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just-aake · 23 days

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Dyeing to See You Again

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: The need for a change of style brings about a reunion between Natasha and her old friend.

Warnings: light fluff, light angst

Words: 6659

Ohio - 1995

Three years ago, in the heart of the Midwest, a typical family of four moved into the ordinary suburban home next to yours.

Naturally, as their neighbor, you became interested in learning about the new family, especially since you found out that one of their daughters was similar to you in age.

Initially closed off in the beginning, you slowly chipped away at the girl’s cold exterior until eventually the two of you became inseparable friends, forming a close bond with her over the three years they’ve lived here so far.

Currently, you find yourselves in the bathroom of her home amidst a chaotic mess of scattered bottles of hair products and dyes, the result of two young teens messing around without supervision.

You watch as Natasha removes the towel from her head, revealing the experiment that the two of you have been working on, and your eyes widen in shock at the sight.

“Uh oh, Nat, I think we might’ve mixed up the wrong bottles,” you exclaim in a slight panic as you rush around to pick up the different dyes, trying to find the one that was applied to her hair.

“I’m so sorry, Natasha,” you apologize as you try to figure out where you two went wrong.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Natasha reassures, her voice distracted in awe as she examines the strands of her newly colored hair in the mirror.

“It’s blue,” you state plainly in disbelief at her untroubled state.

“Yeah, but…it was my choice,” Natasha says with a widening happy grin.

You drop the bottles in your hand and tilt your head at her in confusion.

“I thought you said that your mom was okay with this.”

Natasha makes an unsure sound before shrugging, “I’m sure she will be..I think.”

You twist your lips skeptically at her words as you stand and return to her side. Your hand raises to her hair, but before you touch it, you pause and look at her with a questioning look, silently asking for permission.

Over the time you’ve known her, you’ve learned how much Natasha values her personal space. The first time you patted her back in a friendly gesture, she pushed you away so hard that you scraped your hands while catching yourself on the ground.

Natasha apologized profusely immediately afterward and supported you home where she helped to tend to your wounds.

That was the first time you saw the true warmth that Natasha was hiding underneath her cold exterior as she cared for you.

At that time, she explained to you how she was not used to such friendly gestures like that from her peers and had reacted instinctively.

Hearing this, you decide to always ask if she’s comfortable before you touch her.

With her nod of permission, your finger gently threads through her now light blue hair, brushing it in contemplation.

“Well, I guess it’s fine since it’s summer, but you’re going to have to change it back before school starts,” you remark.

Natasha shrugs, unconcerned, before flashing you one of her rare teasing grins.

“I’ll just have you dye it for me again. Maybe next time it might actually be the right color.”

You huff in disbelief at her, but before you can point out she also contributed to the mistake, the sound of the front door opening and the call from Natasha’s mom, Melina, causes both of your eyes to widen.

Within the next second, the two of you scramble to clean up the mess in the bathroom, laughing with each other the entire time.

You never did get a chance to change her hair color back to normal.

Natasha and her family vanished without a trace before the end of that summer.

There was no note. No warning.

She was just suddenly gone from your life.

And though many years pass, you’ve always held onto the hope that someday you can see her again.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Ohio - 2016 (21 Years Later)

The peaceful ambiance of the late evening is pierced by the gentle chime of the bell hanging above the entrance to the hair salon, announcing the arrival of an unexpected visitor.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” you call out, your eyes still fixed on the task of sweeping the floor.

A familiar voice responds, breaking through your concentration.

“What about for an old friend?”

Instantly, you freeze in your movements and look up at the visitor, disbelief flooding your senses as you recognize the voice and then the face of the woman.

"Nat?" you utter in disbelief.

Natasha stands before you, a soft smile gracing her features as she greets you.

“Hey, Y/n.”

Abandoning everything in your hands, you rush towards her, only to stop short of barreling into her when you remember how she felt about her personal space.

To your surprise, Natasha pulls you into her arms for a tight hug, breaking the barrier herself.

