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The sun had set long ago, yet Hudson River Park was abuzz with far more activity than usual. Its riverside position was just a stone’s throw away from the West Village, making it a prime location for watching New York City’s annual Fourth of July Macy’s fireworks show. The Fourth of July always drew a crowd to the city for its spectacular fireworks displays, but this year was markedly busier, and justifiably so.
This was the first Independence Day since the Blip.
Since Bruce Banner snapped the Infinity Gauntlet to bring back the half of humanity (and the universe) that Thanos stole.
Since Tony Stark snapped that same Gauntlet to ensure Thanos could never try enacting his plan again.
Since Wanda Maximoff, the love of Natasha Romanov's life, her soulmate, her best friend, came back from the dead.
Tens (if not hundreds) of thousands of people, New Yorkers and tourists alike, flocked to the west side of Manhattan in an attempt to watch the spectacle that would soon unfold in the skies above.
A bead of sweat formed near Natasha’s hairline as she considered how she wasn’t sure which category she’d fall under. She happened to be one of those visitors, hidden amongst the crowds of Pier 46 yet painfully exposed all the same as she sat on the blanket Clint had lent her. Around her, countless others sat on their respective blankets, many even foregoing them and sitting on the bare ground. The unfortunate latecomers who hadn’t secured a spot were forced to stand, many leaning on the railing bordering the Pier for some semblance of support.
Families, couples, friend groups… Natasha couldn’t help but admire how many different walks of life these people came from, different in so many ways yet all sharing the common desire to celebrate this holiday. Natasha suddenly felt rather lonely, especially after Clint had left to get them snacks.
Hugging her knees to her chest, she redirected her attention to the environment. Overhead, seagulls cried out at one another as they flew about. The several plainclothes officers Natasha had clocked hours ago were scattered around the Pier, keeping a vigilant eye on their surroundings. However, the chance of an attack at this event was low thanks to the Avengers’ presence. The possibility of a would-be terrorist having to “chat” with the Hulk or Captain America (especially on the latter’s birthday) was a rather potent deterrent.
Ironically, they were the only two members of the team who were absent from the event. To no one’s surprise, the WWII veteran and the man whose angrier half came out when stressed didn’t want to spend two hours with front-row seats to a fireworks show. Natasha idly wondered what they were up to back at the Tower.
The ground was nice and chilled from the waterfront breeze, providing a pleasant ambiance which she decided to take in by leaning back. The breeze, salty from the Atlantic Ocean’s water traveling north to mix with fresh water nearly 50 miles upstate, washed over her face and through her hair while she supported herself with her arms, blowing the stresses of that day far, far away.
Natasha returned to her previous train of thought. She hadn’t lived in New York since the Accords debacle and considering that she wasn’t even American by birth, she couldn’t call herself a native. Yet, the city was still familiar enough that she couldn’t call her a tourist. The more things change, the more they stay the same, she thought.
Natasha chuckled as she remembered when Wanda first learned that phrase from Peter. Wanda still had her accent then, so she was rolling her Rs and hadn’t quite gotten the hang of vowel sounds. Wanda had blushed redder than her outfit and apologized to Natasha, but the Black Widow could only smile and assure Wanda that she was intelligible, “even with all those runaway Rs”.
But that was a lie.
They weren’t exactly runaway Rs. ‘Runaway’ implied they were aimless. But that was blatantly incorrect. Instead, their destination led them right over Natasha’s carefully crafted walls and straight to her heart (and other places, but this is a PG-13 fanfic so shhhhhhhhh). Natasha couldn’t help but loathe herself for being tasked with schooling those beautiful imperfections out of Wanda’s voice.
Not that self-loathing was anything new to her.
Natasha adjusted her plain white T-shirt, untucking it from her black straight-cut jeans while shifting her feet to avoid getting her new sneakers stepped on by an inattentive… yep, that’s a tourist. The tourist awkwardly muttered an apology before maneuvering around several other groups to get back to his blanket. Tourists, she thought with an eye-roll. Natasha regarded her shoes, which were marred with small grass stains. She must’ve gotten them while walking around the cramped Pier earlier in the afternoon and resolved not to damage them further.
A double tap on her shoulder and a pause followed by a single tap plus finger flick broke her train of thought. There was only one person in the world who knew that particular pattern. She smiled before turning around and looking up to find precisely who she expected. “Hey, you!”
“Hey yourself. The line at the boba place was insane,” Clint bemoaned, holding out the drink she’d asked him to get. “Why are people obsessed with this stuff again?”
“Because,” Natasha said as she received the fresh order of strawberry cheesecake bubble tea, with extra whipped cream on top. “It’s fucking delicious.”
She stabbed the straw through the cover, quick and precise, before taking a sip. The tapioca pearls were rubbery against her teeth as she chewed them after swallowing the strawberry-flavored milk tea. Wanda had gotten it for her once, and she’d been hooked ever since.
