natasha romanoff one-shots (gxg)

𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 (𝟐/?)

a/n: part 2! i'm already starting to regret my decision to give each section an individual title lmao 🥲 but i'm having so much fun with this series

— COOKIES AND CONVERSATIONS —

"Natasha?"

Her eyes lock with yours as she slowly straightens up, making Nina let go of her sleeve in the process. You pull your daughter closer, staring at Natasha incredulously.

"Y/N", she finally says, a tad too coolly for your liking.

"What are you doing here?", you ask, still wary. Nina has grabbed your hand, a bit confused by how icy and distant the interaction between you two seems. You both said you're friends, after all. She's too young to grasp just how complex your relationship actually is.

'Friends' is far from the truth.

Natasha looks around the lobby, noticing the stares she's getting from strangers.

Yes, she specifically. You're a familiar face around here, probably visiting every week with your daughter in tow. She, however? She's unfamiliar. A face that stands out, someone who doesn't fit in. Her traitorous brain remarks that she should be used to that feeling by now. But she isn't.

"Can we maybe move this outside?", she asks quietly, her eyes flitting back to meet yours. You frown, unsure whether you should agree to her request.

But then again, Natasha is safe. Despite the breakup, despite the years of distance — you trust her. Part of you also realizes that your conversation is being overheard, which you don't like. Too many people know too much about you already, so there's no need to give them more stuff to talk about.

"Fine." You reluctantly follow her, making sure you're holding on to your daughter. No way is she running off again. That'd be the second time within less than a week.

You look at her as soon as you're outside, standing by your car. Natasha pushes her hands into the pockets of her coat, observing you out of the corner of her eye. She still can't shake that habit, it seems — always on the lookout, always studying you. It's as endearing as it is frustrating.

"So?", you eventually say, your thumb rubbing Nina's fingers. You're trying to calm yourself down. Or keep yourself calm. Either of those. "Answer me."

Natasha's gaze briefly sweeps over your surroundings. Traffic, an empty sidewalk, that gigantic building you just exited. Nobody in vicinity, which is a relief.

"I wanted to see you", she says. A half-lie. She did want to see you, in some way at least, but that's not what she's here for. She came her to find evidence, to gather intel about your precious husband.

Can she tell you that, though?

No. Not yet.

Your expression falters for a moment, the mask of indifference crumbling and vanishing. A variety of emotions flickers across your face, unreadable yet obvious. Natasha can see every single one, making her chest feel tight with guilt.

"You've got great timing", you say weakly, feeling the early autumn breeze brush over your cheeks. "It's been seven years."

"It's been a little more than five days", Natasha corrects you, still stoic.

"You know what I mean", you say sharply. "That thing at the art gallery? Doesn't count. Besides: if you wanted to see me, why'd you come to my husband's office?"

"I didn't know this was his office", she immediately replies, which — to you — is even more ridiculous than her claiming she wanted to see you. She's a spy, for god's sake. She doesn't do anything without a purpose, especially not something like this.