natasha romanoff one-shots (gxg)

𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

a/n: after the blip, you and nat are living alone at the compound. only at night, you look for comfort in each other.
fluffy smut doesn't describe this well but i don't know what else to call it tbh, just see for yourself

this is short so i apologize, but i have a few ideas for a longer chapter rn (might take a while though)

Natasha gives Morgan a high five as the candles on her birthday cake release vaporized wax. Everyone in the room cheers, and Pepper bends down to kiss the top of her daughter's head.

"How does it feel to be four?", Tony asks, ruffling her hair.

"Good!" A slight pause. "I want cake now."

Everyone laughs, you included. Your eyes move to look at Natasha, whose focus is entirely on you. Her smile softens a little, and, just like that, a tenderness tugs at your heartstrings.

You quickly force yourself to avert your eyes, seeing Morgan dab her finger into the cake's frosting and eat it. Tony quickly lifts her into the air, making her plop into his arms. She giggles in protest, her hands instinctively reaching out in demand for more frosting.

As cute as the event in front of you is, your mind is still on Natasha. Her smile, the slight blushing, the look on her face — it's hard not to think about. You curse yourself for not being able to let go of this image, knowing very well it doesn't mean much.

It might mean something, but that something isn't nearly enough.

. . .

When the party's over, gentle rain is falling. You step out of the Stark's wooden family home, letting the fresh smell hit you instantly. You look at Natasha as she joins you, her braid resting over her shoulder.

The other guests are already in their cars, getting ready to leave. It's just you and her now, standing in front of the porch and looking at each other. You let the car keys in your hand jingle, making Natasha smile.

"Let's go home", you just say, and she puts her hand on your shoulder as you walk to your car.

The drive home is quiet and calm. When you're alone, you usually talk a lot — but not today. Seeing Morgan always makes Natasha melancholic, sorrowful almost; you know that very well. You also know that giving her time and space is the only correct thing to do in this case.

The compound's dark, silent, way too empty. You're not alone, no, but after living with at least five other people for so many years it's still hard to come home to a deserted place. What was once loud and full of life has lost all its color.

"Just you and me", Natasha says quietly, as if having read your mind. She takes off her coat and puts it aside, her hands lingering on the cottony fabric for a moment.

"You and me", you confirm, turning your head to let your eyes meet hers. "Want some tea?"

"Tea's good."

You make tea. You drink it in the living room together, on the couch, an appropriate amount of space in between you. You're still barely talking, so you let the silence, only disturbed by the storm outside, speak for itself. A few glances and a cup of tea later, you get up and awkwardly cross your arms in front of your chest.

"I think I'll go to bed now", you say, still looking at her.

She wants to stop you. Tell you to stay for another moment. But Natasha doesn't dare to do that.

"Sure. Good night."

"Good night."

Like every night, you leave the door to your room slightly ajar. And, like not quite every night, Natasha walks up to your bed as soon as the sun has set.