Breaking Free | Natasha x OC

Chapter Sixty-Six

"The humblest tasks get beautified when loving hands do them."
____

2023

Gentle music played along the walls and across the floors, filling the empty spaces with a peaceful ambiance.

Natasha stood behind Tara, both of them standing. Nat's hands were around her wife's waist, her head rested against her back and shoulder while Natara played the piano smoothly.

Nat moved her head to rest her chin on Tara's shoulder and look over it while her fingers danced along the keyboard.
"You have the the perfect hands to be a painter," Nat murmered softly, making Tara pause.

"I've thought about painting before. It's sounds therapeutic."

Nat hummed shutting her eyes. Tara stopped playing, instead using her hands to hold Natasha's, the ones around her waist.
"You could paint me like one of your French girls," Natasha grinned quietly.

Natara smiled as she understood the reference. "You have ulterior motives, I see."

"Me? Never." Nat took a deep breath then, sighing. "We need to get going if we want to fetch the last of our things."

They each looked around the empty room, knowing the rest of their house looked the same. There were boxes scattered throughout the whole place. Grabbing the keys from on top of her piano, Tara groaned.

"If we must."

Nat was already ahead of her, taking the rest of their stuff they'd need for the trip there. She reprimanded her wife with a hum. "You were the one who wanted to move into our own place."

Natara huffed. "I just didn't think it would take this much work." The brunette headed back over to her wife. "Why can't we just pay someone else to do it?"

Nat tsked. "You wanted a fresh start. We both agreed to do everything ourselves. You wanted to make it ours, remember?"

"No," Natara pouted.
Nat grinned, kissing her quickly.

"C'mon, baby, last trip."

"But then we still need to unpack."

"It'll be fun."

"Liar."

***

2022

Natara eyed her wife cautiously, building up the nerve to speak about this. She'd been thinking about it for ages now but knew it might be a sensitive topic.

There was music playing gently in the kitchen, her wife grabbing the cutlery they'd need for dinner. Natasha looked so beautiful in this light, her predominantly red hair shining in this lighting.

"What if...," Natara spoke softly, "we get a place of our own?" Her words were a little nervous, and really quiet.
Natasha went still.
"Permanently," She added.