𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 (𝟑/𝟑)

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a/n: contains smut

It's 6am and Natasha's in the kitchen, preparing a pancake batter while you're — seemingly — asleep. She whisks sugar into the eggs, adds flour, yogurt, milk...and suddenly feels two arms snake around her waist, a warm body slumping against hers from behind.

You rest your head on her shoulder, yawning and closing your eyes. "Why did you leave", you mumble against the soft fabric of her sweatshirt.

"I couldn't sleep anymore, sweetheart." Natasha puts her hands on yours, caressing them for a moment before she continues cooking.

You yawn again. "You could've stayed and held me."

"I thought about doing that, but surprising you with pancakes seemed like a better idea."

You lift your head, peeking over her shoulder. "Pancakes? Really?", you ask, just as excited as a kid would be.

"Yes, really. I know you like them...", she says, adding a pinch of salt to the batter, "in fact, you seemed to be crazy about them. You'd be the first in the kitchen whenever Wanda made them."

"I am." You kiss her shoulder. "Thanks, Nat."

"You're welcome." She puts a towel over the bowl and turns around, wrapping her arms around your waist. She kisses you, her lips warm and sweet.

You pull away, cupping her face and caressing her cheeks. "You know, Wanda texted me. She said that apparently Ross and some other people were in Europe — Norway too —, looking for us. But they had no chance. There's no trace of us to be found anywhere." You smile and kiss her again. "They can't track us down that easily, huh."

She smiles, her eyes shimmering. "No, they can't. And I'm happy about that." Natasha brushes her nose against yours, gently kissing your cheek. "And they won't find us. Not if we stay right here."

"Our little hiding spot", you whisper against her lips. "How nice."

The redhead rests her forehead against yours, a soft smile on her full lips as she closes her eyes. "I agree."

. . .

Christmas is nearing, and you don't know what to do about it. Usually, the entire compound gets decorated by everyone, you have a huge Christmas party and spend a lot of time with the team. But now that you're in a small trailer in Norway, alone, you aren't really sure how to spend the holidays.

"We could still celebrate", you say slowly. Your head is on Natasha's stomach as you're laying in bed together. "A small Christmas, you know? With a tiny tree and a few gifts and chicken that we bake in the oven. We could decorate the trailer, too."

"Y/N, we're not religious. Maybe there's no point in doing that if we're by ourselves in this trailer." She runs her hand over your head.

"What do you mean 'no point'? Christmas would give us the opportunity to change our usual routine, which has been the same for almost three months now. It could be fun, and sweet."

"Well...you're right." Natasha glances at you. "Are you sure it will be worth the work though? And the risk of being seen in town?"

"If they haven't seen us yet, then they also won't in the future." You sit up and kiss her, smiling happily. "I can't wait."

Natasha chuckles quietly and pulls you into a tight embrace. "If you're happy, I'm happy", she whispers, kissing your head.

. . .

You find a tiny Christmas tree that is just small enough to fit into your trailer. You decorate it with a garland made of popcorn and cranberries, which you made yourself — a bad idea, as your fingers are still hurting almost two days later.

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