Clint shook his head before plopping down next to her. “I got one for myself. The, uh, brown sugar?” Similar to Natasha, Clint was donned in a jeans-and-T-shirt get-up. However, his shirt was purple and had a strange graphic on the front that Natasha couldn’t recognize.
“Mhm?” Natasha nodded as she took another sip, chewing several more pearls and sympathizing with the young couple behind them. They must’ve been getting handsy with one another, Natasha deduced, after clocking not one, but two older people who kept shooting the couple disapproving glares.
Clint rested his head on her shoulder. “I could feel my blood sugar going up with each damn sip! How can you drink that crap?”
“I need the sugar,” Natasha shrugged. “Regularly fighting Nazis and aliens as a normal human being does that to you. And it’s not ‘crap.’”
“Yeah yeah yeah, whatever you say.” Clint rolled his eyes with a chuckle. “But those damn bubbles…” he sighed.
“Pearls,” Natasha corrected. “You choked on them, didn’t you?” She mumbled with a smirk, lips wrapped around the boba straw as she paused her inhalation of the drink. Several feet away, two children bickered over some of their toys as the parents attempted to broker a consensus between them. The younger one, a blonde, bore a striking resemblance to Yelena back when they were around that age.
Natasha made a mental note to call Yelena soon.
“How was I supposed to know they were the chewy ones that don’t dissolve?!” Clint rubbed at his throat, wincing at the memory.
Natasha stifled a laugh, pulling the straw away from her mouth lest she spit her drink out. “They always give the chewy ones unless you ask for different ones. Idiot.”
“Whatever.” Clint rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I want more of that kiddie drink anyway.”
“It’s not a—” A loud bang interrupted Natasha’s retort, and both agents startled. Clint reached behind his back where his bow and quiver… weren’t there. Right, Laura had scolded him over StarkChat earlier about ‘winding down and relaxing’. Plus, she told him if he didn’t leave his equipment behind, he’d be sleeping on the couch until Christmas.
And what could the archer Avenger do but comply?
Meanwhile, Natasha had immediately gone for her pistol… that Wanda had all but begged Natasha to leave at the Tower. Damn those Bambi eyes!
Another bang made itself known, this time accompanied by a flash of light and—
The fireworks.
They relaxed, watching the first fireworks explode and thunder in the sky. ‘Thunder’ indeed, as Natasha watched a blur shoot overhead along the Hudson River, pulled along by his trusty hammer if she was guessing correctly. The crowd oohed and ahhed as the fireworks painted the night sky in shades of red, blue, green, and various other colors Natasha couldn’t name at the moment.
Initially, the main roster consisted of Tony, Pepper, Rhodey, Wanda, and Sam. Tony had equipped the suits, and Sam’s drone with extra fireworks, tossing the remainder into Wanda’s hands. He’d even adorned Sam’s wings with enough red and blue lighting to reduce even the great Steve Rogers to tears.
(Tony would’ve called them patriotic tears, though the others would’ve called them “frustrated.”)
But then Thor had decided to show his face on Earth again, saying that his parents were intrigued by this particular Midgardian holiday, and he’d been more than welcome to participate in the festivities.
When the crowd spotted Thor, their amazement gave way to excitement. Someone shouted, “It’s Thor!” before the crowd broke out into applause. They cheered as he whizzed along, using Mjolnir to summon lightning (mostly just sparks to illuminate and decorate the canvas that was the sky, since real lightning would’ve given way to rain, which would suck).
“Alright, big guy!” Clint whooped as he clapped. The fireworks’ booms and pops were a symphony of celebration, singing their declaration of victory against an unmentioned enemy. Even if everyone knew precisely who it was.
Perhaps before the Snap, before Thanos, it would’ve been directed at the nation’s former colonizers. But after everything the country, not to mention the entire world, had been through over the past several years, there was no room for what was ultimately a petty squabble in the grand scheme of things.
The world had new enemies. Enemies who would come from the sky, enemies who humanity hasn’t even seen yet. And their planet would have to present a unified front the next time another genocidal alien knocked on their front door.
Or broke it down.
So this year’s Independence Day fireworks show was special, to say the least. The first Independence Day after the Blip deserved nothing less than a “Stark-patented extravaganza,” as Tony had described it. Some careful negotiations, several contracts, a Rescue autograph, and a ‘Tony’s’ hurt ego later, Tony had successfully arranged for the flight-capable team members to spruce up the show with some “good old-fashioned Avengers pizzazz,” he’d said with a wink.
Speak of the devil, Tony in his signature red-and-gold Mark 85 blasted across the sky. Pepper, wearing the Rescue armor, flew right alongside him, her deep purple a base to Tony’s acid of hot-rod red. Natasha watched them maneuver around, over, or under the fireworks being launched into the air and making it look laughably easy.
The level of performance and agility they were exhibiting was on par for Tony as he’d been piloting these armors since 2009, but outright impressive for Pepper since Natasha was pretty sure the Stark Industries CEO hadn’t used the armor since the Battle of Earth. The trail of sparkles emanating from their flight thrusters forced Natasha to look away before she attempted to blink away the afterimage they left on her eyes.