Momentarily stunned, you quickly recover and return her warm embrace, tucking your head against her shoulder and letting out a breath of disbelief that she’s actually here in front of you.

The two of you stay in that position, reveling in your reunion with each other, before Natasha breaks the silence with a soft murmur against your shoulder.

“So, about that haircut?”

You chuckle, nodding in response to her request.

As Natasha settles into a chair, you move to secure the salon, locking the door and closing the blinds, shielding the two of you from prying eyes.

Despite the late hour and remote location, you’re not taking any chances.

Even though it has been years since you last saw Natasha in person, that doesn’t mean you didn’t eventually discover who she really was, recognizing her immediately through the news during the attack in New York and now with her current predicament.

But that’s her business.

You’re not going to bring it up unless she wants to talk about it.

Here in this moment, she's not a spy or the Black Widow. She’s simply Natasha, your friend.

And right now, she wants to change her hair.

Taking your position behind her, you place your hands on the back of the chair and meet her eyes in the mirror.

“So, what are we thinking?”

Natasha ponders for a moment before a teasing grin lights up her face, and she turns her head to look at you.

"We could attempt the platinum blonde again, maybe without the blue this time?"

You roll your eyes and shake your head with a laugh of disbelief at the memory of your past failed attempt at dyeing her hair.

Before you begin, you give her the same questioning look as when you were younger, silently asking for permission to touch her.

A small smile forms on her face at the familiar request, and Natasha nods to you before facing forward once again to give you access to her hair.

With her consent, your fingers gently thread through her hair, delicately brushing out the tangled areas as you go.

As you continue your actions, Natasha’s eyes flutter closed, and a relaxed expression crosses her face as the tension in her shoulder eases with every movement.

A happy smile tugs at your lips when you see this, so you continue your soothing actions as you inspect the condition of her hair.

“What did you do?” you ask in concern when you realize the state of her hair. “The ends are all burnt up. Did you light your hair on fire or something?”

Natasha chuckles lightly, her eyes still closed as she responds.

“Not exactly. I jumped off an exploding secret evil base that was floating in the sky.”

A brief pause follows as you process her words before you release a huff of disbelief at her casual explanation.

“Well, obviously one of us has chosen the more exciting career.”

You finish your assessment of the extent of damage to her hair before shaking your head with a resigned sigh.

“I don’t think these are salvageable. We might need to cut most of it off.”

“That’s fine,” Natasha answers calmly, unconcerned by the news.

“Seriously?” you ask, making sure she sees the length of how short her hair will be.

She meets your eyes in the mirror and gives you a reassuring nod.

“It’s not like I haven’t had that style before,” Natasha reasons before letting out a tired sigh. “Besides, a different look for me is probably better at the moment anyway.”

Understanding what she’s referring to, you don’t press further, replying with a soft, “Okay.”

You proceed with the transformation, draping a cape around Natasha’s shoulders before delicately combing through her hair.

With each snip of the scissors, you work meticulously with care, shaping Natasha’s hair into a style that would best complement her features.

Lost in your task, you can’t help but be captivated by her beauty, understanding how she came to be described as the spy who captures the hearts of all those who encounter her.

As you finish up with the haircut, the peaceful atmosphere of the moment is shattered by an alert from the tv, interrupting the currently airing program.

The late-night news anchor appears on the screen, delivering the all-too-familiar message that has become a nightly ritual.

“The search efforts are still ongoing for the fugitives Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff, also known as Captain America and the Black Widow. The two are currently on the run for violation of the Sokovia Accords. Any information regarding their possible whereabouts should be reported to—”

With a frown, you swiftly reach for the remote and shut off the tv.

Turning back, your frown deepens when you find Natasha rising from the chair.

“What are you doing?” you question, puzzled by her sudden action.

Natasha shakes her head with a grave expression as she removes the cape from her shoulders.

“This was reckless. I shouldn’t be here,” she answers, her voice filled with regret. “I’m just putting you at risk.”

