They had two years. Two years of love, laughing at Liho, pillow fights, petty fights, real fights, cooking together (well, Maria cooking and Nat watching from the counter tops, being absolutely useless in that area, swinging her legs back and forth like a child), missions together, apologies, beautiful sex, make up sex, morning sex, three vacations: France, Berlin and Italy, and lastly, two trips to the adoption centre.
Natasha was fiddling with her thumbs, a nervous habit she had recently picked up since this whole process started. By the time she began picking at her flesh, causing her forefinger to bleed, Maria placed her own hand in Natasha's. A gentle warning for her to stop. Maria of course was nervous too, but she didn't earn the name 'ice queen' for nothing. Her demeanour was calm, it often terrified Natasha how Maria could be so put together in public- she would turn herself into the perfect S.H.I.E.L.D commander. But, Natasha knew this was all a facade. She'd seen Maria break into a million little pieces so many times over the years, over and over again, and Maria had learnt to reach out for her wife's comfort whenever she was in distress. Not a day goes by that Natasha doesn't regret leaving, to fight with Steve. She had to, she stood for freedom but she should've told Maria. Every night when Maria is curled up in her arms keeping her warm, guilt eats away at her, tearing her a part piece by piece. Thoughts such as ' why didn't I tell Mia I was leaving?' and 'I should've offered her to join me' constantly wracking her brain. Sometimes when her insomnia gets really bad, Maria rolls over and pushes Natasha into her arms and strokes her hair and recites the S.H.I.E.L.D code of conduct to bore Natasha into a dreamless sleep, any thing to silence her thoughts. However, it stopped working when Maria recited the fraternization code which clearly stated agents were not allowed to date their superiors, both of them spent the whole night laughing.
"Nat" Natasha was snapped out of her thoughts, pushing her anxiety down. These kind of places scared her, they reminded her of the red room. A place full of so many orphans but these kids were looked after by the American government and not Dreykov and his ring of paedophiles and sex traffickers who liked to watch little girls dance in ballet shoes until their feet were bleeding and enjoyed their tears running down their faces when Madame B whipped them with a cane because apparently no six year old should cry because they don't have loving parents or friends, they should be grateful they are being weaponised because at least they are useful. "Natty" Maria tried again, this time Natasha was able to respond.
"Hmm Mia?" she answered quitely, still anxious.
"It's going to be okay, plus we're not in a rush. Baby steps" she stroked Natasha's knuckles with her phumb, before withdrawing her hand to change gear and then placing it back where it belonged: In Natasha's grasp.
"What if, what if the kid doesn't like me? What if we don't even find the, I mean a kid? What if the kid doesn't want two moms? What if - "
"Natty, baby, breathe" Maria smiled down at the shorter woman reassuringly
"Okay but what if I'm no good at it, kids don't like me Masha!"
"Clint's kids do"
"yes but that's only because -"
"because you're good with kids!"Maria cut her off straight away, she would not allow her wife to believe this stuff
"But what if" Natasha tried again, earning a sigh from Maria
"Natasha!" Maria breathed, holding the bridge of her nose, now anxious herself, "Nat, love, do you even want to have a child? If you're not ready just say, it's okay. We're in no rush, we've got our whole lives. And even if you never want one I won't mind, I only ever want to be with you. Natasha Romanoff you will always be enough"
