerely. "That was weeks ago. I've healed very well."

"Resilient. I like," Alexei tries to say quietly. Nat turns her head to raise an incredulous eyebrow at him.

"Anyways, Matt cooked dinner, because he is much less hopeless than me at cooking," she says, waving her parents to the small dining table and taking Matt's hand to lead him to it, too. If he squeezes her hand while that's happening, well, no one else knows. Truthfully, Nat's a little nervous too, even though these are her parents, who have definitely seen much worse from her.

After a few minutes, Melina asks, "Matthew, what do you do for a living?"

Internally, Nat groans.

Matt swallows a bite of his perfectly seasoned and cooked potatoes (honestly, super senses—such an unfair advantage) and says, "I'm a lawyer."

Alexei nods in what seems to be approval. "Lawyers make money," is all he says. Both Matt and Nat decide not to tell him that Matt sometimes works for baked goods.

Melina smacks Alexei's hand with a frown, then turns to smile at Matt like nothing had happened. "Not everything is about money," she says.

"Right."

"Many lawyers are corrupt."

Matt coughs awkwardly into his elbow. "Sorry. Allergies," he says.

Melina narrows her eyes at him.

Matt bites his lip as if he can sense her glare, and says, "I'm not a corrupt lawyer, I promise."

After a moment, Melina leans back, seeming to believe him.

"I didn't invite you guys here for an interrogation," Nat grumbles.

"Sorry, Natasha," Alexei says quickly, chastised.

"Apologies," Melina says, "but I need to make completely sure you are marrying the right person, especially when he is some man we have never met."

"I'd like to think we've met already," Matt says brightly.

"Yes, yes," Melina says, waving her hand in the air dismissively.

Nat rolls her eyes. "Surely Yelena would have done something already had something actually been wrong?"

"Yelena is much more lenient than us," Alexei says promptly.

"Than me," Melina corrects.

"Than you."

"How are your pigs doing?" Matt asks abruptly.

Melina rambles about her pigs and the research she has been doing and the progress that has been made for the next hour.

Matt, being as non-STEM as it gets, manages to nod and contribute to the mostly one-sided conversation at all the appropriate points, which apparently gains him Melina's seal of approval, if the impressed glint in her eyes is any indication.

That night, Nat's parents sleep in her bedroom while Nat and Matt sleep on the ground in the living room like they had on that rooftop weeks ago. Except, fortunately, with pillows this time. While Matt himself may serve as an excellent pillow for her, she's not sure if his head could take it, what with how many concussions he's had over the years.

She runs her fingers through his hair with a smirk. After a moment, he takes her hand in his own and kisses her fingers softly. "What are you thinking about?" he whispers.

"How lucky I am to have you," she whispers back.

"I think it might just be the other way around."

"I'm also thinking about how much you get injured," Nat admits softly.

Matt frowns. "I don't want to think about that."

"Too late. You are."

"It's your fault. You get injured too, y'know."

"I somehow have less scars than you," Nat points out.

Matt is silent for a few moments. "I guess," he says reluctantly.

"I've outmaneuvered the lawyer."

Matt snorts, kissing her cheek, and then her forehead. "Maybe you should be a lawyer, then. I'll take your place in the Avengers."

Nat laughs softly. "I think people might notice."

"I think so too. Also, your dad snores really loudly."

Nat pauses, listening for a moment. "He's always been like that. Even I can hear him. Will you survive the night?"

Matt smiles, finally leaning down to brush their lips together. Nat closes her eyes and drowns herself in the moment. "I'll survive," Matt says after they break apart. "You're here, aren't you?"

The next morning, a groggy Matt still manages to make the perfect breakfast. This is why Nat loves him.

She goes out and takes her parents to her favorite places in New York as well as some of the tourist attractions here and wherever Alexei and Melina want to go, though they seem mostly content with following her around. It's almost like how it had been with Yelena, months ago, except spring is starting, and flowers are blooming.

