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Chapter Text

Adding an assassin to her strike team felt less like strategy and more like punishment, but Maria didn’t complain – she gave the orders, didn’t question them. They had been in one of the emotionless interrogation rooms in the basement of S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ for the better part of five hours, and Maria was sick of it. But Fury had asked her to handle Natasha Romanoff’s intake personally after Barton insisted on brining her back to the States. Clint Barton and his habit of bringing back strays - that was another thing she had to deal with. But that was a problem for future Maria.

“You’re on probation. If I have even one second of doubt which side you’re on...” Maria let the rest go unsaid. Romanoff simply raised an eyebrow as the corner of her mouth slid up in a smirk. She wasn’t really one for small talk. Or any conversation at all, really. It was infuriating, but Maria tried her very hardest not to let it show. She continued, “This is S.H.I.E.L.D., not the red room.”

“I am aware.”

“That means that keeping your team safe is part of the mission. They rely on you, you rely on them.”

“I do not work in a team” Romanoff replied. Maria thought she detected a slight question in the tone. Tough, she’s not getting out of this one.

“Well you do now.” Maria slid a file across the cold metal table. In it contained a single page that detailed the team Romanoff would be joining. Strike Team Delta consisted of five of the best agents Maria had had the pleasure of working with (despite Clint’s lack of respect for assignment rules), not that she would admit that. Romanoff flipped it open, and… nothing. She didn’t know what to expect when she’d handed over the assignment, but the complete lack of reaction made her jaw tighten. This was not going to be fun. Romanoff looked up, meeting Maria’s eyes with a carefully empty stare.

“Are we done?”

Maria narrowed her eyes slightly at the assassin. She had always prided herself on being pretty good at reading people, she wouldn’t be Deputy Director if she wasn’t. But there was something about the redhead sitting across from her that she just couldn’t put her finger on. She didn’t like it.

“Yes. Your schedule’s on the other side of the file. Follow it. Training starts at 0600 every morning, except for Sundays. Don’t be late.” And without waiting for a response, she unlocked Romanoff’s restraints and stood. “I’ll take you to your quarters.”

*******

Deputy Director Hill led Natasha through the maze that was S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. Natasha memorised every turn, corridor and stairwell that led from the interrogation rooms to her new living quarters with Strike Team Delta, and determined that Hill was not attempting to confuse her. Which would’ve been foolish, really. Natasha made a mental note that Hill was not a fool (although she already knew that).

Despite the cool exterior she presented to Hill, she could feel the tension throughout her body. Natasha still didn’t know what to think about being placed on the team. It was so far from anything she had done with the Red Room. In fact, she’d have been more likely asked to kill her ‘teammates’ than keep them alive. This was going to take some adjusting. Let’s be clear – the tension had nothing to do with whether her new team mates liked her. No, it was about whether she would be able trust them. Whether she could convince herself to trust them. She could trust Clint – of that she was pretty sure. He spoke very highly of Delta while they were holed up in a railway vent in Budapest.

She hadn’t seen Clint for about two weeks, the whole time she’d been down in the interrogation room. It wasn’t exactly pleasant in there, but she’d been held in far worse. There wasn’t even any torture. She briefly wondered what sort of discipline S.H.I.E.L.D. used, not that she planned on needing any. She followed Hills brisk pace down identical corridors for what she estimated to be about 5 minutes and 15 seconds. The next corridor they turned into ended in a simple black door with the delta symbol in the centre (Δ).

Hill pressed her badge to the control panel on the wall, and a satisfying click sounded from the door’s internal mechanism. She swung it open and stepped in, not waiting to see if Natasha followed. Keeping pace behind her, Natasha took in her new quarters. It didn’t feel right to call it ‘home’.

It seemed warmer in here than the rest of the base did, and not in terms of temperature. The dark red carpet covers the whole of the corridor. To their right is what seems to be a compact but functional common area. Natasha might even go so far as to call it cosy. There were floor to ceiling windows on the far wall, offering her an impressive view of the city. That alone was surprising to Natasha – big windows were not found in the Red Room. But she found she liked them. Liked the natural light. It reminded her of that thing Clint had promised her: freedom.

Three people were sitting around the circular dining table. They looked up when Natasha and Hill entered. Clint grinned and waved, and Natasha sent him a small, polite smile. His face fell a little at the lack of a hello, but he didn’t comment when he noticed her attention on the two women at the table beside him. Natasha steeled herself for first impressions as Hill made the introductions.

“Natasha Romanoff, agents Bobbi Morse and Laura Barton.” She said, gesturing to the blonde and the brunette respectively. “I’ll show you to your room, then you can get to know each other.”

Natahsa nodded to the two women and followed Hill back into the corridor. She’s led to one of the last doors, all identical to the one leading into Delta’s quarters. Hill turns to the left and pulls out a new pass from her back pocket, holding it to the pad beside the door. It clicks open, and she motions for Natasha to head inside.

Natasha does a quick sweep of the space before she takes a step in. It is relatively bare, with a single bed in the far corner, a desk to her right and another door leading to what she assumes is her bathroom on the wall to her left. A reading light is fixed to the wall above the bed, and there is a thick manual resting on top of a basic black bedside table. A dresser stands on the back wall, to the right of the bed. It's not much, but it’s much more than Natasha has ever had to herself before.

Hill passes her the badge she used to unlock the door. “This will allow you access to anywhere within your clearance level, which at the moment pretty much consists of Delta’s quarters, the cafeteria, and the training rooms. And medical.” The implication was clear – she was not trusted. Not one bit. And Natasha didn’t blame them.

She tucks the badge into her pocket, noticing the Level 1 clearance detailed on the back. “You need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.” She said, although Natasha got the sense that it meant ‘ask literally anyone but me’.

“Thanks.” She replied, not really sure what else to say. Hill turned and started to walk back down the corridor the way they had come. She stopped suddenly, spinning around to face Natasha.

“The team has a training session after lunch. You’ll be partnered with me for now. The others can show you where to go.”

“Copy.”

And with that, Hill was gone.

*******

Finally alone, Natasha lets the door close behind her. She starts a thorough search of her room for cameras or listening devices, checking everywhere from the smoke detector to the electrical outlets and the light bulbs. She checks the draws of the small desk (empty) and dresser (1 set of training gear, some S.H.I.E.L.D. branded sweats, basic trousers and a branded top – subtle). She then moves into the bathroom, checking the mirror, shower head, and everything else she can think of. Finding nothing, she heads back into the main room and investigates the vent in the ceiling. She finds that it can be opened quite easily by loosening a couple of screws, so she jams the system with one of the pens on the desktop. At least that way she would be able to hear if someone tries to get in.

Satisfied that her room is secure, she lets herself sit on the edge of the bed. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, still not truly believing that she is out. That she is safe. What even is safe? For a moment, she finds herself back in her first room in Russia, the rows of tiny beds with handcuffs on the headboards. The memory is broken by a knock at the door. Natasha chides herself for not paying attention to her surroundings, for not hearing the steps approaching.

“Hey, Nat, do you wanna grab some lunch before we go train?” Clint had taken to calling her Nat approximately 23 minutes after they agreed to be allies. She protested it at first, but it was clear that the archer would not be dissuaded. She rises from the bed and opens the door. Clint, who had been leaning against said door, has to catch himself quickly before falling onto her. He gives her a sheepish smile before raising an eyebrow to ask after her answer.

She lets out a small chuckle at his clumsiness, “sure”.

“The rest of the team has already gone up to the cafeteria, but I said I’d wait to show you where to go.” Clint explains, keeping a steady pace as they leave Delta’s quarters and make their way through the base. “I can’t wait for you to meet everyone properly!”

He chatters away about Delta and training and what he is hoping for at lunch. He sounds excited, but Natasha’s stomach sours a little. How is she supposed to act? Will Hill be there? Are they going to want details about the red room? How much has Hill and Clint already told them? It will just be professional, right? But then, Clint and Laura are married, so maybe not? Are they supposed to be her friends? What sort of a leader will Hill be? Question after question spirals round her head, but she keeps her posture relaxed and her face untroubled.

Clint is still talking when they get to the cafeteria, and she does her best to quiet her mind. She is not used to such uncertainty, and it should feel nice - the lack of being controlled. But instead, she slips into mission mode, painting it as just another op. Allowing Clint to lead her, she assesses the cafeteria. It’s a large room with a series of counters on the wall closest to the door. Large and small tables fill the centre space, with some bigger booths lined along the back and right side wall. It is in one of those booths that Natasha spots the two women from earlier, along with another man and woman that Natasha deduces to be Phil Coulson and Melinda May, having heard Clint talk about them for hours.

After picking up some prepackaged food from the fridges (Clint knew she wouldn’t go for the freshly cooked meals yet, due to the risk of poison), the two assassins made their way over to the others. They had seen them come in and shifted around so that Clint and Natasha could slide in on one end. The archer went in first, correctly assuming that the widow would prefer not to be trapped in.

Clint made quick introductions, although none of the information was news to anyone. When Clint finished talking, Bobbi grinned at Natasha and said “So, what’d Clint bribe you with to sit with us? Coffee? Chocolate?”

Mocking offence, Clint replied “Bribe? Nah. I just kept talking until she gave up. That’s how I make all my friends.” He glanced at Laura; exasperated, she shook her head at him, smiling none-the-less. He started eating his sandwich, signalling to Natasha that it was most likely safe.

Before taking a bite of her own, she said “I figured if I let him talk long enough, he’d tell me something I wasn’t supposed to know. Most people do.” There was a beat of silence as she bought the sandwich to her mouth. Maybe they didn’t get the joke. Maybe they thought she was seriously trying to steal information. Maybe they would report this to Hill, and she’d be out before she even got started. The moment felt like minutes to Natasha, but suddenly Bobbi and Laura were laughing, May was hiding a smile behind her cup, and Coulson was giving Clint an amused look that tells her she’s not wrong.

Clint only sighs, muttering “I’m surrounded by traitors” under his breath. This only prompt more laughter, and this time, Natasha lets herself smile too. For a while, the conversation moves on to more important topics – current missions, complaints about rookies, and of course, what movie is the best. Natasha eats quietly, observing more than she speaks.

May has been watching her from the corner of her eye for most of the meal. At a brief lull in the conversation, she tilts her head and directs a question to Natasha, “Are you always this quiet?” Before Natasha even has a chance to respond, Clint chuckles and cuts in with “Oh, she’s fucking terrifying once she warms up. Give it a week.” Natasha shoots him a sideways look – not hostile, but a warning. He just winks. She turns back to her lunch, but says “Keep talking, and I’ll make you spar with me”. Holding his hands up, he at least has the common sense to look both a little apologetic and a little scared.

Shaking his head at their antics, Coulson turns back to May, “You’re one to talk… or not, I suppose”. After another round of laughter at May’s eyeroll, the conversation once again moves on to other things. Natasha tries to interject here and there, but mainly just listens. Laura notices, though, that something in her posture has eased. Just a little.

*******

The training room is vast, filling nearly half of one of the upper floors of the base. A decent chunk of the floor space is taken up with mats, which is where Maria stands watching the rest of the team head towards her (sans Coulson, who was needed in a meeting with Director Fury). Romanoff seems a lot more relaxed than she did earlier, and Maria finds herself watching the assassin closely. Feeling Maria’s gaze, she looks up and their eyes meet. Maria refuses to look away first (it’s some psychological thing she read once about eye contact), but is surprised to find that Romanoff breaks the eye contact after not very long at all. Interesting.

When the five of them finally make it to Maria, she wastes no time in telling them to get on with it. She notices the good luck look that Clint gives Romanoff before he heads one mat over with Laura. May and Bobbi take the mat to their other side. The widow steps onto the mat with Maria, cocking her head a little as if to ask, how is this gonna work. Maria simply beckons her forward, and the other woman gets the message.

They don’t circle each other, there’s no testing the waters or assessing the others’ style. Maria has seen Romanoff’s file – brilliant, deadly. She is not going to hold back. Hoping to catch her off guard, she darts forward and feints left, kicking her leg out to try and sweep Romanoff of her feet. She dodges it easily, moving like smoke. Maria just about notices the shift in Romanoff’s hips indicating her next move. She blocks it, twisting at the last second. The fight continues like this for a few minutes, with Maria mainly on the defensive, but getting the odd hit in here and there.

After another few minutes pass, Maria starts to get the sense that Romanoff is holding back. Either that, or is just outright playing with her, like a cat plays with a mouse before it goes for the kill. Breathing hard now, she somehow manages to get the widow in a chokehold. “Stop holding back,” she mutters into her ear. Romanoff stills for the briefest second while she comprehends Maria’s words, before promptly removing herself from the chokehold, flipping Maria and pinning her to the mat.

With one arm poised to cut off her air supply, Maria tries to throw her off. It’s useless — Romanoff has distributed her weight with surgical precision. Maria can feel the strength in the thighs bracketing her hips, the expert control in the hand gripping her shoulder. She doesn’t tap out. Won’t. Instead, she meets the other woman’s gaze.

And that’s when she realises just how close Romanoff really is — close enough that her breath fans against Maria’s cheek, her pulse thrums against Maria’s ribs. Romanoff raises an eyebrow, and Maria’s heartbeat spikes. The moment seemed to stretch for hours (it was 2.5 seconds) until Romanoff leans in just a fraction more, her voice barely above a whisper. “You told me not to hold back.” It’s almost phrased as a question. Maria doesn’t respond.

It's at that moment that she remembers where they are, the other two pairs gone quiet either side of them from where they had stopped to watch the fight. There were rookies training over by windows, other senior agents walking past. She shoves the widow off with a little more force than necessary and stands, jaw tight. Bobbi and Laura were grinning and Clint was slowly clapping. Even May looked impressed. None of them seemed to have picked up on… On nothing. Nothing. There was nothing to pick up on. Maria holds out a hand for the widow, not really expecting her to take it. Romanoff considers the gesture before reaching up and grasping firmly, letting Maria help her up.

Clint and Laura came over and started grilling the assassin on her final move. She should tell them to get back to their own training. She’s about to do so when a rookie jogs up to her, handing her a piece of folded paper. She recognises Coulson’s scrawl upon opening, requesting her immediate presence in his meeting with the Director.

At her team members enquiring faces, she simply says “Got to go, the Director calls,” motioning the air with the note. “Rotate out partners until you’re done”.

“OK boss, see ya later,” Clint waves as she strides out. She hears Bobbi pick up the conversation again, and before she can stop herself, she looks over her shoulder.

Watching her leave, Romanoff locks eyes with her, unreadable as ever. This time, Maria looks away first.

Chapter Text

What’s the word for a bad version of a miracle? For an extraordinary, un-welcome event? Maria puzzles this as she strides towards Delta’s quarters. The extraordinary, unwelcome event in question is the fact that Clint is taking care of a problem in Singapore, Bobbi is meeting with a contact in Beijing, Coulson is on a recon mission in South Africa, Laura is undercover in a British bank, and May just left this morning for a no-contact assignment in Morocco for two weeks. Leaving her and Romanoff as the only remaining members of Delta still in HQ. And a very important assignment just landed on Maria’s desk. And Romanoff still isn’t cleared for solo missions. Meaning… she had to go too.

