Chapter Text
It isn’t quite 7 in the morning yet when Natasha wakes up. It’s early spring and there is still a cold bite in the air left over from the previous winter. She’s not particularly affected by it, since she’s Russian by blood and she knows what cold is, but she still wants to burrow beneath the covers. And maybe sleep some more.
She can feel her girlfriend’s body behind her – an arm slung protectively over her torso, warm breath tickling Natasha’s nape – and she turns as carefully as she can to take a look.
Her gaze roams over Maria’s face and drinks in her every feature – her strong jaw and prominent cheekbones, her chiseled nose, the delightfully long lashes of her eyes still closed in slumber, but which Natasha knows to be of the most gorgeous shade of blue – just as she’s done a million times before.
She knows she will never get tired of doing so.
Maria is the best thing that has ever happened to Natasha.
And Natasha loves her with all of her heart.
Gently she lets her fingertips trace Maria’s cheek, and Natasha is again struck by the fact that she’s here. That she’s real.
And that she chooses to be with Natasha because she loves her back.
Loving someone is not something Natasha has ever imagined for herself. And to have that someone return her feelings – all the while knowing her every fault, her past, her fears, her everything – well, Natasha has certainly never thought that to be even possible.
Natasha believed herself to be damaged beyond repair. She believed herself to be just a tool, just a weapon.
Just someone who has no real identity.
Just someone who becomes what other people wish her to be.
She believed that all her life.
But Maria – with all her steely gaze and no-nonsense attitude – razed that belief to the ground and encouraged Natasha to see herself as someone she wants herself to be.
To be someone she wants herself to be – not caring about what others think.
It’s liberating – it certainly liberated Natasha from her inner demons.
And for the first time she’s someone who is real.
Aside from Maria’s love, her own liberty is the greatest gift that Natasha has ever received.
“Why are you awake?” a voice husky with sleep cuts across Natasha’s musings.
Maria’s eyes are still closed, but her eyebrows are furrowed in a pretty little frown.
“Nothing,” Natasha whispers. “Sorry. Did I disturb you?”
“No, but I can hear you thinking loudly.” A blue eye peeks at her. “It’s too early for that.”
Natasha giggles quietly. On normal days Maria is the perfect working machine – no matter how late or how early the hour, if she’s on duty, she’ll get the job done without a hitch. But on her rare days off, it’s like she sheds her Ice Queen persona and dons that of an average woman.
(Not that she’d ever be average in Natasha’s eyes.)
She snuggles closer to Maria – as close as is physically achievable – and nestles her head on the brunette’s shoulder. “I’d do that later then.”
“Good.” Maria’s arms tighten around her, her cheek lightly resting on top of Natasha’s head.
“Yeah,” Natasha closes her eyes, and it isn’t long before Maria’s steady breathing and warm embrace has lulled her back to sleep.
It’s almost lunchtime when Maria finally manages to haul herself out of bed.
Natasha is already perched on the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee in her hands. There is another one beside her, which Maria takes as she steps between Natasha’s legs.
The position allows the redhead to lean down and press a kiss on Maria’s lips – and so she does, after letting Maria ingest some caffeine first.
“Good morning,” Natasha greets.
She hums, savoring the coffee-flavored kiss. “You like being taller than me, do you?”
“Yep, I can certainly see the appeal,” Natasha admits. She adds, teasingly, “You’ve been holding out on me.”
Maria grins. “Ah, found out. Damn.”
They eat some brunch Natasha has put together afterwards – Maria lets Natasha experiment in her kitchen, and Natasha takes full advantage of it. The results vary, but most of the time they’re satisfying enough that Maria often doesn’t really mind if her oven gets jammed or her skillets broken.
(Those are anticipated hazards when one gives a highly-skilled assassin free reign in the kitchen, so.)
Natasha notices Maria’s brooding mood as soon they’ve settled on the couch to watch some crime show reruns. Normally she’d comment on each detail the writers get wrong and would laugh at some absurd twist that she somehow saw coming from a mile away.
