Whirlwind | W.M.

30

Wanda was definitely right.

I don't think i've ever been in a car with just Natasha— except for that one time she practically stole a van to pretend to transport me to prison or something, but being in a normal car was an entirely different experience. I know Natasha is a pretty serious person, she's very strong willed, firm, confident and a lot would agree when I say she's terrifying.

But Natasha is many other things. Natasha, aside from being what I could comfortably say the world's best assassin, also loves to dance. Natasha makes amazing lasagna, Natasha loves to paint and read and apparently, she also has a variety of curated playlists on her phone that she blasts the moment the car engine sputters alive.

So in other words, I had to sit through a handful of Ariana Grande songs and pretend like Natasha wasn't dying to sing along to Dangerous Woman— but was just too shy to do it in front of me. When we finally pull into a spot, she shuts the stereo down and collects herself, with me just staring at her in amusement because Natasha in her black leather jacket and boots— totally did not strike me as an Ariana Grande fan.

"What?" She asks a little too defensively, shutting the car down as I shake my head.

"Nothing. Nothing." I mumble, stifling a laugh as we both step out of the car and I go to grab the bags sitting in the back seat.

"Does she know i'm coming?" I ask, shutting the car door and joining Natasha on the sidewalk as she clicks the car locked.

"No. I haven't said anything but she asks about you every time i'm over— or every time I call. She'll never admit it, though." Natasha smiles, leading the way into the building as I trail closely behind holding the bags.

"Of course she wouldn't. I miss her, but i'll never admit it to her either." I chuckle, jogging up the stairs as we finally get to the door, Natasha fishing out her keys and clicking the lock open.

She enters first, while I head right for the kitchen with a beaming smile on my face. It's only been a few weeks since i've been in the apartment, almost a month but it feels so far away. I couldn't deny the warmth in my chest just standing there again, under the dim kitchen light with countless nights spent sitting on these counters with a bowl of whatever I could forage from the fridge.

Being here had a sense of home in it, having been the only place I've ever been with the least amount of ghastly memories. It didn't feel tainted here, not as much as every other place. When I was standing in this apartment, I remember the sound of records playing, the feel of books in my hands, the sound of the television running in the background and Martina.

Martina, who was already yapping on in the living room to Natasha. Martina, who had absolutely no idea I was in the kitchen. I hadn't seen her since I left, and so much has changed since then. I couldn't deny my excitement, the utter delight swimming in my chest as I carefully head to the doorway, leaning against the frame and watching as Martina, who had her back turned to me, scavenged through the bag of takeout Natasha and I picked up on the way here.

I also had a few presents for her, but she also didn't know that yet.

"Merry fucking Christmas, you got the fancy shit!" She exclaims happily, fishing out the boxes of food and laying it out on the coffee table as Natasha's amused eyes meet mine.

"I was afraid you'd kick us out if we didn't." I speak up, watching her movements still to a freeze as she slowly turns to face me. Eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, I offer her a beaming smile as I walk into the living room.

"You're fucking kidding me." She breaks out into a grin, running over to tackle me into a hug that knocks the wind out of my lungs.

"Alright, you've gone soft on me." I laugh, throwing my arms around her right as she lands a quick punch to mu gut for my little comment. I wince in pain, watching as Martina steps away with a huge smirk as she eyes me from head to toe.