A THOUSAND LIVES ▹ N. Romanoff

SEVEN. in which we're in the aftermath

[ A THOUSAND LIVES ]
chapter seven; in which we're in the aftermath

❝ Are you ready to talk, sweetheart? ❞

EVANGELINE STAYS AWAKE WHILE NATASHA SHOWERS. The woman is obviously unstable, each step seemingly going along its own path. She stays near the bathroom just in case Natasha were to slip.

She makes a meal for the both of them when Natasha finishes. She looks over at the microwave time; 2:10 am. Evangeline sighs before refocusing on the pasta in the skillet.

She listens to Natasha's footsteps as she turns the corner. When Evangeline turns to face her, Natasha is clad in an oversized grey Nirvana shirt and plaid pajama pants. She's practically swimming in the shirt, considering Evangeline is a solid six inches taller than her. Her hair is damp, her skin shining with freshly applied lotion. Intoxication lingers on and around her person, the woman still swaying slightly.

"Your timing's impeccable," Evangeline begins placing the pasta into a warm bowl. "I just finished. Promise me you won't throw this up later."

Natasha says nothing, only stepping up to Evangeline. The raven-haired goddess has her back turned, and Natasha's default setting is as silent as a shadow. Evangeline doesn't realize how close the Avenger was until pale arms wrap around her waist. She sharply inhales, flinching as she nearly drops her spatula. "Jesus, Natasha, you scared the hell out o-" She stops when she feels two wet spots soaking through her top. She looks down to find the woman in tears.

"Aw, honey..." Evangeline pulls her in with her free arm, allowing the woman to sob into her freely. She passes Natasha the bowl before leading her to the dining room table. "What happened?"

Natasha doesn't respond, only sniffling over her food. Evangeline doesn't press on any further, patiently waiting for the redhead to finish her food. When she does, Natasha looks up at her with sad eyes. "Are you ready to talk, sweetheart?" All of this feels very domestic, and she doesn't hate it. She hates that she doesn't hate it.

"I did it on purpose." She admits, Evangeline's brows furrowing. "Not- not the drinking, that was Thor's fault."

"Oh, yeah, most definitely it is. Continue."

"The flirting. With- with-" She struggles with the name. "yeah, him. I knew it'd piss you off, and it was working well enough, until-" The waterworks start up again. "and now I'm all drunk and soppy and horny because you're really hot and now I can't stop talking because of that stupid drink Thor gave me and- and-" Any words she tries to say boil down into hiccups. Evangeline pulls her into another hug before leading her onto the couch.