Today, however, she is uncharacteristically quiet.
At first Natasha shrugged it off; she thinks that if it were something grave Maria would tell her at her own time.
At the moment though, she’s getting kind of uneasy.
Maria’s studying the place with an unreadable expression.
Natasha’s always been good at reading people but – and this is so cheesy she will never admit it, especially to Clint – Maria has always been her exception.
And so all she can do is to study the room too, just to try and guess what is running in the brunette’s mind.
She internally winces at what she does see.
Maria’s originally pristine apartment is now littered with Natasha’s things.
There are random pieces from Natasha’s wardrobe scattered haphazardly all over the room – pairs of boots and sneakers and pumps, several blazers strewn on the adjacent sofa, her favorite tactical suit, and she counts at least four scarves.
And the redhead is pretty certain there’s more of her stuff in Maria’s bedroom. She distinctly remembers seeing one of her comic books on the bedside table.
Shit. No wonder she’s on a strange mood.
It’s like Natasha’s taken over her apartment.
Natasha bites her lip anxiously. Usually she doesn’t care about intruding on anyone’s private space – she has no issues whatsoever in crashing in with Clint on his bed or in using Phil’s bathroom products.
With Maria it’s different.
Natasha doesn’t want to screw this up.
So she makes a decision.
She rises from where she’s comfortably sitting with Maria and begins picking up her clutter.
She’s sitting on the carpet with a stack of other clothes beside her and is in the middle of folding her tactical suit when the TV volume lowers.
“Nat?”
“Hmm?” Natasha glances at Maria.
Maria looks perplexed. “What’s up?” she asks.
Natasha shrugs, picture-perfect nonchalance. She knows Maria sees through it. “Just taking care of my stuff.”
Maria looks even more lost.
Natasha explains, “I figured I should take them back to my place.” (She’s got her big duffel bag back in the bedroom, she’s sure – she brought it with her last week.) She swallows, not meeting Maria’s eyes. “I realize I’ve been imposing too much.”
Maria frowns at her words. “You’re not.”
“I kind of am.” She waves at the room, in general. “Look at the mess I’ve made in your apartment.”
It takes a few seconds before understanding seems to light up in Maria’s eyes. “Ah.”
“Yeah,” Natasha mumbles. She looks down to resume folding.
Then Maria’s hands are on her wrists, stopping her movement.
She looks up.
Maria is staring at her with a mix of adoration, bemusement, and frustration.
It throws Natasha off.
Maria shakes her head. She shifts so that she’s seated more comfortably on the floor, facing Natasha. She slides her hands so that they’re clutching Natasha’s, her thumbs running over the redhead’s knuckles. She purses her lips, and it’s clear that she’s thinking of how to phrase her thoughts best.
Her demeanor is anxious now, Natasha notes. She stares at Maria’s blue eyes and squeezes her hands to try and ease her nerves.
Maria sends her a grateful smile. “So,” she begins, then she clears her throat awkwardly – and Natasha finds it adorable that the meticulous agent could ever stumble over her words, “I’m planning to look for another place.”
Natasha blinks, confused.
Seeing her growing puzzlement, Maria adds, “Somewhere bigger, ideally.”
If that’s supposed to clear things up, it’s not successful.
Maria holds Natasha’s gaze. Natasha realizes that she’s searching for a glimmer of comprehension.
She doesn’t find it though, because, well – and Natasha finds this embarrassing to admit – it’s not there.
When it becomes abundantly clear that Natasha wouldn’t catch on, Maria says with a wry grin, “For all your training on people skills and extensive knowledge of human behaviour, you’re still pretty fucking oblivious most of the time.”
“Uhm,” Natasha is even more confused, now. “Sorry?”
“Don’t be,” Maria sighs, deeply – it is a fond sound, if slightly exasperated. Then she says in a rush, “Moveinwithme.”
Natasha’s eyebrows are creasing in mystification. “Move in,” she says.
Maria’s jaw clenches so hard the muscles tic. “Yes.”