Tony must’ve messed with the flight thrusters. “A diva as always!” Natasha snarked as she nudged Clint. He laughed, though Natasha could tell he was genuinely moved by the stunning display. She polished off the remainder of her bubble tea, taking extra care to chew the remaining pearls before swallowing.
Further up the river, Natasha could spot Sam dive-bombing down toward the water in a red and blue blaze of glory that bled purple if she squinted. He maneuvered around the fireworks being launched from the vessel on the river and pulled up at the last second, all but grazing the surface as he waved at the crowd before flying back up to meet Thor.
Something whizzed overhead, and Natasha looked up, finding Rhodey in his full War Machine glory rapidly barreling toward the rest of his teammates. “Marry me, War Machine!!” a younger-sounding woman screamed from somewhere in the crowd. Natasha and Clint looked at one another before they laughed, rolling their eyes.
If only that poor woman knew that Rhodey was, in fact, aromantic and hadn’t dated anyone since graduating from MIT. As Tony put it, the only date Rhodey was interested in was the specialty fruit Tony had routinely delivered from the Middle East after the manufacturer’s withdrawal from the U.S. Having a rich best friend has its perks.
Rhodey’s entrance must’ve been a signal for Tony as he broke off from his spot alongside Pepper and rushed toward his best friend. Without hesitation, Tony raised his arms, and the nanotech on his arms shifted.
Natasha couldn’t make out all the details at this distance, but she imagined it was to create two larger repulsors where his hands would be. Her guess was proven correct when Rhodey raised his palms in a motion that was all too familiar to her, the colonel not shying away from Tony’s invitation/challenge.
Rhodey and Tony fired their repulsors simultaneously, their conflicting blasts meeting in between them. Neither of them backed down, and the conflict point grew and expanded until it exploded into sparks of arc reactor energy. But unlike the blast they used to take down Ivan Vanko all those years ago, this blast wasn’t harmful and intended to be mostly for show.
“Isn’t that move from when they fought each other at Stark’s mansion?” Clint yelled to be heard over the crowd and fireworks.
“Yep!” Natasha answered, popping the ‘p.’
Her cheeks were sore from the wide beam she had across her face. The logistics of the team’s performance must’ve been a living hell to plan and organize, but seeing it all playing out in front of her eyes made that hell worth it. As Tony had promised, they’d all added their Avengers-branded pizzazz to the fireworks show, and now all that was left for Wanda to show up and—
Speak of the fucking devil.
No, Natasha could never call Wanda a devil. Wanda was too good, too good of a hero for her own sake, to be a devil.
(Unless they were in bed, then Wanda was 100% a devil. Though for many, many different reasons. But this is PG-13 so shhhhhhhhh).
Natasha could’ve sworn she felt the individual seconds ticking down as the red blob in the sky coasted over the onlookers. As it drew closer, Natasha’s eyes could finally pick out the flowy mane of hair that she was all too familiar with. The silky dark red hair that could both drive her crazy and unwind her after a rough day—
“Holy shit, it’s Wanda Maximoff!” A nearby gentleman exclaimed as his husband shot him a side-eye, albeit with a smile on his face.
Hilariously, their son, who was sitting piggyback on the man’s shoulders and couldn’t be more than three years old, smacked the back of the man’s head and said, “Language, Daddy!” The husbands looked at one another before laughing at the cute admonishment.
(Looks like there was a Captain America fan in the making.)
Her Red Room training escaped her as her heart threatened to beat out of her chest and her breaths grew shallow, but not for the reasons that usually happened. The ache in Natasha’s cheeks faded alongside her grin, because—
—Wanda was flying toward the part of the crowd Natasha was in.
What?
Why?
She should be going up to the sky to join the others!
Wanda flew toward Pier 46, waving at the crowd as she flew closer. “Happy Fourth of July!” She called out to the crowd, waving as she coasted overhead. Without sparing a glance, she incinerated a plastic bag drifting through the wind, dissipating it into nothing.
(Environmentally conscious, a “green flag” if Natasha remembered the TikTok correctly.)
Natasha saw the wide smile on Wanda’s face, infectious glee in her tone as she interacted with the onlookers, and Natasha’s jaw slackened. She held onto Clint’s arm since that way, she wouldn’t straight-up melt into the ground, paper-thin skin and all, like an abandoned popsicle.
“Careful, you might catch some flies in ther—” Natasha cut off Clint’s remark with a swift smack to his cheek. “ Ow .”
Traitor.
Wanda landed at the front of the Pier, and to Natasha’s horror, was making her way toward Natasha. Wanda was all smiles as she interacted with the public. Shaking hands with a man she apparently saved from a car wreck a month ago (small world, it seemed), high-fiving one of the plainclothes officers, and fist-bumping a couple of high schoolers, it seemed Pepper’s PR training sessions with Wanda were paying off.
