Chapter Text
*Spoilers Below*
Previously: During the last story, In Your Hand, Tony and Natasha were separated after the events of Captain America Civil War. Natasha was mad at Tony and on the run from Ross, no longer speaking to him. Tony was devastated by this because they kind of had a secret relationship going on, after he broke up with Pepper for good after what happened in Age Of Ultron. He had been looking for Natasha for three months by the time he finally tracked her down at the start of the Black Widow movie. He went to Russia personally to speak with her, hoping they could fix their relationship, and wound up helping her take down the Red Room, along with her family. At the end, Natasha turned herself over to Ross, and then Tony was able to use all his lawyers and influence to get her pardoned. They returned to the Avengers facility, hoping to pick up the pieces of their team, and their relationship.
Natasha takes a deep breath and spreads a thick layer of peanut butter over her toast, exhaustion settling heavy in her bones, and it’s only ten am, thanks to a certain pair of bots named Dummy and Butterfingers.
They were in her room when she woke up because of Tony. Because he decided it was a good idea to let his creations handle moving some of his stuff into her room, since they decided to 'move in' together. Naturally, chaos followed. There was clothing scattered everywhere, and most of her knickknacks had gotten broken. Then there was a full suit of armor standing guard in the corner. She’d been furious about this at first, seeing her souvenirs from around the world laying in pieces on the floor. It was only by sheer willpower and her not wanting to start another argument with him like the one they had the night before, that she stopped herself from stripping his bots down to their frames, and letting him have the pleasure of putting them back together when he got home.
But she didn't, because that was the old Natasha. The new Natasha is trying to control her temper better. Hence why she's in pain now.
Letting out a sigh, she settles at the kitchen table and turns on the TV, letting the news fill the silence while she eats, but of course, the first headline catches her eye.
"Tony Stark Sells Avengers Tower. Is This the End of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes? And what’s up with the Black Widow getting pardoned? Is treason being rewarded these days? The full story, next."
She rolls her eyes at the last part, feeling kind of sad at the first.
She hadn’t known Tony planned to sell the tower, but then she hadn’t exactly been around. There were a lot of memories in that place for the two of them and all the Avengers in general. So many late night visits where Tony had gotten drunk and showed up at her apartment there, clinging to flimsy excuses of potential hazards that needed to be checked out, otherwise he'd make it seem like her whole apartment might blow up or worse, when in reality, he just wanted to be near her.
Sometimes she let him in, but others, she quite literally slammed the door in his face.
Hmm.
She hadn’t thought much about that before, but looking back, maybe if she’d been nicer then things between them might have happened sooner?
She tilts her head in thought.
Ha. No.
As tempting as an idea that is, Natasha knows better.
Her and Tony are both too damn stubborn and screwed up for it to have turned out any other way than it has between them, but maybe in some alternate universe.
She flips through channels looking for something else to watch until she lands on Dexter reruns on Showtime. Not long after that, she’s joined by Vision when he phases through the wall, greeting her with a big purple smile.
“Oh, hey, Viz.” She smiles back at him.
She can’t help but to always be amused by his outfit either - polo and khakis, suburban dad chic. No matter how often she sees it, it’s hard not to think of him as just another robot, but little does she know that’s about to change.
“Welcome back, Natasha.” Vision nods, taking a seat. “Sorry we didn’t get a chance to speak yesterday. You went up to your room rather quickly.”
“Yeah. I was pretty tired,” she admits.
“Of course. Understandable, given what you’ve been through. But now that we can talk, I’d like to apologize to you, as I have with Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes.”
“Uh, okay, but what for, Viz?” Natasha frowns.
“Well, for the incident at the airport.”
“Ah.” She knits her brows, shaking her head. “Why? You didn't do anything. Besides, I think we’re all guilty on that front, don’t you?”
“Yes, but when I recommended we sign the Accords, I didn’t foresee it ending like this."
“Okay, but I don’t think anybody did, so you shouldn't blame yourself. We all made our choices, now we just have to live with them.”
He nods.
“Yes, but… I’m afraid it goes a little deeper than that. I’m not sure if Mr. Stark told you about the miscalculations I’ve been having since Colonel Rhodes was injured?”
She blinks.
Because no, Tony had not mentioned anything of the sort.
“Miscalculations? No, he didn’t say anything. Are you okay?”
He tries for a smile, but it falters fast. “I wish I knew.”
Her unease grows with that admission, since it's never good if the biggest brains in the house can't figure it out.
"Well, is it a hardware thing, or…?”
He shakes his head.
“Mr. Stark and I have discussed it at length, and we don’t believe that’s the issue. The problem is, neither of us can figure out what it could be either.”
Natasha arches an eyebrow.
“Okay, well, I hope I don’t come off as seeming like I don’t care here, Viz, because that's not it at all, but do you really think I'm the best person to help you with this issue? If you or Tony can't figure it out...”
