Chapter Text
Once again, Yelena wakes before Natasha. This time, however, she cannot bask in the warmth of her blanket cocoon and Natasha wrapped around her because Yelena’s entire body is in pain. Her back aches like she’s an old woman who just deadlifted a sack of bricks, her muscles feel a bizarre combination of numb and incredibly sore, and her stomach is cramping like it’s trying to yeet her uterus out of her vagina. Which it is. Letting out an alarmingly pitiful whimper, Yelena curls into herself as tightly as possible while pulling the mass of blankets closer to her.
Yelena’s efforts must dislodge Natasha because not a moment later, Natasha is grumbling in a sleepy half-aware state while fumbling around for Yelena’s blankets.
It is just like Natalia, Yelena thinks grumpily to herself, always hogging things for herself even when others are clearly in excruciating pain and need it far more. Yelena’s grip tightens on her blankets and she refuses to budge, even when Natasha begins to tug.
“Let go, rooskaya,” Natasha mumbles, “You cannot hog all of the blankets.”
Yelena refuses to be moved, “No. They are mine. I deserve them because I am in pain and you are making the situation worse, thinking only about yourself.”
A pregnant pause follows Yelena’s declaration, Natasha ceasing her efforts while her brain catches up with Yelena’s words. Suddenly Yelena feels herself wrapped up around her blankets, Natasha’s head digging into the covers near Yelena’s shoulder. To the best of her ability, Natasha cuddles into Yelena, as if her embrace can soothe the pain from a decade of loneliness.
Yelena is not willing to concede total defeat, but she must admit that Natasha Cuddles™ do an excellent job of closing the gap. Unfortunately, Natasha Cuddles™ are unable to chase away her body’s monthly insistence on suffering. It seems no amount of warm and fuzzy feelings can compete with the female menstrual cycle, to Yelena’s great despair.
To that effect, Yelena buries herself into Natasha, as if she is trying to fuse her and Natasha into one being. She mulls the thought over and finds that she is not in the least opposed to the idea because at least it means Natasha cannot leave her without severe bodily injury.
The semi-idyllic morning is ruined when she hears meowing at the edge of the bed, Liho making her hunger clearly known. Yelena clings harder to Natasha, but her efforts are for naught as Natasha begins to remove herself from the bed, gently prying Yelena’s grip away from her.
Although she is a prideful creature, Yelena is not above guilting Natasha into ignoring her cat and instead giving Yelena all her attention. “Stop leaving, Natalia. You always leave.” She also attempts to appear as pitiful as possible in the hopes that it will sway Natasha.
Despite her efforts, Natasha continues infuriatingly to leave and coo after Liho, “Don’t worry Yelena, I’ll be back. Just gotta feed this little monster over here, right?” She continues making stupid faces at Liho. Yelena is too wrapped up in her blankets to see, but she knows that is what Natasha is doing like the traitor she is.
“Why do you always have to leave?” Yelena sulks, rolling in her pile of blankets away from the door petulantly, “I have never left you and look how you repay me.”
Natasha refuses to be provoked, “Abandonment issues aside, I’m choosing to understand that this is your physical pain talking.”
It is far too early for reasonable behavior, so Yelena chooses not to interact any further with Natasha. Instead she tries to avoid thinking about anything until Natasha comes back.
Time passes in a blur. Yelena could swear that it has been eons since Natasha left, but the reality is probably closer to ten minutes before the bed dips and Natasha settles in beside Yelena. Natasha attempts to nudge her into action, but Yelena refuses to budge. Natasha is going to need to offer something better than soothing words and nudges if she wants Yelena to be anything more than an unresponsive lump.
“Yelena, if you don’t get up now, you’re going to spend half the day in bed. Again. Is that really how you want to spend your life?”
“Does it matter?” Yelena doesn’t bother turning over to meet Natasha’s eyes, but she does make an attempt to peek her head out a bit. Just a tiny bit, though. There is no need to seem overeager when one is as miserable as Yelena finds herself.
Natasha sighs. Loudly. “Yes, actually, it does matter because wasting away during quarantine is not an effective way to spend your life and also I’d like to spend the half of the day that you’re planning on doing nothing with you.”
At this, Yelena turns to face Natasha, blinking rapidly, “You can do nothing with me, Natalia. No one is stopping you from doing that.”
Rolling her eyes, Natasha shakes her head fondly before dropping her upper body into the bed and wrapping her arms around Yelena. “As appealing as that may seem, I was thinking instead of doing something together- and no, Yelena,” Natasha cuts Yelena off before she is even able to open her mouth, “Doing nothing is not an activity.”
“Yes, it is,” Yelena whines, “Yes it is.”
“Well, then I veto it.”
“That’s so..." Yelena struggles to finish her sentence with an appropriate adjective before eventually settling, “Mean. Very insensitive to my pain, Natalia.”
Rather than respond to Yelena’s remarks, Natasha instead wiggles her hands into Yelena’s blankets and begins to forcibly extricate Yelena from her cocoon. Despite Yelena’s feeble protests, Natasha shows no mercy until she tosses the covers off the bed before turning back to a glaring Yelena.
“I was using those.”
“You don’t need them anymore though,” Natasha answers, “Because we’re not spending any more time in this bed.”
In response, the corners of Yelena’s lips begin to tremble, and she widens her eyes as pitifully as possible before meeting Natasha’s gaze. Unfortunately, Natasha appears to have anticipated Yelena’s moves because there is a steely glint in her eyes as she stares back at Yelena. Her eyes are dead and devoid of feeling. Like a republican.