Nothing wrong with that of course. There’s just got to be more important things for the Deputy Director to be doing. Surely.

It had been nearly a month since Romanoff joined Delta. The pair hadn’t interacted much beyond whole team briefings and Romanoff’s weekly check-ins with Fury and herself. Maria certainly hadn’t got back on the sparring mat with the widow, when she clearly wouldn’t stand a chance. It wouldn’t do for the Deputy Director to be so easily outmatched, so she had been practicing on her own – either when she couldn’t sleep (often) or when the politics of working in an organisation like S.H.I.E.L.D. started to piss her off again (also often). Ok, even she could admit that she’d been training a lot.

Maria soon finds herself at the widow’s door, the soft sound of classical music coming from inside (either Tchaikovsky or Stravinsky, she thought). After a singular sharp knock, she hears the music turn off as Romanoff comes to the door.

“Deputy Director,” Romanoff greets Maria, tilting her head in question at the visit.

“We have a mission. Everyone else is out and you’re not cleared for solo yet, so I’m going with you.”

“What’s the brief?” Romanoff looks toward the file in Maria’s hand.

“In short, infiltrate a gala, find a very important target, steal some very important information, and get out unnoticed.” With the widows experience, this should be a walk in the park. “You can read the full briefing on the jet, it’s wheels up in 20.”

“Copy that,” Romanoff turns to grab her pass from the desk, “what do I need to bring?”

“Wardrobe and IDs are already sorted, just any personal items you’ll want for tonight. Pack light – we’re sharing one small bag, and outfits for the gala will take up a big percentage of that.”

“Ok, I’ll see you in the hanger shortly.” Maria simply nods once and turns to head back to her own room. That went well. This will all be fine. Romanoff is good at her job, otherwise she wouldn’t still be here.

*******

Operation Glassline, as it had been dubbed, was objectively simple in Natasha’s opinion. Dr Christophe Bourdillon was an ex S.H.I.E.L.D. scientist who had gone rogue and off the radar a few years ago. That is, until he popped up with a different name working for a private biotech company, Novagenyx. Intel suggests he has developed a weaponised virus prototype. Disguised as medical research, the company plans to auction it off at an exclusive gala for pharma investors and military contractors.

The virus itself is advanced – self-replicating, with the ability to cause targeted mass disruption without detection. Reading through the file, Natasha notices its similarity to something the Red Room once tried to develop. They’d tested it on some of the girls who clearly weren’t going to pass the program. She tries not to think about it.

The only full copy of the virus formula is kept on a flash drive, carried by opposing operative Adrian Lowe. He’s the classic bodyguard type, with military training and an impressive number of confirmed kills. He’ll be under direct orders never to let the flash drive off his person, at least until a sale is made.

Natasha is surprised that this flew under S.H.I.E.L.D.s radar for so long. She glances over to Hill on the other side of the quinjet. The woman sits tall, her back ramrod straight. There’s tension in her shoulders and jaw that Natasha seen three times now. The first was when Clint first bought Natasha back to HQ. The second was when they sparred on Natasha’s first day with the team. At least this third time is not because of her. No, Natasha reckons that the other woman is quietly furious that S.H.I.E.L.D. missed this one. This could have been stopped weeks ago, maybe even months, but they missed it. They don’t even know if a buyer is lined up.

Regardless, it can be stopped now. Quickly and quietly. In and out.

It was a 10 hour flight to Prague, then they had to get to the hotel for the night. Attendees of the gala were all being put up in some fancy place near the venue. As their tickets had been so last minute, they would have to take whatever room was available. When they got there, they were third in line to check in. After about 15 minutes of only slightly awkward silence, they reached the reception desk, and Hill handed over the gala tickets. The receptionist checked the system, then informed them that the only way they could be accommodated was a room with a singular double bed.

In the interest of staying under the radar and not causing a fuss, Natasha said, “of course, that won’t be an issue.” Glancing toward Hill, hoping to convey the message, they lock eyes briefly.

“Yes, of course.” Hill echoes, with a smile toward the receptionist. Someone else has joined the queue behind them now, but Natasha can’t easily assess them unnoticed.

The two women hand over their fake passports to confirm details for the room. The receptionist finishes up, returns the documents without comment. They hand over a key for a third floor room with a view of the impressive Basilica. The spies state their thanks and head towards the lift. As they walk across the lobby, they hear the man behind them step up to the counter.

“Room for Lowe, please. Adrian Lowe.” Their target.

Keeping her gaze forward and her posture relaxed, Natasha keeps them heading toward the lift, although she feels Hill shift slightly upon hearing the name. They call the lift. It was already on the ground floor, so the doors open and they step in, pulling their cases in behind them. As the doors close, Natasha gets her first glimpse of Lowe. He is taking his passport back from the receptionist. He’s significantly larger than the file made him out to be. But this wasn’t going to be a combat op, and even if it was, Natasha’s convinced his size wouldn’t make up for her speed and skill. He turns his head towards the lift just as the gap closes.

She hears Hill’s intake of breath as she prepares to speak. Natasha cuts in first with, “It’s good how committed to security they are in this hotel, isn’t it?” She nods towards the tiny camera in the top corner. Hill pales a little at her almost mistake, and makes a vague noise of agreement. They stay in silence for the rest of the journey. When they arrive at their room, Hill immediately starts the sweep for bugs or cameras or anything else suspicious, clearly determined not to slip again. Natasha joins in wordlessly.

*******

Maria is has been internally berating herself for approximately 10 minutes now. She could have potentially blown their cover twice. Once when getting the room (she was about to ask for a twin, or even separate single rooms), the other in the lift. Her mind has been elsewhere since the mission brief came through. But that ends now. She has checked every single inch of their room, and Romanoff has too. They have both come up empty.

It’s a nice room, clean and well decorated, although a little on the small side. The hotel probably describe it as cozy. She thinks about asking Romanoff what side of the bed she wants, but then decides against it. It doesn’t matter, and she’s in charge anyway. She takes the left side, closest to the door, letting Romanoff take the side closest to the window.

After another moment of silence, both women start to talk at the same time.

Maria says, “The gala isn’t until 1500 tomorrow…”

Romanoff says, “It’s been a long day, shall we get…”

They both trail off to let the other speak. Maria nods at the widow as she sits down on the plush bedding. “Yeah,” she says, “lets get some sleep.”

After getting ready for bed in near silence, an exhausted Maria finally slips under the covers. Romanoff emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later wearing light, loose sweats that must have come from either Laura or Bobbi. Probably Laura. She catches Maria’s eye and motions toward the overhead light.

“Go for it.” The room plunges into darkness.

Maria thinks about saying something, maybe apologising for her earlier sloppiness, but she can’t come up with a way that wouldn’t make things awkward. Another minute goes by with just the gentle sounds of the two women breathing. That is until Romanoff utters a soft “goodnight, Hill,” from the other side of the bed.

Caught a little off guard by the gentleness of her tone, she lets the words hang in the air a second before replying. “Goodnight, Romanoff.” It takes her a while to drift off after that.

Once she finally gets to sleep, her dreams are filled with things that she forgets immediately upon waking. The only thing she can be sure of is that the redhead sleeping next to her was there. Was a big part of them. Probably a good thing she forgot.

The late morning light is peeking through the curtains when Maria finally cracks an eye open. She briefly wonders what the time is, before waking up enough to see what must have happened over night. She freezes, holding her breath so as not to wake the other woman. Their faces are inches apart, their knees touching. Maria holds her positions for a second, two, more. She watches the widow, her face softer in sleep. Younger, almost. She looks calm, and Maria feels an almost indiscernible pull towards her.

Then Maria remembers where they are, and what they are here to do, and carefully gets up.

*******

Natasha had been awake for about 10 minutes, but had slowed her breathing again when Hill woke up. She had felt the other woman’s gaze on her face, just like she felt the morning sun on her back. She had to remind herself not to hold her breath, and wasn’t sure why it was harder than usual to keep her heat rate slow.

Eventually, Hill had carefully pulled herself away and headed to the bathroom. Natasha stays still for a minute more, then gets up herself and slips on some casual clothes that’ll do until she has to change for the gala. They slept in thanks to the jet-lag, meaning they only have approximately 3 hours before they should start to get ready.

Given what happened in the lobby yesterday, they might need to rethink their strategy. Hill comes out of the bathroom, not looking surprised to see Natasha up.

“I hope I didn’t wake you?” She says.

“Not at all,” Natasha replies smoothly, “do you want to order room service while we go over the mission protocols?”

“Good idea, I can phone up if you want to use the bathroom. Know what you want?”

“Thanks. I’ll go for a continental I think, you know, ‘when in Rome’,” she says it with a slight smirk, ”and a black coffee.”

Hill smiles back, “coming right up.”

Natasha heads into the bathroom to freshen up. She stares at herself in the mirror, trying to see into those unsolvable parts of her brain (although maybe that’s not the best idea) to figure out why things feel weird. It’s not like it’s anything she can put her finger on, but it reminds her how she felt on her first day, sparring with the Deputy Director. She didn’t know why that felt off either.

She suddenly hears a knock at the front door – must be the room service. Shit, how long have I been in here, she thinks. Drying her hands, she steps back into the bedroom to see Hill closing the door with a tray in her hands. It has a singular rose in a vase on it, along with two continental breakfasts, and two black coffees.

“Guess who was passing by our door this morning.” She says to Natasha, adding a splash of milk into her coffee.

“Our target, by any chance?” She eyes the rose on the tray – yes, they are definitely going to have to re-think their cover. Two business women don’t share a bed then have a ‘romantic’ room service breakfast together. One glance at Hill tells her she’s thinking the exact same thing.

“We need to re-think our cover,” Hill says with a small sigh.

*******

Three and a half hours later, the two women have checked out of their hotel, shipped their luggage back to the States, and are walking arm in arm up to the venue. The gala is being held at the Strahov Library, and it is incredibly rare that the Philosophical Hall opens for events. Someone must have made a very sizeable donation. They make their way through the monastery grounds, surrounded by people on all sides, but none of them Lowe.

“So, you ever been to Prague before?” Natahsa directs at Hill.

“I have not,” she replies, “seems like a nice city though.”

“It’s stunning in the winter.” Natasha thinks back to the Christmas markets and the dusting of snow over all the buildings.

“Business or pleasure?” Hill asks.

“Business. I didn’t really get much time off for pleasure trips.” They were treading a fine line with this conversation.

“That’s a shame.” The glance Hill directed her way conveyed a silent apology. “Sounds like you got to see some of the city though?”

“Some, yes. It was a flying visit a few years ago. I’d recommend the interior of the palace if you ever get the chance to come back.” It was well worth a visit, although the tourist tours don’t get to the area where Natasha had conducted her ‘business’. “I had to cut my trip short due to an injury, unfortunately, so that was about as much as I could see.”

“Oh, how unlucky. I hope it wasn’t too bad?”

“Not at all. Nothing I had to brave the ‘hospital’ for.” Time to change the subject, Natasha thinks. Good thing that they were at the entrance to the library now. They hand over their tickets, and as they are waved in Hill slides her hand into Natasha’s, pulling her gently into the building.

Slightly surprised at the Deputy Director’s forwardness, she follows without a flinch. They had agreed that the best course of action was to enter the gala as a couple, seeing as their target probably already thought that. It would draw more attention to themselves if they didn’t, and it was a relatively easy cover that they had both used before. They head through the heavy wooden doors at the top, and as they step towards the hall, Natasha leans over to whisper in Hill’s ear:

“Let’s go get ourselves an evil virus formula. Now laugh at something I said.” Hill does just that. She has a lovely laugh, Natasha thinks.

*******

Everything has been going swimmingly so far, other than the fact their target was yet to arrive. They have been making lots of small talk with the other guests, trying to create a shortlist of people for S.H.I.E.L.D. to keep an eye on. No one has batted an eye when Romanoff introduces herself as Nicole Bennett, then turns to introduce Maria as her girlfriend, Monica Reed. This is quite often accompanied by her leaning in so their arms are touching, or even an arm slid around her waist. Which is fine. It’s the job.

About 45 minutes into the event, Maria spots their target entering through the main doors. Thankfully at a break in conversation, she spins the other woman slightly, reaching up to tilt her head and brush something away from her hairline. In doing so, she gives Romanoff the perfect view of Lowe.

“Why, thank you, my dear,” Romanoff says softly, in confirmation. Maria feels her chest tighten a little. She lowers her hand, and is met with stunning blue-green eyes staring directly into hers. She can’t seem to draw her gaze away. They are standing too close. No, they’re not – they’re a couple. Why can’t she look away?

Taking charge of the situation, Romanoff says, “shall we go get a drink, my love?” Which would bring them closer to their target at the small pop up bar. Yes. That’s a good idea. She nods, not quite trusting herself to speak yet. Get a grip, she tells herself. It’s all just because it’s been so long since she’s been in an actual relationship, that this fake one is confusing her.

She lets Romanoff lead her forward, gazing up to admire the painted ceiling of the Philosophical Hall. It is an extraordinary room. Her heart rate has calmed by the time they get there, and she feels ready to complete the most important part of their mission.

*******

Natasha looks over at Hill. The other woman seemed to have a funny few seconds when she adjusted their positions back there, showing Natasha their target. The move was expertly done, Natasha was impressed at how smooth it was. But then Hill froze. Not for long, but enough for Natahsa to notice. It was probably just nerves induced by seeing Lowe, about the mission getting real.

She seems much more present now – is already rummaging in her bag for her ‘powder’ (aka something to slip into Lowe’s drink). Unfortunately for the victim, it simulates rapid onset IBS (to get him away from the crowd) and is then followed by a delayed release drug that sends them straight to sleep for about 15 minutes. Fortunately for them, it’s harmless unless ingested and leaves no trace in the body after about 2 hours. Brilliant stuff, really.

Natasha changes their position slightly so that Hill is right where she needs to be. The plan was for whoever had the best opportunity at the time to carry it out – both of them carrying identical powder pans. Hill meets Natasha’s eyes, unspoken confirmation to go ahead. Natasha simply responds with the tiniest dip of her chin.

As she does, a rowdy guest is thrown back into Hill, causing her to drop the container. The pan, already open, spills the powder around the floor at their feet.

The other guest turns round to apologise, and the spies brush it off, with Natasha saying “don’t worry, my love, you can use mine.” Any attention on them is quickly lost, and Natasha swipes a small amount of the powder onto the pad of her thumb before handing the compact to Hill, maintaining the cover.