Realizing her intention to leave because of the possible dangers of her presence, you interject firmly when she strides past you toward the exit.

"I'm glad that you did."

Your unexpected words cause her to pause in her tracks, confusion flickering across her face as she turns to meet your gaze.

"I don't care about the risks, Nat," you say, your tone unwavering and softening with a small smile at her.

“I’m glad that I got a chance to see you again.”

Natasha’s eyes widen slightly at your words, but a hesitant look still remains on her face, so you offer another reassurance.

“If I didn’t want you here, I would’ve told you to go already.”

Her gaze focuses on you in contemplation, and you know she’s almost convinced, prompting you to continue, your hand turning the chair around to her in invitation.

“Besides, I’m not finished yet. I still have to dye your hair and show you that I can get the color right this time,” you tease lightly.

A small smile tugs at Natasha’s lips, and a hint of amusement appears in her eyes as they soften into a fond look at you.

With one final contemplative glance to the exit, Natasha comes to a decision and gives in, settling back into the seat again.

“Alright, show me what you got.”

With her permission granted, you proceed with the dyeing process, your fingers moving with practiced ease as you bleach and tone her hair, removing the remnants of her signature vibrant red locks, before applying the blonde dye.

Your brows furrowed in concentration as you carefully coat each strand of her hair to ensure an even color in the end.

Meanwhile, throughout the process, Natasha watches you intently through the mirror, a tiny admiring smile pulls at the corner of her lips when she sees how focused you are on your work.

Once all that’s left is to wait for the dye to set, you disappear into the back of the salon in search of some snacks and return triumphantly with a tub of ice cream.

Offering Natasha a spoon with a playful grin, you both indulge in the sweet treat, the casual banter flowing effortlessly between you as if the years apart had never existed.

“So do you still live in the same neighborhood?” Natasha asks between spoonfuls.

You shake your head, explaining, “My parents are still there, but I moved out here years ago after fixing up this building for myself. My place is actually next door, though sometimes it’s hard to tell these are two separate buildings. You have no idea how many packages I end up never receiving because the mailman can’t find my home.”

The two of you share a laugh and continue reminiscing about past adventures and mishaps and then about your current lives.

Throughout the entire time, your questions to her remain light-hearted, carefully avoiding any mention of her current situation or her mysterious past.

Despite the happy atmosphere, your consideration for her only makes the sense of guilt within Natasha grow with each passing moment, reminding her of what she put you through.

Eventually, the room falls into a comfortable quiet as you clean up the empty containers and move to throw them away.

When you return, Natasha decides to address her mistakes and the role she played in the fracture of your friendship.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

You look at her with a perplexed look, tilting your head in confusion.

“For what?” you ask.

“For not telling you who I was…for leaving without any warning,” she confesses, her eyes closing briefly with remorse. “You didn’t deserve that.”

You lean back against the counter, arms crossed, your gaze dropping to the floor as you contemplate her words. Your thoughts and feelings about her apology remain inscrutable on your face.

After a brief pause, you finally meet her gaze again with a serious expression.

“Was it real?” you ask.

At your question, Natasha furrows her brows in confusion, causing you to elaborate.

“Our friendship,” you clarify, gesturing between the two of you. “All the times we spent together…was it real?”

Natasha pauses as she thinks back to her time undercover. The mission was to pose as a normal family to infiltrate and gather intel from a research lab nearby.

That didn’t necessarily mean she needed to form such a close relationship with you at the time.

So was her friendship with you genuinely her choice?

As Natasha contemplates her answer, you take a step closer to her, causing her focus to return back to you.

“The way I remember it, I wanted to be your friend,” you admit before giving her a knowing look. “And I’m guessing you didn’t have to be mine, at least based on all your brooding and glares that you gave me in the beginning.”

Natasha grimaces sadly at the memory of how distant and cold she was initially before giving you a curious look.

“So why did you try to become friends with me?”

You shrug, a nostalgic expression appearing on your face. You recall the first time you spotted the lone girl curled up into herself underneath the shelter of the branches of the trees.