Vision's burgundy cheeks darken in response, and she narrows her eyes curiously. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he looked… embarrassed?
“Yes, that is true that mine and Mr. Stark's IQ's vastly outweigh yours in the realm of which these issues typically fall, but I still think with you being a woman, you are still a better choice."
Natasha stares.
Huh?
"I don't know what that means, Vision..."
Vision sighs.
"Well, I suppose the best way I can put it is… I’ve been having these… feelings?”
Oh god.
"Feelings?" She repeats, terrified where this is going.
He nods, and she chews the last bite of her toast, hoping to god this conversation isn't headed where she thinks it is.
“Okay… what kind of feelings then?” She asks, hesitantly.
“I… don’t know.”
Another blink.
“But Tony had a theory, right? You two always do.”
He nods. “Yes. He did.”
“…And?”
He doesn't answer, just gives her a look bordering on shame, and that's when she chews the inside of her lip.
“Vision, look…is this some kind of sex thing?”
“Um… if by ‘sex thing,’ you mean I may be in love with Wanda… then yes. I’m afraid so.”
“Wait, Wanda?”
“Yes.”
Now it’s her turn to be quiet.
“You’re in love with Wanda?” She asks again, just to make sure she heard what she thought she did.
Vision wilts.
“Yes. That seems to be the likeliest option." He looks down again.
“Okay…okay."
Maybe this isn't as bad as she thought it would be, but it's still not good - or is it?
"I’m sorry, I just didn’t know that was possible," she says.
“Neither did I. It’s terrible. I know.”
“I didn’t say it was terrible."
“It feels terrible.”
“Well… love usually does." She chuckles, then clears her throat as his face drops more. "Why do you think it’s bad?”
“Because I’m not human? Because I shouldn’t be having these impulses? They’re distracting me. Just look at what happened to Colonel Rhodes. I allowed myself to become distracted, and he was injured.”
Natasha nods, not because she agrees, but because this would be her morning. Two robots trashing her room, and now another asking her for love advice.
“Vision, we don’t know that. I mean, accidents happen, you know? There was a lot going on. You stopped to help a fellow Avenger. You can’t be faulted for that," she tries to comfort him.
“Yes, but what if the accident was because I was distracted? Because of my feelings for Wanda?”
She sighs and presses her lips.
“Well, what if a bus crashes through the ceiling right now and kills us both? We just don’t know. It was a freak accident.”
“That’s completely illogical,” he argues, clearly frustrated.
“What’s illogical about it? You aimed for Sam, he dodged, and your beam hit Rhodey. It was an accident.”
"Yes but-" He stops, then slumps.
Natasha studies him.
“Okay, let’s just get back to the real issue here…"
"Okay."
"So...you like Wanda.”
“Yes.” He buries his face in his hand.
“Alright… do you know if she likes you back?” She asks, in disbelief she’s having this conversation right now, but she's going with it.
Vision shrugs. “I assume she likes me as a colleague… ex-colleague.”
“Okay… do you think there’s a possibility she might like you as more than that?”
“I don’t know.”
She nods.
“Well, I have an idea. Why don’t you find out and get back to me.” She stands and goes to put her plate in the sink, ready to get the hell out of there.
“But how can I do that? She’s a fugitive,” Vision replies.
“I don't know. You can make yourself invisible and phase through things. Go find her and ask her."
“Yes, but what about the Accords?”
“What about them?"
"It's illegal."
She huffs a laugh.
"Didn't stop Tony from seeing me," she says, before she can think better of it.
“So… you’re saying I should go see her then?” Vision says.
“Noooo." She backtracks. "What I meant to say, is that I’m not saying anything because I just got out of jail. But hypothetically? If you were to track her down somehow and talk to her and find out one way or the other, then maybe it’d help with your little ‘miscalculation’ problem. I don’t know, that's all I got. And for future reference, I’m not best person to ask for love advice either.”
“Well, like I said, I just thought that because you were female and statistically females have a better understanding of emotions you were a better choice than Colonel Rhodes or Mr. Stark. Also I already asked them for advice.”
“Really? And what did they say?”
“Unfortunately, Colonel Rhodes had to retire to the washroom, and Mr. Stark changed the subject and started ranting about his favorite pizza place in Brooklyn closing down. I’m not sure he was actually listening.”
Yeah, that sounds about right.”
X
The morning drags on, and after her eye-opening conversation with Vision, Natasha swings by her room for more painkillers before heading down to the gym to see what Rhodey is up to.
Normally, she’d be training or prepping for an op herself, but given her injury, and the fact the Accords have everyone benched, she’s realized she's gonna have to take it easy for the moment.
She told Vision not to blame himself for Rhodey's fall, but the truth is, she has alot of her own guilt she's been harboring for it, and occassionally, that guilt - not just for him, but so many other things in her past, likes to reach out and crush her at the most inopportune times.