Both compacts were set to trigger a distraction when a tiny touchpad is pressed for three seconds. Hill activates this as she checks her make up in the mirror. This causes a small drone (disguised as a bird) to hit one of the windows on the far side of the room. This caused a loud thump and enough shocked gasps (one woman let out a small scream) to momentarily turn the majority of heads. At this distraction, Natasha swipes her contaminated thumb over the rim of Lowe’s glass, which had just been served up on the counter.

The hubbub dies down quickly, and Natasha and Hill wander back towards the middle of the room. They make sure that at least one of them is keeping track of Lowe’s whereabouts. They soon find that they have somehow made it to the dancefloor. She waits to follow Hill’s lead on this, it’s not necessary now – their cover is well cemented, and they could easily keep walking around the room.

Hill shrugs, and smiles at Natasha, “why not?” She asks.

Why not? Natasha can’t really think of a good reason anymore.

They step out onto the dance floor, and having had years of professional dance training, Natasha takes the lead. It’s a slow song, requiring them to lean in close and sway gently. After a moment, Hill closes the distance and lets her head rest on Natasha’s shoulder. Neither of them had been in such a vulnerable position in a long time. Natasha lets her own head rest atop of Hills, and relaxing into it, she almost closes her eyes.

That’s when she sees Lowe make a somewhat hurried move towards the bathrooms.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I think I need to head to the ladies room,” she murmurs down to Maria. The other woman lifts her head abruptly, and their swaying stops.

“Right, of course. I’ll come too, I think.”

They make their way off the dance floor and head towards the bathrooms. Neither of them break their hands apart, though, but that’s just to maintain their cover.

*******

The rest of the mission is executed perfectly, in Maria’s opinion. They slip into the bathroom after Lowe, and thankfully no one else is in there. Lowe has passed out in the stall, and the two women manoeuvre him enough for Natasha to slip a hand into his inner jacket pocket and grab the flash drive. She checks all other pockets and seams too, just in case this one was a decoy. She finds the real drive sewn into the lining at the bottom of his trouser leg. Slipping out a sewing kit from her bag, she picks just enough stitches for the drive to slip out. Wordlessly sliding it into her bag, she grabs two S.H.I.E.L.D.s decoy drives (which have a special virus all of their own). After handing one to Maria to put in the jacket, she quickly inserts the other drive into the hole and sews it shut, leaving no trace they were there.

With that, they slip out of the gala, acting as any other slightly inebriated couple looking to go make out in the gardens. No one pays them any mind. Instead of turning right, back to their hotel, when they exit the monastery grounds they head left. From her bag, Natasha grabs the key to a black moped parked just around the corner. The widow drives, leaving Maria to sit behind her. She could just hold onto the seat, but she slips her arms around Natasha. “This ok?” She asks softly.

“Yeah,” the widow replies, almost a little breathless. Maria doesn’t have time to dwell on that as Natasha pulls away from the curb. Its only a 10 minute drive out of the city to where the quinjet is perched on a rooftop, but it feels like hours to Maria.

They leave the moped in an alley and are in the air before they know it.

Natasha holds up the flash drive, and grins. Maria grins right back. It couldn’t have gone better really. As Maria reaches for the drive, she almost goes to let her fingers linger on Natasha’s hand. But they’re not at the gala any more, she doesn’t have to pretend. So she avoids contact as she takes the drive (Natasha notices), and slides it into a S.H.I.E.L.D. secure evidence pouch.

“You’re signed off for solo missions,” she says to Natasha, needing to break the silence and cut through the stiffness that’s been filling the air since she took the drive. “I’ll file the paperwork as soon as I get back.”

Natasha looks at her, really looks at her. Maria thinks she’s about to say something… big. She instead just says, “thank you.”

“You’ve earned it.” Maria replies with a shrug and a small smile, which Natasha returns. The tension receding, they settle down for the long flight home.

*******

A week later, Natasha frowns down at an envelope. While it had been addressed to Maria, the Prague stamp compelled Natasha to open it. It was a simple postcard, showing the Philosophical Hall at the Strahov Library. There was only one line roughly scrawled on the back. ‘Hello’.

Chapter Text

Operation Glassline was a success. At least, as far as S.H.I.E.L.D., Fury, Delta and Maria are concerned. Natasha, however, is moderately troubled. Over the past two weeks, she has intercepted 4 messages intended for Maria. The first one, the postcard from Prague, was the simplest. It was a very clear statement – I know who you are, I know who you work for, I know what you did.

The next one also came from Prague. It was their decoy flash drive, returned without the virus S.H.I.E.L.D. had programmed on it. Instead, it had a number of professional photos from the gala. While Natasha and Maria had done very well to avoid their faces being snapped, they were still in every single one of the photos on the drive; whether it was just the corner of a dress, or a glimpse of them on the other side of the room. This left absolutely no doubt that it was Lowe.

The next one was a bottle of wine, delivered to Maria. Or it would’ve been, if anyone but Natasha had offered to pass it on to her. She puzzled over this one for the longest. It wasn’t poisoned, so clearly there had to be another message somewhere. After discounting the vineyard as a location clue, she eventually figured out that the year of the bottle (2004) was the same year that Maria interacted with mercenary Brennan Moore. While S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn’t able to catch him, or even get a clear photo, Maria took it upon herself to expose him and his work, forcing him into hiding. This put him out of commission for a while. Apparently, he spent years having to build up a new client base for a new identity – Adrian Lowe.

The final clue is another postcard. It shows a colourful department store, the photo taken some time in the 80s. A quick reverse image search identified a now abandoned building on the banks of the Potomac, about a half an hour drive from HQ. However, closer inspection showed that the image had been tampered with. There was a display of small alarm clocks in the scene. All showed midnight, except one. 18:00. The back of the postcard held a date – 2 days’ time.

The message couldn’t be clearer – Maria was expected at that location, 18:00 on Wednesday. However, this was a trap set for the Deputy Director, not a former black widow. They won’t know what hit them, Natasha thought.

Clint had come to Natasha’s room a few evenings ago to meet before dinner. When he saw the unusual disorder of her room (photos and files scattered all over the floor), he was understandably curious. Despite her efforts to leave quickly and not get him involved, Clint got enough a good enough glimpse of the gala photos to ask, “Is that all from Glassline? I thought that was a success, case closed? Why is that addressed to Hill?”

“The mission was a success.” Natasha replied, “This is just a new mission, with some of the same players.”

“And Hill has you running point on it? On your bedroom floor?”

“You can’t honestly expect the Deputy Director to have time for all this? And hey, I like working on the floor.” She managed to push Clint out of the doorway, allowing her to cut off his view. “Look, don’t worry – Maria knows everything she needs to.” Which was absolutely nothing. “Anyway, have you heard anything from Laura?”

There had been trouble with Laura’s mission in London. Another agency had also infiltrated the bank, and were massively getting in the way. They had almost exposed Laura multiple times, and she is only one person with no back up on standby. Clearly Maria has more important things on her plate.

“Hill is sending another team out for an emergency extraction reserve,” Clint had explained, “and May is going to stop there on her way back from Morocco. Just until Laura’s in the clear.” He had circles under his eyes, and was definitely more serious than usual at dinner that night.

By Wednesday morning, thankfully, it was all sorted out. Laura and May were on their way home. Coulson and Bobbi both got back yesterday evening too, meaning the whole team was nearly back together, for now at least.

Today was the day Maria was supposed to walk into a trap.

*******

Natasha passes by the common room on her way out. It was 17:00, and Clint was playing Mario Kart to kill some time before Laura got home. Noticing the movement, he turns to see who’s there.

“You heading out?” He asks once catching sight of Natasha.

“Yeah, just need to follow up on a lead from that thing I was working on the other day. I should be back in a couple hours, 4 at most.” She was just in sweats, but little did Clint know, she had her full tactical gear on underneath. And quite a few weapons.

“Oh, ok. You want company?” He asks, hopeful.

“Thanks, but I got this one. It’s not going to be that exciting.” He nods, a little dejected. After saying goodbye and giving her a little wave with the remote, he turns back to his game. Natasha can hear the bouncy music start up again as she leaves Deltas’ quarters.

By 17:50, she had done 2 full sweeps of the exterior of the facility, taken down 13 evil sidekicks, and only suffered one punch to the stomach. She’s just about to start her first sweep of the interior, with finding and killing Lowe her priority.

The first three rooms are empty, but she can hear movement in the fourth. A lot of movement. She takes out a mini under-door camera and pokes it through the gap between the door and the floor. She counts 18 men, but none of them Lowe. No, wait – there he is, entering with two more men from a door in the back. Everyone is heavily armed, and even she isn’t stupid enough to try and take them all right now.

She can’t quite hear what Lowe is saying, but she can see him huddled with a group of five other men. After a minute, they break off from one another, each forming a 4 man tag team. They gather themselves, checking their weapons and radios are in order. They were obviously expecting Maria to bring backup. Two groups peel off towards the back exit that Lowe used, one heads to a door on the left, and one stays at the back of the room, with Lowe. The final group was making its way to the door Natahsa was crouched behind.

Quickly removing the camera, she slips around the corner and along the corridor a little way, pressing herself into a doorway. Her suit allows her to blend into the shadows quite well, but it won’t hold up to the group of men walking directly past. She readies a gas cannister, pulling a mask over her own face, hoping that if she knocks them out quickly they wont make too much noise and alert everyone to her presence.

It goes mostly to plan – three men go down relatively quietly, but the fourth drops his gun as he falls. It clatters against a metal pipe on the wall, the clang reverberating up and down the corridor. She hears a shout in the distance, and curses under her breath when crackle of radio static and urgent voices echo through the facility. She can hear the footsteps drawing her way.

There are still 17 men to take out, including Lowe; he and four of those men are still in that main room (hopefully). She suspects that Lowe will want the pleasure of killing her himself, so it’s highly likely that these men will be aiming to incapacitate, not kill. 12 men. She can take 12 men. She shoots a widows bite into each of the men at her feet, just to make sure they stay down. The gas dissipates, and she discards her mask.

The footsteps are just around the corner now. Natasha slips back into the alcove to give her at least a tiny element of surprise. She lets the first couple get just past her, then she crouches low and swipes at their ankles with a knife before they react to her presence. They go down, and she spins just in time to slam the same knife up into the ribs of her next attacker.

9 to go. She takes out another one easily, before having to turn again to deal with one of the first two who’d managed to get back up. She slams the hilt of her knife into the side of his head, sensing her next opponent coming up behind her. She turns, but just too slowly, catching a kick to her ribs that takes all the air out of her lungs.

Winded, she takes a step back to give her an extra second to recover before going back on the offensive. It was then that she realised her mistake. They had split up before converging on her, and now she could hear three sets of footsteps coming up behind her. She swaps her knife to her left hand, and grabs the gun from her thigh. She takes out two more of the men in front of her before the others arrive.

For a moment, Natasha looks back and forth between the 6 men surrounding her. Dropping the knife, she shoots a series of widows bites into one set of three. Not checking to see the results, she turns and drops, grabbing one of the big fallen guns and using it to sweep another man off his feet. He hits the floor with a thump, also knocking over the man behind him. She hears an assailant preparing his gun behind her, and blindly sends another widows bite in the vague direction. She hears an ‘oof’, but clearly not the one she wanted.

Searing pain scrapes across the left side of her abdomen. Gritting her teeth, she ignores it, sending two more bullets into the fray. Both hit their intended targets, and Natasha finds herself with only 3 opponents left. Her gun is out of ammo, so she returns it to the holster it in favour of another knife.

She goes for the closest one first, trying not to focus on the pain in her side or the telltale light-headedness of blood loss. She is able to get behind him and drag her blade across his throat, but not before his own knife catches her forearm. It’s a deep cut.

She manages to keep hold of the knife, but swaps it into her other hand for better accuracy. She throws it at one of the two remaining men, with enough force for it to embed itself in his skull. The last man advances towards Natasha with surprising speed, and she crouches slightly in preparation for the collision. She swings around him, getting her legs gripped tight around his throat. She grabs her empty gun and brings it down hard on his head. He crumples immediately, and Natasha fails to untangle herself before he hits the floor.

Cursing under her breath, she picks herself up from the pile of bodies. She takes stock of her remaining weapons, opting to pick up one of the bigger guns that one of Lowes’ men had dropped. She wanted to kill Lowe slowly, although if a stray bullet got in the way, she wouldn’t complain too much. Anyway, she kind of wanted to go home, stich up her side, and go to bed.

Slipping the under-door camera back into the gap between the door and the floor, Natasha assesses her final few targets, choosing the most appropriate order to take them out. She takes a deep breath (or tries to) before kicking open the doors and aiming right where she knew the first man would be. Three go down, one after the other, as planned. The final one had reacted by that point, and was aiming right at her.

He fires, and Natasha rolls at the last second to avoid another inconvenient injury. She stabilises herself onto one knee and fires, exactly at the same time he sends his next bullet towards her. He hits her in the thigh, and it hurts like a bitch. She hits him square in the chest, and he dies quickly. The adrenaline enough to keep her going at the moment, she shakily rises to her feet, putting all her weight onto her non-injured left leg. She raises the gun, pointing directly at Lowe.

The man who wanted to hurt Maria. She changed her mind, he doesn’t need to die slowly – he just needs to die. Natasha pulls the trigger.

And… nothing. The gun is empty.

Natasha huffs a sigh and lets it clatter to the ground.

He grins at her, “I must say, I wasn’t expecting you, Miss Romanoff. Never mind, you’ll do. Hell, I’ll probably still get to kill Agent Hill when she comes looking for you.”

“You’re not going to lay one finger on her. You’re never going to leave this room. And anyway, she’s not going to come looking for me.” She can feel her strength fading with each breath, blood seeping faster than it should from the wound in her thigh. She had to act quickly.

In the interest of acting quickly, she doesn’t give him time to reply. Spitting out a wad of blood and clenching her jaw against the pain, Natasha thinks of Maria. The skill and precision with which she conducts missions. Her hand in Natasha’s at the gala. Her laugh. It’s that final though that gives her the energy to throw herself at Lowe, taking him buy surprise.

They grapple for a minute, fighting dirty. He yanks on her hair, she knees him in the groin. He brings the heel of his boot down on the bridge of Natasha’s foot (hard), she smashes a discarded glass bottle into his head. He takes the neck of that same bottle and jabs it into her shoulder.

Both breathing heavily, Natasha finally gets the upper hand. She has him in a chokehold from behind. He struggles, but cant dislodge her. Before he passes out, Natasha leans in to whisper in his ear, “This is for Maria.”

He slumps, and Natasha lets him fall to the floor. She grabs one of the other discarded guns, swaying on her feet. She puts a bullet in his head, just to make sure. After a second, Natasha checks for a pulse. There’s nothing. Good.

She needs to get out, to head home. But she just needs a minute to catch her breath. She goes to sit on a crate a few metres away, forgetting the wound in her thigh. A whimper breaks out when she puts weight on the leg, and she falls to the floor.

The floor will do, for a rest, just for a minute. Natasha knows she shouldn’t, but she closes her eyes against the pain. The darkness is a blessed relief against the pounding in her skull.

