𝐓𝐖𝐎.
❝ to build a home ❞

SVETLANA WISHES SHE COULD SAY THAT IT ALL ENDED HAPPILY EVER AFTER.

But she can't.

After Natasha found them that day in the woods, Svet had been so happy, so outrightly convinced that everything would just fall right into place. She would get that house with a chimney and a yellow front door, a room of her own where her father and mother slept next door, a reason to smile and to laugh, holidays with friends and family, love, peace, safety, and a happy ending.

Everything she had ever wanted didn't turn out at all like she had planned. Her father was back, her mother was alive. What else was there?

The human element; she forgot about that.

Svetlana supposes she was being naive to assume that they would magically be in love and the three of them (plus Uncle Sam and Uncle Steve) would all live happily ever after.

They don't get along all the time. Or much of the time, really.

Perhaps that is what happens when people are so similar, they clash.

Everything feels different.

When she came back, when Steve saved her from the cliffside of Vormir, Natasha decided to stay off the grid for a bit. Staying dead is simultaneously perhaps one of the easiest and hardest things she's ever done.

Being dead means having options like living a normal life. Besides, it's nice to be treated more like a human being rather than an Avenger or ex—spy. The truth will out, it always does, but it feels good to finally be in control of it. The world will know her when she wants it to.

Officially, Natasha's retired. Partly. Of course she's still present and working with the others for the day to day business, but she's not going on missions anymore. Not now. Whether or not she truly wants to admit it, Natasha has never truly been her own. She was always working for someone, some cause, some power whether they were the KGB, SHIELD (i.e. HYDRA), or even the Avengers.

Now, Natasha is her own woman.

First, last, and always.

But Svetlana still misses her.

Because being dead also means being separated from her daughter more often than not.

Svet sees Natasha a couple of times a week for lunches or nights spent over at the Compound, but it isn't the same. They don't even live together. Svetlana and Bucky live in Steve's small two bedroom apartment in Brooklyn while Natasha keeps up her residence at the new Compound because she's not sure where else to go now.

Truth be told, Svetlana misses the Avengers Compound more than she thought she would. She likes being with people who are like her. Bucky and Natasha have looked into enrolling Svet in school. Svetlana's smart, and she's been able to keep up with her studies during her years on the run when she wasn't on a mission or in cryo. For what she lacks in social skills, she makes up for in booksmarts. Besides, she has some glowing recommendations from certain Avengers — which definitely helps.

So, eventually some technology school in Midtown accepts this girl with incredibly forged transcripts. Strangely enough, her parents actually agree that the girl who is simply trying to adjust to reality might best fit in there, where everyone has something special about them that won't make them stare. Besides, it's less about learning and more about being socialized.

Svet can't help but dread it.

Normal life is terrifying.

What does she know about being normal?

Svet's long curls are wet from her shower and now neatly braided down her back, thanks to her mother's expert hands.

Glenn Miller plays softly in the background, and they have all sorts of snacks spread across the coffee table. Sandwich has been obsessed with Natasha ever since he first laid eyes upon her, and he currently is sleeping quite happily with his head on her thigh, as he always does when she stops by. Svet is currently huddled over her mother's hands, red brows prinched in concentration and little pink tongue sticking out from between her frowning lips.

"Okay, so..." Natasha hums, leaning forward for a better look, "You have to make sure to wipe off the excess polish or there'll be too much on the nail."

Svet nods very, very seriously, eyes concentrated on the small black brush and little glass bottle of nail polish.

"Good. That's the right amount." Her mother murmurs approvingly, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, "And then you just smooth it out across the surface. Like that, perfect."

"Painting nails is fun." Svet glances up with a proud shy smile, but that quickly drops and her eyes narrow, "Are you sure you don't want yellow?"

Natasha raises a brow, "Yellow is not in my color wheel. Red's fine."

The girl huffs a breath before refocusing on the task in front of her.

"Oh! I forgot!" Svetlana suddenly smacks a palm to her forehead, "Sam says you should offer a guest a refreshment."

Natasha's eyes dim. Guest. A guest in her daughter's home. She knows Svet doesn't mean it like that, but it stings all the same. She makes sure the light in her eyes has returned by the time Svet looks back up at her.

"There is beer in the fridge. If you'd like some." When Natasha gives her a look, Svetlana laughs, "I don't drink it, Mama. Anyway, it wouldn't affect me."