It starts the second her hands touch the gym door handle. The familiar chatter in her head. Relentless whispers creeping in from the corners of her mind the make her freeze.
Rhodey wouldn’t need to recover if you hadn’t let Steve go, one of the voices says.
It’s your fault he can’t walk. You just leave pain and destruction wherever you go, adds another.
At that point, her heart starts to pound, and her fingers grip the handle until her knuckles ache from how tight, while her lungs seize up, and the world shrinking in around her.
Why can’t you pick a side? They both scream at the same time.
Oh no, she thinks, as the dizziness hits her like a wall.
The next thing she knows, she's slumping and sliding down the door. Her chest burning as white spots bloom in her vision.
She nearly passes out when she hears another voice somewhere, through the rush in her ears. She recognizes her name, albeit muffled and far away, even though the person yelling it is right next to her.
“Nat!”
Natasha looks up, dazed at Rhodey standing over her. Her vision is blurry enough that there are two of him, and she can’t move.
“Nat!” He drops down beside her, shaking her shoulder.
Natasha gasps, sucking in air so hard it feels like her ribs might shatter.
“FRIDAY, call a doctor!” Rhodey barks, gathering her up.
“No!” she manages to choke out, panic rising higher. “No doctor, Friday, I’m fine.”
“Nat, you can’t even breathe!” Rhodey’s voice is hinges on frantic.
She grabs a fistful of his shirt. “No. Doctor.”
“Jesus.”
He settles for holding her gently instead, grounding her. He takes her hand in his and squeezes. Meanwhile, she's just mortified that this is happening in front of him.
“Just breathe,” he murmurs, rubbing her back. “Nice and slow. I’ve got you.”
Natasha does as he says, but she knows the drill. It isn’t like this is her first freakout. Lord knows she’s had enough panic attacks to know it’ll pass, eventually. But Rhodey knowing? That’s not so easy to shake.
Eventually, her breathing steadies and evens out. She sits up, wiping her eyes of the involuntary tears, feeling the heat of embarrassment settle over her.
Rhodey gives her a look as she sits up on her own.
“What the hell was that?” He asks.
“Nothing. I’m fine,” she mutters, sighing as she stands up.
Rhodey does the same, but he's also staring at her like she’s grown a second head.
“Nat.”
“What?”
“Tony’s gonna kill me if I don’t get you to a doctor after that.”
“He doesn’t need to know. And I’ll kill you if you tell him,” she warns. “It was just my rib. Turned too fast,” she lies.
“Your rib.” He repeats, flatly, not buying it.
"Yep." She lifts her shirt, revealing the massive bruise blooming across her side. He winces, but doesn't let her off the hook.
“How long have you been having panic attacks?”
“It wasn’t,” she lies again.
“And I’m supposed to believe that?”
“If you’re smart.”
She walks into the gym like nothing happened. Rhodey follows her, shaking his head.
“Tony doesn’t know?”
“No, and he doesn’t need to, Rhodey. He’s got enough to deal with, and his own panic problem if you remember."
“That doesn’t mean you can't tell him. You guys could help eachother. I’ve seen enough people with PTSD and dealt with it enough myself to know it’s better to lean on someone.”
“Yeah, you're probably right," she agrees, but in a way that says she's not going to do any of that.
Instead, she grabs a basketball off the rack and changes the subject.
“You thinking of trading in the hero gig for the NBA?” she teases.
“Why, ’cause I’m black?” Rhodey arches an eyebrow.
She laughs, rolling her eyes.
“No because I saw you nailing all those shots before.
He steals her ball, jogging down the court for a layup.
“That why you came down here? To watch me in my excellence?”
“No, I just can't do anything because of my rib, so I thought we could catch up. Yesterday was pretty rushed.”
“Yeah, so let’s catch up then.” He sinks a three-pointer.
“Okay, but I don’t think I can even manage a game of horse right now."
“Oh no. Not here."
“Then where?” She asks.
He grins.
“I’ve got something better in mind. Come with me,” he grabs her hand and tugs her out of the gym.
X
Five minutes later, Natasha finds herself in the game room, staring at the giant TV with a plastic controller in her hand.
“Oh God,” she groans. “This is the ‘something better’?”
“Hell yeah,” Rhodey flops onto the couch. “Come on, it’ll be fun. I haven’t had anyone to play with besides your egomaniac boyfriend since everything went to hell.”
Natasha eyes the Xbox logo warily.
“So, what, I’m your easy target now?”
“Nope. I’ll teach you. It’s easy.”
She doesn’t buy that for a second, as she's seen enough fights break out between all the men on the team enough times to know they take their games way too seriously. But Rhodey does look genuinely excited, and it's not like she hates video games.
“Alright,” she sighs, settling in beside him. “But you know I suck at this, right?”
“You’ll pick it up,” he assures her.