*******

Maria breathes a sigh of relief as she sends off her last bit of paperwork for the day. It’s a never-ending job, really, but Coulson once again offered to take some off her plate and, this time, she took him up on it. Normally, she would use spare time to train, or maybe to try and get some decent sleep for once. Instead, Maria found herself heading towards Delta’s living quarters. It would do her good to spend some more casual time with the team.

She arrives at the common room, eyes sweeping over the scene before her. A film is on the TV, but only Bobbi seems to be watching it. Laura is asleep with her head on Clint’s lap, having got back half an hour ago. Clint is checking his phone for new messages, fixatedly refreshing a message chain. Coulson and May are catching up on the other sofa, both quietly recounting their latest missions.

Maria does another sweep of the room to confirm what the first one told her. Natasha wasn’t there. Before thinking better of it, she leaves the doorway and heads down the corridor to Natahsa’s room. She knocks once. Twice. Presses an ear up to the door to see if she can detect any kind of movement. Not a sound comes from inside.

She heads back to the common room, stepping inside this time. Various heads turn to look at her (not Clint, though), and she nods hello. “Anyone seen Natasha?” Maria asks. At this, Clint snaps his head round, his brow furrowed.

“She went out on that assignment you had her on. Said she'd be back in a few hours, but that was a while ago.” Clint looks at her, his expression unreadable. Maria stares blankly back at him.

“What assignment?”

Everyone is paying attention now, looking between Clint and Maria with varying levels of concern. Clint swears, violently, dislodging Laura as he jumps up. He storms past Maria and down the corridor. Maria follows, realising a little too late that he’s about to kick in Natasha’s door. He gets it on the second try (which in itself is impressive – S.H.I.E.L.D. locks are sturdy), and pushes into the room without hesitation.

Maria steps in after him, and stops in horror at the sight before her. The first thing that catches her eye is all the pictures of her and Natasha from the gala in Prague. Natasha in that stunning burgundy dress with her arm around Maria, facing away from the camera. Them dancing in the background of another – resting their heads on each other. Then Maria notices the notes, the postcards, the files, and her heart sinks.

The rest of the team had followed them, and after taking in the evidence, everyone is increasingly worried for their newest friend. From examining Lowe’s taunts, it is clear where Natahsa must have gone. Where she went without any backup or an extraction plan, and no one has heard from her for hours. It was so clearly a trap, so why didn’t she go through the official channels. Why didn’t she tell Maria? She should have been back by now.

Maria tells the team to suit up, to be at the jet in 10. They hear the undertone of panic in her voice. They are there in 5.

They arrive at the empty department store 10 minutes later. Separating into teams of two, they don’t waste any time starting the search. Maria is taken aback by the number of bodies. She knew of the skill of black widows, but she can’t see how anyone could take on this many heavily armed men and survive. A stone has settled into the pit of her stomach, and she can barely bring herself to look at Bobbi while they search. That would prompt a conversation she is not ready to have, not even with herself.

They follow a trail of discarded gear – a gas mask, a S.H.I.E.L.D. standard issue knife, and then one of their under-door cameras. Natasha. It was by the south entrance to one of the large internal rooms Maria saw on the blueprints. She signals Bobbi over, and they enter the room, guns raised. Three men lie dead with a singular bullet to the head, a fourth with one in the chest. Maria then recognises Lowe, significantly worse for wear. Dead. Then she spots Natasha.

*******

“Maria?” Her voice is barely audible, croaky and weak. But the other woman is by her side in an instant. She came for her? Maria came? She hears someone else nearby; it’s fuzzy, but Natasha can tell they are speaking into a radio – giving away their location! No, she did not go through all that for Maria to still get caught in the trap. She attempts to get up, trying not to sob at the effort required. Maria presses her back down.

“Shh, it’s ok, it’s just Bobbi, she’s letting the team know where we are.” Bobbi? The team? What were the team doing here? Why have they all come? “We’re going to get you out of here, ok?” She doesn’t really know how to respond, and Maria must read the confusion in her eyes. A soft, sad look falls over her face. “This isn’t the red room anymore. We’ve got your back now, ok?”

Oh. Right. She feels oddly warm about this new information. That Maria, the whole team, wouldn’t hesitate to come and save her. Or maybe she’s just lost too much blood. She closes her eyes again, the faintest smile on her lips.

*******

“Hey, Natasha, keep your eyes open for me.” Maria cradles the other woman, feeling for her pulse. It’s weak and thready. She looks back up, making eye contact with Bobbi. “Help me get her up.”

A grim look on her face, Bobbi says nothing, just comes over and puts one of Natasha’s arms around her neck. Maria supports the rest of her weight, and together they make their way over to the exit. Progress is agonisingly slow, and Natahsa whimpers at the movement. She is covered in blood, although Maria can’t tell how much of it is hers. The rest of the team burst into the room, and Clint rushes straight over, taking Bobbi’s place. If Maria were thinking straight, she would tell him it wasn’t his fault.

They make it onto the quinjet, and Coulson grabs the first aid kit from under one of the seats. He and Laura work quickly to determine that Natasha has very badly bruised ribs, a bullet graze on the left side of her abdomen, a deep cut on her right forearm, a laceration to her left shoulder (with what looks like shards of glass still inside), and a deep bullet wound in her right thigh. Laura removes the bullet from her thigh while Coulson picks out glass from her shoulder. After ensuring all the wounds were properly packed and hooking her up to an emergency blood bag, Coulson nods at May and Bobbi to get them in the air.

Maria hadn’t said a word since getting Natasha onto the quinjet. She cant bring herself to look away from Natasha’s rising and falling chest, scared that if she does, the other woman will stop breathing.

“She’ll need to go to medical when we land.” Coulson says to her, tone gentle but firm. Maria doesn’t look up, but nods.

“I’ll take her myself. You can all go and get yourselves cleaned up.” She remembers their conversation back in Prague, where Natasha implied she was not a fan of medical. Maria wasn’t either and new how the ex-widow would feel if she woke up in that featureless, sterile space. Instead, Maria resolves to take her to her own quarters. She has a comprehensive med kit in her bathroom, and can easily cope with stitching up Natasha’s wounds herself.

When they land, they get Natasha into a wheelchair. Maria takes it, manoeuvring it as gently as she can out the jet. Clint looks as though he’s going to insist on coming to medical with her, but Laura takes his arm. Something in the look she gives him must convince him otherwise, because he takes one more look at Natasha before leaving with his wife. Maria starts the walk to medical. When she is sure no one will notice her change course, she switches route to her own quarters.

She gets Natasha into her bathroom, the woman coming in and out of consciousness. Fishing out a suture kit, Maria apologises before starting to cut Natasha out of her bloodied tac suit.

Maria can’t hold back the sharp intake of breath when she takes in Natasha’s scars – old, new and everything in between, crisscrossing over every inch of skin. Who did this to her? No one should have had to suffer this much. For a moment, Maria sees red, her anger making her blood boil. Then she moves her gaze up to Natasha’s face. Her brows are pinched and her eyes are closed, but her breathing is slightly stronger than earlier. The blood transfusion must be helping. Taking a deep breath and tucking a piece of hair away from Natasha’s face, Maria begins to stich her up.

*******

The room is dim when Natasha awakes, lit by only a slither of sunlight coming in through the blinds. Her whole body aches, and it hurts to breathe a little bit, but that tells her she’s alive. Then her mind catches up, and she remembers what happened last night. She doesn’t remember much after she killed Lowe.

She notes what she can of her surroundings before opening her eyes. The sheets feel the same as hers, but the air in the room is different. She can smell her hair, too – someone must have washed it for her. How pathetic, that not only did she have to be rescued, but someone had clean and stitch her up. If this was the Red Room, she’d have been left either to sew herself up, or bleed out. Natasha cringes internally at coming across so weak to her team.

She breathes in again, not too deep to avoid straining her bruised ribs. Whoever washed her hair didn’t use her shampoo. Something clicks, then, a memory of last night. Maria. Her face, hovering over Natasha. Her arms, holding her close. The same light fragrance she can smell now. Maria’s shampoo.

She opens her eyes to see the Deputy Director asleep in a chair next to the bed, her hair down, still in her tactical gear, and dark circles under her eyes. Natasha notices enough of her surroundings to know that she isn’t in her own room, making an educated guess as to who’s it is. Her feelings of embarrassment morph into something else as she watches Maria sleep, realising that the woman must have made the decision to bring her back here rather than take her to medical. Against protocol. It means an awful lot to Natasha, and she’s not quite sure what to do with that information.

As if feeling Natasha’s gaze, Maria stirs and opens her eyes, immediately finding Natasha’s staring back. It feels like minutes go by, neither of them quite knowing how to proceed. Natasha resolves to try and break the tension a little. “You look like shit,” she says, the faintest smirk ghosting her lips. Her voice is croaky, and she suddenly realises she’s parched.

Maria doesn’t smile, instead actually frowning a little. She reaches over to the bedside table and holds out a glass of water to Natasha. As she takes small sips, Maria says, “Someone had to make sure my best asset didn’t die overnight.” She tries to smile, but it’s strained, and nothing like the real one Natasha saw in Prague.

It stings, actually. To know that Maria only thinks of her as an asset. But what else would she be? Natasha wouldn’t admit it to herself, but she had begun to consider Maria a friend. Someone she wanted to protect, and someone she trusted to have her own back. She felt the same about all of Delta by now, but there was something different about Maria. Maybe she was wrong. They’re just colleagues, nothing more. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

*******

She doesn’t know why she said it. She had just been so… scared when she’d found Natasha bleeding out. She hasn’t reacted that way for anyone else in Delta. She worries for them, sure, but she doesn’t lose control, or break protocol. Coulson had to take over on the jet because she couldn’t think straight. An asset? She knew she didn’t mean it. She said it because the truth was far scarier, and, quite frankly, against protocol. She can’t be going and developing Feelings. So Maria told herself, again and again, that her racing heart was just the adrenaline. She lied.

Chapter Text

It had been a couple of weeks since the incident, and Natasha was mostly healed. With full range of movement back in her shoulder and the ability to breathe without her ribs complaining, she had been cleared for non-combat field work, which was better than nothing. Her thigh still ached, but she could walk on it well enough without anyone noticing it was bothering her.

Natasha, Clint, Bobbi and Maria were clearing a perimeter after a recon mission in Pittsburgh. Everything had gone smoothly, and they were even able to identify two new targets to add to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s watchlist. Her and Maria worked well together – really well. They were able to anticipate each other’s moves, and Maria often didn’t even need to voice her orders for Natasha to understand what they were.

But it never went beyond that. Natasha was very aware that Maria didn’t think of her as a friend, just a colleague, an asset. So that’s the role she takes; although it is hard when their paths seem to intersect a lot. Maria comes to train at the same time as Natasha, and they tend to go to the same place at night when they can’t sleep (the roof of the triskelion, with great views over the river).

Natasha tries to stay professional. Detached. Not interested in anything… more?

She doesn’t know why she cares so much about not making things tense with Maria. She’s grown strangely fond of their time together away from the team. However brief this time is, she tries very hard not to say anything that might drive Maria away. Yet somehow they always seem stuck on things to say, and it ends up a bit awkward anyway.

Natasha is pulled from her thoughts by a noise coming from the alley a few feet away from the perimeter. It’s close enough to that she decides to check it out, just to be thorough. Widow’s bites activated, she silently steps into the alley, not seeing anything immediately out of place.

In fact, the alley is completely empty, aside from a rusty, discarded bike and some overturned boxes on the far right hand side. There is no one on the street at the other end, either. Natasha is just about to turn around when she hears the noise again, and this time notices movement from the boxes.

She goes to investigate, carefully lifting up the wriggling box. Staring back at her is a shivering black kitten, with big eyes and a tiny squeak. She reaches a hand out to let the kitten sniff her fingers. She does, then ducks her head and rubs against Natasha’s hand, purring loudly. Natasha wonders how such a tiny creature can make such a loud noise.

Movement in the corner of her eye has her back on alert. She automatically reactivates her widows bites, but is quick to disable them when she sees a young civilian child standing at the end of the alley. She looks about six, if Natasha were to guess, and has pale blonde hair. She tries not to think about how much the girl reminds her of another child she used to know.

The girl walks forward, gently picking up the kitten and handing her to Natasha. She accepts the animal, although is slightly bewildered. The girl looks her right in the eye and says, “She likes you. You need each other.” She smiles at Natasha, then turns, walking away.

*******

“Natasha, come in,” Maria says into her comms for the second time “Is everything OK?”. It’s not like Natasha to go silent, especially not on a simple perimeter check. Maria tries not to worry that something has gone wrong. Again. Ever since The Incident, she has been more and more aware of how often her mind strays to Natasha. The whole thing is very inconvenient.

“Hill?” She turns to see Clint standing right behind her, he had clearly been trying to get her attention for longer than appropriate. She really has to do something about the whole ‘getting distracted at work’ thing. “Do you want me to go do a sweep for Nat?” The archer had been moping because he hasn’t been allowed to shoot at anything for a while, so coupled with the concern for his friend was also the hope for a little excitement.

“No, I’ll go. You and Bobbi finish up here. Make sure the jet is ready to go when we’re back, ok?”

“You got it, boss.” With a little sigh, Clint gives her a thumbs up. Maria rolls her eyes as she heads in the direction Natasha was checking; she’ll have to find a combat assignment for him soon or he’ll start camping out in the vents (again). As she leaves, she misses Bobbi squinting at Maria’s receding form and opening a text chain with Laura.

She strides quickly along the route Natasha would have taken, glancing into each alley and down every street for anything amiss. She eventually finds her, crouched down by some discarded boxes and looking ahead of her to the next street. She doesn’t seem to be injured or otherwise in trouble, and the growing tightness in Maria’s chest starts to ease.

Natasha, sensing Maria behind her, looks around and finds the other woman’s eyes. She holds Maria’s gaze while she gets to her feet and turns to face her. That’s when Maria spots the tiny black kitten cradled in her arms. She can hear it purring all the way from here. She has absolutely no idea what to say. All she can do is look between Natasha’s face and the kitten.

“…What?” Natasha actually sounds slightly defensive.

Finding her voice, Maria says “Uh… nothing. Just – I didn’t peg you for the nurturing type.”

“Yeah? That kind of makes sense,” Natasha replies, “I can’t leave her here.”

Of course not. “You want to bring a kitten onto the quinjet?”

Natasha simply shrugs, before meeting Maria’s gaze again and snorting a little laugh. Maria echoes it, because the whole thing is slightly ridiculous, and if she doesn’t, she’ll have to face how it’s making her feel slightly warm inside. They start the walk back to the quinjet in a companionable silence, broken only by the kitten’s loud purrs.

Clint and Bobbi are obsessed with the kitten as soon as they step onto the quinjet. Maria has to remind Bobbi that she has to get them in the air, otherwise they’re not making it home in time for dinner. She reluctantly pulls herself away from the kitten to go do her job. Natasha keeps trying to tell Clint that it’s just temporary, but he doesn’t seem to be acknowledging it.

