Dancing in Her Webs | Yelena Belova [1]

Chapter 2

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While Irina set the laptop to play Natasha's favourite movie, Natasha popped open a bottle of beer, glancing at something in her hand by the kitchen sink.

"Hey, can I have one?" Irina asked from the table, double-clicking on the mouse pad to pause the movie.

"No," the Widow placed the box of —what Irina now sees— is hair dye. "You're not old enough," she slid in next to the underaged woman, clicked play, then sipped her beer.

"All you got from the store, besides beer, is that weird juice thing I'm not fond of."

"It's like apple juice." Natasha shrugged, "You like apple juice."

"Yes, apple juice. Not some knock-off foreign juice that tastes bland," Irina grumbled, while the movie continued playing softly in the background that Nat never once took her emerald gaze off of.

Nat chuckled at Irina's complaint, "Suck it up."

Rolling her eyes, Irina did —eventually— suck it up and watched the movie, occasionally stealing spoonfuls of Natasha's yogurt she began snacking on moments ago. Night had fallen, nothing but the dim light from the laptop and the small yellow light in the kitchen of the trailer on.

"You're not a sportsman, Mr. Bond."

"Why did you break up the encounter with my pet python?" Nat spoke along with the movie that caused Irina to chuckle softly. "Because I discovered he had a crush on me"

The generator rumbled lowly, the small yellow light in the kitchen flickering before the power completely went out.

"Oh, great," Natasha commented. Irina looked around in confusion while Nat placed the cup of yogurt on the table, "I'm gonna go try startin' it up again. Stay inside."

Irina only shrugged, leaning back against the cushions. "Okay. I'll pause it." She double-clicked on the mousepad, listening to Natasha rummage around the trailer for her jacket before exiting the trailer.

While Nat messed with the generator, Irina grabbed ahold of her yogurt and finished the container out of pure boredom. It's not like she had her phone to play games on anymore.

She perked up when the sound of the car door closing hit her ears. Natasha cracked open the door to the trailer, Irina got to her feet and walked to her. She knelt to roughly Nat's level.

"Generator's outta gas," the Widow informed. "Sit tight. You know where the gun is. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Irina nodded in the darkness, though Natasha couldn't see. "Okay, be safe. And, if you think about it, can you find real apple juice? Or something that isn't so bland?"

Natasha laughed, but nonetheless, agreed, "Alright, fine. Remember—"

"Don't talk to strangers, even though we're in the middle of nowhere," Irina chuckled under her breath. "I know the whole mom speech. Now go. Before I freeze to death."

Nat smiled in the darkness and closed the door. Soon, the car is gone, and Irina's all alone. She powered the laptop down, for the sake of consuming its battery life in case the generator decides to go out again in the future, then leaned back against the bench seat once again.

While staring out the window she watched Natasha disappear into complete darkness —a blanket wrapped tightly around her small frame— her mind wandered to her father. The memories she chose every time was her pre-teen self; she's on her special stool, watching her father in awe as he worked on Mark II and III, and anything he happened to be working on at the time, while he spoke to J.A.R.V.I.S. and Dummy, one of his many robots that only helped but never talked. Irina's never found anything to be more amusing than her father bickering with Dummy —and he built him.