A Few Moments Later
“What the hell is wrong with these controls?” Natasha glares at the controller, ready to take her gun to it.
“What’s wrong?” Rhodey laughs, even knowing damn good and well the issue.
He doesn't even look over as he sinks another basket in NBA 2K16 while she just trying to get her players to do a modicum of what they practiced before beginning the game. She doesn't understand why the same controls are no longer working.
“I’m doing exactly what you said!” she snaps, accidently fouling his player - again.
He goes up to the free-throw and adds more points to his score, and she tosses the controller aside, over it already.
“I can’t do this,” she mutters.
“Aww, come on, Widow! Don’t be a quitter!” Rhodey cackles. "Press the buttons I told you to press."
“I am pressing the damn buttons!”
“Well, then it’s not the controller, it’s the player,” he teases.
“No shit, asshole.” She scowls. “What other games you got?”
Rhodey sighs, but laughs and gets up, heading over to their ridiculously large game library.
“Alright, alright. Let’s try something else then, but no bitching this time.”
“Fine. As long as it's not another game like that one."
He swaps the game then collapses onto the couch beside her again.
“No, this one’s probably more your speed,” he says, as Call of Duty flashes across the screen.
That actually does make Natasha perk up, because at least this is something she knows.
As with last time, Rhodey gives her the rundown on the controls as they pick characters and weapons.
She feels more confident going into a match this time, but she's barely gotten used to the camera movement when Rhodey starts shouting at her already.
“There’s a guy over there! Watch out!”
“Where?” She frowns, looking around.
“By the train!” He points at her screen.
Natasha swings her view around, eyes scanning the snowy map, but she sees nothing.
“I don’t see anyone," she says.
“He’s laying down by the train," Rhodey replies.
“Oh.”
She walks over to the train in the middle of the map oblivious she could get shot down at any moment. Sure enough, there’s a guy there laying down with a sniper.
"Kill him!" Rhodey barks. "Stab him!"
An amused smirk spreads across her lips as she creeps up behind the guy silently, thinking which one the knife button was. Thankfully she gets it right, and her characters stabs the other character, resulting in a plus one-hundred popping up on the screen.
“Nice." Rhodey nods his approval. “See? You got this.”
Natasha shakes her head, more at him than anything, but something does start to click after that, maybe a little too well. She starts wiping the floor with the enemy team—knives, SMGs, sniper rifles, it doesn’t matter. Real-world muscle memory takes over and she and Rhodey start to move like a unit, clearing buildings, covering each other, making callouts.
Before they know it five hours have passed and they are staring at the scoreboard.
—40 kills, 1 death—
Rhodey whistles.
“Damn. One death, huh?”
“Stupid grenade,” she mutters. “Spawn campers.”
He laughs. “You’re a monster, Nat.”
She grins, stretching her cramped muscles. “Yeah well, as fun as this has been, I think I’m done for now.”
“Me too,” Rhodey agrees, pushing himself up.
She glances at her phone, half-hoping for a message from Tony, but there’s nothing, and it surprises her how disappointed she is.
Rhodey catches the look.
“You sure you’re good?”
“Huh? Yeah. Just tired.” She stands. “Think I’ll go lie down.”
“I hear that.” He yawns. “We’ve been here way too long.”
She smiles and pats his shoulder as she heads out. “Thanks, Rhodey. I had fun.”
“Anytime. You’re a beast. I can’t wait to see you take on Tony.”
She laughs as she leaves, strolling down the hallway toward the elevator, briefly considering asking FRIDAY where Tony is, but she decides against it.
It’s nearly 4 p.m. and he’s been gone all day. She kind of misses him, but he’s probably busy and she doesn’t want to be clingy, so imagine her surprise when the elevator doors slide open—and there he is.
He stands inside, still dressed in a sharp suit and tie, looking smug and devastatingly handsome. Her heart does a ridiculous little flip as a grin spreads across her face.
“Hi,” she says, warmth blooming in her voice.
“Hey,” he says.
Before he can say anything else, she steps in, wraps her arms around his neck, and jumps, legs going around his waist like a spider monkey. Tony laughs, stumbling back against the wall as he catches her.
Natasha winces though, as pain shoots through her rib, but she doesn’t care.
“You should greet me like this all the time,” he says, hands hooking under her thighs.
“Maybe I will,” she murmurs, kissing him deeply, her fingers tangling in his hair.
Tony smiles against her lips.
When she finally pulls back, he’s breathless. “I heard you were downstairs playing video games.”
“Yeah. Rhodey was bored. So was I.” She rests her head on his shoulder, breathing him in.
He leans his cheek against her hair, arms locked tight around her. “You okay?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah. I just missed you, that’s all,” she whispers.
He grins, heart fluttering. “I missed you too.”