“When I first saw you, you just…looked like you needed somebody on your side for once,” you admit softly before tilting your head at her. “And I thought… maybe I could be that person for you.”

Natasha’s mouth parts slightly in surprise at your answer. Before she can respond, her stunned silence is abruptly broken by the sound of the timer.

With a gentle shake of your head, you return your focus to her hair, positioning yourself behind her.

“You don't have to apologize, Natasha,” you assure her, your voice steady and comforting, as you delicately begin to unwrap her hair.

“Odds are I would’ve still chosen to be your friend whether I knew if you were a spy or not. And as for leaving…”

You recline her chair, her head now hovering above the washing station, as you let out a soft sad sigh and begin washing her hair.

“People come and go throughout our lives all of the time. And most of the time, we can’t stop it from happening.”

Your voice wavers slightly, the memories of the devastation you felt when you found out Natasha had left come flooding back.

Even though she wants to, Natasha can’t see what kind of expression you have on your face, your hand covering her eyes to shield the water from her face.

Shaking off the sad memory, you dry her hair and reposition Natasha upright. Your fingers glide through her newly shortened locks, combing them as you continue with a lighter and more upbeat tone.

“But the one thing we can do is hope that the people who truly mean something to us are the ones we’ll get to see again.”

Satisfied with the results of Natasha’s new hairstyle, your hands settle on the back of the chair, turning it so she faces the mirror.

Bending down, your head hovers beside hers as you meet her eyes in the reflection.

“And look, I got to see you again, didn’t I?” you say with a happy grin.

Natasha is stunned, her heart warmed by your words. She gazes at her reflection, admiring her new look, but her eyes keep returning to you, your words still echoing in her mind.

Oblivious to her awed stares at you, you return your focus to brushing her hair and examining it proudly.

“Do you like it?” you ask eagerly with anticipation when you finally look up back at her.

“Yeah,” Natasha responds honestly, her gaze fixed on you. “I do.”

You give her a beaming smile at her answer, causing the corners of Natasha’s lip to quirk up fondly at the sight.

After you do your finishing touches and declare that she’s done, Natasha stands from the chair and reaches into her pockets for the remaining money she still has on hand.

“How much do I owe?”

You wave your hand in refusal, shaking your head.

“Nothing, consider it a gift from a friend,” you insist, giving her a resolute expression, daring her to argue.

Huffing lightly under her breath at your determination, Natasha gives you a small smile as she relents with a soft, “Thank you.”

Her eyes glance at the darkness outside, seeing how late into the night it is, and she turns back to you, tilting her head in question.

“Can I at least walk you home then?” she offers.

You raise an amused brow at her, probably because your home most likely only takes less than a couple minutes walk from here.

Still, you agree to her request with a nod, unable to resist the opportunity to prolong this time together with her.

“Alright. Let me just close up.”

After you lock the shop, the two of you walk side by side along the sidewalk to your home before you suddenly stop and point to the lone motorcycle parked across the street.

“Is that yours?” you ask curiously.

“Yes, it is,” Natasha says proudly.

“It’s nice,” you compliment before you shoot her a teasing smirk. “It’s definitely cooler than that bicycle you used to ride.”

Natasha lets out a playful offended scoff in disbelief.

“Hey, you’ve always loved it when I let you ride on the back of that bike with me,” she points out.

You chuckle at her exclamation in defense of her precious bicycle, but you don’t deny her accusation.

Your heart warms at the memory of wrapping your arms around her waist, clinging to her from behind as Natasha rides her bicycle down the neighborhood streets.

Your eyes linger on her hand at her side, wanting to feel that warmth again, but you resist the urge to reach for her. Instead, you tuck your hands behind your back as the two of you continue your path.

Once you reach your front door, you turn back around to face Natasha, a somber expression settling over you.

“Will you ever come to visit again?” you ask with a tinge of hope in your tone.

Natasha hesitates, wanting to tell you ‘yes,’ but she knows better than to make promises that she can’t keep, especially with her current situation.

