A THOUSAND LIVES ▹ N. Romanoff

SEVEN. in which we're in the aftermath

"It's ok, Natasha," She pushes red tresses out of Natasha's face. "I know it's a lot, it's why Thor doesn't want mortals drinking it. The effects are..." She pauses. "...well, I'm sure you know what the effects are like."

" 'm sorry." Natasha goes in for another hug, burying her face into Evangeline's chest. Evangeline says nothing, continuously stroking the woman's hair. Even though she's happy Natasha came to her before anyone else, she feels strange. Uncomfortable, even. This side of Natasha wasn't shown to her because she felt comfortable enough to trust her; Natasha was forced into this by a stupid mistake.

Still, she can't just throw the woman on the streets. That'd be worse than any embarrassment that may be felt in the morning. So, she takes on the most domestic role she's ever taken. It's strange, taking care of someone who's notoriously independent. Listening to her pour her heart out when she usually protects her heart under lock and key.

Truthfully, she doesn't hate knowing that Natasha likes her. She'd prefer if she had came out with a romantic love song with vanilla candles and rose petals on the warm, king-sized bed. But still, the confirmation was nice, albeit selfish. Natasha is having a existential crisis and Evangeline is thinking about herself? How this made her feel? She mentally berates herself for it.

By the time she pulls herself out of her thoughts, Natasha has fallen asleep against her. She uses Evangeline as a pillow, continuously hanging onto her. Evangeline scoops her up bridal-style before carrying her into the guest bedroom. She fails to place Natasha in the bed; the redhead clings on like a sloth to a tree. Every attempt ends with Natasha holding on tighter than before.

Evangeline gives up after try #4. She accepts the fact that she'd be going to bed with Natasha hanging onto her like an ant locking onto a stick. She carries the redhead into her bedroom, tucking the both of them into bed. Natasha seems to like this, at least subconsciously; she lets out a breathy sigh that's clouded in sleep. Evangeline can feel a smile creep onto her lips.

⭑ ⭑ ⭑

Evangeline finishes breakfast for the two; eggs, sausage, and a glass of orange juice — far better than other juices, something that neither of her brothers agree with — on the side. Before she can turn, she feels a... presence. Cold. Silent.

Natasha.

She flinches again, letting a quiet expletive out under her breath. Natasha's closer to her than she realized. "Natasha, you-" She chuckles, shaking her head. "Seriously, doll, you're- this quiet, stalkery thing isn't fun."

Natasha looks like a wreck. Sunglasses cover her face, her reddish eyes hiding behind the frames. Where she found the glasses, Evangeline has no idea, but she figures it's better not to ask. Natasha's tired, she walks like a drunkard. Her hair's even frizzier than what it was last night. For lack of better words, she's more hungover than a pastor's kid after their first party without their parents.

"Please stop yelling." Evangeline nearly misses the words entirely. She realizes that Natasha is squinting as she ambles over to the fridge. She can't tell if Natasha remembers the night before, and she certainly doesn't want to remind her. So, she waits.

"Sorry," She whispers back, handing the plate of food to the woman. "Do you need help carrying it?"

"I'm not some petulant child, I'm fine." There it is. There's the Black Widow. Evangeline watches as Natasha turns and begins to walk off, stumbling away. "You're not a child, but you're most certainly hungover," Evangeline rushes to support Natasha as the woman attempts to pull away.

"Stop." Her voice takes on a stern tone, surprising Natasha a bit. "Let me help you."

The redhead complies sullenly as Evangeline helps her to the table. "I'm, like, 90% sure you're still drunk. Do you still feel drunk?"

"I feel you should leave me alone." Natasha bites back like an angry snapping turtle. Evangeline's eyes narrow at this. "...I'm going with yes." She brushes over the harsh remark before retreating into the kitchen. A moment passes, and she returns with a small pink fruit in her hand. "What the hell is that?" Natasha's disgusted, her nose scrunching as she looks at it. It's cute, even though Evangeline would rather die than admit it.

"Avufruit," The pink fruit resembles an orange with the scent of a pineapple and the skin of a dragon fruit. "It's supposed to help with hangovers. Or, whatever the hell you have going on."

Natasha ponders momentarily. All of this is going against all of her instincts. That food could be poisoned.

"Honey, you either take it or you don't." Evangeline accidentally snaps. Natasha eyes the fruit one more time before pushing it away with the palm of her hand.

"I don't." Natasha looks tempted, never once looking away from the fruit. "I think I like it better when you let me help you." She mutters before peeling the avufruit for herself. "Are you feeling... at least, not as terrible as before?"

Natasha doesn't answer. She's reverting to her old self, even though her face is somehow both green and pale. It contrasts with her hair, making her resemble angry acne. "Sweetheart, you're not lookin' hot, just let me help."

"No-" She can barely get through the word before hiccuping. Evangeline recognizes that gassy-baby look and immediately reaches for a trash can. She holds it up to Natasha, who grips onto the sides for dear life. The raven-haired goddess rubs her back, waiting for Natasha to finish.

"As you were saying?" She raises a brow skeptically as Natasha wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Shut up." She sends a glare towards Evangeline. Natasha begins building her walls yet again, trying to secure herself in this... imaginary fort. Evangeline, for one, is quickly growing tired of it.

"Look, I get that you're independent or whatever, but I've already helped the hell out of you. And as amazing as I am, I can't go back in time. I can't bribe Father Time and make it so Thor un-gave you the drink. I've... Natasha, I've seen your sensitive side. And it sucks. And I'm sorry. But you are in no position to say 'no' to me right. So-" She storms back into the kitchen before pulling out another avufruit from the fridge. "You're gonna eat this goddamn fruit, because if you throw up on my couch, I will rain hellfire on you." Her glare is steady and intense, like she's holding a sword up to Natasha's throat. "Seriously, eat the fucking fruit." She forces it into Natasha's hand.

Natasha looks up at the goddess before hesitantly accepting the avufruit. Evangeline watches carefully as Natasha peels the fruit before slowly eating it. She doesn't admit that she enjoys the taste, not that she has to; the slight widening of her eyes tells Evangeline everything she needs to know.

"Thank you." Evangeline breathes as Natasha finishes the food. Still, Natasha says nothing, and she can barely look at Evangeline. "Seriously, please, Natasha. Just let yourself relax, that vodka is no joke... and that's coming from me, and I drink it like water."

" 'm fine." Natasha goes to stand, only to stumble before sitting right back down. "God, your stubborness is gonna be the death of you." Evangeline mutters, shaking her head before jumping at the sound of the phone ringing. It doesn't sound like her ringtone, and she doesn't have a landline.

She follows the sound until she retrieves the phone from the couch cushions. The couch must've swallowed the device at some point during Natasha's sobbing session. Evangeline checks the caller ID; Clint. "Nat, it's C-" She turns. Natasha is gone.

"Is she serious?" She looks down at the phone. "Natasha, you little-"