The elevator doors open, but Natasha makes no move to let go, so Tony just carries her down the hall to their room. When they reach their door, he sets her on the dresser, staying close, standing between her legs. He peers at her over his blue-tinted glasses, all concern and affection.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again.
“Yeah.” She frowns, fussing with his tie. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“Because we care?”
She rolls her eyes, but he gently brushes her hair behind her ear.
“You’re looking a little blue,” he teases.
She narrows her gaze. “Maybe it’s these,” she says, plucking the glasses off his face and setting them aside. “I’m fine,” she repeats, pulling on his tie to draw him in for another kiss—but he resists.
“How’s your rib? And don’t say ‘fine.’”
“It is fine…wanna take a nap with me?” She starts unbuttoning the top of his shirt.
“Yeah. But only after you stop dodging my questions.”
He catches her hands, lacing their fingers.
“I’m not,” she frowns, annoyance creeping in.
She knows he’s concerned, and it’s sweet, but she’s had way worse injuries.
“I took Tylenol earlier.”
“Okay… Did you see the doctor?”
“For what? It’s just broken. Or maybe fractured. It hurts, that’s all.”
She frees her hands and goes back to unbuttoning his shirt.
“You should still get an x-ray.”
“Tony, I’ve had broken ribs before. Many times. I know what it feels like.” She slides her hands across his chest.
“I’m sure. But what if it punctured something?” He tenses as her fingers graze his sides.
“It didn’t. It’s been a week. I’d know.”
She presses her palms flat against him, looking up into his eyes.
“How do you know unless you get checked? I just don’t want anything happening to you,” he says, brushing his thumb over her cheek.
Natasha sighs and leans back, exhaling a laugh.
“What’s funny?” He frowns.
She smirks.
“Nothing. Just… I’m not used to anyone worrying about me this much. But seriously—I’m okay.”
He doesn’t seem convinced, but she kisses his chest, right over where the arc reactor used to be, hoping that ends the conversation.
Of course, it doesn’t.
“I wish I could believe that,” Tony says quietly.
“You can.” Natasha gives him a slow, sultry smile. “Just focus on something else. Like this.”
She licks a slow circle over his skin, teasing his nipple with her tongue—he groans, but still doesn’t let it go.
“Natasha, seriously. It’s my job to take care of you. And you don’t look so hot.”
She pauses, giving him a weird look.
“I don’t need taking care of, Tony. Come on now.”
But then he goes full puppy-dog eyes and she stares at him, unimpressed. “Really?”
“Please?”
She glares, because he knows that’s her weakness.
“You’re a cheater.”
“Am not,” he grins.
She mutters something in Russian, curses slipping out until he kisses her, her resolve starts to crack.
“You’re so annoying,” she growls as he nips at her lip.
“Does that mean you’ll do it?”
God, he gets to her so easily.
“Fine, Stark. But I’m not going to the doctor. If you want answers, have armor-boy over there satisfy your curiosity.”
She jerks her chin toward the suit standing guard in the corner.
Tony blinks, caught off guard. “Really?”
“Don’t make me change my mind.”
“Okay.” He calls for the helmet, and it clicks onto his head. Now he’s Iron Man in a suit and tie, and—maybe she’s just horny, but it’s kind of turning her on.
He lifts her arm, scanning her side.
“By the way,” she drawls, “if your friend over there recorded us having sex, I will kill you.”
“It didn’t,” he assures, voice slightly mechanical. “That’s not why it’s in here.”
“It better not be.”
“If I wanted to record us, FRIDAY could just do it—does this hurt?”
He presses along her rib. She winces.
“Yes, ow! And FRIDAY better not either.”
“She won’t.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
With a click, the helmet flies back to the suit.
Natasha arches a brow. “Well?”
“It’s fractured,” he admits, sheepishly.
“You don’t say.” She runs a hand through her hair. “Now can we get in bed?”
He nods, and in one move, scoops her up again.
“I can walk, you know,” she smirks, but kisses his cheek anyway.
“Yeah. But you don’t have to.”
She chuckles as he sets her down gently on her side, then starts slipping off his clothes. Natasha peels off her sweatshirt and jeans, not wanting to overheat next to his furnace of a body.
Under the covers, she lounges back, watching him.
“See something you like, Romanoff?” Tony asks, a blush creeping over his cheeks.
“I don’t think you’d be in here if I didn’t,” she fires back, grinning.
“I thought you wanted a nap?” he teases, getting on the bed, hands gliding over her hips.
“Mm. I do. In a minute.” She pulls him down and kisses him, slow and lingering. “How was your day?”
“Okay.” He squeezes her ass, drawing a soft laugh. “Yours?”
“It was okay.” Her smile softens. “Why’d you sell the tower?”
She trails kisses down his neck, biting gently at his skin, tugging his earlobe with her teeth.
“Ugh… we didn’t need it,” Tony says, shifting under her touch. “I’m moving everything here. Redoing the place. Want to help?”