They pass numerous stores and people bustling on the streets. They listen to music and take pictures of the sights. Nat feels relaxed for once because she knows Melina and Alexei have her back.

"Capitalism," Melina says simply at one point.

Fair enough.

Alexei buys an I Love NY T-shirt for himself.

In the afternoon, Nat turns to him and asks, one eyebrow raised, "Do you want to actually meet Captain America now?"

Steve is understandably very confused when Nat walks inside the compound and introduces her parents to him, but he's super polite about it, unlike Bucky, who actually tries to hide behind the couch despite his usual common sense.

"I do not think that is Captain America," Alexei hisses at her as they walk to the training room, where some of the others are. "At least, not the one I met."

Nat rolls her eyes. "I figured," she tells him. "And he is Captain America. He's too patriotic not to be."

"He's too American not to be," Melina agrees, examining all corners of the compound like she's trying to dissect the place. She has nowhere near the tech expertise that Tony has, though.

When they enter the room, Tony is laying on the ground next to a slightly concerned but standing Sam.

Morgan, in a cute little floor seat nearby, is apparently giggling at her father's plight. Peter, sitting right next to her, is recording the whole thing.

"Hey," Nat greets with a wave.

"Hey," Sam says back.

"Hi, Ms. Romanoff!" Peter says, turning off his phone and putting it in his pocket.

Tony groans.

"These are my parents," Nat says. "They're visiting. From Russia."

"Where else?" Alexei asks. "Ohio?" Melina lets out a long sigh like she is suffering.

"Oh. Hello, nice to meet you," Sam says, taken aback a little.

"Your daughter is super cool," Peter says. Nat makes a mental note to thank him later for unintentionally being her cheerleader. It feels good.

Tony lifts his head up just enough to glance at them all. "Parental units? You?" he asks.

Nat rolls her eyes. "Yes."

Tony drops his head back to the ground. "I'm hallucinating."

"When I figured out you were going to be a father, I thought I was hallucinating, too."

"I think you should go to the medbay," Sam says slowly. "That's why you hired full time medical staff, right?"

"But not for me."

"Hypocrite."

"Beater upper of a father right in front of his impressionable children."

"Children? Plural?" Peter asks but is promptly ignored.

"Morgan's laughing at you right now," Sam says.

Tony turns to glare at Morgan halfheartedly, who waves at him happily. "Right," Tony says. He attempts to stand up and ends up wavering concerningly. Sam reaches out an arm to support him, and Peter stands up to help support him, too. "Nat, you're the babysitter now while I go get checked out. Sometimes I feel like I'm too old for this." He points at Morgan. "You, behave for Auntie Nat, you hear me?" Morgan babbles. "Close enough."

"They trust you with a baby," Melina says after the three of them have left. Nat leans down to pick Morgan up and cradle her in her arms.

"Yep," Nat says. "Want to hold her?"

"I am afraid I will break her. Or drop her," Alexei says, stepping back.

Melina just looks at Morgan with sad, sad eyes. After patting Morgan's head softly, she asks, "Where to next?"

Nat, carrying a slightly drooling Morgan, stops by the kitchen to get tissues. She prevents Alexei from stealing too much food and leads them outside, where a flying Wanda is practicing her magic and a sweaty Clint is practicing his archery skills. Together.

What Nat means by that is that Wanda is using her magic to deflect Clint's arrows. She's doing very well, and Nat smiles at the sight.

"Nat!" Clint greets once he catches sight of her. But then, his eyes drift to Melina and Alexei and he dramatically goes, "Oh no. Russian parents."

"Russian parents?" Wanda asks, settling down on the ground next to Clint. "Your parents?"

Nat loves continuing to surprise people.

She turns to her parents. "These are Wanda and Clint," she introduces, the both of them raising their hand at the sound of their name. "Wanda and Clint, these are Melina and Alexei."

"That is an outdated weapon. You would think that things would be more advanced in America," Melina says in lieu of a greeting.

"You know, your youngest daughter shares your sentiments," Clint says tiredly.