Honestly, neither is Maria. Even in the time it took for them to walk back to the jet, she has seen a softer side to Natasha than she though possible. It will not help the whole ‘distracted at work’ issue.

Her prediction is all but confirmed a few days later. There is still no sign of Natasha taking the kitten to a shelter, or in any way giving her away. She offhandedly referred to her as Liho once, and now the name has stuck. Maria looked up what it meant, and honestly found it quite morbidly fitting. The ‘embodiment of evil fate and misfortune’.

The whole team has become very fond of Liho, and Liho has become very fond of the team. But none more so than Natasha. Maria once caught Natasha napping on the couch in the common room, Liho curled up into the tiniest ball on her chest. She sees the other woman sneaking the cat extra treats when she thinks no one else is looking, and smiles at her in a way that Maria is almost jealous of.

She’s emotionally attached.

Well, Natasha is emotionally attached to Liho, which everyone can see. The only issue is that Maria, it seems, is very quickly becoming emotionally attached to Natasha.

Shit.

Chapter Text

Natasha and Maria have been spending a lot of time together. Not intentionally, of course, that would be unprofessional. But they work well together, and no one bats an eye when they team up on assignments any more. Natasha wonders why nobody has noticed that the Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. is suddenly taking a more hands on role.

Honestly? It’s all kind of confusing to Natasha. She was taught never to get close to anyone. That any kind of friendliness or affection was for children, and has no place in the adult world. But she just can’t seem to stop the odd twisting in her stomach every time she sees Maria.

Friendship (?) scares her. But she sees the rest of Delta, and knows without a doubt that they are her friends. She does not feel the twisting. So what’s different? She has an idea, but is absolutely never going to test it out. She likes Maria’s company, and wouldn’t want to ruin anything because of one improbable theory.

It’s the morning of a mission. Thankfully, it’s not an early start, and they all have time for a coffee as a team before they go their separate ways. Natasha pours two mugs of black coffee from the pot Coulson had made. She adds a splash of milk to one mug, to replicate how Maria had taken it in Prague. As she sets it down in front of Maria, Bobbi and Laura make eye contact over her back, sharing a knowing smile. Clint continues to animatedly describe his new trick arrow head.

They sit and chat until it is time for everyone to head out. Each team has a target connected to one large criminal network, but they have to time their strikes so no one gets warning and disappears before they can be caught. Natasha and Maria are set to take on one of the bases together, with the overall goal of retrieving a hostage. This had all come about based on the intel they gathered a few weeks ago – the mission where Natasha got Liho (who was currently rubbing around Natasha’s legs to say goodbye). Everyone knew Liho wasn’t going anywhere, despite being a ‘temporary’ addition to the team.

Maria looks each member of the team in the eye and delivers two final orders – “Get the job done, and come back alive.” And with a few quick hugs goodbye and words of good luck, Delta departs.

*******

The journey to the mission site was comfortably quiet. Maria had been spending more and more time out of the office, to the point where Fury had noticed. He didn’t know why though, that was the main thing.

It wasn’t good, her feelings for Natasha. It would pose a lot of administrative challenges if anything happened. Not that anything would. Natasha had shown absolutely zero signs of being interested, and Maria would never jeopardize their new friendship. Although it was becoming harder and harder not to do anything stupid.

Nearing their drop off point, Maria makes eye contact with Natasha, who comes over to review the plan one final time. Maria finds herself staring at the faint scar along Natash’s jaw, still healing from The Incident a few weeks ago. She has to stick her hand in a pocket in order to not reach out and trace it. She has not been paying attention to the plan, and Natasha had noticed.

“It’s fine. It’s healing well.” Hopefully she thinks that Maria was simply checking up on an injured agent. Which she was, of course, it was just much more than that.

“Of course,” she shakes her head a little and turns back to the blueprints. “Are you ready?”

“Always.” Natasha replies with a little smirk that Maria echoes, all while her stomach does backflips.

The mission begins like clockwork – they get in unnoticed and find the hostage (an undercover agent that had been uncovered – and not treated well) without a hitch. Then, unfortunately, things start to go wrong. Very wrong.

While on their way out with the hostage, they are unable to hide from a passing group of enemy mercenaries. Natasha pushes the hostage behind them, her and Maria blocking in the corridor in front of him. The mercs approach, all heavily armed and clearly skilled. The first fight of the day begins, and Maria is breathing hard in no time at all.

She throws a glance over to where Natasha is taking on three mercs at once, but the look costs her. She feels the cold bite of steel press against her neck and she stills immediately. She’s trapped with a knife at her throat and two guns pointed at her. The agents don’t know it yet, but this is the first step in the breakdown of a once solid plan.

Natasha’s eyes widen when she notices Maria’s status, but before Maria can process the situation, Natasha’s gaze hardens and she spins with a newfound anger. Maria can only watch in awe as Natasha cuts down the remaining men. The two with their guns pointed at her refocus their aim on Natasha, but she has them on the ground before either can pull the trigger. Maria has never seen her move like this. Has never seen anyone move like this.

Natasha goes for the knife holder, giving him no time to react as she uses her momentum to wrench his arm backward in a hyperextension that forces the blade away from Maria’s throat. He cries out and his grip slackens; Natasha grabs the knife before it can fall. She turns it back on the mercenary and slams it into his gut, twisting it before pulling it back out. She lets him fall and spins to run her gaze up and down Maria’s whole body.

Their eyes meet. Maria, flushed and pulse still racing, can’t bring herself to speak. Seconds pass.

“You were looking at me.” Maria could swear she saw the ghost of… fear in Natasha’s eyes.

She blinks, “I- what?” Her mind catches up, processing what Natasha meant. She was right, Maria had been looking at her. She was distracted, and it nearly cost her her life.

Natasha’s gaze hardens as she snaps back into control, turning towards where they left the hostage and saying, “Don’t do that again. Focus on the threat.”

Focusing on anything but Natahsa was a tall order right now.

*******

What the actual hell had Maria been thinking? Natasha storms down the corridor to pick up the trembling hostage. Maria had nearly died. Natasha would not let herself consider that as an outcome. She hadn’t fought like that for a long time.

She takes the hostage by the arm and hurries him down the corridor, not looking to see if Maria follows. Maria, Maria, Maria. Why had Maria been looking at her? While her rational brain wanted to say she was just checking up on her teammate, Natasha knew that wasn’t the case. There had been a hunger in the Deputy Director eyes that Natasha hadn’t seen before. Despite her training, her heart began beating a little faster. She could not begin to process all the implications. Not right now.

BANG

Everything turns to slow motion as Natasha hears the familiar sound of a gun firing. In one fluid motion, she turns and throws herself on top of Maria, sending them both to the ground. The shot had found it’s mark: the back of their hostages skull. He slumps down next to them, eyes unseeing and blood pooling around his head.

Natasha sends a widows bite towards the shooter and pulls Maria up. They can hear voices coming from pretty much every direction. Needing to keep moving, Natasha pulls them down the quietest corridor, making sharp turns here and there to try and confuse the hostiles. They’re everywhere, the hole base is completely overrun.

An urgent pull on her wrist has her turning back to look at Maria. She gestures towards a tiny closet door. A hiding place. It wouldn’t work for long, but until they could come up with a better plan than simply ‘run’, it would do.

The space is tiny, stuffed full of cleaning supplies, boxes of stationary and stacks and stacks of paper. Nothing they can use to replenish their dwindling weapons supplies. This was not supposed to be a big combat op. They face each other, both breathing hard. This close, Natasha can see the little flecks of green in Maria’s blue eyes. She could get lost in those eyes.

The reality of the situation hits her in the chest. The hostage is dead. They are hiding in a closet deep in an enemy base. A base that is full to the brim with incredibly skilled hostiles. They could be found any second. There was no calling for back up, because the everyone else is also on a mission. Taking out Lowe’s men had been a walk in the park by comparison.

Natasha had been so busy thinking about Maria getting distracted, that she had become distracted herself, missing all the warning signs. It was her fault they were here. It was her fault that the hostage was dead. It was all her fault. She had to get Maria out of this.

“Have any bright ideas?” Maria whispered, only just loud enough for Natasha to hear. There was a slightly panicked tone to her voice that only hardened Natasha’s resolve to get them out.

“I’ll come up with something, just give me a minute.”

“Natasha…”

“Give me a minute.” She snapped back. She couldn’t concentrate with Maria standing so close.

“Look at me.” Natasha slowly meets Maria’s gaze. There is so much to be read from Maria’s expression, but resignation was the last thing Natasha expected to see. Her heart broke at the thought of this being it. She couldn’t see a way out of this where they both survived, or where either of them survived, to be honest.

“I won’t let anything happen to y– us.” The words don’t really do much to reassure either of them.

“I don’t see a way out of this one, Nat.” Maria’s voice was soft, and Natasha’s breath caught at the use of the nickname. “I say we go down swinging. Take as many of them out as we can.”

“We can take them.” Maria just looked at her - she knew Natasha was lying to them both. Maria opened and closed her mouth as if to say something, but then thought better of it. Natasha found her hand in the dark and squeezed. “Let’s get out of here.”

They manage to take down a very respectable number of hostiles before they are both overpowered. Natasha looks towards Maria as she passes out.

*******

Maria keeps her eyes closed and her breathing slow. From what she can tell, she is sat on a metal chair with her hands tied behind her and her ankles securely restrained to the chair legs. The room is cold, the air stale. No windows. That means they are either in the centre of the base, or underground. It’s probably underground. She can hear what she assumes is Natasha’s slow breathing behind her, but there are no other noises in the room.

The team wasn’t coming to get them this time. They weren’t making it out of here alive.

It is all her fault that they are in this position, she has been distracted since breakfast. Well, for quite a while actually. But they had been working well, and Maria had managed to keep everything under control. Despite it all, Maria’s biggest feeling right now is regret. It may not have turned out well (or maybe it would have, given the latest evidence), but she wished she had at least told Natasha about her growing feelings.

Confident enough that there is no one else in the room with them, Maria opens her eyes. She scans her surroundings, although it doesn’t take long. It’s a small space, with a singular metal door on the wall to her left. While she can’t see the other side of the room, Maria doesn’t get her hopes up that there will be anything they can use to their advantage.

“Maria?” Natasha must have heard her breathing change. “Are you ok?”

“Yes, you?”

“I have a plan.” That did not answer Maria’s question but, given the nature of the response, she was not going to complain.

“Tell me.”

“A team of two guards have been checking on us every 5 minutes. There are no cameras in here, so it’s their only way of seeing if we’re still unconscious. The chairs are only loosely bolted down. They’re old and rusty, and I’ve been testing the bolts. If I time it right, I can break the chair free when the guards come back in, use the chair as a weapon, and grab a gun. Once they’re down, I cut us both free and we get the hell out of here.”

As she speaks, voice clear and surprisingly calm, Maria subtly tests the bolts of her own chair. Natasha’s plan is smart and most likely achievable. She feels her chair give way a little, and knows that she could probably carry out the plan too.

“My chair is loose too. What if there are more than two hostiles?” She doesn’t like it, but Maria has to ask the question.

“I can manage an extra guard or two. And…” Both women go silent as they hear approaching footsteps. Maria feels Natashas fingers reach out and brush her own. Grasping hands, Maria feels Natasha start to tap on her palm. Morse code.

‘.. …- . / --. --- - / -.-- --- ..-‘ I’ve got you.

It feels like a confession. A declaration. How can three simple words, not even spoken aloud, convey so much.

The door opens.

Mercenaries pile into the room. Seven of them. Any hope of both women both making it out alive rapidly starts to disintegrate – this was becoming a suicide mission. But one of them could still get out. If Maria went first, she would give Natasha extra time. She could do this, save her.

She taps back a message to Natasha, their hands hidden from the hostiles. ‘-- . / .. - ... / --- -.-‘ Me. It’s ok.

If one of them has to die, it should be her. She got them into this mess, and although Natasha would now never know it, Maria cared about her too much to let her sacrifice herself.

‘-. ---’ No. Natasha responds.

‘.. - ... / --- -.-‘ It’s ok. A silent tear slips down Maria’s cheek. She wished she could see Natasha’s face one more time. Tell her how she felt. She wished she could kiss her, just once.

She wonders if Natasha feels the same. It’s too late to ask now.

*******

Natasha had feelings. For Maria. It was the reason she felt so protective. So angry. So scared. It was the reason she felt sick to her stomach at the thought of Maria dying. Dying for her. The hostiles had surrounded them. She was not going to let Maria do anything stupid. Not for her.

So she taps back ‘-- .’ Me, and launches herself to the side, putting pressure on the weakest bolt. It snaps free, and she goes ahead with her plan. She takes down a few, but it’s not long before she’s overwhelmed.

Natasha reaches for Maria, their hands just brushing before she is pulled away, a strong grip tightening on her airway. She sees a guard smash the butt of his gun into Maria’s head, knocking her out. The room fades into darkness.

Chapter Text

The pounding in Maria’s head reverberates throughout her entire body. Everything feels a bit foggy as she comes to, but slowly the events of the last few hours come back to her. What Natasha had done.

When she’d had gone ahead with her plan, Maria had tried to follow. However, where the bolts holding Natasha’s chair had snapped easily, Maria’s wouldn’t budge. She tried and tried, throwing all her weight onto it. It didn’t make a difference, she wasn’t going anywhere unless Natasha cut her free.

She couldn’t see what was happening, but she could hear Natasha fighting behind her. There were too many men, and they got the upper hand on the ex-widow far too quickly. Still trying to break loose, Maria saw a guard coming her way, gun raised to come down on her head. Before the blow could land, Maria felt Natasha’s fingers graze her own. She tried to grip on, but they disappeared too quickly. Maria had closed her eyes before the gun connected with her skull.

She was alone now. She knew it in her bones. Her restraints were tighter and more numerous than before, and her chair was very securely bolted to the floor. She thinks it’s a different room, but can’t honestly be sure.

Natasha. The other woman is probably dead. Or not far off.

Why have they kept Maria alive? Just to rub it in her face? Her failure, her fault. Grief starts to seep in, and her chest clenches while trying not to cry. She can’t even do that, and a heavy sob breaks out of her. She was alone now, and if Natasha couldn’t get them out, what hope did she have?

But Nat had gone down swinging, had given her an opportunity she couldn’t let go to waste. She would not sit here and wait to be tortured or killed. With shaky breath and renewed purpose, she tests her bindings again, trying to slow down and not panic. She can just about reach a sharp metal edge where the chair had previously been broken. If she works at it, she may be able to cut the rope binding her wrists. If not, there is always the thumb dislocation option. She decides to leave that one as a back-up for now. If she does get free, she’ll need the full use of both her hands.