Natasha lifts her head, giving him a look. “I’m not exactly the decorator type, if you haven’t noticed.”
“Maybe not, but I have faith. You were a great assistant once upon a time.”
He smirks when she rolls her eyes.
“You love bringing that up, don’t you?”
“I cherish the memory,” he says, unclipping her bra. “You were a smoking hot assistant. Come on, Natalie.”
“I will hurt you, Stark,” she says, only now with her boobs out.
Tony cups her breast. “Ms. Rushman—OW!”
She pinches his nipple, hard and he whimpers.
“What did I just say?”
“Okay, okay! I’m sorry!” He rubs his chest.
“Never learn, do you?” she says, but soothes the spot with a gentle rub.
“I kind of liked it,” he admits.
She snorts. “Why am I not surprised?”
She gazes up at him, lips parted, eyes heavy with want. He returns a similar one as she hooks her legs around his waist.
They kiss for a little while, reveling in the closeness until Natasha starts getting impatient as always.
“Come on, Stark, you gonna use that thing or what?” she asks, tugging at his boxers.
He laughs softly.
“Easy, Romanoff,” he grins, leaning down to kiss the impatience right out of her. “It ain’t like we got somewhere to be.”
She sighs, pouting, making him smile.
“Well, I’m trying but you’re making it impossible to wait.”
Tony chuckles again, her breath hot against his mouth as she tightens her hold, dragging him closer. His hand slides into her panties, fingers slick with her need.
“I have that effect,” he says, stroking her, teasing her clit before sinking a finger inside experimentally. She was soaked.
“You been thinking about me today?”
She snorts and half glares.
“You’re so smug.”
“And as usual, I have reason to be. There’s evidence.”
She shoves at his boxers with her feet until they’re off, his cock thick and hard, ready for her. The sight only makes her wetter. Tony has other plans though. He kisses her once more and then trails more of them down her body until he’s kneeling between her legs, peeling her panties down. He doesn’t break eye contact as he lowers his head.
She shivers, breath catching as his tongue flicks over her, teasing her.
“Stark—” she groans, hand threading through his hair as he buries his mouth between her thighs.
Tony grins against her skin, mouthing at her inner thigh before finally giving in to her impatience.
He drags his tongue slowly along her slit, savoring every little gasp and twitch that escapes her. He starts slow, licking her, circling her clit with just enough pressure to make her arch her back. Natasha’s hand tightens in his hair, pulling him closer, her thighs tensing around his head.
“Fuck…” she whispers, head tilting back against the pillow.
Tony smiles to himself, fingers joining his mouth—slipping two inside her. The soft, slick sounds fill the room as he works her, watching every reaction, determined to wring out as many as he can.
He looks up, catching her gaze before ducking back down, sucking her clit just the way she likes. Her hips jerk, breath stuttering.
He hums into her, tongue and fingers working in tandem. Her hands fist in the sheets, her whole body taut until finally her orgasm hits hard, ripping through long contractions. She whimpers, thighs trembling, her body pulsing around his fingers. Tony keeps going until she collapses back, breathless and boneless.
He takes his time getting back up to her, leaving more feathery kisses and lingering touches, letting her settle.
“Feel better?” He asks, once he returns up top, grinning.
She chuckles, eyes heavy, still catching her breath. “Well, I’m not complaining if that’s what you mean.”
He smirks and brushes her hair out of her face. “That’s always a plus.”
Natasha huffs a laugh and tugs him closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Yeah? Let’s see if you can keep it that way.”
He grins, leaning down to kiss her some more, but softer this time, slow and reverent, savoring the taste of her and the flushed, happy look on her face. She pulls him in until his body presses fully against hers, not caring that her rib twinges a little in protest.
He reaches between them, guiding himself to her entrance, pausing just long enough to look into her eyes. “You sure you’re gonna be okay with your rib?” he murmurs, voice rough. “It was hurting you last night.”
She rolls her eyes, but the affection is obvious. “Tony, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to break your other nipple.”
He laughs quietly and nods as he pushes inside her in one slow, careful stroke. They both moan at the contact. Natasha’s nails drag down his back, and Tony shudders, holding still for a moment.
Then they start moving together, building a steady rhythm. Tony tries to keep his weight off her side, letting her set the pace, his hand lacing with hers above her head. She arches into him, meeting every thrust, their kisses messy but it doesn’t matter.
“God, you feel good,” he breathes, burying his face in her neck.
Natasha grins and bites his ear, clenching down around him. He groans and thrusts deeper.
Her second orgasm sneaks up on her suddenly a couple of minutes later when he starts grinding. Her body clenches around him, nearly making him lose it. He holds on for a few more seconds, hips stuttering, groaning her name as he buries himself deep and lets go.
They collapse together, tangled, sweat-slick and gasping.
