Scarletwidow One Shots

Fear of Doctors

Description: Natasha is a feared spy in all the world, and there's only one thing a terrifying woman like her fears. Her wife.

Warnings: Fluff

Words: 2460
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Third Person P.O.V

When Yelena picks her up, Natasha's slumped over by the side of a building, dark red staining her perfectly ironed white shirt.

"Fuck." Yelena hisses, as she and two other women help carry Natasha into the back of the car. "Just hang on, Nat. And where are the fuckers that did this to you?" She demands as she floors the pedal.

"I killed them." Natasha drawls, her expression torn into a grimace. "Fuck." She groans, low and pained.

"Just hang on, we'll get you patched up." Yelena says, worried and Natasha rolls her eyes.

"I don't care about this dumb thing." Natasha says, and Yelena gasps.

"Then what the hell are you moaning and crying for?" Yelena asks.

Natasha faces death every single day, with an arrogant, shit-eating grin or sometimes no expression at all, so to hear her voice out her pain with so much fear is enough to leave Yelena worried.

"She's going to kill me." Natasha moans out.

"Who? The Kim's? We'll have those bastards six feet under by tomorrow, they're not laying another hand on you." Yelena says, and when she sees Natasha roll her eyes again, she has to hold back from letting out a desperate noise from her throat.

"Who fucking cares about the Kim's?" Natasha sneers.

She says it as though the Kim's aren't the biggest threat to their organisation, as though they haven't ordered any fewer than seven hits on Natasha in the past month.

"Then what the hell are you-"

"Wanda." Natasha says.

"Wanda." Yelena repeats. "Your wife. The doctor."

When Natasha and Wanda got married, no one could really say if this was the worst or best match in the world. A spy that worked for the biggest organisation in the world, who takes lives and lives in danger, found love in a woman that saved lives every day.

"Yes." Natasha says, genuine terror in her eyes, something Yelena has never seen before. "She's going to be so pissed."

"You are literally bleeding out on my fucking leather seats, and all you're worried about is your wife being mad?" Yelena asks, getting annoyed.

Natasha grits her teeth as the wound throbs. Her hands are on her abdomen, holding it, trying her best to stop the blood. She already feels dizzy and her eyes really want to close, but she knows better.

"Yes." She says, she knows if she keeps talking she will be able to stay awake. "Fuck, we need to stop by Prada. Flowers aren't going to do it this time."

"What?" Yelena murmurs as she keeps driving. Her mouth agape as she watches Natasha begin to despair over the thought of her wife's anger.

"No, maybe a car? Fuck, she got a new car already. Fuck, will I have to sleep on the couch tonight?" Natasha, who's now muttering to herself.

Natasha, the woman who set fire to buildings without a bat of an eye, who kills people with no remorse, is absolutely terrified.

"The fuck." Yelena mutters.

"What if she leaves to go sleep at a hotel?" Natasha's voice borders on, for the love of everything holy, to Yelena's utter disbelief, whining. "I can't sleep without her, what am I going to do?"