“I don’t know,” Natasha answers honestly in a soft whisper.

You dip your head slightly, a sad smile on your lip.

Natasha swallows her own desires in her heart and gestures awkwardly behind her.

“I should…probably get going before someone sees me,” she says with a small grimace.

You nod at her in understanding, moving to unlock and open your door.

“Stay safe, Natasha,” you tell her, your voice thick with longing. “If anything, I do hope I’ll get the chance to see you again one day.”

When you enter your home and close the door with a dull thud of finality, Natasha's hand rests gently against the solid barrier separating you.

Leaning her forehead against the cool wood, she whispers sadly, "Me too,” before finally turning away.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Ohio - 2016 (2 Months Later)

It was late one evening again when the bell above the door chimed just as you were cleaning up for the day. Looking up, a surprised and excited expression forms on your face when you see who it is.

“Can you take one more?” Natasha asks, a small smile also appearing on her face when she sees you.

With a light chuckle, you approach her, your hands clasped behind your back.

“For you, always,” you reply warmly, stopping in front of her with a fond tilt of your head.

Natasha bites her lips lightly to keep her grin from widening at your words. Just as she’s about to step closer, a gentle knock on the door behind her reminds her of her original reason for coming to see you.

“Actually, it’s not for me though,” Natasha explains before opening the door again and waving someone in.

A brown-haired girl cautiously steps into the salon at Natasha’s invitation. Her eyes look around, examining the room before falling on you with a wary gaze.

“This is Wanda,” Natasha introduces.

The girl gives you a timid wave in greeting from her crossed arm, but she subtly retreats to a position slightly behind Natasha.

Her expression is pinched with apprehension as if she’s anticipating some sort of reaction from you.

You recognize Wanda quickly from the nightly tv alerts, her picture now featured alongside Natasha’s after the news broke about a high-security prison break a month ago.

Before you can offer her some reassurance, another familiar face walks in.

“The perimeter is secure,” the man announces before focusing on you and extending his hand in a greeting. “Hello, I’m Steve.”

Reacting instinctively to his polite greeting, you shake his hand and introduce yourself.

“Hi, my name’s Y/n. I’m Natasha’s friend.”

Steve raises a brow at that and gives you a skeptical look.

“Just a friend? With the way Nat talks about you, I thought she was going to pull the same move as Barton and introduce us to her secret family.”

That draws a curious look from you as you ask him.

“What did she say?”

“Well—”

A loud cough from Natasha interrupts your conversation, drawing your attention before he can continue further.

Natasha’s subtle glare silences Steve, her arms crossed in disapproval, as she grits out to him, “Didn’t you say you wanted to see if you could find a place to resupply?”

Hearing this and wanting to offer some help, you raise your hand to get their attention and interject, “Most places around here are closed at this time, but…”

You pause as you go to the back and retrieve your keys and offer them to Steve, explaining, “...there is a convenience store around the corner that belongs to my ex’s grandparents. They gave me a spare key for if I ever need something. Just write down what you take and leave the money behind the counter. Oh, and the security cameras don’t actually work, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

Steve takes the keys from you with a grateful nod.

“Thank you, this’ll help us out a lot.”

He then turns to Natasha and Wanda.

“I'll meet up with you two when you finish up here then,” he says, heading towards the door.

“I can come help you,” Wanda offers, moving to follow Steve, but Natasha blocks her path with a knowing expression.

“You said you wanted to change your look since we’ll be going into hiding,” she reminds Wanda who twists her lips in disappointment when she realizes she failed to escape.

“I didn’t think that meant we would be forcing someone to do it for me,” Wanda says, still glancing at you with apprehension.

You wave your hand in reassurance, interjecting quickly, “Oh, I don’t mind. Natasha’s not forcing me to do this. I’m happy to help.”

“Well, that’s settled then,” Steve declares with an acknowledging nod to you. “Thanks again, Y/n.”