Tony moves to lay beside her, catching his breath. He glances over to find her doing the same, eyes shut hand on her rib. He almost asks if she’s okay again, but he figures she’ll probably pummel him.
Eventually she rolls onto her good side and presses herself into his side. He curls his arm around her shoulders and she rests her head on his chest.
Natasha leans up and presses a kiss to his jaw and throws her arm over his chest.
Not much else is said as they drift off to sleep together.
Natasha hardly ever dreams.
But tonight, she does—and it’s weird as hell.
She’s standing in an endless, empty field, wind whipping around her, prickling at her skin. There’s this crawling sense of danger, like a shadow she can’t shake. No enemy in sight, no fight to be had. Just that feeling.
Then, suddenly she’s in a jungle. The air is thick, leaves crowding her vision, ash drifting down like snow. She’s running, searching for someone, calling out, but nothing comes from her mouth.
Just as fast, she’s back at the Avengers compound, alone in front of the tall glass windows, sobbing so hard her whole body is shaking and she doesn’t even know why.
Then she wakes with a start. Her eyes snap open. Her chest is tight, heart racing, breath coming shallow again. The feeling lingers like smoke. She reaches up and stops, startled because her fingers are wet.
She’s been crying in her sleep, it seems, and that’s new, or at least she’s never noticed before. Tony’s arm tightens gently around her although he’s half asleep still. “You okay?”
Natasha wipes her face quickly. “Yeah,” she murmurs, keeping her voice steady.
He pulls her closer. “I’m starving,” he says.
She manages a small smile and glances at the clock. “That’s because it’s dinner.” She burrows into his chest.
He rubs a hand up and down her back.
“Hey, did you ever pick a spot for our vacation? Friday’s waiting for you to decide.”
Natasha hesitates, burying her face against his chest further, butterflies fluttering in her stomach at the thought. This would be their first real trip together. No mission, no aliases. Just them. It’s exciting and it’s also terrifying.
“I don’t know,” she admits. “Wherever you want to go is fine.”
Tony traces circles on her back. “Nope. This is your pick, Romanoff.”
She groans, thinking. “Uh… India?”
He lifts a brow, amused. “India?”
She shrugs.
“When?”
“You pick.”
Tony lets out a laugh and looks up. “FRIDAY, book a trip to India. Next Sunday.”
“Yes, boss. For how long?”
“Natasha?”
She purses her lips, still a little overwhelmed. “Isn’t a week the usual?”
“Let’s do ten days,” Tony decides. “We can always extend if we want to.”
“Booking now,” FRIDAY confirms.
Tony grins, pleased. “Good. Now that’s settled—did you get my video earlier?”
She narrows her eyes up at him. “Yeah, I did. If you keep recording me while I’m sleeping, I’ll skin you alive.”
He smiles and kisses her forehead, grinning. “You’re cute when you sleep.”
“And I’ll be less cute if you try it again,” she warns.
He does his best innocent face, which only makes her more suspicious.
“At least Dummy and Butterfingers did a good job, right?”
She arches an eyebrow, but doesn’t get into it.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she says simply.
Tony hums.
“Good. You think this room’s big enough for both of us?”
She gives him a sidelong look. “Tony, if you’re trying to get out of sleeping in here after last night—”
“Relax.” He laughs. “I just meant… we could move into my room if you want. Or if we’re renovating, we could build something bigger. Whatever you want.”
She blinks, thrown by how casually he keeps bringing up their future.
“Worried about your shoe collection fitting in my closet?” she teases.
He grins, feigning offense. “Are you saying I have a problem?”
“The fact you’re getting defensive tells me you do.” She stretches, rolling her eyes. “Here’s a thought—you decide if your shoes fit. If not, we’ll improvise.”
“Deal.” He leans in, stealing a kiss.
Dinner
At some point they do make it down to dinner, but Natasha is about to knock Tony out, injured rib or not.
“Do you mind?” She swats his hand away as they make their way to the kitchen.
He’s been squeezing her ass the whole way down the hall, just because she had the audacity to walk in front of him.
“You were all about it earlier,” he teases.
She rolls her eyes.
“That was earlier. The clocks been reset.”
He snorts, and her lips curve up as she grabs his hand in hers for the rest of the way.
“What’s for dinner, Viz?” Tony calls out as they step inside.
Vision, clad in an apron and oven mitts, appears from behind the stove, holding up a casserole dish like a trophy. “Roasted duck with potatoes, green beans, and carrots, Mr. Stark.”
Natasha gives Tony a long, flat look.
“What?” He frowns. “He’s basically our Martha Stewart now. Been holding down the kitchen since everyone cleared out.”
She arches an eyebrow. “So, you’ve been making him your personal chef instead of just hiring someone.”
Tony shrugs. “He likes it. Right, Viz?”
Vision nods. “I find preparing meals to be… grounding.”
“See?” Tony smirks.
