natasha romanoff oneshots

random ironwidow story

authors note: yeah i'm back. not a ship story by the way, but I guess you can still interpret it like that.

The team settled into the common room, a familiar sense of ease creeping in despite the chaos of the day. The smell of takeout filled the air as they sat around the coffee table, bags and boxes of food spread out. Tony had ordered enough to feed a small army, which, given the group, wasn’t far from the truth. Chinese, pizza, burgers—anything greasy and comforting that could take the edge off the tension still lingering in the room.

Natasha quietly sat down next to Tony on the couch, her movements slow and deliberate. Her body still felt like it was recovering from the emotional rollercoaster she had been on, but for now, the presence of her team—and Tony in particular—grounded her. As the others began talking, the familiar sound of Clint’s voice teasing Steve about his ancient tastes in music filled the room, accompanied by the occasional laughter from Bucky and Sam chiming in.

But Natasha wasn’t paying attention to the banter. Her gaze wandered down to Tony’s hands as he reached for a slice of pizza. She noticed the bruises on his knuckles, the discoloration a stark contrast against the otherwise pale skin of his fingers. It was subtle, but she knew it meant something had happened when he left to deal with her mentor.

Leaning back slightly, she tilted her head towards him, her voice quiet but pointed as she asked, “What did you do?”

Tony glanced at her, his expression hard to read for a moment, before he followed her gaze down to his hands. He flexed his bruised fingers and let out a soft sigh, as if he had been waiting for her to notice.

“I may have had a little…talk with your mentor,” he admitted, his voice low so the others wouldn’t overhear. He didn’t try to hide it, though. There was no shame or regret in his tone, just the plain truth. “Could have done more, honestly, but the SHIELD agents stopped me before I went too far. I had a few more… thoughts in mind.” He smirked faintly, his attempt at humor falling flat against the backdrop of his barely-contained anger.

Natasha’s lips tugged into a faint smile at his words. She appreciated that he didn’t sugarcoat it, didn’t try to make it seem like he hadn’t wanted to tear her mentor apart. Tony Stark wasn’t the kind of person to get his hands dirty often, but for her, it seemed he had made an exception. She liked knowing that he was ready to fight for her, even in ways that weren’t his usual style.

She leaned into him, resting her head gently against his chest. The exhaustion she’d been fighting all day suddenly seemed to catch up with her again, and the solid warmth of Tony’s body felt like a much-needed anchor.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “For doing it.”

Tony didn’t hesitate. As soon as he felt her relax against him, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. His hand slid up to her shoulder, squeezing gently, offering a silent reassurance that he was there for her, no matter what.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” Tony said quietly, his voice softer now, more genuine. “I’d do it again, and I’d do worse if I could.”

She smiled faintly against his chest, her eyes fluttering shut as she allowed herself to rest for just a moment. It had been a long time since Natasha had let herself lean on someone like this—physically or emotionally. But with Tony, it felt easier. Maybe it was because she saw a bit of herself in him—the way he coped with things, the way he masked his pain behind humor and bravado. He understood her in a way that the others couldn’t, and she didn’t have to explain anything. He just knew.

“I know you would,” she whispered, her voice laced with a tired gratitude that only he could hear. “And that’s why I’m thanking you.”

They stayed like that for a while, Tony holding her close while she rested against him. His hand rubbed slow circles on her back, comforting in the most unspoken of ways. For once, Tony wasn’t talking, wasn’t filling the silence with his usual quips or sarcasm. He just let the moment be, content to let her draw what comfort she needed from him.

Across the room, Clint threw another jab at Steve, who was mid-bite into a burger. “I’m just saying,” Clint remarked with a grin, “you could at least try listening to something from this century, Cap. It won’t kill you.”

Steve, his mouth full, rolled his eyes and gave Clint a halfhearted glare. “I don’t need music recommendations from someone whose ringtone is a duck quacking.”

Bucky snorted in laughter, and Wanda shook her head with a smile, clearly amused by the back-and-forth.

But while the rest of the team joked and ate, they couldn’t help but glance toward Tony and Natasha, their quiet corner on the couch not going unnoticed. It was rare to see Natasha lean on anyone, to let her guard down so visibly. And with Tony, of all people. The others exchanged knowing looks, a silent acknowledgment of the bond forming between the two.

Eventually, Natasha pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting Tony’s. There was something softer in her gaze now, a vulnerability she rarely showed, even to the team. “You don’t have to do that for me, you know. Handle things like that.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, his voice gentle but firm. “I know I don’t have to. But I will. Every time.” He gave her a small smile, his thumb brushing over her shoulder as if to emphasize his point. “You’re not in this alone, Romanoff. Not anymore.”

Natasha’s throat tightened, but she managed a faint smile in return. The weight of his words settled over her, and for once, she didn’t push them away. She didn’t deflect or make a joke. She just accepted it.

“Okay,” she whispered, and the word held so much more meaning than it seemed. It was a rare admission from her—a moment of trust that Tony didn’t take lightly.

The rest of the team continued their banter, the sound of laughter filling the room, but for Natasha and Tony, everything else faded into the background. They stayed close, Tony’s arm still wrapped around her, as they quietly shared the moment of peace amidst the chaos of everything else.

In the end, there was no need for words between them. Just the comfort of knowing that, for now, they had each other. And that was enough.