She slowly, methodically, starts to drag her hands back and forth across the metal, trying very hard not to cut herself in the process. She can hear hostiles moving around the base, so does her very best to be quiet. Something clatters nearby, and she jumps, catching her skin on the metal. She grits her teeth and continues working at the rope.

There is definitely something is going on outside. Maria can hear shouting, and the odd burst of gunfire.

It couldn’t be.

Could it?

It goes silent again, and all Maria can do is hold her breath, stilling her hands.

The door slams open.

Maria could have sobbed at the sight. Natasha, bloody, jaw clenched and very clearly injured, but alive. She staggers into the room, panicked eyes searching Maria for wounds. She drops to her knees in front of Maria, taking a knife through all the bindings.

A voice from the doorway startles her, “Lets get you both out of here.” Coulson. And standing behind him, the rest of Delta, faces solemn.

*******

Natasha had been *this close* to getting killed. She had been strung up in a different room, then awakened by a bucket of freezing cold water thrown over her. They started interrogating her, but even after an hour, they were getting nowhere – they could tell she was a professional. That she would have never given away S.H.I.E.L.D.s secrets.

She didn’t ask about Maria. She couldn’t risk giving them any more ammunition if the other woman was still alive. Because if it came down to it, Maria’s life or S.H.I.E.L.D., Natasha knew what she would choose. In that moment she knew, that if by some godforsaken miracle both her and Maria made it out alive, then she would start being upfront about her feelings. But they hadn’t brought up Maria (an amateur move, really. Not that Natasha was complaining).

And so they had decided that she was more trouble than she was worth. And they had pointed a gun to her head.

If Delta hadn’t blown up the entrance to the base at that very second, she would have been pushing up daisies. They had found and freed her first. She responded by grabbing one of Bobbi’s guns (she had her batons anyway, so it didn’t matter). With only adrenaline keeping her going, Natasha stormed through the base (well, stumbled, really). She had no idea where she was going, but she was going to check every single room. The team were following behind her. They did not tell her to stop, to rest, to let them handle it, and for that she was grateful.

Maria had been tied up alone in a similar room to the first one. The rope binding her wrists was a little frayed, but no where near snapping. She had a shallow cut on her wrist from the sharp metal of the chair, a nasty gash on her forehead from the gun, and some typical scrapes and bruises from the fight earlier.

Having taken a knife from May, Natasha drops down and cuts through the rope bindings. She can’t feel anything but her pounding heart and a deep sense of relief. They lock eyes.

“You look like shit.” Maria says softly, trying to force a smirk onto her face that ends up just looking like a grimace.

Her attempt at humour goes unacknowledged, with Natasha just replying, “I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to us.” (you). Maria doesn’t respond to that, and Natasha isn’t quite sure what to make of her expression.

Sat opposite each other on the quinjet, Maria seems to be doing her best to avoid Natasha’s gaze. She had shared a few quiet words with May about their other missions, but is otherwise quiet for the whole of the journey back to HQ. Natasha may have decided to be honest about her feelings from now on, but that doesn't mean she is going to do it in front of the whole team.

The adrenaline had started to wear off now, and a bone deep exhaustion starts to creep through her. So she stays quiet too. Clint tells her to take a nap, but she just shakes her head. He sits down next to her, but he doesn’t try to make conversation for once. She can see the rest of the team all swapping concerned glances when they think her and Maria aren’t looking. Maybe Natasha could admit that it was actually quite bad this time.

Fury has requested their presence in his office as soon as they land. They traipse up together, tension thick in the air. He yells at them for approximately 12 minutes. Well, he mostly just yells at her and Maria, but the whole team have to hear it too. Natasha thinks it’s a bit unfair – it’s not that we didn’t have a proper plan, it just went to shit – but she stays silent throughout and takes it on her chin.

They apologise and say that it wont happen again, etc. Finally, Fury tells them to get out of his sight and to get themselves stitched up. Natasha avoids Clint when he tries to make eye contact, and so he joins the rest of the team as they filter out pretty quickly. She follows behind, with Maria. They start walking, and Natasha thinks: maybe now would be the time to say something?

*******

Maria had a growing suspicion that her feelings were reciprocated. And even though that’s what she’s wanted for weeks, today’s events had changed something. May had told Maria what Delta had arrived to – how close it had been. It became glaringly obvious to Maria that they could not do this job and be together. She would not continue to put Natasha in harm’s way just because she had a crush, whether or not Natasha felt anything back.

So she would distance herself. Convince them both that there was nothing there, and never could be. It would hurt like a bitch, but it might just save their lives.

So she flew back in silence. She avoided Natasha. She let Fury yell at them. And when she realised that they were both subconsciously walking back to Maria’s quarters instead of Medical, she stopped.

Natasha turns around, her face open and questioning, her voice soft. “Maria?”

It broke her heart, but Maria knew what needed to be done. She took a deep breath and a small step back.

“No. Just stop. Why the hell did you do that? It was reckless and irresponsible. You would have died for no reason at all. Not to mention that I am your superior, so when I tell you not to do something, you don’t fucking do it.” Natasha also takes a step back, her face hardening into something unreadable.

“You think this is a game? You think throwing yourself at every fight makes you noble? Makes up for your past? It doesn’t. It makes you a liability. I don’t care how good you are, Romanoff – I need agents who follow orders, not martyrs looking for a quick death. If you can’t keep your head in the field, then maybe you’re not ready to be on Delta at all.”

She didn’t mean it. Not a single word. Natasha seemed to have shrunk into herself, all the light gone from her eyes. It killed Maria to do this, to make her think she had misread the situation, that Maria didn’t have feelings for her. She prepared herself for the final blow.

“I have a report to fill out. Check in at Medical.”

Chapter Text

Something has changed back at HQ – everyone can feel it. Since getting back from that last big mission, bruised and quiet, the team dynamic has been thrown off kilter. The majority (aka everyone but Clint) can tell it’s because Natasha and Maria have stopped talking to each, other beyond essential info in meetings. They don’t even look at each other anymore.

Because the absence of their affection is so noticeable, it proves to Bobbi and Laura how much they cared for each other. Something big must have happened on that mission the others don’t know about. They agree to try and get them talking, one woman each, because the awkward silences are driving them all mad. Laura talks to Maria. Bobbi talks to Nat.

Laura chooses her moment when dropping off a report to Maria’s office. She knocks, opening the door after hearing Maria’s acknowledgement.

“Can I ask you something, Hill?” Laura notes the dark circles under her eyes as Maria looks up, shooting her a look somewhere between irritated and curious.

“Did something else happen? Last mission, I mean. Between you and Nat.”

The irritated remains, but the curious gets swapped out for a hint of sadness. “Nothing that isn’t in my report, which you’ve read.”

“I think there’s more to it than that, Maria. You barely talk to each other anymore.”

“Maybe you should stop keeping score of my conversations and focus on your own missions. My personal dynamics aren’t your concern. If you’re questioning my command decisions, take it up with Fury.” The words are harsh, but there is no bite to them. Maria just sounds tired. Defeated.

“You know I respect your command, Maria. That has nothing to do with this.”

“Right. Then I suppose we’re done here.” She opens up another file and starts reading. Laura looks at her for a second before sighing a little.

As she leaves, she turns back before closing the door. “If you ever want to actually talk about it, I’m here.” Hopefully Bobbi got on a little better with Nat, Laura thinks.

Bobbi did not get on any better with Nat. She had joined her on the couch, where Natasha was watching an old Bond film. Knowing that Natasha would see right through her if she tried to talk around the subject, she dove right in the deep end.

“Why don’t you hang out with Maria anymore?”

If Natasha was startled by the direct nature of the question, she did not show it. She studied Bobbi’s face for a few seconds before turning back to the film and saying, “She’s busy.”

Bobbi raised a brow. “She’s always been busy, what changed?”

Natasha’s jaw tightened, but her tone stayed even, detached. “Doesn’t matter. She made herself clear.”

Natasha turned up the volume on the film, expression blank and eyes not focused on the screen. Bobbi waited for more, but nothing came. She wasn’t going to get anything more out of Nat without causing a scene. So she got up and left to meet Laura in the canteen. She saw Nat’s head droop a little as she went.

“Anything?” Bobbi asks Laura as she sits down in their booth. Laura just shakes her head.

“You?” And then it’s Bobbi’s turn to shake her head. Laura sighs, slumping back into the cushioned seat.

“She shut me down hard. Told me that if I was questioning her command decisions to take it up with Fury.”

“Damn. Nat barely said anything to me at all, but…” Bobbi shrugs, frustrated, “something’s clearly off.”

*******

A week later, the general team dynamics were pretty much back to normal. Well, Nat and Maria were still avoiding each other, but it wasn’t quite as awkward any more.

As far as Natasha is concerned, Maria doesn’t seem angry any more. She just looks stressed, tired, and sad. If those feelings are due to Natasha distancing herself, then Maria can’t complain – this was what she wanted.

It felt completely alien to Natasha in those first few days after their fight, when she made the decision to stop seeking out Maria around the base. She realised just how much time they’d been spending together, and Maria’s absence hurt more than any battle wound. Despite the pain, she found avoiding her was the only way to get by. She was constantly worried that if she found herself alone with Maria, she would say something (or worse, do something) that she couldn’t take back. And then it would all be completely ruined. She’s never had to worry about her own self-control before.

Natasha is also distancing herself because she’s pretty sure Maria hates her now, seemingly tensing up whenever her and Nat are in the same room. She just couldn’t understand the sudden change. Natasha has spent multiple sleepless nights going over every interaction, trying to figure out where she’d got the wrong impression from.

To distract herself from the Maria situation, Nat decides to throw all her effort into bonding with the rest of Delta.

They were all sat together in the lounge one evening when Clint decides to ask May why she rarely uses a gun. Her response is the same it always is, and Bobbi, Laura and Coulson all chime in with her when she says: “if I need a gun, I’ll take one.”

“But how do you know if you’re gonna need one?” Clint wanted to take his bow everywhere, so couldn’t get his head around May not wanting to do the same. Laura just shook her head at him, making eye contact with Nat to silently chuckle. “And while we’re on the topic,” Clint continues, turning now to look at Natasha, “You always have, like, a million weapons, but will then insist on using random things you find. What’s up with that?”

Everyone laughs, including Nat. “Keeps it interesting, no? Pretty much anything can be used as a weapon in some way or another – why waste ammunition I might need later?” She had a point, but now everyone was curious as to what she could turn into a weapon. They all look towards her, Clint with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Bobbi starts, “I once saw her use a toothbrush to make a nasty little shiv.”

May adds, “Credit card – very clean slice.”

“Not a weapon, but you once bought me a couple minutes by jamming gummy bears into a keycard reader. Guard couldn’t get his card to swipe – gave us a clean ninety seconds.”

“No fuckin’ way!” Clint looks to Laura, who just nodded confirmation – she’d been on that mission. She sits up from where her head was resting on Clint’s lap, also adding shoelaces and a lipstick tube to the list.

“What’s the weirdest thing you’ve weaponised?” Bobbi asks Nat. She thinks for a few seconds, everyone anticipating her response.

“A piece of linguine.” A pause, followed by disbelieving uproar. Natasha, grinning, refuses to elaborate.

Maria choses that moment to step into the common room, one eyebrow raised at the chaos. Caught by surprise, Natasha meets Maria’s eyes, her grin fading. It feels like an eternity before Maria breaks contact and turns to Coulson.

“Fury and I need you upstairs.” She says to him, “ASAP.”

Coulson gets up and follows Maria out, giving the team a bemused shrug as he goes. 

Natasha wished she could talk to Maria and get to the bottom of the sudden switch. But Nat would not push her to talk, and clearly Maria wasn’t going to make the effort either.

Coulson returns a couple hours later, asking Nat to come into one of the conference rooms for a mission briefing. It breaks her heart a little bit more that Maria won’t even brief her now, so she brings Liho for emotional support. It’s her first mission since nearly dying, this time a solo one. She’s going in undercover as a civilian contractor – no gear, no comms, no backup. If they even suspect she’s armed, or talking to someone else, the whole op burns (and higher ups at S.H.I.E.L.D. will have a lot of questions they’d rather not answer).

She’s supposed to leave tonight, so for the next hour her and Coulson go over every detail. She’s not thrilled about going in unarmed, but isn’t too concerned given the earlier conversation with the team. At least she has been cleared for fieldwork. And maybe some distance from Maria will help Natasha get over her?

The door opens. Natasha doesn’t have to look up to know who it is.

*******

The last thing Maria wanted was to force herself into close quarters with Natasha. She’d carried on with her (their) routine as normal at first – early morning training, the roof of HQ when she couldn’t sleep, etc – but their paths hadn’t crossed once, Natasha made sure of that. She did not blame Nat for keeping her distance, not when it was Maria who had made it very clear they were only colleagues.

Eventually she stopped bothering with the places where she used to see Natasha, realising that it hurt more to be alone there than it did to be alone in her office. She threw herself back into work, staying on top of her paperwork even if it meant not sleeping that night. She still worked out, but instead used the upstairs gym that was reserved for top brass, where she knew she wouldn’t bump into a certain widow. She stopped assigning herself fieldwork missions, and began to delegate a few of her Delta related tasks to Coulson. Particularly when it came to Natasha.

The other woman looked like she was doing fine with the recent changes. She was getting on well with the team – the scene she had walked in on earlier boasted a camaraderie that the other strike teams should be jealous of. Maria did wish she could be part of it, though. It stung a little to see how quickly Natasha had cut Maria out of her day to day and moved on. Maybe Maria had misinterpreted the situation and Natasha wasn’t as interested as she’d believed. It didn’t matter now, it was better this way. (She wasn’t sure how much longer it would be before she could say that to herself and believe it).

Natasha doesn’t turn around when she entered the briefing room. She doesn’t react at all, actually, but the air seems to still around them. Coulson looks up and acknowledges her, and still Natasha doesn’t move. Not a muscle. If Maria didn’t know her so well, she might not have noticed it – but the lack of reaction was actually a reaction in itself. It was conscious, and careful, and controlled. If only Maria knew what that meant – was it contempt? Anger? Sadness?

She takes one of the chairs in the corner, opposite Natasha. She keeps her eyes fixed on Coulson, but finally feels Natasha’s attention shift to her. The heat of her gaze warms Maria, but she forces herself not to meet it. She gestures for Coulson to continue with the briefing, and feels Natasha look away a few moments after he starts talking again.

When he’s finished, Coulson looks to Maria. Their shared look confirms something they’d discussed earlier – that she would do Natasha’s final prep for the mission. She doesn’t speak until Coulson has shut the door behind him, and then until Natasha finally looks at her.

Staying as cold and detached at she can, Maria opens with, “You’re barely cleared for fieldwork.” The fact the she could find someone else to take the mission was evident, despite being left unsaid. Natasha simply raised an eyebrow. It reminded Maria of their conversation during Natasha’s intake. She sighs a little and gestures to the table. “Fine. You know the protocol.” Natasha hesitates. “Weapons, Romanoff.”

