Chasing Ghosts | Natasha Romanoff

Chapter 107: Behind Every Successful Woman... Is A Brunette

March 12, 2028

Natasha

Natasha squinted at the information on screen, clicking furiously from one document to the other and occasionally scribbling something down on the paper by her hand. The case she'd taken last week continued to be a brain twister.

When Katya left for work this morning, and Maya rushed out the door to catch the bus, she had locked herself in her office—the guest room which had turned into her work office over the past two years—and only came out to use the bathroom or get something to eat.

She didn't remember reaching out to flick the desk lamp on when the light started to fade outside, but it was well past five when a soft knock on the door startled her out of her concentration. Her eyes were dry, her throat scratchy, and her muscles stiff, but she managed a smile at the sight of her wife peeking in, her figure blurry until she blinked furiously.

"Oh, hey, honey." Natasha's voice held surprise. It felt like she'd only sat down an hour ago. "Are you home already?"

Katya's smile faltered, realization creeping into her features, and Natasha cringed a bit, knowing she was about to get scolded. And rightfully so. She had not been looking after herself at all today, the evidence of that written all over her and her desk. No empty plates that indicated she'd been eating, no empty cups or mugs, and her skin pale for lack of sunlight.

"It's been eight hours since I left, love." Katya stepped further into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. Natasha uncrossed her legs when it became clear that she wanted to sit on her lap. And she did, sideways and with a soft sigh, looping her arms around Natasha's neck. Her nails scratched gently at the back of it, but her eyes were filled with concern. "You need to take better care of yourself when I'm not home."

Natasha looked away, down at her desk, feeling a bit like a hypocrite after always being the one drilling Katya to take care of herself. "I know, I know." Her hand settled on Katya's back, absentmindedly running her fingertips up and down her spine. She was too tired to argue or give a witty reply.

Katya must have noticed and decided to go easy on her, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Are you any closer?" She asked, eyeing the computer screen and all the papers scattered around.

An involuntary sigh escaped Natasha's lips. "Not much." She took off her blue light glasses and rubbed her eye with the back of her hand, feeling a headache coming up. But instant relief came when the hand in her neck slid up into her hair, massaging her scalp with experienced precision, and she nearly started purring like a cat.

"You'll get it," Katya said without doubt, smiling down at her.

The chair creaked when Natasha leaned back in it, looking up at Katya's relaxed face. Her blue eyes were soft, curious, attentive, awaiting Natasha's next words patiently. "How was work?"

"Good." The brunette perked up slightly. "Had some cake because it was someone's birthday."

"Oh, is that what you do at work all day? Eat cake?" Natasha teased, her hand sliding from Katya's spine to her side, holding her closer over the fabric of her hoodie. She smelled good; a distinctive mix of laundry detergent, deodorant and the gym.

"Sometimes," Katya admitted, her gaze flickering briefly to Natasha's lips as they curved into a wider smile. More serious and shy, she added, "I danced again too, on my break."

Surprised, the redhead's eyebrows shot up. "You did?" Rarely, if ever, Katya danced. Or at least what she told Natasha about. Last she heard about it was more than a year ago.