“W-with you.” Natasha does not stammer. Well, she thought she didn’t. Apparently she does, when it comes to Maria.
(It always comes back to Maria.)
Maria chuckles softly. “I’m kinda hoping that if you ever move in with someone it would be with me, yes.”
Natasha’s eyes widen as it all starts to sink in. “You… you actually want me to… to actually live with you? Live in a real, actual apartment that we’ll share? Like, we’re going to actually live together?”
“Okay, first off, you’re saying the word ‘actually’ like it’s going out of style. Just, stop. Geez. And second,” Maria arches an eyebrow, almost grumpy, “why are you so surprised?”
Natasha looks at her in disbelief. “Because it’s surprising! It’s a big deal! It’s a huge deal!”
“Natasha, honey, be serious,” Maria scoffs, good-humoredly. “You practically live with me already. We’re just gonna make it official.”
Natasha frowns as she mulls over that. She thinks of her various things mixed among Maria’s, and oh.
Yeah, okay.
So she is practically living with Maria already.
Still she repeats, “You’re asking me to live with you.”
Maria rolls her eyes but obliges. “Yes, I am.”
“You want me to live with you.”
“Yes, I do. Very much.” She lifts their still joined hands to her lips.
Natasha is looking at her with amazement shining bright in her green eyes.
Maria clears her throat again. “So… uhm… will you?”
She’s just barely finished that question when she finds herself with a lapful of redheaded assassin. “Of course I will! How can you even think that I’d ever say no?”
The impact of Natasha tackling her leads them to being sprawled on the floor – Maria lying flat on her back with an overenthusiastic assassin on top of her.
(It’s not the worst position in the world, that’s for sure.)
“Yeah, well, it’s a bit alarming when you didn’t answer immediately,” Maria confesses, and she’s almost pouting.
Natasha pulls back enough so that her arms bracket Maria’s head. She stares into those blue eyes she so adores. “I needed to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.”
“You’re not.” Maria smiles lopsidedly, and she takes Natasha’s breath away.
“I know that now.” Natasha presses their foreheads together, never breaking their gaze.
“Good.” Maria reaches up to tenderly stroke Natasha’s lower lip with her thumb. “I love you.”
Natasha beams at her. “I love you too,” she murmurs, before dipping her head and claiming Maria’s lips.
Tash:
Moving in!
– BW
Clinton Cloud:
Uhm. Was that a mission update?
– H
Tash:
What. No.
Maria wants me to move in with her.
– BW
Clinton Cloud:
OH MY GODS
– H
Tash:
I KNOOOOOW. I kinda freaked out when she asked me tbh.
– BW
Clinton Cloud:
But you said yes, right? Cuz otherwise I’d shoot you I swear.
– H
Tash:
I’M NOT DUMB. OF COURSE I SAID YES. I HUGGED HER YES. I KISSED HER YES.
– BW
Clinton Cloud:
EEEWW. KEEP THE DIRTY DETAILS TO YOURSELF PLEZ. AND I WAS JUST CHECKING. YOU GOTTA ADMIT YOU TEND TO ACT KINDA DUMB WHEN MARIA’S AROUND.
– H
Tash:
I should kick your ass for that but I’m too happy right now.
– BW
Clinton Cloud:
And I’m happy for you too, bb.
Really. :)) Even if you wanna kick my ass.
– H
Tash:
Good. Coz you’re helping us lift the heavy stuff.
– BW
Clinton Cloud:
What an opportunistic asshole.
You’re lucky we’re bros.
– H
Tash:
Can you not call us bros.
– BW
Clinton Cloud:
Nope. I get to call us bros cuz I’m gonna lift stuff for you. So suck it.
– H
Tash:
…
I like to bite and to lick more, actually.
– BW
Clinton Cloud:
I SAID KEEP THE DIRTY DETAILS TO YOURSELF.
I DID NOT NEED TO KNOW THAT YOU FIEND.
I GOTTA BLEACH MY BRAIN NAO BRB
– H