Human (Natasha Romanoff x reader)

Epilouge

Warnings: swearing; spice (not smut tho?); vomiting; death; depression peanut butter sandwich time :D

Natasha and I walked up to the safe house, which was, of course, provided by her friend, Mason. It wasn’t much, but it was better than that dingy trailer he put us in back in Norway. It was a small, old house in the country. We had decided to spend some time in France, so that’s where we found ourselves now. After clearing the house and making sure we would be safe, we met in the small kitchen. I moved into her arms with practiced ease and we swayed to the music that wasn’t playing.
“I still can’t believe we convinced Ross to let us go,” I said against her neck.
“Oh, моя любовь (my love), we’re two highly trained spies who happen to be masters of lying and manipulation. Does it really surprise you that much?”
I laughed at her phrasing before muttering, “I suppose not.” I picked up my head and looked into her eyes. A grin spread across my face as I admired the woman in front of me.
“What do you think you’re looking at, Casey?”
“Only the most beautiful woman in the world.” She shook her head at me and mumbled ‘corny’ but the pink hue that spread across her cheeks said otherwise.
“Seriously though, Nat. I love you more than anything. I’m so damn lucky to have you.”
“I love you too, baby. This might not be the nicest place, but I’m glad we can kind of settle down together.”
“It might be way too soon to say this, but I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.”
“Are you proposing to me, Colonel Casey?”
“Do you want me to, International Superspy?”
She snorted a laugh at the seemingly random nickname. “I wouldn’t be entirely opposed to it. You’re spending the rest of your life with me whether you like it or not, so we have all the time in the world.”
“I’m gonna marry you, Natasha Romanoff. But when I ask you, I’m gonna do it right, because you deserve way more than a half-proposal in a dusty kitchen.”
She hummed before pulling me in and connecting our lips. It was slow and lazy, but overflowing with love. “We should probably get some sleep,” she mumbled against my lips.
“Probably,” I whispered back.
Our lips molded together in a passionate kiss. When she bit my lower lip and I gasped in response, she slipped her tongue into my mouth. We both moaned at the contact as she pulled me closer by the waist. She backed me into the kitchen counter and slipped her knee between my thighs, pulling a low whine from my throat. I slipped my hands under the fabric of her shirt, a trail of goosebumps following my touch.
“Bedroom?” she asked breathlessly.
“Do you honestly trust that bed?”
“Only one way to properly test it.”
“Then, yes, bedroom.” She kissed me again and tapped my thigh, and I jumped up, wrapping my legs around her waist. She carried me through the halls and into the bedroom, our lips never disconnecting.
I laughed as she tossed me onto the bed. She crawled on top of me, and as our eyes met, I knew that I would spend the rest of my life with this woman. I had no idea what the future would entail, but I knew I would spend all of it by her side.
(3rd person POV)
The next morning, Natasha woke up long before Casey. The sun had barely risen above the trees, its soft light casting a warm glow across the redhead’s languid features. As she admired the sleeping woman next to her, she thought of everything they would do together. Getting married one day, having kids, maybe even retiring from their chaotic lifestyle. That was the future, though, and right now, Natasha was really hungry. After throwing on some clothes, the Russian made her way to the small kitchen with the intention of making breakfast for herself and her girlfriend. They had stopped and gotten a few groceries, but there still wasn’t much for food. She grabbed some eggs and pancake mix, humming a small tune as she began cooking.
Back upstairs in the bedroom, Casey was beginning to stir. And the first thing that popped into her mind was that something was wrong. Not because her love wasn’t in bed next to her, although that wasn’t a great discovery either. But because her head felt light. Her movements were agonizingly slow. And once she finally managed to sit up in bed, an overwhelming need to throw up washed over her. She stumbled into the bathroom just in time and practically fell over the toilet, thanks to the black splotches decorating her blurry vision. Her thoughts were jumbled as she tried to shove down the panic bubbling in her chest. She crawled back into the bedroom and grabbed a large t-shirt from one of the bags they never unpacked. She leaned against the wall as she pulled it on. She went to stand up but then realized that she physically wasn’t able to一 not without passing out, at least. She took a deep, steadying breath and yelled for Natasha. It came out a little slurred, but the assassin must’ve heard the urgency in the pleading cry, because she was in the bedroom in a matter of seconds.
“Casey? What’s wrong?” As Casey’s head lolled to the side, Natasha dropped to her side and tapped her cheek. “Hey, hey, baby?”
Casey’s eyes opened as she regained consciousness. “S’mthin wron, Nat. M’ head.” It was slurred and Casey could no longer speak clearly, but Natasha got the message.
Getting to the car was hardly a struggle with the amount of adrenaline rushing through Natasha’s veins. The ride to the hospital was a blur for both of them. It should’ve been about a forty-minute drive, but Natasha made it there in fifteen. Casey was in and out of consciousness the whole time. She only caught glimpses of what was happening once they got to the hospital.
“...hit her head…car accident...”
“...dizzy….passed out….couldn’t talk…”
“...intracranial hemorrhage….surgery...”
“...I love you…please...I love...”
On Natasha’s end, her heart was racing and the minutes blurred together with panic. Chaos erupted as soon as they entered the emergency room. She was barely listening as the neurosurgeon told her about the brain bleed. She couldn’t focus. This couldn’t be happening. Casey was fine last night. It was just a damn concussion.
The minutes felt like days as she sat in the waiting room. She was a marble statue; a carefully composed blank canvas, seemingly incapable of moving. Casey had gone into surgery seven hours ago. Natasha doesn’t even remember calling Clint or Yelena, but they had gotten to the hospital a while ago. She hadn’t said a word to either of them. Instead, she chose to focus on the loose thread of the cushion on the chair across from her. She had been staring at it for the past half hour. Someone should really cut that before it gets snagged on something.

