All the Colors of Earth (Natasha Romanoff)

5.6

                                   One year later
Marzda

"Did you hear that Wanda and Pietro are getting kids tomorrow?" I ask Natasha as we put away the dishes. Our house on Asgard was much like the Paris house, something I had made sure of when we built it. Natasha had insisted on the four bedrooms but that was her only request.

She nods as she takes a plate from me and puts it in the cabinet, "she told me today while you were at work. We spent all day getting her house ready and she's so nervous I doubt she will sleep at all tonight."

"We should go over in the morning and take them breakfast," I suggest as I dry off a plate.

Natasha laughs, "oh sweetie, bold of you to assume that Wanda hasn't also been stress baking all day. They'll have so many muffins they could eat them for a month."

"Dinner then?" I ask as I hand her the now dry plate.

"We can ask," she agrees. "Oh! We could invite Keema and Val."

"Nope," I tell her.

"Why not?" She asks confused.

"Promise you won't tell."

"Ok," she says slowly. "I promise."

I can't hold back the grin as I say, "Valkyrie is pregnant."

"No!" Natasha yells.

I nod, "they found out yesterday and she is pissed. Happy, but pissed. Keema is already trying to get rid of Val's home gym to make room for the nursery."

"Damn," she says as she closes the cabinets and comes over to me. "Don't tell her I said this but it'll be kinda funny to see Val pregnant."

I wrap my arms around her, "that's exactly what Yelena said, and she said it to Valkyrie."

Natasha groans and puts her head against mine, "that girl has got to get a filter."

"I think the filter is the fact she's twelve light years away and knows Valkyrie can't get to her," I chuckle. "Not that Keema would let her leave Asgard anyway."

As protective as I was about my family, Keema was even more so. It had taken Valkyrie a while to get used to someone loving and caring for her as fiercely as Keema does, but she'd eventually given in and accepted it. She was still rebuilding the sisterhood with Yelena's help, but she didn't leave Asgard anymore. And while she complained about being cooped up, I've seen the way she looks at my sister, how she finds any excuse to touch her, how she dotes on her when she thinks nobody is watching.

"Who would want to?" Natasha asks. I know she meant it as a joke, and while I still can't feel her through the Bond, I can hear the slight worry in her words. She'd never admit it, but I know she still hasn't fully forgiven me or fully trusts me.

And that's alright, because I will spend my entire life earning it, and I would do it happily.

"Not me," I tell her. "I'd be happy if I never had to leave Asgard again. Hell," I laugh, "I'd be happy if I never had to leave our room again."

"Oh would you?" She asks as she plays along.

I nod, "In fact, I'm thinking of all the things I could be doing in there right now."

"Such as?"

"You," I tell her, using the voice she likes while switching to Russian. For some reason it turns her on more when I speak it, and I definitely use that to my advantage. "I could be doing you."

"Hmm," she hums as she pretends to act unbothered. "Yeah I suppose."

"I might even let you top me," I say nonchalantly.

"With the cuffs?" She asks excitedly.

I nod, "whatever you want."

She squeals and pulls me towards the stairs, half dragging me up them and down the short hallway, only stopping when we get to Olympia's room. I had finally convinced her that Olympia needed her own room when she'd walked in on us in a compromising situation.

As we watch our daughter sleep I lean into Natasha, "so, still afraid you won't be a good parent?"

She chuckles softly, "it gets worse every day but I wouldn't trade her for the world."

"Think you could handle two?" I ask nervously.

"Two?" She asks slowly as she turns to me. "Are you..?"

"Found out this morning," I tell her. She pulls me into a long kiss and when we finally part I ask, "are you ok with this?"

"As long as you don't try and run again."

"Never again."

                                      The End

                                       Or Is It?