Whirlwind | W.M.

11

I was really starting to believe that someone as prepared and lethal as Natasha is, was absolute shit at keeping locks that actually work. I'm almost a hundred percent sure I left the chain up before going to bed after a severely head spinning dinner with Martina who mostly took every chance she got to take a jab at me and still, amidst all of her torturous wit she still refused to disclose how exactly she came to be Nat's... key holder? Guardian?

At this point, i'm not even sure what she is. I was another snarky comment away from tossing her out the window, if only she didn't remind me so much of Lara. If Lara was relentlessly annoying, and carried knives in her pockets everywhere she went.

So with only a handful of hours of slumber, I wake to a prodding sensation harshly digging into my shoulder. I mere brushed it off as a dream, until I feel a hard material hastily land on my back, jolting me awake to once again find Martina standing by the foot of my bed, holding yet another book. Y'know, aside from the one she so generously threw at me. She's got a mischievous glint in her eyes as I nearly roll off the bed, tossing onto my back in an annoyed grumble.

"How the fuck do you keep getting inside?" I groan, trying to rub the sleep out of my eyes as she tosses another book at my head. Thankfully, this time I catch it.

"Get up. You have a visitor." She hums, swiftly grabbing another book from the shelf behind her as I scramble to get on my feet.

"I will punch you in the face if you throw another one at my-" I don't really know what I was expecting, because I barely get halfway through my sentence until another book is hurled my way. I'm really not in the mood to choke out a child but the universe seems to be testing my patience today.

"I'm up! What was that for?" I dodge the projectile by a hair, sending it crashing into the nightstand as Martina releases an airy chuckle.

"Good measure." She shrugs, casually exiting the room as I pick up after the mess she'd made. Once I had finished, I made my way out to the living room expecting to find Martina amidst another one of her stupid misled situations but she's nowhere to be found.

Natasha, however, was sitting on the couch with a smile.

"She's a sweetheart, isn't she?" Natasha hums lightly as I find myself cemented in place, barely able to comprehend her presence. Have I gone crazy? Was she actually real or is this some isolation fuelled fever dream that is eerily believable?

"Oh god, did she break you? I told her to ease up." Natasha promptly rises to her feet, approaching me and doing something so out of character that i'm almost a hundred percent sure she was a hallucination.

She pulls me into her arms.

It takes me a while to even hug her back, feeling like I was thrown into some sort of fugue daydream as she lightly rocks us in place. When I finally get the nerve to wrap my arms around her, I almost crumble. All of my guilt, my constant longing for atonement bleeds through my skin as I hold onto Natasha, fingers scrambling against her leather jacket as I bury my face in the crook of her neck until she pulls away and holds me at arm's length.

"It's good to see you." She breathes out, a small smile tugging at her lips as my heart lodges in my throat.

"How— why are you here? Is everything okay?" I stammer, my words barely making it out with the whirlwind of thoughts engulfing me.

"I wanted to see you." Natasha hums, stepping away.

"Martina told you about last night." I deduce, slipping out more like a statement than a question.

"No."

"Nat."

"Okay maybe, but I was planning to see you anyway. I just needed to find the right time." She says with nonchalance, plopping back down on the couch as I hesitantly follow suit.