"You have met Yelena?" Alexei asks.

"She broke into the compound."

"That's my girl!"

Nat rolls her eyes. "I've been overshadowed, guys," she says. Morgan shifts in her arms and reaches out towards Clint. Clint smiles, walking up to Nat and taking Morgan into his own arms.

Turns out Morgan wasn't after him. She was after his arrows. The moment she reaches for one, Clint says, "Woah!" They all panic for a few moments, and soon enough Morgan is back in Nat's arms, looking very unhappy.

"Has she got a death wish?" Wanda asks, frowning.

"Just like her father," Alexei says.

Well, he's not wrong.


The next morning is Sunday, so Matt goes to mass, and afterwards Nat drives them all to the airport so she can see Melina and Alexei off. It would seem almost normal from an outsider's perspective: just a pair of happily married parents leaving for home after visiting their adult child.

Melina pulls her to the side while Alexei gets their bags and Matt makes awkward conversation with him. "I'm so happy," Melina whispers to her. "I am happy because you are happy."

"Oh god, don't make me cry at the airport," Nat mutters, throwing her arms around Melina and holding on tight. After a few moments, she steps back and smiles, and Melina reaches out to clasp their hands together.

"Love comes not just from the heart but the mind," Melina says, as she has long before. "You must be smart with your love, and I think you have. Although"—she lowers her voice slightly—"Yelena is correct. There is something unusual about him."

Nat smiles. Matt is doing a valiant job of pretending not to have heard that. "Maybe," she concedes, because you can't hide from someone who is a Black Widow and a mother. That's just overkill. "I love him anyways."

After a few moments, Melina murmurs, "I am proud of the woman you have become, but remember Natalia Romanova. Never forget who you were."

"I won't," Nat promises. She won't.

When Matt and Alexei come up to them, she throws her arms around Alexei, too. Matt shakes hands with her parents a lot less enthusiastically but no less warmly, and smoothly reaches into his suit jacket to reveal a small stack of white cardstock.

"Wedding invitations," Nat explains. "First ones we're sending out." She takes them from Matt and hands them to Melina, who will definitely take better care of them than Alexei would. "Each one has a name inside. There's one for each of you; make sure everyone back home gets theirs." Because Russia will always be home, too, no matter how shitty her life had been there.

"We will," Alexei says. "When is it?"

"August. Nice warm summer date."

"Well," he says, punching Matt in the arm, who manages somehow not to wince or stumble back, "I suppose I will see you both then."

After a few last goodbyes, they turn around and walk into the airport, arms linked.

"Ow," Matt says, rubbing his arm. Nat is slightly teary, and his eyes are suspiciously misty, too.

"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" she says.

"I guess not."

"I was freaking out for absolutely no reason."

"That's normal for you. You're very good at identifying worst case scenarios."

"I want to be offended by that, but you're absolutely correct."

"When am I ever wrong?" Matt asks, smiling down at her.

Nat snorts. "You've been wrong several times. Come on, let's go before my car gets towed." She turns around to walk towards the car, keys in hand, before pausing and turning around again to smile at Matt. "I am happy, y'know," she says softly.

"I'm glad," Matt says, just as softly. They walk to the car hand in hand.

("Let's take a detour," Matt says once they're back in Hell's Kitchen.)

(They go to the cemetery. Nat stays by the car, standing outside and leaning against the drivers door as Matt walks up to his father's grave. She watches him say a few things and kneel to lay a wedding invitation on the ground in front of the headstone where flowers would normally be.)

(It is, perhaps, a breach of security, of secrecy, but when Matt walks back to the car, Nat says nothing.)


"A pleasure to meet you, Father," Nat says quietly, because for some reason she's scared of being too loud in a church. No doubt Lantom knows exactly who she is, but he makes no mention of it and shakes her outstretched hand with both of his own and a smile.