"Maybe later. But thank you." Nat smiles before sighing, glancing around the apartment, "Where's your father and Wilson off to this time?"

"Somewhere in Europe, I think?" She bites on her lip in concentration while she paints her mother's pinky nail, "Not certain. Papa doesn't want to discuss it with me yet. He says he won't until I'm certain I am ready."

Natasha simply hums, green eyes thoughtful as they gaze over her shoulder.

Svet pauses, squinting up at her suspiciously, "Why do you ask, Mamulya?"

"No reason." Her mother's green eyes feign innocence, "Just curious."

Svet smirks, "Of course you're only curious."

Her mother scoffs out a laugh, shaking her head and fondly smiling down at the girl. Svet stays smirking right on back, her right eye winking before she concentrates on her nails once more. Drifting into a comfortable silence, Natasha sighs and flicks back her new red bangs from her forehead.

She didn't find much use in changing her hair and fixing it up when she was trying to manage the comings and goings of what was left of the world's defenders. But now she's back to living again, so she's chopped off the excess blonde and dyed it back to red.

It feels like a symbol, like she's back in her role again, trying to find a reason to live again.

"Do you miss it?"

Natasha tenses for a moment.

When she made the decision to take a break, she told the others that she wanted time to be with her daughter. And that's true, of course... but that's not all of it. There's something else holding her back. She can't remember a time she ever really wanted to stop being an Avenger. It was a job that needed to be done. It was her mission. Now, she's feeling lost.

"I'm not sure. Sometimes, maybe." She finally admits it, adhering to her vow to never lie to her daughter, "I miss doing something that matters. I miss... helping."

Svet nods and paints her thumb.

"Do you?" Natasha pushes Svet's braid over her shoulder.

"Yes."

The needle slides off the record and they're left in an odd lull.

"Mama?" Natasha hums her acknowledgment. "What is it like to be in love?"

Natasha snaps up to look at her, "What?"

"In love." Svet stretches it out for emphasis, "What is it like?"

"Oh." Natasha obfuscates, "Why do you ask?"

Now it's Svetlana's turn to feign innocence, "No reason. Just curious."

Her mother rolls her eyes.

As much as Svet's like Barnes, God knows she's just as much like Natasha.

And Natasha can't be happier.

━━━━━━

WHEN HE RETURNS HOME LATE SUNDAY NIGHT, Bucky's surprised to find Natasha still there. What's even more surprising is that she doesn't seem to notice him walking in. For a spy, she looks far too distracted. Distant. Perfectly still. But somehow it's more than that. Bucky doesn't know how to explain it. In turn, seeing her here makes him... it's not nervous but something else. Something similar.

Bucky shuffles his feet extra loud, trying not to scare her and also trying not to get killed by doing so. Then, in a flash, she comes back to herself, looking as if she'd never been gone in the first place. Tipping back her bottle, Natasha nonchalantly glances over at him and Sandwich lifts his head from where he's been sleeping at her feet.

"You're back..." She clears her throat, straightening, "How was the mission? Good?"

Bucky nods silently, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of a chair.

Natasha nods in return, shoulders taut and back straight.

As it turns out, there are only two things that they know how to talk about.

The first, missions.

The second, their daughter.

Immediately, Bucky glances around for his daughter and he has to force himself to shake away the quick tinge of panic that shoots up the center of his sternum.

"Where's Svetla?" He tries to keep his voice measured, casual.

He can't tell if she buys it or not before she's replying, "Oh you know, she decided to hit the clubs, try out a little partying."

Bucky goes rigid across the living room, and Natasha can practically see him trying to decide if he should snap her neck before or after he rushes to bring Svetlana home. It would be comical for anybody, but Natasha can't help but feel a pang of... what is it? It can't be fondness... can it?

"Relax." The woman smirks and lets it linger, "Your little girl wasn't feeling good so she went to bed early."

Bucky lets out a quiet sound of relief before opening the fridge to stare inside, just so he won't have to see her smirking at him anymore.

"She wasn't sure if you'd be home tonight or not, but in case you were, she wanted me to tell you that she's sleeping in your bed."

He nods, assuming that's where she'd be. That's where she always is when he's away.

"Another migraine?"

Natasha stills, hand tightening around her bottle of beer, "Another? She's had more?"