That seems to snap Natasha back into focus, and she stands, slipping her widow’s bites off her wrists. She sets them gently on the table, and then removes her visible knives and guns. Maria frowned down at the table – while she knew Natasha could absolutely handle herself, she did not like the thought of her going in with nothing. Especially while she’s still not at 100%.

Unfortunately for this mission, her hidden weapons would also have to stay behind. Maria’s look turned from concern to exasperation as the pile on the table grew far beyond what should have been physically possible. A knife from each boot, two more hidden under her belt, tiny ones from wrist sheaths in her suit. And that’s just the knives. Maria blinks, the locations becoming increasingly improbable. A gun. Another gun. A third gun? Why does she even need that many?

Natasha places her final weapon down on the pile (the smallest handgun Maria had ever seen). Her voice deadpan, but with an edge, Maria simply says, “That’s… excessive.”

Finally meeting her eyes, Natasha answers, “You’ve seen what we’re up against.” She reaches up to where her hair is knotted atop her skull, remembering one last weapon. She pulls out a long hairpin, and red hair falls around her face in soft curls. She studies the pin for a second before adding it to the pile. Maria can see the deadly sharp point from here.

Maria opens her mouth, wanting more than anything to say something. Apologise? Explain? Confess? But how to say it, without falling straight back into their old, dangerous ways. It doesn’t help that Natasha looks stunning with her hair down. She closes her mouth.

“I’ll be fine.” Natasha murmurs. Maria just stares, trying not to let the heartbreak she has fought off for the past week come to the surface. There was only one way to handle this – she reluctantly drags up the memories of Natasha attempting to sacrifice herself, letting that fake anger drive her next words.

“You nearly died. Again. You don’t get to ‘be fine’ just because you say it with a straight face.”

Natasha’s jaw clenches and she turns to go. Liho, sensing the tension, meows mournfully from the corner. Maria’s tone was as sharp as Natasha’s hairpin. “You think being reckless makes you invincible. It doesn’t.”

Without turning back, Natasha simply replies, “Look after Liho for me,” and walks away.

Chapter Text

The past week and a half has been a new kind of hell for Maria. She finds herself thinking about Natasha all the time. It’s not as though the lack of contact during missions is uncommon, especially for Delta. Bobbi once spent 3 months undercover without contacting S.H.I.E.L.D. once, and Laura for even longer. It is just part of the job, and usually Maria is fine with this.

But this time it’s Natasha, and that changes everything.  

Maria is constantly monitoring the news and disused comms channels, praying that she both does and doesn’t find anything related to Nat. While she desperately wants to know that the other woman is ok, any attempt at communication would indicate something wrong. She quickly finds herself falling behind on paperwork, the stack on her desk seemingly growing by the hour.

Maria also starts training in the normal gym again, and going up to the roof when she cant sleep. Anything to try and feel closer to Natasha. She can’t tell what the difference is – when Natasha was here and they weren’t talking, being up on the roof alone felt awful. But now, with Natasha gone, it feels somewhat comforting. Maybe it’s knowing that Nat isn’t there because she’s on a mission, not because she hates Maria.

It is an average Wednesday afternoon when Natasha finally gets back, just shy of two weeks since she’d left. Maria was in her office when a nervous rookie knocked with a note from Coulson. She wasted no time        in getting to the Delta briefing room; stopping only at her quarters to pick up Liho, who lets out a surprised meow at being swooped up so quickly. During the walk, she told herself multiple times that Natasha was in the briefing room, not the med bay – so she must be ok.

She pauses just outside Delta’s quarters, giving Liho a little stroke to try and calm herself down. When she starts walking again, her pace is unhurried, her face carefully controlled. She opens the briefing room door, immediately finding Natasha on the other side of the room.

She is whole and, from what Maria could tell, completely unharmed. She is here. Suddenly, she realises she has been staring, Natasha staring back. Coulson is looking back and forth between them, clearly not quite sure whether he should interrupt. Maria finally puts him out of his misery, “I’ve got this debrief, Coulson.”

“Right. Got it. Uh… good to have you back, Natasha.” He sets the file down on the table and leaves the room, looking back over his shoulder at Maria with a hint of a smirk ghosting his face. He’s probably going to run straight to Bobbi and Laura.

Once he had gone, Maria realised what she had done. She was alone with Natasha, for the first time in weeks. Needing to break the silence, she remembers the little ball of fur still cradled in her arms. She walks around the table and holds Liho out to Natasha.

“She missed you.” Maria murmured, clearly not talking about Liho. Natasha smiles down at the cat, reaching out to take her from Maria. Their fingers brush as she does, sending shivers up Maria’s spine. She has to fight the urge to close her eyes, relishing the physical contact.

Looking straight into Maria’s eyes, Natasha replies, “I missed her too.” Maria has a feeling that she isn’t talking about the cat.

*******

Things have been better with Maria since she got back. Easier. Closer to how they were before Natasha tried to die for her (again). Natasha went back to training at times she knew Maria would be in the gym, although never when there wasn’t anyone else there. She still hasn’t gone back to the roof yet, remaining very conscious of her limited self-control when it comes to Maria. Natasha knew that there couldn’t be anything more with her, but she was not going to jeopardise their friendship.

Natasha also notices that Maria is hanging out with the team again. She’d seemed a little awkward at first, but had relaxed into it pretty quickly. Despite the odd local mission, Delta has been relatively quiet in the week since Natasha got back, so they’d been hanging out a lot when there wasn’t paperwork to be done (many movie nights and afternoons spent playing board games).

Two days after Natasha’s return, she’d had to stop by Maria’s office to hand over her mission report. Well, she didn’t really need to go up there personally, but she wanted to. Natasha hadn’t really known what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t stacks over paperwork covering most surfaces.

Maria must have noticed her looking, because she starts to try and explain herself, “The work piled up faster than expected this week…” she trails off, but Natasha gets the hint. She had fallen behind while Natasha was on assignment.

Keeping her expression even, Natasha takes a firm step into Maria’s office. She takes a proper look around, trying to figure out where to start. Eventually sweeping her gaze back round to Maria, she asks “What can I do to help?” She holds in a chuckle at Maria’s bewildered expression, instead tilting her head a little and raising an eyebrow. “Maria?”

“You don’t have to help with this,” Maria recovers.

Natasha scoffs, “You’re drowning here, come on.” She can almost feel the charge building in the look they share before Maria finally relents. She chooses one of the many piles for Natasha and hands it to her, their fingers brushing again. It makes Natasha feel all tingly. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

Maria clears a space for her on the opposite side of her desk, and Natasha settles into the visitor chair. They quickly get into the flow of it, and while there’s still a lot to be done, they make good progress.

This continues over the next few days. Natasha makes an extra coffee (with a splash of milk) before leaving the common room each morning, then heads up to Maria’s office. They settle into the routine of working through Maria’s backlog of paperwork. They don’t really say much, but the silence is a comfortable one.

Natasha, itching to talk to Maria but not quite trusting herself yet, instead lingers when passing over a mug of coffee, or a file, or a new pen. Their fingers always touch, although there is really no need for it. Once it hits 11pm, Natasha insists on putting the files down for the night, always to Maria’s protests. Natasha makes it her new mission to make sure Maria gets enough sleep, and so she starts walking the other woman back to her room each night. She never goes in – hasn’t been in since Maria stitched her up a couple of months ago.

When they finally close the last file (for now), Maria gives her a genuine smile. Natasha wishes she could bottle it up and store it for later.

Despite not having any reason to be there after that, Nat finds herself in Maria’s office quite often. They start talking again. Not about anything deep, just about silly things that Liho has done (like getting stuck inside the sofa), or funny stories about Delta (mostly due to antics started by Clint or Bobbi). It feels good, but Natasha is very conscious about letting herself get too close.

She always makes an excuse to leave the second her heart rate starts to rise, or when she finds herself staring at Maria’s lips for a second too long. It is not the easiest way to live, but it was far better than the silence and animosity from before. Natasha has excepted by now that her feelings for Maria aren’t going away any time soon, but she was a good actress. She could do this.

*******

Bobbi and Laura share another excited glance, Bobbi pinching her lips together to stop herself from grinning. They’re not idiots – in fact, they’re both pretty sure that Clint is the only one on Delta who doesn’t have some idea of what’s going on.

“Should you be worried that your husband is so clueless?” Bobbi asks Laura one day, having just witnessed Natasha making a coffee for Maria on autopilot before heading up to her office. Clint had thought she was just making two coffees for herself. They didn’t correct him.

“He notices the things that really matter. Besides, it’s providing us with endless entertainment!” They both laugh. “Do you think May and Coulson know?”

“Nothing slips past May. And I can’t imagine Coulson not suspecting – he sees more of Maria than we do.”

“Yeah, I don’t think either of them are going to bring it up though.”

“No, I suspect you’re right.” Bobbi pauses, a playful grin appearing on her face. “How long do you reckon it’ll be before they finally get together?"

Laura contemplates this, “One week.”

“Oh I think they’re both too afraid to follow through. I’m gonna say a week and a half.”

“Closest wins. Loser has to do the winner’s mission reports for a week.”

“Deal.”

*******

Natasha was fast asleep. The whole team had been out on a mission for the last couple days, and she was exhausted. Liho is curled up on the corner of Nat's bed, her room quiet and still. Despite her tiredness, Natasha remains a light sleeper, drilled into her all those years ago by the red room.

It is for this reason that she is roused from her sleep by a faint knocking at her door. The digital clock on her nightstand shows 02:07, and for a moment she wonders if she had even heard anything at all. She examines the gap beneath the door; there it is – the shadow of someone standing just outside.

She hears soft footsteps start to retreat back down the corridor, and slides out of bed, still not fully awake. Dim light spills into her room as she opens up, her eyes focusing on the figure still walking away.

“Maria?” The other woman freezes before slowly spinning back to face Natasha. “Is everything ok?”

“You left your jacket in the quinjet.” Maria was, in fact, holding a bundle that looks suspiciously like Natasha’s jacket. “Sorry I woke you. Now that I’m here, I’m realising this could have been done in the morning.”

She moves back down the corridor to pass over the jacket. Still half asleep, Natasha says, “Careful – keep doing stuff like this and I might start thinking you care.” Immediate regret takes the place of any remaining tiredness – way too flirty Natasha, calm the fuck down. Hopefully Maria leaves quickly and Natasha can go overthink it for the rest of the night.

Maria blinks once. Twice. She’s clearly taken aback by Natasha’s statement. There goes any hope of her not having noticed. Before anyone could say anything else, Liho noses her way out the door and winds her way around Maria’s feet. When Nat looks up from the cat, Maria is staring intently into her eyes.

“Of course I care Natasha. If you can’t see that by now, you’re a much worse spy than I thought you were.” Now Nat is taken aback. This was the last response she ever would have imagined from Maria, and, for once, she is well and truly speechless. Instead, she loses herself in Maria’s eyes, searching for answers.

They stare at each other for what feels like hours. There was so much unsaid between them. And yet here it was laid bare – everything they refused to say. For once, the woman who held herself together with steel and duty let Natasha see the truth. There was no shield now, only something raw, unbearably vulnerable, dangerous in its honesty. There was care, yes. But threaded through it was the quiet, terrifying possibility that it had always been more than that. Something Natasha had no training to face.

Maria takes the tiniest step forward, one question filling her gaze. The option is there – to take a step back, shut the door, carry on as they have been. Natasha knows that it’s down to her to make the decision now.

There could only be one answer to Maria’s question. Forgetting the world around them, she steps forward, taking Maria’s face in her hands and bringing their lips together in a hurried, hungry kiss. The tension that has been building for months cracks like thunder. She guides her hands back, threading her fingers into Maria’s hair. Maria responds like a starved woman, moaning softly and deepening the kiss without hesitation.

The reality of their position hits Natasha like a brick. Maria, who had in no uncertain terms told her to back off, was kissing her back. Not quite believing it, she pulls away. Maria’s cheeks are flushed and her pupils dilated, and she leans forward slightly as if to chase Natasha’s receding lips.

“Is this real?” Natasha breathes, only just loud enough for Maria to hear.

“Yes,” Maria looks her right in the eye. She is not lying.

Natasha can’t shake the feeling that this is all too perfect. And because she doesn’t know what else to do, she starts rambling, “You don’t owe this to me, Maria. I understand if you can’t. The job…” Maria shuts her up with another kiss, and the beauty of it, her, takes Natasha’s breath away.

Maria pulls apart just enough to speak, their foreheads still touching, “God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” Looking up, she must see the apprehension and disbelief in Natasha’s eyes, because she pulls apart properly and takes hold of Natasha’s hands. “I want you, Natasha.”

Her eyes flutter closed, trying to keep her breathing under control. She is suddenly all too hot, Maria’s last words sending her heart racing. She has never experienced it before – actual, real-life want – she had almost believed it was all made up. Natasha’s old training begins to push at the corners of her mind, wanting her to question this, shut it down. But, for once, she ignores it. Lets herself believe Maria, and listen to her own heart.

As if in a trance, she lifts a hand to cup Maria’s cheek. Their next kiss is softer, delicate. Natasha takes a step backwards into her room, guiding Maria with her. When both women are over the threshold, Natasha pushes the door shut with her foot and leads Maria over to the bed.

Natasha hits the mattress first, Maria not far behind. She moves the hand that was on Maria’s cheek to the back of her neck, pulling her down for another kiss. She runs her other hand over the hard muscles in Maria’s back, gripping her shoulder when Maria presses more of her weight on Natasha’s body.

Natasha has never been religious, but right now she would pray to any and every God if it allowed her to keep Maria in her arms forever. It hits her all over again: this is real. She could feel a tightness building in her throat. She would not cry. Maria pulled back again, sensing Natasha needed a moment.

Breathless, Natasha whispers against Maria’s lips, “I didn’t know it could feel like this. You make me want things I didn’t think I deserved, Maria.”

Eyes shining, Maria responds, “You make me want things too, Natasha. Things I thought I’d buried a long time ago.”

Over the next two hours, they talk. About anything, everything. About when they realised they were falling for each other. About their fears, their pasts, their hopes for the future. Natasha reveals more about her time as a widow, and what that means when it comes to feelings. Maria speaks about her father, and what that means when it comes to relationships. With everything out in the open, both women feel like they can breathe again. The knowledge that there is someone there to help carry the weight. Who does not run, screaming, at the things they have shared.

The sky shows the slightest hint of brightening, and they know they only have an hour or so before the sun comes up. Limbs heavy and eyelids droopy, both women know the lack of sleep is catching up to them. All of their words hang between them, heavy and fragile and beautiful. Natasha swallows, holding onto Maria as if the other woman might vanish. When she speaks again, her voice comes out cracked, barely more than a breath. “Say it again.”

“What?” Maria pauses, thinking back over their hours of conversation.

“…that you want me.” Natasha’s eyes had drifted shut.

