meet me at our spot | n.r x oc | ✓

*8 - he doesn't live here

[Mentions of alcohol/drinking, PTSD]

6 months since the Snap
[natasha's pov]

I jerk awake and my nightmare of Stefaniya turning to dust disappears. I'm in my bedroom at the Avengers facility, where Stefaniya is definitely still here, not a pile of dust.

I turn to my nightstand where the digital clock reads that it's 4:09 am on a Monday, just about two hours before I would usually wake up. I decide that it's useless trying to go back to sleep, so I get up and get ready for the day.

Every single day is the same now, and it's all starting to blend into one never-ending day. I would wake up, brush my teeth, then go to the gym for two hours. After that, I'd eat whatever I can find in the kitchen and station myself in front of a computer for ten hours straight while the rest of the Avengers go about their day.

Stefaniya is the opposite. Her schedule, from what I can tell, is consistently inconsistent. She rotates between doing ballet, sleeping, drinking, and working with the Widows. Not in any particular order-- she does whatever she pleases at any time of day, even during the late night when everyone else would be asleep. I'm getting more worried every day, but each time I tried to talk to her, she gets frustrated and snaps at me. I know that it's just her PTSD, but it doesn't make it hurt any less when one of my most favorite people in the world is angry with me.

This morning, she is already dancing in the gym when I walk down.

"How long have you been here for?"
I ask quietly.

When she doesn't reply, I sit down on the ground and put my own pointe shoes on after wrapping my toes and putting bandaids on my blisters.

The gentle classical music Stefaniya had on comes to an end and moves onto another. I warm up as she starts dancing again, this time to Tchaikovsky's By a Lake. Her movements are a bit shaky from hours of dancing, but graceful nonetheless. I start dancing, matching her movements.

By the time the song comes to an end, Stefaniya's tired out and trips over her own feet. I quickly reach out to grab her and my breath catches. This was the first time in several months that I had touched her. She tenses slightly, but then relaxes into my arms. I slowly pull her into my body, watching her in the mirror for any signs of uncomfort. She rests her head against my shoulder and I nearly burst into tears at the touch that I've missed so much.

Stefaniya's noticably a bit thinner than she was before Thanos. Her collarbones more prominent under the straps of her tank top. The muscles from Red Room's vigorous training less visible under her skin. Her face doesn't have its usual pink glow to it.

"Have you eaten yet?"
I ask.

She shakes her head.

"Let's go to the kitchen, okay?"

She nods. I set her down to the floor and we both take off our pointe shoes. Stefaniya slips on some socks while I put my sneakers on. She stands up after me, holding her hand out, and I lace my fingers through hers.

While I scour the fridge, Stefaniya heads for the alcohol cabinet and pulls out a near-empty bottle of vodka.

"Stef, no."