Not to suggest that Wanda was faking her joy and enthusiasm. Oh no, that was 100% real, purely straight from the heart. It had to be God’s greatest irony that Wanda, a telekinetic witch who could read minds and parse through lies, herself couldn’t lie if her life depended on it. Natasha didn’t need her Red Room training to spot the shine in Wanda’s eyes as she interacted with the public. Nor did Natasha need her training to catch the crinkle at the edge of her eyes appearing as she laughed at something an older woman told her. A joke, most likely.
Natasha could only gulp to dissipate the pressure in her ears as whatever Clint was trying to tell her was muffled beyond comprehension as if she was buried six feet deep. She blinked, expanding her field of view, as she realized Wanda had tweaked her makeup for the occasion. There was a little bit of blue in the corner of her eye, that's normally not there. Her usual liner was set in place, but it's in white.
A patriotic touch.
One that made her look stunning. Natasha found her gaze naturally flicking to Wanda's mouth, as it tended to, and there was a pleasant surprise there, too. Wanda's lips were darker than usual, and it suited her. Her bright grin is all the more blinding with it, taking the edge off the hum in Natasha’s drum.
In the short time they’d had together before the Blip, before Thanos, before Wanda had died in her arms and vanished into dust, Natasha had taken care to memorize all the little things. The tiny details that others would never care to pick up on.
The way her Sokovian accent slipped out on certain words. Aside from the aforementioned runaway Rs, Wanda would almost always stumble over any word with the letter X. Fort Knox became Fort Knoh, Alex became Alek, and aux (cord) became auz. (There were numerous other words on the list, but due to space constraints as well as rating guidelines, they shall be omitted.)
The way Wanda cooked and baked without following the recipes, ever. Wanda called it “going off the vibes.” Natasha called it incomprehensible because, to date, none of Wanda’s food was anything short of delectable. Bruce’s confusion and amazement as he’d bitten into one of Wanda’s freshly baked paprika muffins in the Tower’s main kitchen last Friday night marked a first on Natasha’s calendar she never thought she would fill out. The man immediately fled to the lab, muffin in hand, leaving a trail of crumbs behind as he rambled about the battery of tests he and Helen would run on it. “Because it couldn’t be that sweet with the ant’s serving of sugar I saw her put in there,” he’d wheezed, much to Wanda’s bemusement. (It was a miracle and puzzle all in one, one that a genius hadn’t figured out to this day and one that a spy-assassin with a lifetime’s worth of experience killing and seducing marks wouldn’t bother ciphering.)
And the way Wanda’s cute little nose scrunched up when she got excited at something, no matter how mundane it could be. The first time she’d successfully flipped a pancake lived rent-free in Natasha’s mind. Or when she’d once broken out that Sokovian melody that could either amp Natasha up or calm her down. At the time, Steve (who Wanda chose as her backup) had laughed and rolled his eyes, saying he didn’t sign up for musical cooking even as he attempted to join in.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh no, I love her.
Indeed, Wanda was beautiful. Natasha promised herself to never take that for granted again, after spending five years with the ghost of her lover haunting her wherever Natasha went. The universe had decided there was a chance for her after all, a chance Natasha didn’t deserve at lighting a spark it deemed worthy of burning in all its glory.
The others on the team hadn’t bothered to spruce up their wardrobe for the occasion, except for Wanda. Natasha shamelessly watched her girlfriend, eyes following her every move. Natasha had to take several deep breaths as she noted Wanda’s pastel red flowy skort reaching just above her knees, which fluttered with her movements. Trailing her eyes upward, Natasha observed Wanda’s new corset. Color-matching it with the skort made the two vertical blue accents along the corset’s front pop out.
In the early days of the Blip, the guilt had eaten at Natasha. Guilt for not trying harder, not fighting harder, even if she’d fought as hard as she could. She hid in her room for weeks, only slipping out in the cover of night, a Widow’s preferred environment, to eat and shower. A waste of space, just a puny human amongst gods and aliens with powers beyond her comprehension.
And then Steve had knocked on her door before slipping into her room, dodging the barrage of pillows a furious Natasha had thrown at him. She’d very nearly set her guard down… until he gently asked her about “bringing in new talent.”
She broke.
If she hadn’t been unarmed and malnourished, the Captain wouldn’t have left the room in anything other than a body bag. Everyone they lost, everyone who died attempting to stop the Mad Titan from executing his plan, Wanda who was their last line of defense and forced to execute Vision all for it to mean nothing, were THE Avengers, the original team.
And they certainly could not be “replaced” with “new talent.”
If only the Natasha from then had known what the future held.
A black bomber jacket, Natasha’s bomber jacket, she realized, rested over Wanda’s shoulders. While the jacket fit Natasha to a tee, it was a smidge too small for Wanda, evident by the sleeves that fell short of her wrists—
—Natasha wanted to tear the jacket off of her. Along with the rest of her outfit—
Natasha pinched herself. Where the fuck had that come from?! She was a grown-ass woman, she could not be thirsting over her girlfriend in public like a hormonal teenager! She was a goddamn SHIELD agent, and an Avenger, and a—
“Natasha?”