"Matthew has said so many wonderful things about you," Father Lantom tells her. Matt, beside her, blushes red. "Oh, Matthew"—he pats Matt's shoulder gently—"don't be like that." He turns back to Nat. "I wouldn't lie."

They sit in his office together, drinking unusually good lattes (Matt wasn't lying). "Thank you, Father," she murmurs. Lantom nods to her serenely in thanks. She wishes she could have his level of inner peace, but maybe it's just a Catholic thing. She glances at Matt. Scratch that, maybe it's just a Catholic priest thing. Matt is far from serene.

"Now, let us get down to business," Lantom says. He rests his elbows on his desk and clasps his hands together. "I understand the two of you would like me to officiate your wedding. I must admit I am honored that you would ask me."

Matt smiles. "Father, you know you're my favorite priest," he says.

"That might be because I am the only priest you know."

Matt tilts his head to the side in consideration. "You're my favorite pastor," he amends.

Father Lantom chuckles brightly. "Well," he says, "since you have chosen a normal weekday for your wedding, I have no reason to refuse to officiate your wedding. I would prefer not to abandon my parishioners on a Sunday or Holy Day of Obligation, but normal weekdays are, I suppose, fair game. Not many people go to the weekday masses, and there are other churches in the area, anyways, for that one evening."

"Thank you," Matt tells him.

"We appreciate it," Nat says truthfully, uncrossing her legs and straightening up to make herself seem more sincere to this person who both knows and doesn't know her.

"As you may know, traditional Catholic weddings are normally held in a Catholic church." He frowns, looking at them. "In my opinion, the intent is enough, and I assume you won't suddenly change your location upon learning of this."

"Probably not," Matt says dryly. "Sorry, Father."

"I accept your apology, but it isn't necessary."

Nat tilts her head. "Can it still be considered a Catholic wedding if I'm not Catholic? I really do want to respect Matt's beliefs."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Lantom says, shaking his head. "There are plenty of married couples with one non-practicing partner. This is perfectly legal, in the Catholic sense."

"You're speaking my language," Matt says, grinning.

"Ah. I've never been much of a law type of person," Lantom says, smiling along.

"I dunno," Nat says, "with your eloquence in speech and your ability to prove Matt wrong, you could be one hell of a lawyer."

"Hey!" Matt says.

"Thank you, Natasha," Lantom tells her. "I do try."

"I try too," Matt grumbles.

"I know you do," Nat tells him, patting him on the shoulder in a consoling manner.

They continue hashing out details and making pleasant small talk before it is time to leave.

"Before the two of you depart, I would like to tell you something," Father Lantom says, and now there is a more serious air to him. Not necessarily intimidating or scary, but serious, important. "Both of you are more alike than you know. Sometimes, it isn't enough to simply seek forgiveness from God, from those you have wronged. You must forgive yourself."

Matt frowns. "That's...a lot harder than it sounds."

"I'm sure," Lantom says with a kind smile, "but I know you will manage. You two are strong and resilient and kind." Matt opens his mouth. "Matthew, don't argue with me on this." Matt shuts his mouth. "You are getting married. It's time to be gentle towards yourself, for a change. Lord knows you two need it."

Nat finds that she is surprisingly touched by his words. She's never going to convert, but...maybe there is some wisdom to religion, after all. Or maybe it's just Father Lantom.


Their wedding is in a few months, and they have just finished sending out the vast majority of invitations, either via mail or in-person.

They don't have braille on them, but they are textured enough that Matt smiles when he runs his hands over the cardstock.

Nat actually had asked if adding braille to the invitations would be a good idea, but Matt had said, "I'm the only blind person who's gonna be there."

"Fair enough," Nat had said.

"I don't really know any other blind people." Matt had frowned. "Except for Stick, but he definitely should be dead, so I really hope he doesn't somehow show up."

Nat had grinned at him. "I'll kick him out for you, make a whole spectacle of it."

"My hero," Matt had said dryly.

Right now, they are sitting on the couch at the Avengers Compound. This is the first time Nat has really taken him around and helped him get to know the place, because the last time he had been here it was for a party, and the time before that he was dying.

