Chapter Text
Living your life after a childhood of pain and misery is hard, it is so, so hard. You wonder if the man across the street is just a stranger or someone there to take you back, if the light flickering meant someone had found you, if the loud noise down the hall was a body against a wall. God, if you started thinking too hard about it you wouldn’t stop.
Thank god high school would only make it worse!
Growing up as a Hydra lab rat they still had to keep you occupied, lest you go catatonic and ruin their tests. You saw plenty of shows and movies about high school, about how important the dance next saturday was, when everyone’s classes were, the like. You understood, to an extent, that parties were a big deal. Parents went out of town, kids got shitfaced, snuck back into bed past “curfew.” fun times.
It’s been a little over a year since you were found by the Avangers, and just a few months since Natasha Romanoff finalized the adoption paperwork for you. Even if you couldn’t call her mom as much as you wanted to you were happy, truly content for the first time in your life. You had friends, family, and a mother who wanted nothing more than for you to enjoy your new life.
Which is why, when peter had invited you to a party being put on by someone in his class, your mom urged you to go.
—
You haven’t been sleeping much in the last few weeks. Insomnia and trauma-induced nightmares were taking their toll on you, but you could handle a bit of sleep deprivation. Besides, you weren’t about to concern Natasha more, she’s had enough on her plate lately.
No, no matter how long you stayed awake shaking, shivering, not breathing waiting for a sound in the hallway, you wouldn’t bother Natasha. Though, that didn’t stop you from being a bit more clingy during the day before calling it a night.
“It’s an opportunity for you to have fun outside the tower, детка, you should go.” You sat cross-legged on Natasha’s bed, watching as she put away laundry. It was calming. “I’m only a call away if you and Peter wanna ditch, but I want you to enjoy yourself.”
Her encouragement throws you off. “You know what happens at those parties though, don’t you?” You shift so you’re laying down against the pillows, “Shouldn’t you be making me stay home?”
Natasha laughs. “Hon, highschool parties aren’t nearly as crazy as movies make them out to be, and i know you. It’s not like you’re going to get wasted or make out with any boys.” You pull a face and Natasha laughs again, and you laugh with her.
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” She presses a kiss to your forehead and you smile up at her.
“I’ll go.”
—
You’re already regretting it, and you’ve only been in the house for 20 minutes. Peter don’t ditch you per se, but you haven’t seen him since you settled on the couch. The music pulses through the floor and you can feel the bass in your teeth. You’re pressed in at the far end of the couch hugging the armrest, clutching a soda can in one hand and hovering over Natasha’s contact in you phone with the other. A bark of laughter from the kitchen throws you out of your thoughts and you notice someone pouring out shots. somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder when the last time you had a drink was, to which your brain unhelpfully answers “too long.”
Aside from anesthesia, the best pain relief you had in your old life was alcohol. You understood that it wasn’t healthy, even back then you knew that, but it kept your thoughts from racing and helped you sleep at night.
A small crowd was formed around the kitchen counter, and you watch as two boys get locked into a fierce competition of Cup Pong.
You watch one of them, a lean, blonde boy from the soccer team, fading fast. only two of his cups have been emptied, he’s clearly a lightweight and already wobbling by his third shot. The other boy is one you recognize from your history class. he’s loud, obnoxious, and goading on the other boy who’s finally thrown the ping pong ball properly and landed it in a cup.
The loud one sinks in another two balls, and you see the blond visibly swallow. you don’t know what comes over you because in the next moment, you down his two shots in one go.
“Woah-hoh-hoh! looks like someone’s up to the challenge!” His face breaks into a shit eating grin, “Too bad you picked a battle with the undefeated champ here.” you hear a few whistles in the growing crowd and smirk, You can feel the buzz hitting your head and it feels good, you feel good for the first time in days.
“Undefeated, huh? Well, this is gonna be really embarrassing for you then.” You’re cocky, but you don’t care, you just wanna get drunk.
He quickly bounces another ball, landing in your forward cup, the second misses. Your two land and it’s a battle keeping your face straight. Your opponent is intimidated, but he hides it behind a grin and his height, but he’s too obvious. You know he’ll hit his limit far sooner than you’ll hit yours, so you tease him a bit.
To throw him off, you miss your next two throws, and his second lands. as soon as the cup is empty you begin to sway. you’re in no drunken state, there’s barely a buzz at this point, but he doesn’t know that. As far as he knows, you’re just as much of a lightweight as the blond before you.