Bucky nods with pursed lips, "It's her hearing. It'll start with this throbbing in her head and then suddenly her hearing will go. It always comes back, but they look painful. They're bad."

"I didn't know."

He doesn't respond, pulling some gross homemade leftovers out of the fridge and staring down at them. As much as he hates to admit it, Wilson was right. It is a crime to let him cook. Maybe Sandwich will eat it.

"How often has she been getting them?"

"If she's told me every time, it's been about twelve times?"

"Twelve times..." Natasha stares at him before her jaw clenches and her voice raises, "And why didn't either of you tell me?!"

"Because I didn't think about it!" He snaps back, voice just as loud.

A door creaks suddenly open and small feet carefully pad down the hall until Svetlana is standing in the doorway, in yellow pajama pants and his favorite grey tee. Red hair frizzy and mussed, the girl just looks sleepily between them, brows furrowed in confusion.

It doesn't need to be said that her nightmares make it hard enough to sleep as it is; the last thing she needs is for them to wake her by arguing.

Her parents are immediately engulfed by guilt.

"Mama, Papa," Svet's voice cracks tiredly, "Is... everything all right?"

"Yeah, doll—,"

"Sorry Svetti—,"

"Why don't you go back to bed, alright, darlin'?" Bucky forces a casual smile, nodding tightly, "We'll be quiet."

Svet glances warily between them, but eventually the sleepiness wins out and she gives in anyway. The quiet scritch—scratch of Sandwich's paws on the hard wood floor fills the now awkward room while the pup hurriedly follows her out.

And then there were two.

Once they both hear the bedroom door click soundly closed, Natasha gives a sigh and Bucky tightens his jaw, "Sorry."

"Me too." She waves him away, rubbing her forehead.

"I'm just... I'm not sure how to do this." He motions between them and then down the hall, "How to share her."

Neither of them speak for a long moment.

"You okay?" Bucky finally asks, setting down his beer, "It looks like something's bothering you."

She gives him a lazy smirk, "Nothing serious, just feeling a little mortal these days."

Bucky nods.

Svetlana told him all about what had happened that day on Vormir. He had been so conflicted when it came to how to feel. He had been so grateful to Natasha that she had fallen instead of their daughter. But then he had been so horrified over the fact that he might never see her again.

"You came back," it's not much, but it's all he can offer her.

Natasha scoffs and stands, arms crossed over her chest while she paces to the balcony.

"Yeah, I came back. But not before..."

She stops, rolling her tongue over her top teeth. She smiles bitterly to herself, shaking her head at the bright lights of the cityscape.

"It was death. Not a coma, even — we're talking about actual physical death. I don't need to ask if you know how traumatic an experience like that is." Natasha's head tilts and directs her smirk his way, "But to have felt the life drain out of you, and then come back from that? To have known that fear, to have felt that cold — that changes you. And then not to just live again, but to come from the front lines to finding you in the woods, within an hour's time?"

"It'd change anyone." Bucky agrees, brows bent in understanding, "I guess it means you get a chance to start again. Start over."

"With you?" Natasha looks over her shoulder, that lazy smirk remaining.

He doesn't know for sure, but he thinks he can identify worry beneath her facade of smirks and seductive eyes.

Finally, Bucky can't help but ask, "Why are you so adamant about this?"

This. Her and him. This unspoken connection between them. This strange passion of love and hate and loss and grief. He told Svet once that the reason she was born wasn't because of lust and the need to not be so alone in the cold of the Red Room. He told her it was love.

But that was over two decades ago. What could possibly still be between them now?

"I've hurt people." Bucky says it like he's drawing a line between them, "I've hurt you."

That much was true. But she hurt him too. Neither wanted to. Against their wills, out of fearful desperation, a basic need for survival.

"You're Svet's father." Natasha replies slowly, her eyes squinted as if her reason is obvious, "Besides, maybe you remind me of someone I once knew."

"Or someone you once were?"

Natasha looks at him sharply.

"I remember things now, Natalia. I remember a lot."

It was lonely out in the cold.

That's what she thought the first time she saw him standing by himself in a snowstorm. A dark figure that arrived at the Academy with lifeless eyes and hundreds of whispered rumors that filled her head.

She had been training; that was all she ever seemed to be doing those days. She ran through the storm, first in her class, first among her sisters. She sprinted past him and he met her eye. Who could blame her for looking back?

