Who: Natasha Romanoff Barton & Tony Stark Where: AvW When: This morning Rating: TBD; Possibly S for Sad Feels What: Natasha's into full disclosure lately. Thanks, Fury.
Long after Clint had fallen asleep, his arms wrapped tightly around her, Natasha lay awake in their bed and stared up at the dim outline of the ceiling. This was all still incredibly surreal to her. Only a short time before, she'd just walked out of a congressional hearing and met with Fury, Wilson, and Steve, and they had determined what they would be doing. Two days before that, she'd been shot and self-tazered, and now here she was, in another world, another life, wrapped up with her husband, and her two amazing sons only a few doors away. She'd asked Steve, in that truck, who she should be, and had claimed not to know the real Natasha Romanoff. And maybe back there, she didn't. But now, here, she knew who she was - spy and assassin, yes, but wife and mother and friend as well, and those three jobs were the most important out of any in her life. Somewhere around four am, she very carefully disengaged herself from Clint, smiling softly down at him. After pressing a kiss to his lips, she slipped out of the bed and silently pulled on a robe in the dark. Running a hand through her hair absently, she quietly left the room and headed for James'. Opening the door, she stepped inside and sat in a chair by the bed, just watching her son sleep. An hour later, she kissed his cheek and left the room to go to Nik's.
As she stepped into Nik's bedroom, the crib - illuminated by the soft light of a mobile above it - came into her vision and she caught movement, then a soft sound. Smiling, Natasha stepped over and reached in to gently pick up her son. His weight was both familiar and not, as she pressed him close to her chest, nuzzling her cheek against his hair. Sitting in a rocking chair, Natasha breathed in his scent, her eyes closed, and just held the gently cooing babe. "I'm so sorry I was gone," she whispered in the dim lighting, and held him until he fell asleep again. After another hour of just watching him sleep, Natasha stood and lay him back in the crib, ignoring the twinge from the gunshot she was still healing from.
She finally made her way into the empty kitchen and turned on only the light by the stove, fixing herself a cup of coffee. Ten minutes later, she simply stood, leaning against the counter, and sipped the brew slowly, thanking whoever might be listening that she was home again.