Eleven hours of surgery later, the neurosurgeon entered the waiting room. No words needed to be spoken; Natasha had been trained to read body language. She wasn’t listening as the surgeon apologized for her loss. A careful mask of neutrality had made its way onto her face. A tear slipped down Clint’s cheek as he shared a concerned glance with Yelena. Natasha spoke for the first time in hours when she asked the surgeon if she could see Casey’s body. As she followed a nurse to a private room, she felt numb. As she pulled back the sheet and kissed Casey’s cold forehead, she felt empty. Tears dripped down her face, but her vacant expression never faltered.

Natasha didn’t break until the funeral. She hadn’t spoken to anyone since Casey’s death.
She was standing in front of the headstone, hating how disgustingly perfect it looked. A clean grey stone with ‘Eight ‘Casey’ Romanoff’ smoothly engraved into it. A beautiful private cemetery. A strong, green oak tree towering over the grave. How can something so tragic be so perfect? This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t okay. She wasn’t okay. When Clint wrapped her in a supportive hug, she shoved him off of her, screaming about how wrong everything feels and how unfair all of this is. She screamed until she ran out of things to say. She screamed until she couldn’t breathe. She screamed until her voice broke. And then she collapsed to her knees and let the violent sobs overtake her body.

It had been almost a year since Casey’s death. Natasha was cutting and plating two peanut butter sandwiches in the small kitchen of her house in the country. She walked to the back porch, yelling, “Come eat lunch!”
A young girl with red hair came bounding into the kitchen. “Peanut butter sandwiches?”
“Yup.”
“They’re my favorite!”
“I know they are. They were Casey’s favorite, too. We were always too tired to cook an actual meal.” The two ate in silence for a few minutes before the girl spoke up.
“I wish Casey was here.”
“Yeah… I do too. She’d love to be here with you, Alina.”
“She promised me we’d see each other again.”
Unsure of what to say to comfort the child, Natasha pulled her into her lap and kissed the crown of her head. “She’d love that you’re here with me, though. I’m pretty sure she wanted to adopt you that first day she met you.” The girl smiled and nuzzled into Natasha’s chest.
Natasha blinked away the tears forming in her eyes as she thought about Casey and what it would be like with her there. The future they could’ve had. The one they almost had. Hell, she never even had the chance to explain the nickname. Casey never did drive Natasha’s Corvette. There were so many things Natasha wished they would’ve done. They just needed a little more time.
She still felt empty. Nothing would ever fill the void that Casey had left in Natasha Romanoff’s heart, but Alina did a good job of distracting her from the hollow echo of grief that followed her around. She smiled through the inaudible flow of tears and took another bite of her peanut butter sandwich. She felt bitter. She felt devastated. She felt grief. She felt unimaginable loss. She felt unsurpassable love. But most of all, she felt entirely and hopelessly human.