"So," Matt tells her, "Jessica says she's no romantic but she's going to sacrifice for me, so make sure to get her some good alcohol." Nat snorts. "Frank, on the other hand, is a romantic, but he's refusing to go because I guess he is supposedly a mass murderer."

"Supposedly?" Nat asks.

"What the fuck?" Rhodey says, trying to peacefully eat his sandwich at the kitchen counter.

"He doesn't do as much of that anymore," Matt says. Not if I can help it, Matt doesn't say, but it's implied. There's no way Frank could have outlasted Matt's sheer stubbornness. "He did say he'd be watching out for Hell's Kitchen the week of the wedding, though." For me, Matt again doesn't say, because, after all, Rhodey is right there.

"Are you talking 'bout Frank Castle?" Rhodey asks incredulously. "Please tell me you did not invite the freaking Punisher to your wedding."

"He's not coming."

"That doesn't make me feel much better."

"Frank's a decent guy," Matt says. "The execution of his goals and ideals could be better, but he really does have good intentions."

"And then you failed as his lawyer," Nat says.

"Don't remind me."

"Murdock," Tony says, walking into the room and plopping Morgan in Nat's lap, "how and why do you know so many vigilantes? The guest list for your wedding is giving me heart issues."

"The guest list for your wedding gave me heart issues," Nat mutters. Morgan squirms and crawls into Matt's lap. That traitor.

"I am choosing to ignore what you just said," Tony tells her brightly. "Anyways, Murdock?"

"I have some interesting connections," is what Matt says.

"Very evasive of you."

"That's my job."

"Ha. That's why I hate lawyers."

"You hate me, specifically."

"Not now. Morgan likes you."

Matt winces as Morgan smacks him in the face with her tiny, chubby baby hands. She scrabbles for his glasses, and he lets her take them and attempt to put them on her own face, though they are obviously too big for her.

"Huh," Tony says, watching them. "Maybe I should buy her a pair of sunglasses."

Nat takes a picture of them with Rhodey making faces in the background because Morgan is just too adorable.


Matt invites Deadpool and Spiderman to his apartment after months of bonding over color theory (of which Matt has no knowledge) and being dusted, because apparently he's going all out with this lack of secret identity thing to the people who matter.

Also, he already knows who Wade Wilson and Peter Parker are, so this would balance out the weird Team Red relationship they have going on.

Nat hides in the closet to spy on them through the crack between the doors. Peter's senses aren't honed enough at this point to notice her (she's not a threat) and Wilson probably wouldn't care at all if he noticed her. She's pretty nosy, sometimes.

"This is a pretty cool place you have, Double D," Peter says, practically bouncing around from his teenage adrenaline. "It looks less dark and depressing than I thought it would." That's solely because of Nat, thank you very much.

"Are you sure you wanted to show us this?" Wilson says, spinning around and around to examine the place in the most inconvenient manner possible. "I feel like I'll only use this knowledge for evil."

Matt sighs, resting his hands on his waist. "That is a problem future me will deal with," he says, sounding extremely regretful.

Peter points at him. "That's what I do with my homework. Procrastination is key."

"Please do your homework, kid."

"See? I don't know why Mr. Stark thinks you guys are irresponsible!"

"Uh, Spidey," Wilson says, abruptly ceasing to spin and exaggeratedly stumbling around a little in dizziness, "that's because we are irresponsible."

"Right," Matt says. "Anyways, I have been sending out wedding invitations."

"For who?" Peter asks without thinking.

Wilson stares at him. "You're getting married?!" he screeches. "You, with your"—he gestures at Matt's whole body like that's supposed to mean something—"devilish identity crisis?"

"Hang on," Matt says, slightly offended, "I've had many crises but not an identity crisis."

"What do you call these?!" Wilson asks, reaching a hand out to flick the mask's horns. Matt scowls and steps back while Peter snickers.

"I hate you both," Matt says flatly.

