Title: all you are to me.
Fandom: MCU—Black Widow.
Characters: Yelena and Natasha.
Prompt: Reunion.
Rating: PG-13.
Length: 839.
Content warnings: Character death.
Author’s notes: Black Widow spoilers. Title is from Susanne Sundfør’s "White Foxes".
Summary: Yelena talks to Natasha.


"You’re such a fucking asshole," she mutters, glaring at the grey slab of stone from the corner of her eye. It’s a warm day, the breeze kicking up leaves that lead Fanny a little ways away from her. Yelena’s not worried about her; Fanny is self-sufficient, smart enough to find her way back to her despite being a little pup.

She’s smarter than Natasha. Idiot.

Rubbing her hands against her arms, she feels her hair stand up on all ends. This is new for her. Talking to someone like they’re here when they’re not. Yelena looks away from the light grey slab of rock and inhales as hard and sharply as she can, wanting to gain control over the blur of her vision and the tightness of her throat.

Fucking Natasha, always out being the hero.

The first time she’d been here, the dirt had been undisturbed. Leaves had blanketed the ground she’d chosen to commemorate her. It’d made her angry the second time she’d come here and the dirt had only been disrupted a little. It should’ve been upended, ripped apart to make way for a body she’ll never be able to bring home.

She sighs, rubbing her hand against her mouth roughly. "Alexei won’t shut up, you know. He keeps telling me how he once beat Captain America. But Captain America was in the ice. You’d tell him that, but I have to do it." She shakes her head, licking her teeth angrily. "I don’t even like Captain America!"

She glares at the stone and shifts her feet angrily against the unyielding ground. Fanny’s nose is pressed tightly to the dirty ground as she hunts for a scent. Yelena wishes she’d come sniff a trail to Natasha’s stone and lead her down the garden path where Natasha stands, alive, breathing, not lost somewhere.

It’s a stupid fantasy, but it’s one she’s held onto for too long. It’s comfortable, a weight that brings her some relief, even if it had made her grow harder and resentful. Natasha will always come back for me.

"Anyway, I found where you lived and I’ve been eating all your shit," she says, the corner of her lip curving upward a little too smugly. "You have horrible taste in chocolate. It’s shit. Why is your shit always so dry?"

Yelena shakes her head and readjusts the fold of her arms.

"I have a dog now," she says, her lips curving up fondly. Watching Fanny, she furrows her brows and whistles sharply for her. The song—their song—easily causes her to lift her head, ears picking upward, and she wags her tail before she makes her way back to her. "Fanny. You have horrible taste in aliases."

Looking straight down at the gravestone, she feels a tug in her gut when she reads her name once more. She likes what it says—simple, to the point, very Natasha—but she wishes it didn’t exist. She wishes that she could stand beneath the blossoming trees with her hand heavy and warm with another. This could’ve been a nice place to walk Fanny with her. It didn’t need to be anything other than a place where they could walk amongst the dead together, thinking up their life stories, making up stupid things about people who deserved better than them disturbing them.

"I bought myself a pair of pants a couple of weeks ago. It looked like it had pockets. It didn’t have pockets. You’re meant to be here to tell me not to fall for that."

Fanny trudges towards the stone, sniffing the fresh teddy bear Yelena’s brought for her. The soft brown bear holds a deep red heart. If anyone asked, she’d tell them it’d been the only bear left for purchase. Yelena hadn’t bought it because she thought it was cute.

Wiping at her wet eye, she sniffs angrily and glances away.

"You’re not meant to be a hero, Natalia," she says, shaking her head. "You weren’t meant to be that hero. You were my hero—the one who waited for me to come back." Swallowing thickly, she unwraps her arms and slaps her hands against her thighs.

She wipes angrily at her eyes again, feeling the tears cling to her mascara. It’s meant to be waterproof, but the pinch of her fingers against her lashes destroys that. "I was going to come back to you. I did!"

Scratching behind her ear with her nail, she squints and looks at the tree trunks. The rustling of the leaves isn’t loud enough; Yelena can hear the pounding of her heart and her harsh breathing.

"Anyway," she sniffs angrily, pressing her lips together, "goodbye."

Turning abruptly on her heel, she purposefully pushes herself to walk away. Fanny doesn’t need an invitation to follow; she’s on her heels before she overtakes her, happily trotting along the dirt path to their car. Her lips curve upward as she watches her pup lead the way.

Without looking over her shoulder, Yelena whistles.