Maria smiles and presses a ghost of a kiss onto Natasha’s forehead. “I want you.”

They fall asleep like that, with Natasha slotted into Maria’s arms, foreheads touching.

Chapter Text

Natasha and Maria decide not to tell anyone on the team. Mostly because they think it will be funny to see how long it takes for them to figure it out, but also because Maria is slightly concerned about it getting back to Fury and the other S.H.I.E.L.D. executives. Luckily, they were already spending so much time together that it isn’t too hard to disguise.

Natasha makes going to Maria’s office to ‘help with paperwork’ part of her evening routine, and no one bats an eye. For Maria, working into the early hours of the morning is quite common, so no one questions why Natasha never returns before they all go to sleep. They do get some paperwork done, but with two people it goes twice as fast, and they spend the rest of the night talking, or making out, or doing other things…

They also decide to start pairing up on missions again. What had once been a dangerous distraction now steadies them; knowing the other is at their back sharpens their focus instead of splintering it. Every mission hones their rhythm, every close call deepens their understanding.

While they were doing a very respectable job at keeping the relationship under wraps, the team knew them too well to stay unaware for long. Bobbi and Laura were the first to figure it out, only a day apart...

*******

Natasha, who in her time at Delta had never been praised for her cooking abilities, was attempting to make mac & cheese. Bobbi was sat at the counter, watching Nat try to cook with growing concern. The others, except for Laura (who was out on assignment), were over in the lounge area, resting after a long training session.

Bobbi turned as Maria entered the common room, giving her a smile before turning back to keep an eye on Natasha – someone had to make sure the kitchen wasn’t going to burn down. With the TV on in the background and the others talking over it, no one else but Bobbi heard when Maria started to tease Natasha.

“You’re cooking? Should I tell everyone to evacuate now, or shall I just call the fire department and let them be surprised?” There is a light, amused tone to Maria’s voice, something that Bobbi hasn’t heard for a long time.

Without looking up, Natasha responds, “Say that again and I’ll poison your coffee.” Her back is to Bobbi, but she can hear the ex-widow’s smile none-the-less.

“You won’t need to, you’ll have already poisoned us with the food.” Bobbi has to stifle her laugh at Maria’s reply, and dips her head so the two women don’t pay any more attention to her.

Natasha responds in Russian, a language that thankfully Bobbi is fluent in. “Cука.” Bitch. Despite the contents of the response, Natasha’s tone was affectionate in a way Bobbi had never heard from her before. She watches as Maria passes Nat the grated cheese, their hands lingering as subtle smiles play across their lips.

Bobbi has seen hundreds of undercover couples, their staged affections meant to fool a crowd. This wasn’t that. This was instinct, reflex – like they hadn’t realised they weren’t alone. Her lips curve, a slow grin spreading as the penny drops. About damn time. She tucks the knowledge away, although she can’t wait to tell Laura…

*******

Laura was able to pick up some pretty important intel on her mission – something that will affect Natasha’s upcoming assignment the next day. It is for this reason that Natasha is invited along to Laura’s debrief as soon as she gets back.

She slides into the empty chair next to Maria, who was in her usual seat halfway down the table. Coulson sits across from then, with Director Fury and Agent Hand observing from a little further back, the former leaning back with his arms crossed, the latter rapidly scribbling notes. Laura, standing at the front, nods a welcome to Nat. She then begins to go through all the details from her mission up on the screen.

Natasha and Maria are both facing forwards, Maria giving her full attention to Laura as she ran the debrief, jotting down notes every now and again. From their angles, the rest of the attendees can see exactly what Natasha wants them to see – nothing unusual, just simple professionalism.

But from where Laura stands at the head of the room, with the entire table in her line of sight, she notices a subtle movement – Natasha’s hand sliding its way onto Maria’s thigh. Maria’s pen pauses mid-note, her shoulders going just a fraction too tight.

Laura knows what that means.

There is no way Natasha doesn’t realise Laura can see the whole thing. Despite the urge to call them out on it, she is certain they wouldn’t want the relationship being brought to Fury’s attention. And anyway - it would never be ok for her to out them, not to anyone. So Laura thanked her training as she kept talking, not even letting the corner of her mouth twitch.

Maria, meanwhile, clearly didn’t take in a damn word. Her pen hovered uselessly above her notebook, eyes fixed on the page. It wasn’t until the room fell quiet, all eyes shifting expectantly to her, that Maria realised Laura had just asked her a direct question.

Maria recovered smoothly, and answered the question well, but Laura caught the split-second delay. Throughout the rest of the debrief Natasha’s hand never moved, and Maria never turned another page in her notebook. Laura couldn’t wait to see if Bobbi had figured it out already.

*******

They didn’t get the chance to speak privately until after dinner, but Bobbi and Laura hadn’t needed words to confirm what they’d both noticed. Every time Maria leaned just a little too close to Natasha, or every time Natasha’s expression softened in a way it never did for anyone else, their eyes would meet across the table. More than once, Bobbi had to duck her head and busy herself with her food to smother a grin. Laura wasn’t much better, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. By the end of the meal, the effort of keeping a straight face had both women dangerously close to cracking.

Eventually everyone filed off for the evening, and Laura told Clint she wanted to have some girl time with Bobbi, so he left them to it.

“How did you figure it out!” Bobbi wasted no time in grilling Laura.

“Nat couldn’t keep her hands to herself in debrief! Maria got so flustered, it was hilarious. I’ve never seen anything like it!” Laura kept her voice low, just in case anyone was walking by. “Now your turn – spill!”

“Nat was trying to cook dinner- I know-“ Bobbi shared in Laura’s concern over Natasha ‘cooking’ before carrying on, “Anyway, Maria came up behind her and they were teasing each other and getting all touchy and affectionate. I have no idea how no one else has spotted it yet.”

“When do you think they got together?” Laura was clearly mulling over their bet from a little while ago.

“I’m trying to think back, but their behaviour has been pretty stable for at least two, three weeks.” Bobbi contemplated the question.

“They started teaming up on missions again though – I reckon it has to have been before that.” mused Laura. “It can’t have taken us this long to notice, surely?”

“They’re not in this business for nothing!” Bobbi made a good point. “The first time they paired up again was about a week after our conversation right?”

“Yeah, which means they had to have gotten together within a week of us making that bet. Which means…”

Bobbi groaned. “Which means I’m doing your mission reports for a week.”

Laura laughed and clapped her on the back, “Why thank you!” They both laughed, although Bobbi’s came out slightly more pained. “Now that I have a free evening, I’m going to go see my husband.” Laura got up to leave, and Bobbi just groaned again, putting her face in her hands. She had forgotten that Laura had just come back from a mission. Oh well. She didn’t mind too much – not when the bet had provided so much entertainment.

She almost thought about suggesting a new bet – how long until Clint figured it out. But given the outcome of the last one, and the fact that Laura knew him best, she decided against it. Better not to dig herself into an even bigger hole! Maybe they’d do one as a team if he ended up being the last one to find out. Instead she sighed and, with a smile on her face, started the paperwork.

*******

“Clint.” Natasha says his name without looking up from her tablet. He turns to look at her from the other side of the table, but doesn’t make any move to get up. Noting this lack of movement, Nat sighs a little and says, “Come here.”

Clint raises his eyebrows, but does as he’s told. “What?” Natasha shows him her tablet, mindlessly scratching behind Liho’s ears as the cat sits on the table in front of them. The tablet showed two very similar images. Both gold necklaces, both with a tiny hourglass charm. One of the charms was slightly bigger, with smoother corners, the other a more classic widow hourglass.

“You want my opinion?” Clint asks, still a bit puzzled. This wasn’t really like Natasha. She just looks at him expectantly. “Well, I’m not really sure either of them are your style.” Natasha had made it clear on multiple occasions that she suited silver better than gold.

“Well, it’s not for me, is it?” Natasha was starting to look a little exasperated.

“Oh right. Well how was I supposed to know that?” Clint was also starting to look a little exasperated. “I don’t know. The one on the left is nice – smoother.”

“Hmm. I guess.”

“But you know, the other one is nice too.” Clint had a feeling that Natasha had already decided.

“Yeah. I think the one on the right.” He chuckled under his breath and went back to his breakfast. He still wasn’t sure who the recipient of the necklace was. He watched as Natasha put the tablet down, turning her full attention to Liho, who chose that moment to flop down and roll over, purring incessantly. As far as he knew, the necklace could be for the cat.

*******

Coulson was the next to find out. He was giving a seminar to a class from the academy about working at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. It wasn’t really up his street, but oh well. Maria would be there to give a small welcome speech and make introductions, then it would be down to him.

She is already there when Coulson arrived, standing off to the side of the room as the excited students chatter from their seats. They had another couple of minutes before the official start time, and it looked like Maria was using it to finish a report for Fury.

She nods a hello to Coulson, and reaches down to grab her tablet from the low table. Coulson watches as a dainty gold necklace slips free from under her collar. Interesting - he hadn’t pegged Maria as a jewellery person. As he gets closer, he is able to make out the charm on the necklace: a little hourglass, just like the one on Natasha’s tac gear. Oh.

This is way too personal, too sentimental to be anything other than a token from a lover. His eyes flick up to Maria to see if she has noticed where his focus had been – she hasn’t. Instead, eyes still glued to her tablet, she tucks the necklace back under her shirt without a thought – like it belongs there.

He smirks faintly, but doesn’t comment. They’ve all known this was coming for a while. He files the knowledge away for now, saying, “Shall we do this?” And motioning to the crowded room behind them.

“I guess we should,” Maria replies, and heads up to the podium.

*******

Natasha has Maria in a headlock. They have been practicing the move for almost an hour, and Maria has nearly got it down perfectly. She steps back, hooking her foot behind Natasha’s to lock her leg in place. Making sure not to arch her back, she turns outward and bends her knees. The grip around her neck eases, and she uses the opportunity to pull Natasha diagonally across her body, throwing her to the ground.

It’s the first time that she has been able to get herself free, and she is quite proud. Her girlfriend recovers quickly though, catching Maria off-guard while celebrating and sweeping her feet out from under her. She lets out a soft, “oof,” as Natasha puts her on the floor.

Looking up, Maria gets déjà vu. Natasha is hovering over her, one arm poised to cut off her air supply. Maria doesn’t try to throw her off this time, she knows it’s still useless. Just like the first time they sparred, Maria can feel the strength in the thighs bracketing her hips, the expert control in the hand gripping her shoulder.

Last time they were in this position, she met Natasha’s gaze, not knowing how to read it. This time, she finds a glorious combination of amusement and love. Natasha’s breath fans against Maria’s cheek, her pulse thrums against Maria’s ribs. Once again, she finds herself getting a little flustered, but that’s allowed now.

She finds her eyes drop to Natasha’s lips all of their own accord. Looking back up, she sees Natasha raise an eyebrow. Maria’s heartbeat spikes.

“Get a room, you two.” Melinda May, her voice predictably uninterested. Footsteps echo as she keeps walking past them, and Maria’s eyes go wide as she regains awareness of her surroundings. Ohhhhh this was not the plan. Well, it wasn’t her plan. She looks back up at Natasha, feeling horribly embarrassed.

But there is not a hint of embarrassment in Natasha’s gaze. Only hunger. She leans in, whispering to Maria, “You want me to hold back?” Maria makes the slightest shake of her head. No. No, she doesn’t.

Natasha closes the distance and Maria forgets that May was ever there.

*******

It had been a while since the whole team was out on a mission together. Maria is about to go and distract the gang they are hunting, allowing Nat and Bobbi to slip into the building from the back. Laura is stationed in the next block over to provide support to Maria if the girls on the inside need more time, and May is waiting on the other side of the building to cover them as they come out. Coulson is keeping an eye on the satellites and building blueprints from the quinjet, and Clint is covering the area outside from above.

He watches from his vantage point on the neighbouring rooftop as Nat grabs Maria’s hand and whispers, “Come back safe, моя любовь.” My love. Well, whispers it while wearing comms that are on an open channel to the whole team.

Clint knows enough Russian to figure that one out. “Aww, that’s a cute cover – wait.” They’re not doing a fake relationship cover today – Maria’s doing the distraction solo. A loud clattering can be heard down the comms line as Clint knocks over his arrows. “WAIT.”

Bobbi’s voice cuts clean through the comms as she says to Nat and Maria, “Oh my god, he’s only just figured out that you’re dating.”

“Do we need to call someone for him?” adds Laura, laughing at her husband’s innocent stupidity.

“WAIT!!!!! YOU’RE DATING?!?!?! SINCE WHEN?!” Everyone cringed a bit at the sudden increase in volume.

“Comms, Barton.” May reminded him.

Nat laughed, “I assumed you knew. You helped me pick the necklace.” She reached over to adjust said necklace around Maria’s neck.

“I THOUGHT IT WAS FOR YOUR CAT!!!”

“What kind of weirdo buys a necklace for a cat?” Natasha threw back, laughing.

Clint was genuinely stunned, but was at last able to lower the volume again, “I thought those late night meetings were actual... meetings?”

“That’s adorable.” Maria chuckled.

Having started another bet once they knew Coulson and May were aware, Bobbi pipes up, “Alright, everyone has got to pay up.”

“Damn, I had week three.” Said Laura, disappointed that Bobbi had won the bet – she’d had week two, which was closer by two days.

“I said he’d find out when they adopted a second cat.” Coulson added from the quinjet, quiet until now.

“We will pay you later Morse. For now I’d like to remind you that we’re on a time sensitive mission. Clint, you need to save your crisis for later. We all have a job to do.” May’s tone left no room for argument. So, with morale high, Strike Team Delta got back to the task at hand.

*******

Everyone on the team knew. Their family knew. Clint had had the rest of the mission to process it, so when they got home he made it clear that he was super happy for them, despite it taking him so long to figure out.

Natasha and Maria had curled up on the sofa together after the mission, and it didn’t take long before Nat fell asleep with her head on Maria’s lap. The rest of the team retired to their own rooms to give them space. She woke up about an hour later, looking up at Maria. The whole scene was soft, and warm, and safe. It was still quite new to Natasha, to both of them, but she was more than happy to get used to it.

There was a movie playing on TV – a period romance of some sort. Maria had left it on because the score was quite soothing. The main characters are just about to dance at the big ball of the season, and are most likely going to spend the whole time stereotypically lost in each other’s eyes.

Natasha first sits up, then stands, holding her hand out to pull Maria up. “Dance with me?” A gentle piece of classical music starts playing on the TV as the characters start their dance.

Maria looked at her. Her perfect, beautiful, impossible girlfriend. Taking Natasha’s hand, she allows herself to be pulled up and into her strong arms. Resting her head on Natasha’s shoulder, they start to sway gently, lit only by the light of the screen.

Maria smiles softly, “We’re a long way from Prague”.

“We are. I can do this now.” Natasha leans in, capturing Maria’s lips with her own.

When the kiss ended, they kept swaying with the music – two women who had survived the impossible, finally home.