After a pointed gesture from Natasha, Wanda settles into one of the chairs with a small sigh.

Natasha leans against the counter facing you and Wanda as you move to your position behind the chair.

“So, what color did you want to dye your hair?” you ask her.

“It doesn’t matter,” Wanda replies with a resigned tone, her eyes downcasted and focused on her hands in her lap.

You frown slightly in concern at her defeated attitude, and you look at Natasha, giving her a meaningful look.

“What do you think, Natasha? I believe I got some new colors recently. Maybe purple or green would fit her,” you ponder out loud as if actually considering those options.

Wanda’s head shoots up in shock as she sputters incredulously, “Green?”

Natasha grins, catching on to your intentions, as she shrugs casually at your suggestions, adding, “You could never go wrong with blue.”

You laugh at her comment, nodding in agreement.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Wanda says quickly, a hint of exasperation in her voice. She points seriously at the two of you. “No to all those. I don’t want it to be that big of a change.”

Her voice lowers to a sad but determined tone.

“I don’t want it to be as if they succeeded in forcing me to change who I am,” Wanda admits as she stares down at her hands where a red ball of mist flows between her fingers in a gentle pattern.

“Well, the great thing about changing your hair is that ultimately whatever you decide, it’s your choice to make,” you say, your gaze meeting Natasha’s slightly widened eyes, before continuing firmly, “No one can take that decision from you.”

Wanda contemplates your words for a moment and then nods at you decisively.

“Can you lighten my hair into an auburn color?” she asks.

You give her a gentle smile and nod, replying, “Alright then. Auburn it is.”

Before you touch her hair, you give her a questioning look and ask, “Are you comfortable for me to touch your hair and start?”

Wanda blinks at you in surprise, and her tense posture relaxes slightly when she realizes you’re asking for her permission.

With a nod, she responds softly, “Go ahead.”

As you work on Wanda’s hair, Natasha watches you intently with a fond look in her eyes, lost in her thoughts at the sight of you and glad that she had this opportunity to see you again.

Before she knows it, you’re already finishing up applying the last coatings of the dye on Wanda’s hair when you suddenly speak up.

“You know, I’ve always had a soft spot for redheads,” you state casually before meeting Natasha’s eyes with a teasing smile.

“Are you trying to say that you don’t have a soft spot for me now that I’m blonde?” Natasha asks with an amused raise of a brow.

You shrug nonchalantly and hum in thought as if having to contemplate the answer.

Natasha huffs in disbelief and rolls her eyes slightly at you.

However, your words remind her of what you mentioned earlier to Steve, and Natasha can’t help but ask curiously.

“Was your ex also a redhead?” she asks, her tone seemingly casual.

“Impressive, your deduction skills as a spy must be really good,” you tease, chuckling lightly, as you return your focus to Wanda’s hair.

“The two of you must’ve been pretty serious for their grandparents to still trust you like that,” Natasha says, unable to hide the slight bitterness of the thought slipping into her tone.

You laugh and shake your head quickly in denial.

“No, definitely not. She moved away years ago, and our relationship didn’t really end on good terms. My close relationship with her grandparents is kind of like my revenge on her. Plus, they’re actually a sweet old couple.”

“Oh,” Natasha says, a small breath of relief releasing from her.

“I’m not really seeing anyone at the moment,” you admit softly.

“Natasha’s single too,” Wanda chimes in, her focus originally on the sitcom playing on the tv but now looking between the two of you with interest.

“That’s a surprise,” you say with a laugh as you go into the back to retrieve some things.

Natasha chuckles lightly as you leave before giving Wanda the same warning glare that she gave Steve. Unfazed, Wanda just gestures with her head encouragingly in your direction.

However, Natasha shakes her head resolutely in a silent reply to her, and before Wanda can attempt to convince her further, you come back and begin doing the last steps on Wanda’s hair.

With one final brush of Wanda’s newly red hair, you declare happily, “All finished.”

“Thanks, Y/n,” Wanda says as she stands from the chair and goes to examine her hair in the mirror.

