FIC: Sugar (MCU, Natasha/Bruce, PG-13)
TITLE:Sugar
RATING:PG-13
FANDOMS:MCU
PAIRING:Natasha Romanoff/Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff/OMC
SUMMARY:On first loves, and lasting ones.
AUTHOR’S NOTES:Spoilers for Age of Ultron.
no more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone
no more calling like a crow for a boy for a body in the garden
no more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong one
--Florence and the Machine, "Blinding"
Natalia walked through the brambles, the prickers drawing blood from her fair skin and tangling in her clothes, her red hair. The sky was grey; winter was beginning to fall, shriveling up the green things and shortening the days.
Natalia walked to the village down below the manor where she and the other girls lived. She had money in her pocket and a knife strapped to her ankle. The money was a luxury; the knife was habit.
Natalia walked down the dirt path to the village, past the skeleton forest, trees with limbs bare of leaves and bark grey and dry, their fingers reaching.
All the fairytales Natalia knew took place in forests. She understood why.
The skeleton forest gave way to bare hills, to tiny cottages that could have been made of gingerbread. The change in Natalia's pocket jingled against her hip, making a cheerful sound as she entered the candy shop.
The air was warm and smelled like toffee. Natalia breathed deep, letting the warmth and the aroma fill her lungs, travel through her veins, and for a moment she was just a girl in a candy shop with a pocketful of coins. It was easy, in this moment, to forget the knife strapped to her ankle, to forget the Red Room and the looks in the eyes of the other girls, so very fragile, so like her and unlike her at the same time.
There were barrels of sweets, and stands of them lining the walls, and a counter with a register and the very best candies behind it. Natalia ran her fingers through a barrel of caramels, the wrappers whispering, tickling her. The choosing was always the most delicious part.
Natalia filled small paper bags with lemon drops and lollipops; with small, fragrant chocolates and delicate sugar flowers light as air. She twisted licorice rope into lassoes and tucked them in wrappers; she popped a jawbreaker in her mouth, clicking against her teeth, and approached the cashier.
He was young, dark, soft-spoken. He gave Natalia her total, and while she counted out her change on the counter, he looked at her in such a way that her mouth went dry, the candy against her cheek suddenly as dry as chalk.
***
"I didn't know you could makecandy," Natasha said, hopping up onto the lab bench next to Bruce's most recent foray into the culinary sciences. "Actually, I take that back; I don't think there's anything you couldn'tdo in this lab..."
The corner of Bruce's mouth tugged up in what passed for a smile with him. "Did you think it just materialized? Actually, sugar crystallization, given the proper matrix, could--"
"Don't overthink it," she said. "So far, this is a really great date."
Bruce averted his eyes under the pretense of adjusting the flame on the Bunsen burner. "Um," he said.
Natasha rolled her eyes. "Don't get scared by the D-word."
"I'm not scared, just out of practice."
Natasha scooted closer to him, as close as was wise given the open flame. "Well, you're doing fine."
Bruce smiled. He stirred the beaker's bright red mixture using a pipette, then, with tongs, carefully removed the crucible from over the Bunsen burner's yellow-white flame, and added the melted contents to the beaker.
"The corn syrup will act as a binding agent, but the citric acid will give these a kick."
"I love it when you talk science to me," Natasha said. She inhaled, taking in the tangy, raspberry scent. "They smell good."
"Can I ask you something?" Bruce asked, turning back to her.
"I'm an open book."
Bruce cocked an eyebrow, but didn't rebut.
"Why do they call you the Black Widow?" he asked. He must have caught her expression, or the pallor in her cheeks, because he immediately began to backpedal. "You don't have to tell me--"
"No," Natasha said. "I want you to know."
***
The boy smelled of chocolate, even removed from the shop. They walked to the skeleton forest; Natalia let the boy take her hand.
"Have you been up here before?" he asked. "Have you heard what goes on in the manor up the hill?"
Natalia didn't say anything. The boy took her silence as fear, fear of the dangers lurking in the manor, and he put his arm around her.
Natalia felt the boy's heartbeat thrumming against her flesh. She placed her hand on his heart, and she kissed him.
***
Natalia didn't have to be told what rule she had broken, or how. She had an inherent knowledge of the betrayal, as if the information was carved into her bones, written in her blood. Madam B's voice rang in her ears; Natalia could feel Madam's fingernails digging into her shoulders as she whispered into Natalia's ear: "This life affords us no luxuries. Your body is a weapon; it cannot be used for pleasure. It is not in its design."
Natalia bowed her head. "What about my heart?"
Madam B shook her head. "My darling, there is no room for heart in this business. Does a dagger stop to listen to its heart?"
Madam B did not tell her what she must do, but Natalia knew. Weapons, after all, have only one purpose.
Natalia and the boy met again in the skeleton forest on the way to the village. He brought her a bag of cherry cordials, her favorite.
Natalia didn't allow him time to speak. She buried the knife into his chest, watched him fall, the light leaving his eyes, the last breath leaving his breast.
Natalia ate the cordials on her way back to the manor--the fragile chocolate giving way to the dark, thick-skinned cherries, the juice bleeding onto her tongue.
***
"And so," Natasha said, "that's how I became the Black Widow."
She tried to keep her voice light, but Bruce looked pale; the light from the fluorescents overhead shined off his glasses, making his expression unreadable. She wished she could see his eyes, equal parts dreaded it.
Bruce lowered his head for a moment; when he straightened up, the sheen of the fluorescents no longer covered his eyes. He looked sad, concerned for her.
"You're not Natalia anymore," he said finally.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not their weapon anymore. I'm--"
"Your own weapon?" he asked.
"A free agent," she said. She waited for him to say something--"Are you still the Widow?"--but he just turned to check the beaker.
"Candy's done," he said, and smiled. "Do you want some, or are you tired of my little experiment?"
"I could never be tired of you," she said, and meant it.
Bruce used a small spatula to separate a bite-sized piece from the beaker. He took the candy in his fingers. He was going to hand it to her, Natasha knew--shy--but she opened her mouth as he turned back to her, and he took the hint, placing the candy on her tongue.
Natasha closed her mouth and let the sweetness invade her senses. She realized Bruce was watching her, and she smiled.