"I mean this in the nicest way possible," Wilson says, "but who the fuck would want you?"

Matt gives him a smile filled with pain. "Y'know, sometimes I wonder the same thing."

"So you aren't getting married?"

"I am."

"Really?"

"Yes. We've established this."

"You gotta give me some tips, man," Peter says miserably. "I've had a crush on this girl for ages."

"There's no hope for you," Wilson says promptly.

"Hey!"

"Settle down," Matt says, already sounding extremely tired. Nat is observing his suffering with great glee. This is the most entertained she's been in a while.

"I didn't mean it, Spidey," Wilson immediately says, going down on one knee and opening an invisible ring box. "Will you forgive me?"

Peter blinks. Nat will never stop marveling at how expressive his mask is. "I can't tell if you were insulting me or Double D."

"Both. I can multitask."

"Anyways," Matt says, "I have one last invitation to my wedding addressed to Spiderman." He turns to Wilson. "Wade, you are not invited."

"I'll sneak in anyways."

"I'm sure you will," Matt says, resigned.

Peter opens the wedding invitation, eyes wide. He stares at it for a few seconds. "Oh! But, uh, I can't go! I've already been invited to a wedding at this exact same date and time."

Matt lets out a long, long sigh as if mourning for his sanity. "Really," he says flatly.

"Really!" Peter says, nodding rapidly.

"Peter," Matt says.

"Peter? Peter who?" he asks, looking around the room as if there's another Peter there.

"You're Peter," Wilson says.

"You know too?!"

"I do my research."

Matt has finally had enough and tears off his mask. "I thought you'd read the invitation more closely," he says, completely unimpressed. "They're at the exact same date and time because they are the same wedding."

"Holy shit!" Peter says, tearing off his own mask. They both have the worst case of mask hair. "Mr. Murdock?"

Matt groans. "For the last time, please call me Matt. I'm not that old."

"You kinda are."

"Hush, child."

Wilson looks like he's watching a tennis match with how much his head is swinging around.

"Holy shit," Peter says again. "I can't believe it. How do you even...? What the heck!"

Matt smirks. "Super senses, like yours, except without the sight."

"Obviously," Wilson mutters, leaning in close to examine Matt's eyes. Matt promptly shoves him away. "Your eyes are fucked up."

"They've been fucked up for a while."

"I bet it was your fault."

"It was the chemical truck driver's fault...and also mine."

"Holy shit," Peter repeats for the third time, still in awe. He looks down at the invitation in his hand and back up again. "Ms. Romanoff surely knows, right?"

"Of course. You think I can hide anything from her?"

"You're marrying a Russian lady?" Wilson asks. "She's so out of your league."

Peter coughs out a laugh. "You may be right about that," Matt says, wincing.

Peter shoves the wedding invitation into Wilson's hands. Wilson literally jumps up in shock. "An Avenger?!" he says. "You?!"

"Yeah, yeah."

"You are definitely, 100% lucky," Wilson tells Matt.

"I'm fine with that." Matt leans closer to Peter. "Kid, I know you already have an invitation, but I'm letting you come under one condition."

"Yeah?" Peter says, eyes wide.

"Sit on my side of the aisle."

Peter blinks. After a few seconds, he asks, "To fuck with Mr. Stark?"

"To fuck with Mr. Stark," Matt confirms, nodding his head.

"You really do have a grudge, but I have worse grudges, so I'm not judging," Wilson says. "Also, d'you know that meme, where the Flash and Lex Luthor switch bodies, and Lex is like, 'If this day is going to be shit I might as well figure out Flash's identity,' and he takes off Flash's mask and realizes he has no idea who the hell he is?"

"You watch Justice League?" Peter hisses.

"Of course! I have to get my entertainment from somewhere, and that's fake superheroes."

Matt pinches the bridge of his nose. "Get to the point," he says.

"Yeah, I have no idea who you are."


First time writing Wade, and I feel like...he isn't unhinged enough?