rodrikstark's headcanons (part 2)

n. romanoff + ballet lessons

"you look good," she comments.

you study the mirror with concern, trying to match the graceful lines of natasha's form. all you see is the embodiment of awkward and clunky. "not as good as you."

"practice makes perfect." you didn't think it was possible, but her back straightens even more. "also, y'know, years of harsh training," she adds bitterly.

you drop your posture immediately, feeling stupid. "maybe we should stop."

her reflection in the wall-to-wall mirror smiles, small but genuine. "it's fine. really." she draws her foot back and settles into first position.

you frown. "i don't believe you."

she laughs, low and pretty. "i like spending time with you." natasha faces you now, her soft palm nudging your arm.

"we can do that some other way." you think about sinking to the floor, removing your pointe shoes, getting something to eat. with some convincing, maybe you could watch a movie afterwards, enjoying each other's company in the darkness of a theater.

"fine." natasha sighs lightly. "but try the tendu one more time."

you shove your tongue between gritted teeth, revolving to face the mirror. with slightly shaky muscles, you stretch yourself into something attempting to resemble natasha's perfect ballerina figure.

"you look good."

a hand at the base of your spine calms your frustration, but not by much. "tasha—"

"c'mon, i want you to believe it." she presses a small kiss to your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the mirror, smiling when you smile. "you look beautiful."