You watch as a small smile appears on her face, and you let out a breath of relief, glad to finally see Wanda in a moment of happiness.

Natasha comes up next to you and holds out some money in an offer.

“Thank you for doing this,” Natasha says.

You shake your head in refusal, your hands folded behind you as you face her.

“I’m sure you all need this more than I do,” you say resolutely.

Natasha chuckles lightly and huffs in disbelief.

“You know, you can’t always give me free passes like this every time. You should be paid for your work,” Natasha points out.

You hum in thought before tilting your head at her with a questioning look.

“How about dinner?” you suggest.

A surprised expression appears on Natasha’s face, but she hesitates to answer, facing the same situation again of wanting to accept your offer, but a beep at her side along with the message that comes with it reminds her why she can’t.

“Steve’s on his way back. I have to take Wanda back to the safe house and then we’re moving right after,” she explains sadly with regret. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Nat. I know,” you say gently in understanding, taking a small step back from her and changing your tone into one lighter.

“But if you’re ever in the area again, you’re always welcome here.”

You turn to look at Wanda, adding, “All of you.”

“Can I walk you back home at least?” Natasha asks.

Before you can respond, the sound of a car pulling up outside catches your attention, and based on Natasha’s disappointed expression, you know that’s probably Steve.

“It’s okay, Natasha. You can go,” you reassure her, offering a comforting smile.

Wanda gives you a small wave goodbye as she exits, but Natasha lingers at the door, her gaze fixed on you.

“About before…” she starts before hesitating and trailing off into silence as she presses her lips together in contemplation.

When her shoulder drops slightly in defeat and disappointment, you know she’s decided against whatever she’s about to say.

“You can just tell me later,” you suggest. “You know, whenever I get to see you again.”

Though you both know that you don’t know when that’ll be.

“Right,” Natasha agrees, her smile tinged with sadness as she gives you one last glance and moving to leave. “I’ll see you next time, Y/n.”

After closing up, you head home, the events of the evening replaying in your mind.

Though the goodbye was bittersweet, you’re still happy you got a chance to see Natasha again so soon and even meet the other important people in her life.

As you step out of your bathroom, just finished with a shower, a knock on your door interrupts your thoughts.

You check who it is before quickly unlocking and opening the door for them.

“Hey…” Natasha’s voice trails off, her gaze taking in your appearance.

Remnants of water from the shower still remain on your exposed skin since you decided to wear some light clothing to counter the warm temperature outside.

Leaning against the doorway, you greet her with a curious tilt of your head at her sudden silence.

“Hey,” you reply in greeting.

Natasha shakes her head lightly as if coming out of a daze and gestures in a direction behind her.

“So, uh, Steve said that he can take Wanda back to the safe house. She really loves her hair by the way. Um, she also told me that I should..uh..I should see you again before we leave…”

Your lips twitch in amusement at Natasha’s endearing ramble, your gaze softening as you continue to listen.

“…but it looks like you’re probably about to go to sleep, so I should just go,” Natasha concludes, turning to leave.

“Wait,” you call out, your hand instinctively reaching towards her, but you stop yourself before you touch her, your hand retracting back to your side, a mixture of hesitation and longing in your movements.

Natasha pauses at your request, and when she sees your hesitating action, her features soften in understanding.

Stepping back closer to you, she extends her hand in invitation.

“You can touch me, Y/n,” Natasha reassures you. “I never have a problem if it’s you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, touched by her trust.

Tentatively, you reach out, your hand finding hers, before checking for any signs of discomfort but end up seeing none from her.

Your hand then trails up lightly to her shoulder and then to the back of her neck, your fingers play with the strands of her short hair as you watch her carefully.

Natasha closes her eyes at your touch, the same serene expression appearing on her face as before.

Seeing this, you bring your other hand to cup her cheek as you urge gently.

“What was it that you wanted to tell me earlier?”

Natasha opens her eyes and meets your gaze with an affectionate look, her hand moving up to hold the back of yours as she responds.