The rest of the thought fled Natasha’s mind as the pressure in her ears dissipated. She snapped back to reality, ready to shout “What?!” at Clint for badgering her when she paused.
Unless he’d been hiding a helium balloon on his person so well that she hadn’t noticed (she refused to be tricked after the last time), his voice wasn’t usually that high. Clint’s voice was the baritone to Tony’s tenor and Thor’s bass, but this tone was an alto, lilting into her ears and tickling them just right. A firework exploded, stinging Natasha’s ears (Too close, she concluded) and drawing her attention upward to—
“Nat?” Wanda asked. “Are you okay?” Goddamnit, why did she have to be so doting?
Perhaps that was why the Avengers were destined to lose in so many timelines. So many doors left closed, just so they could open the one that led to the perfect outcome, the perfect road.
“Yeah, ‘Nat,’” Clint supplied, gently teasing Natasha out of her stupor. He must’ve stood up while Natasha had retreated into her mind, stretching his arms and popping his back with a groan. Blessedly, the other onlookers had turned their attention back to the show, conveniently ignoring the trio of heroes. A nearby child’s scream of “Nyoom! BLAM!” signaled that Tony had pulled a stunt Pepper was definitely going to yell about at Tony later.
“M’fine.” Natasha’s response sat thick in her throat, pushing her windpipe open as she spoke. Remember to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Her fingers twitched as she picked herself up off the ground, pacing herself to avoid the blood rushing to her head. She shouldn’t waste too much time. Wanda was supposed to be flying around with the enhanced team members putting on a show above, instead of languishing on the ground with her stupidly baseline girlfriend.
Clint, ever the dutiful best friend, extended a hand to help Natasha up. She technically didn’t need to take it, as she’d already gotten up into a kneeling position. But ultimately, she took him up on the gesture and let him pull her up the remainder of the way. “Thanks,” Natasha said, whispering into Clint’s ear as she steadied herself while holding onto his shoulder.
“Don’t sweat it,” he whispered back in return. “Now go get your girl, doofus.” He sent Natasha off with a ghost of a push in Wanda’s direction before directing his attention back toward the fireworks show, giving the women some privacy.
“Are you… enjoying the show?” Wanda called out. Her red, white, and blue makeup rose and fell within Natasha’s gaze Wanda idly bounced on the balls of her feet. The chunky sneakers she had on granted her an extra two inches on top of the natural inch of height she had over Natasha, making the spy feel even smaller. Wanda kept her arms tucked behind her back, looking almost coy. Like… like she wanted to be here, contained and limited to the ground and not free to roam as she pleased up in the sky.
(Why did she let Natasha hold her back?)
“Yeah,” Natasha responded, approaching her girlfriend. The grass crunched under her sneakers as Natasha maneuvered around people and picnic baskets alike. “It’s… it’s beautiful.” But not as beautiful as you. As the fireworks continued to explode above, a firework of her own set off inside of her, rattling her heart as she neared Wanda.
The rise and fall of Wanda’s chest in time with her breathing nearly diverted Natasha’s attention from the thin choker necklace adorning Wanda’s collar. Natasha reached a hand out to Wanda’s cheek, taking care not to smudge her makeup. Natasha swallowed the excess saliva in her mouth (gross, but hacking up a loogie now would ruin the moment) as she eye-balled Wanda’s dark, pouty (that is NOT making the final cut) lips.
Natasha needed those perfect lips against hers, now.
She leaned in close, possessively wrapping her arms around Wanda’s back as their lips slotted together like two complementary puzzle pieces. They’d kissed an uncountable number of times, whether it was a small peck before they had to split up when they were off fighting bad guys, or a deep, extended “smooch” (Natasha had used the term once as a joke, and it somehow stuck) during one of their cuddle/make-out sessions when they weren’t off fighting bad guys.
But it never got old for Natasha, no matter how many times they kissed each other. Every time felt like the first time, full of excitement, wonder, love, affection, the whole nine yards. (Or twenty-seven feet, as Wanda would insist the two had the same connotation “because they’re the same length!”)
Natasha’s hands slipped down to Wanda’s hips, giving them a healthy squeeze. Her hands fit on Wanda’s hips perfectly, like they had been designed to perfectly slot against one another. Natasha couldn’t hold back her muffled scoff as Wanda subtly copped a feel of her chest, pulling her closer to conceal the motion from any potential prying eyes. Although, a fireworks show of this magnitude would pretty much ensure that everyone’s focus remained up instead of around. So needy.
Just as Natasha liked Wanda. Wanda’s touch tickled as she broke away from the liplock, her cold, metallic hand—
Wait.
What?