She was driven. Determined. She wanted to be the best and she would. He said she was the best Widow the world had ever seen. Not yet, she had breathed, but I will be.

She loved him. In the most passionate childish sense of the word. It took time. But in those days, all there ever was, was time. They pulled away one another's masks and broke down each other's walls just to feel something.

It was lonely out in the cold, she remembered as he slept by her side, skin to skin, heart to heart.

A secret love affair, forbidden, dangerous. In those days before she had been with any other man, her mind was consumed with thoughts of him. Every breath. Every kiss. Every declaration.

An infection, the madame has called him later. A black mold that festered within the hollow depths of her heart. Damaged goods. The best Widow in the world, now damaged goods.

The first time they fought, pitted against one another in an arena.

The first time he took her hand, cold metal fingers lacing around her trigger hand.

The first time she felt his child stir within her belly.

The last time she saw him; the day she tried to leave him behind to save herself and their child.

Natasha bites back an apology because she doesn't owe him that. She's spent her life indebted to people and now she's free. Her ledger had been wiped clean. She owes him nothing.

Then again, she's fairly certain he wants nothing she could offer now anyway.

Their world was never cut out to be black and white. It's all grey. He's grey. She's grey. And their daughter is too. For the first time in her life, Natasha is struggling being colorblind.

"I abandoned you."

It startles him. Catches him off guard. She likes that.

"I was prepared to take our baby and leave you behind. Tried to." Natasha's eyes narrow just a little more, turning the question back on him, "How about you, James? Why are you so adamant?"

Bucky stops for a moment, looking down at his hands as he processes her question, thinking about those memories he forgot so long ago.

"Svetlana is everything. Everything I do, everything I've fought for, everything I've become, it's for her."

The words come out so fierce yet so sincere, and it shouldn't surprise Natasha because she knows it's true, but somehow it still does.

"She's grown up with either one of us or none of us. I don't want that for her anymore."

"I don't either." She's not sure why she cuts in, like she's trying to prove a point, defend herself.

By now, he must know at least that.

"Good. Because as much as I'd love to keep her to myself, I recognize that fact that she's also half yours. So, we're gonna have to make this work. "

Natasha doesn't say anything for a long moment, simply taking him in.

"Alright. If we're gonna make this work, I need to be there for her." Natasha's eyes bore into him, and he resists the urge to fidget, "24/7. Unvented access."

"Agreed." Bucky nods, sitting down on the couch to level with her, "What do you suggest?"

"We move in together."

His brows raise.

"It's not ideal, I'll admit." Natasha concedes with a sigh, "But Svet needs us, so we have to make it work."

The line drawn between them becomes thinner.

"All right." Bucky finally agrees, "We'll start looking for houses in the morning."

━━━━━━

THE SUN IS SHINING.

Bucky, Natasha, and Svetlana stop outside a sleek black sports car, all wearing strangely similar smirks. They're each wearing ball—caps and dark sunglasses, as if this could actually protect their identities (but it's fun so Svetlana lets them get away with it).

"I'll drive." Bucky is the first to speak, holding a hand out for the keys.

Natasha gives a sound that sounds suspiciously like a mix between a scoff and a "hah"!

The woman's red shoulder—length waves bounce as she snatches the keys away and runs a hand along the long sleek hood of the Stingray, "No one — and I do mean absolutely no one — touches my baby."

Svet straightens, looking confused.

Catching her gaze, Nat smirks, "And no one touches the car either."

Svet beams, looping her arm with her father's as Natasha slides in and starts up the car, revving the engine just to be cruel.

Slowly rolling down the window, innocent green eyes shine and she wears a wicked smirk, "Coming?"

Svetlana grins, jolting forward to hop in the backseat of the sports car.

Her father just grumbles, "Great."

Another thing for Bucky to look at but not touch.

The day is exhausting. Nothing seems to fit them or their needs. Bucky and Natasha both stress that it must have at least three bedrooms, much to Svet's dismay.

But they have a plan in place; Svetlana can be content with that.

Like the old days, they'll have covers. It will make things easier. Make the neighbors ask less questions. Natasha will be a science teacher, Bucky will be a home renovator, Svet will be a high school senior, and they all will have just moved to the area because the interest rates have gone down.

Almost like home, just not quite.

"Alright, this is the last house on the listing..." Bucky tiredly sighs as Natasha glides the car up beside the house.