“That it was real,” she confesses softly.

You furrow your brows lightly in confusion, prompting Natasha to clarify.

“Your question from before,” she explains. “It was real for me too.”

Natasha lets out a shaky breath as she continues, “I loved that I had you on my side back then, and the truth is…I’d love to have you by my side now.”

Surprised by her admission, you search her eyes but only find genuine warmth and sincerity in her gaze.

Natasha’s smile softens, and you find yourself drawn to her at the action, unconsciously leaning in closer.

Even though Natasha gave you permission earlier to touch her, this desire that you have is different, so you give her the same questioning look that you always have before and ask hesitantly in a breathless whisper.

“Can I kiss you?”

Natasha chuckles lightly under her breath at your question, resting her forehead against yours.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

With a gentle pull, you close the small distance between the two of you, sharing a tender kiss with her. Her lips are soft against yours, fitting perfectly and enveloping you with the same warmth that you've always felt from her.

When you finally pull away, your breath still mingling with hers, Natasha gives you a teasing grin.

“So, about that dinner?”

Laughing, you roll your eyes fondly and wrap your arms around her to pull her into your home.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Ohio - 2018 (2 Years Later)

The soft rustling of movement reaches your ears, pulling you from your sleep. You glance at the clock on the nightstand, its dim glow showing the late hour, before turning your gaze to the familiar figure standing beside the bed, quietly slipping her shirt over her frame with practiced ease.

“Nat?”

At the sound of your voice, Natasha turns back to you, her expression reassuring as she moves to sit beside you. Her hand rests gently on your shoulder, stopping you when she sees that you’re about to sit up.

“Go back to sleep, moya lyubov,” Natasha whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “Wanda and Vision missed their check-in, so Steve and I are just going to check up on them real quick.”

A flicker of unease flares within you at the news, coupled with the realization that Natasha intends to go straight toward potential unknown dangers.

Your hand reaches out and grips her arms, a surge of unsettling fear tightening in your chest.

“Natasha, don’t…”

Don’t go

The words are trapped in your throat as you stare at her.

Holding your gaze, Natasha’s eyes reflect both love and determination.

Love for you…and for her makeshift family.

And as much as you wish for her safety, you know you can’t keep her from her loyalty and duty to them.

With a bittersweet smile, you cradle her face in your hands, suppressing the selfish urge to ask her to stay.

“Don’t take too long to come back,” you manage, a hint of teasing in your voice as you catch a strand of her blonde hair in your hand. “We wouldn’t want your hair to be two different colors by the time you return.”

Natasha chuckles lightly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on your lips.

“It’s going to be a quick trip. I’ll be back soon,” she promises.

You pull her close, giving her another lingering kiss, before wrapping your arms around her in a tight hug and tucking your head against her shoulder.

“And I’ll be here when you do,” you whisper against her in a promise in return.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Ohio - 2023 (5 Years Later)

In the quiet solitude of the salon, Natasha stands alone, the weight of the five years after the snap hangs heavy in the air.

A mixture of exhaustion and sorrow is etched on her face as she examines the space.

With a weary sigh, she rubs at her eyes, wiping away the stray tears at the memories of you. She remembers vividly her last moments with you, your unspoken words to her.

The truth is she knew, deep down, what you were about to say to her at that time. And she understood why you stopped yourself.

Because if you had asked her not to go, she would’ve chosen to stay with you without any hesitation.

Seating herself in one of the chairs, Natasha meets her reflection in the mirror with unwavering determination.

Her hair has grown out to its former length over the past five years. Yet, traces of the dyed parts you did for her still linger at the tips.

Those strands of blonde color are her lifeline — a connection to the part of her life that she holds dear.

They serve as a constant reminder to keep going.

To keep fighting for a way to bring everyone back.

To bring you back.

Because amidst all the uncertainties of the world and the future, one thing remains steadfast in Natasha’s heart — she would do anything to see you again.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n : Thank you for reading!

Part 2

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