Natasha looked down, stunned, to find a nanotech arc reactor where Wanda’s hand had just rested. “Surprise,” Wanda enthused, tapping the reactor. White, silver, and red nanites crawled out of the housing unit, spreading out over Natasha’s shirt and taking care to bond together over the cloth. The glowing heart shone nearly as bright as Thor’s lightning as the gold-titanium went to work.
Why had Wanda—?
“Why?” Was all Natasha could muster as the nanites tickled the skin of her arms before settling into place. At her wrists, the blob of nanites settled into silver twin gauntlets—no, flight stabilizers —with a splash of red on either hand, while another collection of nanites clung to her legs as they wrapped their way down to her feet. White nanites formed a blank canvas that the red nanites used to paint a long, winding red spiral down around her thighs and shins, ending at her ankles, where the flight thrusters shone silver to contrast.
“Because,” Wanda answered with a grin. “Why should my girlfriend be stuck here on the ground?” The remaining nanites made their way up Natasha’s neck as they formed the helmet starting at the back of her head. “I wanted you to participate as well.”
As the faceplate, white with red and silver highlights, solidified and settled into place, Natasha processed her girlfriend’s words.
Wanda wanted Natasha to participate in the show?
Considering Natasha had never seen this armor before, Tony must’ve made it recently… just for her. The HUD came alive, tinting the world in digital blue. Natasha noted the various information and diagrams along the edges of the HUD, information that was probably more useful in the throes of battle. Looking at her arms, she gave the suit a once-over.
It sat light on her shoulders, padding them up with protection instead of weighing them down in defense. The sleek layer of metal was thinner than on Tony’s armor and allowed for much more freedom of movement than what his suits normally offered. While Tony was certainly smart, tailoring the suit to her body and fighting style would’ve required insider knowledge. Natasha looked at Wanda and the HUD automatically detected her as a subject, focusing on her face as information from Wanda’s file appeared on the right side of the screen.
Natasha, voice heavy with catharsis, asked, “Tony did this? Why?”
“I asked him to make you one,” Wanda shrugged, as if commissioning a multibillion-dollar suit of armor just so her girlfriend could fly was a perfectly normal activity. “Just for flying, since you wouldn’t like fighting with it on.” She gestured at Clint. “He helped out too, giving suggestions to Stark on how to make it so you’d feel comfortable.”
Clint, the bastard of a sellout and Natasha’s best friend all-in-one pointedly averted her gaze as she shot him a glance. His information briefly appeared on screen before vanishing as she turned back toward her girlfriend.
“I—I don’t know what to say,” Natasha admitted, mind bluescreening. Wanda had done this for her? Of her own accord? She certainly didn’t have to put this much effort to please Natasha. “I’m sorry, I’m terrible at this.” Natasha took a breath, metallic through the suit’s speakers. “I—Thank you—”
“You are not terrible at this,” Wanda interrupted. Now it was her turn to reach out and grasp Natasha’s cheek. Even through the gold-titanium, Wanda’s touch burned Natasha so good. “You are good. This is who you are. This is who I signed up for when I agreed to go out with you. You are who I signed up for when you showed me your favorite chopped cheese joint. You are who I signed up for when you took me to the top of Stark’s Tower and got down onto your knees—”
“Knee,” Natasha corrected as a chuckle bubbled out of her. “Knees implies that I was–” But Wanda’s eye roll and head tilt told Natasha all she needed to know. “You did that on purpose, you—”
“Oh hush,” Wanda teased. “And besides…” she leaned in close to whisper into where she knew one of the suit’s internal microphones was installed, right near Natasha’s ear. “You know I love how you look when you kneel.”
Natasha’s face burned with the heat of Extremis, or at least what Extremis must’ve felt like based on Tony’s secondhand accounts of Pepper’s Extremis from years long past. She cleared her throat to dissipate the lump that threatened to cut off her airflow. “We’re in public, dear,” Natasha whispered, laying the sarcasm on thick at the end while keeping her voice extra low to account for the suit’s audio-boosting capabilities.
“For now,” Wanda retorted, a threat and promise all the same. God, this woman was going to drive Natasha into an early grave.
And Natasha loved her for it.
Wanda stepped back before letting her hands fall next to her hips, chaos magic forming in her open palms that faced the ground. Her green eyes blazed red as she floated up from the ground with a cute little jump, and if not for their publicity Natasha would’ve dropped to her knees right then and there.
(She was an outright sucker for those red eyes, in more ways than one.)
Wanda held a hand out, inviting Natasha to take it.
Oh.
A very bedazzled hand, to say the least.
Wanda’s nails must’ve been done up for the occasion as well. How had Natasha missed that? She took in the swirls of blue and red decorating each of Wanda’s fingernails and eyed the white star topping each of them off.
Patriotic, much like her makeup.
Beautiful.
Gold-titanium grasped flesh as Natasha accepted Wanda’s hand. Natasha grumbled as she attempted to operate the flight thrusters. “Damnit…” Though this was her first time wearing one of these suits, so…
“FRIDAY,” Wanda called out. “Can you pilot for Natty until she gets her bearings?”