It's in Brooklyn, and the idea had terrified Bucky at first. To think he was going backwards, to be someone different yet going to a place where he used to belong, it was daunting. But something changed. He's realized that it doesn't matter where it is. He knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that they need a house, a place for Svetlana to be able to live in and have a place to belong and feel like it's home.

But the house currently outside the window is definitely not that.

"Well..." Natasha raises a brow, "It's a fixer upper."

Bucky makes a face, "It's a dump."

"It's perfect." Svetlana breathes.

The girl taps quickly on the back of Bucky's seat, making him get out so she can clamber out after him. She leaves behind her confused parents as she walks slowly down the cement path, pushing open the worn down picket gate, and moving towards the rickety porch.

Svet pauses just before the holey porch steps, wide eyes taking in the sight of the double story stretching up in front of her.

A small balcony. A spot for a garden. A chimney. It's like her fairy tale.

Well, nearly.

Svetlana grins, spinning around with her hands thrown out on either side of her.

"This is it!" She practically shrieks.

Her parents, both leaning on the car now, look less than impressed.

"It is?" Bucky raises his brows.

"Definitely! It is perfect for us!" She jogs down the pathway, hands flying as she tries to convince them, "We can fix it up, make it our own, yes? We'll paint the front door yellow and have a fire in the fireplace!"

The pure joy on her daughter's face is enough to make Natasha's uncertain expression soften.

"It's fine by me." Her mother finally says with a great sigh, gently elbowing the man beside her, "What do ya say, Barnes?"

"Come on, Papa, please!" Svet takes his hand, bouncing up on her toes in anticipation.

Her father stares at her for a long moment before sighing, rolling his eyes, and waving her on, "Alright, alright, it's ours."

"Yes!" Svet cheers, giving them each a quick and quite rough hug before dashing towards the front door, "I'm going to go look inside!"

"Wait, wait, Svet, you'll need the key—,"

Bucky reaches in his jacket pocket, only to find nothing but lint inside. When he hears the familiar sound of jingling, he sharply looks up to see Svet shaking them above her head with a mischievous smirk on her face. She then spins around and unlocks the front door.

Natasha just laughs beside him, "Gonna need to be quicker than that if you wanna keep up with her, Barnes."

He snorts softly, "When did she become a master thief?"

"Long before I met her." Natasha smirks, sliding her hands into her jacket before her eyes widen when she realizes that something very important is missing from her pocket as well.

She swivels around to find Bucky swinging her car keys at her.

He has this terribly annoying wolfish smile on his lips, and Natasha can't decide if she wants to kill him or kiss him for it.

"Looks like I'm keeping up with you well enough, Romanoff."

Green eyes narrow and she quickly reaches forward to grab them before he snatches them back.

"Hold on, hold on," Bucky holds them out of her reach, "I might want to take her out for a spin a little later."

Two can play at this game.

Natasha smirks slightly and her lashes droop low, lets her body lean in just a little. Her chin dips and she licks her bottom lip, letting the swell of it gently brush with his. Her fingers skate ever so carefully over his chest where she can feel him shiver and gasp quietly for breath.

"You can take the car out anytime, James..." She lets her breathing deepen, hand now trailing down the length of his limp arm, "If you want me to empty a magazine into your heart."

He smirks a little, eyes so very hesitant yet the words flowing out all the same, "Baby, you already have."

"What is it you both are doing?"

Svet stands in the doorway of the house, her nose scrunched and her head cocked. Bucky quickly draws back from the woman, clearing his throat and forcefully shaking his head to get rid of all thoughts—Natasha.

"Nothing." Bucky grumbles as Natasha just winks at him, keys dangling before his eyes from when she must have stolen them back.

He hadn't even noticed.

"All right Svetti." The redhead strides easily down the path, "Show me our new home."

━━━━━━ annie speaks ━━━━━━

aaahhhh it's happening, it's happening! ugh, i'm so pleased! their flirtation is such a fun contrast to svet and peter's, and it's so fun to write. they both love each other so much but there's a lot of time and pain between them — maybe our lil baby svet can bring them together? hehehe. i have so much planned and i can't wait to throw peter into the mix! now, i've been updating a BUNCH of my stories on my profile so go check those out! oh! and i made a new video edit for our babes which i'm much more proud of than my first!!!

also, a very merry christmas to you all!

please leave some love?