N.R. One Shots

Deserve

You slide open the door and step out into the moonlight, simultaneously slipping a cigarette from your back pocket. You light it up and hold it to your lips, taking a deep breath. The smoke fills you and you feel yourself relax..

"Y/N?"
You start and turn to see Natasha behind you, holding the door open. Shit. You should've closed it properly.

"Guess its no use hiding from a superspy," you say.
"You're smoking."
"Well, no shit, Sherlock," you snap, taking another puff.

"You said you'd stop."
"And the therapist said the panic attacks would stop. Guess I'm not the only one breaking promises."

Its a jab at her and she knows it, but she chooses to ignore it.

"You're getting panic attacks again?"

You sigh.

Your mind flashes back to that day. Three months ago.
"I can't live like this Nat!"
"Like what?!"
"I don't let you sleep, you're always worried, I'm messing with your health."
"What are you suggesting?"
"Maybe we need a break."

"Yeah. I'm getting panic attacks again."
What else were you going to tell her? That you missed her? That you longed in vain for her warm embrace and the safety of her arms? That you wanted more than anything for her to kiss you and tell you it would all be okay? You weren't going to tell her how much you wished she was still with you.

She deserved much better than your broken self.

Nat narrows her eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me?" She asks, her voice suddenly soft.
You shrug and turn away, bringing the cigarete once again to your lips.

She steps closer and rips the cigar out of your hand, dropping it to the ground before squishing it with her foot. Your train your eyes on the last glowing embers, not daring to look at Nat for fear of crying.

"What's your problem Y/N? What did I ever do to you? You're the one who decided we needed a break, and you're the one who's been giving me the cold shoulder."

You don't answer, just look away. How could you tell her that you didn't deserve her? You had been trying to keep your distance from her, for fear of hurting her. You didn't want her to hurt herself over you, which you knew she would if you stayed with her.

"Tell me, Y/N. What's wrong with you? Or is it me? Am I doing something wrong? Is it-"
"Its not you Nat."

"Then what is it?" She sounds desperate.
"I want to help you, Y/N/N. I want to be here for you. But you're making it difficult."
"Maybe I don't want you here," you say stiffly.

You feel her recoil. Something inside you tells you that this is wrong, but if it will keep her away.... Its for her own good.
"I don't want you here Natasha, I don't want you to help me. Please, leave."

"Y/N..." Nat whispers, and you know there are tears in her eyes, mirroring yours.

"Go away."

Nat steps away, and out the door. The handle clangs against the cool cement wall as she doesn't bother to close the door. You know you've done it for good. She probably hates you now.

But its for the good.

You slide another cigarette form your pocket and stare at it for a while.
You've cost me my love, you think.

You take the entire pack of cigars and dump them into the nearest dustbin.
Done with that.