Natty?
Oh, Natasha was going to get her for that back at the Tower.
“Confirmed,” FRIDAY spoke up, projecting her voice through the suit’s speakers. “Agent Romanov, I will assist in piloting your suit.”
Natasha took Wanda’s hand, hesitantly activating the thrusters on her feet and her free hand to meet Wanda at her level. “Thanks, Fri,” Natasha muttered. This was a learning curve she never thought she’d have to tackle.
Natasha tensed, the suit stiffening her posture as FRIDAY took over. “Boss got the hang of it after a single flight,” FRIDAY offered. “So you should be set to manually pilot the Iron Widow by the end of the show.” Iron Widow? Putting that odd naming scheme aside to question Tony about it later, it took Natasha a moment to realize that this was the AI’s attempt at “small talk”.
Natasha chuckled as she responded, “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” She took a deep breath as FRIDAY proceeded to gradually take her upward, with Wanda trailing along, to let Natasha adjust to the altitude. Wanda, bless her, was as patient as a saint as she guided Natasha upward for the spy’s first flight. Natasha failed to conceal a whine as they were forced to let go of each other’s hand as FRIDAY increased the thrust, which Wanda didn’t hesitate to challenge or reciprocate by increasing her speed as well.
“Easy does it,” Wanda called out from underneath Natasha as she followed at a fraction of her normal speed. They picked up speed as they gained altitude, leaving the surface behind as they began rapidly shooting up toward the sky. Natasha had never been this high up of her own accord before. And as she took a peek below to see the city, she regretted not having asked for a suit earlier.
This time of night had New York lit up like a Christmas tree, bright enough to be visible from space (which a part of Natasha wanted to visit once more). At this altitude, she couldn’t make out anything more than the glittering outlines of some of the iconic buildings of New York’s skyline, Avengers Tower included. Its silhouette stood tall amongst the sea of light, the surrounding streets a blur of movement with tiny dots representing cars and people all blending into the pulse of the city.
Natasha took several deep breaths as the city shrunk under her gaze, keeping herself grounded (and internally laughing at her unintentional pun). Wanda sped up to pull up alongside Natasha, reaching for her hand and grinning when Natasha accepted it. FRIDAY, bless her as well, opened up the throttle.
Soon, the duo were dodging and weaving between the fireworks. And if Natasha thought the fireworks were loud from the ground, they were deafening up close. Her ears rang as one explosion that’d been a bit too close for comfort left aftershocks in her eardrums. And the lights! The flashes and sheer brightness of the fireworks from up close would’ve blinded her if not for the suit’s protection.
A moment later, the writing “AUDIO AND VISUAL INPUTS SUPPRESSED” appeared on the HUD in big block letters as FRIDAY said, “Audio and visuals suppressed, apologies for not engaging those, Agent Romanov.” The world went quiet, and dimmer, as the suppression kicked in. Whatever techno-wizardry Tony had developed to suppress her outside environment and insulate her from her surroundings was good, to say the least. Perhaps a bit too good, as a firework exploding a couple of feet away from her barely even registered.
But she certainly registered the tap on her shoulder, turning around in the air (it felt strange not having solid ground under her feet) to find Wanda extending a hand, chaos magic at the ready.
And just like that, Natasha’s world lit up all over again.
Wanda turned her head slightly and tapped her ear, pointing Natasha’s attention to the small earpiece she must’ve slipped into her ear mid-flight.
“Incoming call from ‘Twenty-Seven Feet,’” FRIDAY announced before picking the call up.
“I know it’s really loud up here!” Wanda’s voice emanated throughout Natasha’s helmet. “FRIDAY turned on your input suppressors, or whatever they’re called, so we’ll have to talk like this.”
“That’s fine!” Natasha responded. She extended one of her arms in return, flexing her hand, just so, as to prime the gauntlet. She had an inkling of what Wanda wanted to do but had to double-check first. “What’re you thinking?”
Wanda flashed a wicked grin at Natasha before asking, “How do you feel about showing up our resident playboy philanthropist and,” she paused. Natasha rolled her eyes as she recognized the look on Wanda’s face: she must’ve been trying to think of a nickname for Rhodey. “And Rhodey?”
Yep, Natasha called it. “‘Platypus’ was right there, Wanda,” Natasha teased. “Or ‘honey bear’.”
“True,” Wanda answered. “But those are Stark’s nicknames for his best friend. It wouldn’t be right if I stole them.” A devious glint manifested in her eyes. “It would be like if Stark called you Natty.” She floated closer to Natasha. “That’s my nickname for you. Not Stark’s, not Clint’s, no one else’s. Just…” Her eyes swept over Natasha, somehow making Natasha feel naked even while covered head to toe in the strongest suit of armor on the planet. “Mine.”
