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“Hey, princess,” Maria breathes, and Nat's pretty sure her knees have never felt this weak, not even on that one mission where she got shot three times in the same shoulder. And she really, really, really just wants to fall into her arms and hold her and interrogate her about why exactly she’s moving her left leg so gingerly, but she is and always has been and always will be an agent, so there’s a couple things she needs to do before she can just fall into her.
“What the fuck, Hill.”
Maria stares at her, baffled.
“I.. thought you’d be happy to see me?”
“Of course I’m happy to see you, jackass,” Nat says, shaking her head in part due to her annoyance and in part to try to dispel the frankly overwhelming relief she felt now that she knew Maria was okay, “but I’d be happier if it hadn’t spent the past week and a half wondering where my girlfriend disappeared to with no warning and no communication and no fucking life status update!”
Maria winces.
“I’m sorry.”
Natasha stares, incredulous and trying to control the adrenaline coursing through her veins that is currently threatening to shake her body apart.
“Sorry? You’re sorry? No contact for a week; Fury wouldn’t fucking tell me where you were and I thought you were dead and you’re sorry?”
Maria swallows, hard, still clearly favoring her right leg. And then smiles guiltily.
“It was last-minute,” she starts, holding a hand up as Natasha attempts to interrupt.
“a junior agent was in danger. They thought it would be a quick extraction, no more than 50 hours, and by the time we figured out that that was not the case, I had no way to contact anyone. Including Fury. So if he said he didn’t know where I was, he wasn’t really lying.”
Natasha’s mouth snaps shut, and Maria continues.
“And I am sorry, because I know I scared you and I…” she pauses, swallows, “I hate that, that you thought I was dead, but baby, I really, truly had no way to tell you.”
Natasha just stares, seemingly looking for a further apology. Or at least, that’s what it looks like to Maria. (In reality, she’s holding back tears and wants to just pull her into a hug, like the voice in her head says she should’ve done in the first place, but she’s too stubborn to break the moment and so she just stares.)
Maria smiles again, still guilty, eyes a little wet (Fuck, says that little voice in Nat’s head, ‘cause hell if it isn’t her fault for making Maria cry), and shrugs helplessly.
“I’m so sorry, Nat,” she finishes.
“You keep saying that,” Natasha says, and maybe her voice sounds a little too level because Maria looks like she’s about to say it again, and so finally, finally, Natasha steps forward and into a very confused, very exhausted Maria’s arms. And you will not catch Natasha Romanov waxing poetic about anyone ever but this feels… right. It all feels right, even the word Natasha dropped mid-argument that they’ve never used before and that Maria will probably make them have a conversation about but right now, right here in her arms, even that awkward, long-overdue conversation sounds pretty damn good.
-
“So… we’re up to ‘girlfriend’ status now?” Maria murmurs, one hand flicking through TV channels and the other resting on Nat’s waist, the arm it’s attached to curled to hold Natasha securely against her body. Nat struggles against said arm at the comment, stuttering, “No, if you don’t want-”
Maria breaks into a smile, pressing a kiss into Nat’s hair. “Natasha. Of course I want to be your girlfriend. Of course.”
Natasha exhales shakily, nestling back into Maria’s side and refusing to acknowledge the warmth that had blinked through her body at that remark.
–
“Does ‘girlfriend’ status mean I get an explanation before you disappear next time?”
“I’ll revoke that status if you don’t cut it out.”
“You would never.”