With a huff, Yelena throws her hands up in the air and pouts as devastatingly as possible at Natasha. She notches up her puppy eyes and even attempts to tear up a bit.
It has absolutely no effect.
Like a wise woman with far too much experience, Natasha offers helpfully, “The more you use a sword, the duller the blade.”
“Shut up, Yoda,” Yelena’s pout is ruined when she sticks her tongue out at Natasha, “I did not ask and also I do not want your advice.”
“Aw, poor baby,” Natasha leans over so that her arm can wrap around Yelena’s waist and her head rests on Yelena’s shoulders, “You live a hard life filled with pain and suffering.”
Turning to bury her head into Natasha’s hair, Yelena agrees wholeheartedly, “I do.”
The force of Natasha’s laugh rocks through Yelena. In turn, Yelena decides to nose Natasha’s head out of the way and bite into her shoulder.
Her actions are not well-received, and Natasha jumps away from Yelena with a start. She fixes her gaze impassively on Yelena’s, “Why did you do that.”
It isn’t a question, and Yelena sighs. Even being an asshole does not elicit any particularly interesting response. Which she would really appreciate because then she wouldn’t feel so bad about being a jerk to Natasha. “Because I felt like it.”
Even worse, Natasha’s face falls, as if she is the one to do something wrong. Now Yelena feels like an actual asshole because regardless of all her faults, Natasha has only ever tried to support Yelena, even if her actions were completely misguided and terrible.
“Fine!” Yelena announces, forcing her body to move and hopping off the bed with a flourish. At least, she attempts to flourish. She would still really like to curl up into a ball and dream the pain away, but Natasha is a relentless do-gooder with no mercy.
“Excellent.” Natasha claps her hands slowly, mockingly pointed at Yelena.
It feels as if Natasha is being sarcastic and not supportive enough, which makes Yelena scowl before turning away with a huff. She doesn’t need Natasha’s pity, even if it would be nice for her pain to be acknowledged every once in a while. “Whatever. What are your grand plans then, oh majestic wife of mine?” Yelena specifically ignores the tingly sparks she gets from calling Natasha her wife. Natasha doesn’t deserve to make Yelena feel tingly when Yelena is mad at her.
“Well..." Trailing off slowly, Natasha rises and walks behind Yelena, arms wrapping around Yelena like a coil and head dropping to her shoulder, “Seeing as how you seem to be in absolutely excruciating pain, I thought we could bake some sugary monstrosity for you to feel a little less terrible.”
Now Yelena feels a lot more terrible, all because of Natasha’s ridiculous habit of being considerate and thoughtful. “Oh.”
“I mean, if you’re not all that into it, we can just make some kale cookies?”
“No! No! No, no, no, no I want sugar monstrosities,” Yelena assures Natasha frantically, “Do not dare make me eat something healthy in my time of suffering.” She can feel Natasha smirking against her shoulder, but such treachery can be forgiven in the face of fucking kale cookies. Yelena’s never had them before, but even the thought of something as beautiful as cookies combined with something as horrifying as kale is absolutely petrifying.
“I’m glad.” Suddenly the weight of Natasha around Yelena disappears, and Yelena is standing alone in their bedroom.
With a sigh Yelena follows in Natasha’s footsteps and makes her way towards the kitchen. Various baking implements and ingredients are already on the island by the time Yelena arrives, none of which are very familiar to her. Yelena isn’t entirely ashamed to admit it, but it’s not a great feeling to realize that she is kind of very incompetent when it comes to baking. Or cooking. Or very many adult survival skills. Quite frankly, she’s surprised that she even made it out alive during those years without Natasha.
After examining a strangely rubbery sheet for a brief while, Yelena speaks up, “You know, I actually feel quite well, now. I do not really think we need cookies for-”
Yelena is cut off by Natasha, who throws a bar of chocolate that hits Yelena’s head before falling into her hands. Yelena glances at the bar sitting in her hands before looking at Natasha from the other end of the island. Natasha looks less than impressed with Yelena’s indecision. “You’re miserable and you love sugar. We’re making cookies.”
“Okay, but-”
“It’s not that hard, Yelena. Besides, we’re a team. Nothing gets the better of us.” As she speaks, Natasha makes her way around the island until she can wrap Yelena in a brief hug before pulling away, “I promise.
“Promise?”
“Yes dorogaya, I promise.” Natasha is shaking her head, but her smile visibly brightens as she speaks, “I’m not leaving you to fend for yourself in the big, brave world of baking. Or any other world if I have a say in it.”
“I am holding you to that.” Yelena starts to tear up and she blames her hormones. That and Natasha’s stupid, inconsiderate consideration.
“I can’t wait. However,” Natasha pauses and pulls out a glass bowl from somewhere, “Now we have to bake.”
“Can you just let us enjoy this moment for a while?”
“Not if you want to speed up your path to diabetes we can’t!”
Opening her mouth, Yelena stops herself before she speaks, but continues at Natasha’s raised eyebrow. Although her impression of a gaping fish is excellent, Yelena doesn’t think it fits the situation. “Will you still love me when I am old and diabetic?
“I will always love you, old and diabetic or no,” Natasha answers without pause, “You know that.”
This time, Yelena isn’t able to stop the tears from forming, but she doesn’t even care anymore. Holding back her emotions takes a lot of energy, especially when the emotions stem from her and Natasha being in love. “I do.”
Natasha nods solemnly before holding up two bags of what look to be chocolate, “Now, that just leaves the most important question. Double chocolate or triple?”
In response, Yelena’s eyes blow out entirely.