“Possessive much?” Natasha snarked as she masked the excitement of hearing Wanda's more possessive side while a thrill of fear shot through her body like a bolt of Thor’s lightning. As innocent as Wanda seemed, especially when it came to the PR side of things, she certainly had a mature streak to her that came unexpected to many people. Steve’s deer-in-headlights look after hearing Wanda crack a dick joke had been the top-trending meme for the first few months after the Avengers had defeated Thanos.
Wanda laughed, nonchalantly floating backward and away from Natasha as if preparing for something. “Unless I’m misremembering, you were singing quite the opposite tune yesterday ni—”
Natasha activated her gauntlet, becoming that “something” by nipping that remark in the bud with a blast of arc reactor energy.
To Wanda’s credit, she reacted instantly and fired off a blast of her chaos magic to challenge Natasha’s energy blast. in between them. Their conflicting powers battled for dominance in between them as red mixed with blue.
The orb of powers expanded, clashing in a blaze of purple as neither woman backed down. Natasha grunted as she put more power behind her gauntlet’s blast, arm trembling, just for Wanda to respond with her own new, stronger blast of power. “Wanda…!” Natasha called out over their comms. “I—It’s not gonna hold!”
“Just a little more…!” Wanda shouted. “On my signal, let it go and brace yourself!”
Natasha nodded, before remembering that Wanda wouldn’t be able to see that. “Alright!” Natasha said, confirming her understanding. The orb of power was dangerously large now, significantly larger than the one Rhodey and Tony formed before letting it blow. This explosion was going to be—
“Now! ”
Natasha dropped her hand like a hot potato and leaned to the right as FRIDAY piloted the suit in that direction. The orb exploded, sending ripples of chaos magic and arc reactor energy outward in all directions. Natasha braced herself, feeling the energy’s ripplewave even through the gold-titanium armor. The blast had forced her backward, aiming her gaze upward to the moon where it shone down upon them.
To sweeten the deal, three of the fireworks in the vicinity had prematurely exploded due to their shenanigans:
Boom! Boom boom!
Dazed, Natasha blinked. She was floating, weightless, as FRIDAY had taken control once more, and Wanda—
“Nat!” Wanda shouted over the comms, fear bleeding through her voice. She flew over to where Natasha was floating, a red blur shooting across Natasha’s vision before slowing to a stop in front of her. Natasha’s field of view was filled with Wanda’s face with concern and fear written across it as plain as day. The fear that Wanda had somehow hurt Natasha must’ve struck a nerve, because the first thing Wanda asked was, “Nat! Are you—fuck—are you okay?!”
And Natasha? She scoffed.
Her scoff turned into a chuckle.
Her chuckle turned into a laugh as she exclaimed, “I’m fine! That was amazing!” A part of her wanted to try that again, though she would hate to send Wanda into a panic once more.
The concern and fear melted away from Wanda’s face as she processed and registered that Natasha was fine. Her girlfriend was fine, in more ways than one—
No.
This was not the time for jokes.
“Natasha,” Wanda all but whined as she reached for Natasha’s armor. For some reason, FRIDAY hadn’t righted Natasha yet, leaving her floating askew.
But as Wanda stared into her eyes, Natasha understood. At their current angle, the moon's reflection formed a ring of light around Wanda’s head, an ethereal glow of a halo.
And Wanda was brighter. Brighter than the moon, was all Natasha could think.
Wanda’s hands dug into Natasha’s shoulders as she leaned in closer, bringing Natasha back to the present moment. “Wanda,” Natasha finally responded, steeling her voice. “I—”
“I love you,” Wanda declared, amidst the bombardment of lights and sounds from the fireworks. “I love you, goddamnit.”
Natasha’s breath hitched. “I—” She stumbled.
No.
She would not stumble here.
Not at this pivotal moment.
Not when the love of her life, her soulmate, her best friend, was laying her soul bare for Natasha to see.
“I love you, too,” Natasha returned, before taking a breath. Saying it once wasn’t enough. Hell, saying it forever and ever until she died wouldn’t be enough. But perhaps, this would have to do:
“I.”
Natasha reached for Wanda’s cheek, her thumb stroking away a tear that fell from Wanda’s eye as one fell from Natasha’s eye as well. Natasha may have been just a human through it all, but she’d take on a thousand Mad Titans if it meant she’d never see Wanda cry again.
“Love.”
Natasha pressed her forehead against Wanda’s. Even with the barrage of fireworks around them, all Natasha could focus on was Wanda’s breathing as she felt her breathing sync up as well. In. Out. In. Out. Relax. Don’t overthink it.
“You.”
Natasha leaned in as FRIDAY, bless her again, retracted the faceplate, granting Wanda access to take Natasha’s lips in her own. Their previous kiss had been restrained, due to both time constraints as well as the potential witnesses.
But up here? In the sky? Under the cover of clouds and flashy fireworks? With the others giving the duo a wide berth thanks to FRIDAY’s endearingly aggressive announcements over their comms instructing them to “give Agent Romanov and Twenty-Seven Feet some privacy”?
There was no such need to hold back.