Natasha Romanoff x Reader Oneshots

Bitter Pill

You were sitting on a barstool in the kitchen with your back to the door and a glass of wine in hand. You were well on your second by now but couldn't bring yourself to take another sip. Everything felt like it required too much energy of you these days.

Instead you stared blankly at the chipped wood on the surface of the table. You used to love tracing the tips of your fingers against the worn grain, you used to think it breathed life into your home, and Natasha always said it gave it character.

But this place hadn't felt like a home for a long time now, and the worn wood only served to remind you of just how long it had been since it did.

You topped off your glass, making it a third, when the unexpected click of the front door lock sliding out of place alerted you to a guest.

You didn't have to turn around to know who was standing behind you at the edge of the hall. Only one other person in the world had a key to this building, and yours rest just in front of you on the kitchen table next to your wine glass.

You heard the shuffling of feet behind you and a soft thud on the ground that you could only assume was Natasha dropping her bag. It's slow descent and the subsequent thump on the wooden floor boards sounded almost as guilty as her dragging feet. They squeaked pathetically against the woodwork as she walked further into the room, likely from trailing snow in from outside.

Both sounds were grating on your ears and you felt your heart quicken its pace in annoyance. You heard the pause in her stride, probably expecting you to turn around and greet her, but you made no move to.

The woman at the edge of the hallway cleared her throat earnestly before her hoarse whisper cracked and traveled across the space of the apartment, it sounded like tv static in your ears.

"I'm home."

This time you took a generous sip of your wine. You'd need all the liquid courage you could get to be able to initiate the conversation you knew was coming with her unexpected arrival.

Before Natasha could mistake your silence for an invitation to continue her walk of shame into your shared apartment you nodded your head and spoke.

"Oh."

The single word felt bitter on your tongue.

"That's all I get?"

Natasha's lack of conviction when she spoke clued you into the fact that she knew exactly why she deserved your response, or lack thereof. That fact only served to deepen the hollow pit in your stomach.

"You know, a few months ago you would have been excited to see-"

She cut herself off the instant you whipped your head around and made eye contact with her.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence." you all but snarled out.

Her wide eyes and gaping mouth let you know you were a sight to behold. Eyes sunken and resting atop dark heavy bags. At least she didn't look too much better.

There was an uncomfortable silence as you studied each other for the first time in months. She was still in her tactical gear and littered with bruises, you hated the way your stomach still twisted at the sight.

She shrugged off her unzipped wet coat and let it drop to the floor. Her skin was flushed pink from the winter air.

Her eyes were puffy and red rimmed, but so were yours.

"Where have you been Nat?" You bit out.

You watched as her demeanor physically collapsed on itself as she jumped straight into a barrage of excuses that you simply didn't care to hear anymore.