Natasha just shakes her head and heads over to help Vision, while Tony ambles to the dining table where Rhodey’s already seated.
“Hey, Tones, your Spider-kid’s on TV again,” Rhodey says.
Tony groans. “For what now?”
Natasha looks over. “The one from the airport?”
Rhodey nods. “Stopped an ATM robbery.”
Tony pours himself a drink, expression pinched.
“Didn’t Tony tell you?” Rhodey grins. “He’s been mentoring the kid.”
Tony shoots Rhodey a warning glare just as Natasha comes over with a casserole dish.
“Really?” she asks, surprised.
Tony shrugs as he pulls out her chair. “More like making sure he doesn’t get himself killed.”
They all settle in. Rhodey at the head, Vision to his left, Tony and Natasha side by side.
“He wants to be an Avenger,” Rhodey says, loading up his plate. “I told Tony the kid did great at the airport. We should at least train him.”
“He’s too young,” Tony mutters, stabbing at his food.
Natasha tears into a roll, watching Tony with new curiosity. She didn’t even know Tony liked kids—let alone wanted to help one.
“How old is he?” she asks.
Rhodey answers, grinning. “Fifteen.”
She nearly chokes. “Fifteen?! You brought a fifteen-year-old to fight Avengers?!”
Tony looks even more guilty. “Yeah, well, I’ve heard enough about it. I gave him a suit because he was running around in shit he salvaged from the dumpster, probably. If he’s going to be out there, he should at least be safe.”
He glares at Rhodey for good measure.
“He’s not joining the team though. End of story.”
Natasha shares a look with Rhodey, barely hiding her amusement. She lifts her glass, taking a slow sip of vodka.
Later That Night — Tony’s Workshop
Tony is watching the ATM footage from Peter’s suit for the hundredth time. He’s trying to ID the goons, puzzling over the tech. It definitely has to be Chitauri, he’s decided.
He rubs his eyes, exhaustion and worry building.
Peter is a brilliant kid - brave, and hopeful—too hopeful. Tony knows what it’s like to lose that hope too young. He can’t let that happen to Peter.
“Ms. Romanoff is approaching.” Friday’s voice cuts through his thoughts.
“Close files,” he murmurs.
He barely has time to straighten up before the elevator opens and Natasha steps in, barefoot and wrapped in her purple blanket, hair tousled from sleep.
“It’s 3 a.m.,” she says, climbing into his lap and settling her head on his shoulder.
“I was just finishing up,” Tony says quietly, holding her close.
“What are you working on?”
He hesitates.
“The guys that Spiderman stopped had Chitauri tech. I’m trying to figure out where they got it.”
She lifts her head, all business. “You think it’s serious?”
He nods. “Yeah. But I might pass it to the Feds. I just… don’t want it to blow up on the kid.”
She leans her head on his again, silent for a while, then asks, “Why do you get so prickly when people say you’re mentoring him?”
Tony frowns, staring at nothing. “Because, it’s not like I’m the greatest role model.”
“You’re Iron Man,” she smirks. “How are you not a good role model?”
“Iron Man, sure. Me though?”
“What’s so wrong with you?”
He gives her a flat look.
She chuckles.
“So you used to be a whore and an arms dealer. You aren’t anymore.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to screw this kid up. Things between me and my dad weren’t the greatest.”
“So what’s that got to do with you and him?”
He knots his forehead.
“You ever heard the expression the apple don’t fall far from the tree?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, there you go. My experience isn’t exactly something I want to pass on.”
“So read a book or something. Why even mentor him then if you’re doubting yourself?”
“You don’t think I should?”
She smiles and caresses his cheek.
“I didn’t say that.”
Tony shrugs.
“I don’t know. I just… saw a kid doing his best with nothing. Trying to help, no one looking out for him. He’s really smart. He has potential. He reminds me of myself.”
Natasha traces his jaw, her touch gentle.
“Hurting people happens, Tony, even when you love them. We’ve done it to each other. But you don’t have to be like your father if you don’t want to be. Just remember what you didn’t like that he did to you and don’t do it to this kid.”
He chuckles.
“You make that sound simple.”
She shrugs.
“Maybe it is. But I don’t have a kid and I’ve never mentored anyone so there’s that.”
“What about Clint’s kids? You seemed pretty cozy with them.” He smirks.
“Yeah, well, they aren’t trying to be Avengers and they already have good role models.”
He nods, but he was still looking worried.
“Just do it, Stark, obviously you want to. If you screw it up just say your sorry and I’m sure he’ll forgive you.”
Tony smirks imagining himself begging a fifteen-year-old kid for forgiveness.
Natasha grins and leans up to kiss his cheek.
“Okay.” She stands, tugging him with her. “Come on. Therapy time’s over. Besides, you got bigger problems than your spider kid.”
“What?”
She looks up at him with a soft smile. “I’m missing my pillow. And my heater.”