He’s hiding his own swaying body by leaning forward on the counter, but you can see in his eyes he’s getting drunk, and thanks to the alcohol of choice being vodka, it won’t be much longer before he’s out. You were hoping for a bit more fun, but his head start in the is game threw that off a bit. You strike fast. Two balls, two cups, one throw, it’s impressive to the crowd but for you it’s child’s play. He down the cups, slower than before, and you can see sweat forming on his forehead.
He misses his next throw and you can’t stop yourself from being a bit disappointed. then again, you only have one cup left versus his, you huff a laugh.
“I mean, it’s a little unfair of me to be beating you. You had a head start in the game, why don’t we level it out?”
The crowd is rowdy and you see his face twist into a grimace. He’s getting agitated while you’re loosening up, happily putting on a show for everyone around you.
You pour yourself two more shots and take the one after the other. You revel in the burn, you feel lighter, higher, ready to put this stupid kid in his place.
—
You win that game, you win two more games, and everything becomes a blur. You think your phone buzzes a few times through the night but you ignore it in favor of pouring yourself another drink and laughing your ass off. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt normal, and even if you don’t know anyone’s names they’re funny enough, and you can forget about the past for the night.
You’re not noticeable in school, you hide yourself in the back of the class and only talk to peter and his friends. You’re allowed to leave class whenever you need to thanks to a plan you’re mom had set up with the school, so it’s not like you usually stick around enough to talk to anyone. You’re just some new kid lost in the crowd there, but now, here, people are talking to your face instead of whispering behind your back and avoiding eye contact. you finally feel free.
You get up and unsteadily return to the kitchen for another shitty bear. You look over your shoulder and throw your hands out. “Peter!!” you shout, ending in a giggle when you see his face, he’s looking at you funny. “hiiiii!!”
“Are you drunk??” Oh never mind, he sounds mad.
“Nooo?” You giggle again, he doesn’t believe you but you don’t really care.
Peter rubs his hand down his face and starts to guide you to the door.
“Where’re we going i was having funnnn,” You whine, pushing against his insistence you leave.
“(Y/n) i already called natasha, now drink this and sit tight.” He’s frustrated and hands you a water bottle, you pout and plop onto the grass, lazily sipping at the bottle.
You’re not sure how much later it happens, but Natasha’s car pulls up on the curb. She steps out and she looks pissed, if you had any energy left you’d probably be scared. “Hi мама,” even drunk and half asleep you still know you sound like a pathetic mess, and right now you really just want to catch up on all the sleep you’ve missed.
She kneels down next to you on the grass and moves your sweaty hair from your forehead, you notice her face soften. “Hi малышка, let’s get you home.”
“Are you mad at me?” You blurt out. Your voice is small, and you don’t mean to sound so weak but the alcohol in your system makes you feel vulnerable. “I don’ want you to be mad at me i was jus’ so tired.”
“No hun, i’m not mad. We’ll talk in the morning when you’ve sobered up, now up you get.”
If you weren’t so out of it you would’ve seen the heartbreak cross her face.
She hoists you up with your arm over her shoulder, and you’re grateful for it because without her you’d have fallen face first into the dirt.
You hear her ask Peter to open the door, and as soon as you’re in the car you’re out like a light.
—
Anyone could tell from a mile away that Natasha loved you. Since the day you were found she’d always cared and wanted the best for you. You were the child she’d always wanted, and she’d do anything for you. And anyone could tell that seeing her kid so small, so sad, was breaking her heart.
Peter’s phone call had been confusing, something about you getting too competitive to think straight and then too drunk to stand. She’d shown up expecting a slightly drunk teenager, not you. Not you sitting in the grass, on the curb, nursing a water bottle and looking so utterly defeated. She didn’t know what to do, she just wanted to take all your pain away.
Getting you home was the easy part. Apparently, getting you out of the party had also sucked all of your energy, and you were cooperative getting in the car, hell you were asleep as soon as the door shut. Natasha dropped Peter off at home before returning to the tower, after getting some context to the situation of course. Now it was time to get you to bed, and figure out her next steps.
—
“Mmmn?” You can barely open your eyes, everything just feels so heavy and faraway. Behind squinted eyes you recognize that it’s Natasha pulling you from the car.
“Come on sweetheart, let’s get you to bed.”
Your short nap didn’t help you much. “‘M tired,” You croak out, cringing at the taste of your dry mouth.
“I know you are bub,” She pull one of your arms over her shoulders and leads you through the tower’s garage to the elevator. “That’s why we’re gonna get you cleaned up in into bed.”
Your response isn’t more than an affirmative grunt, but you can get the words past your throat.
Eventually, after a blur of motion and lights and almost getting sick on the way up, you’re in your room. You don’t want to be in here.
Natasha guides you to your bed, keeping you steady as you sit down. Before she can pull away your hands grip her shoulders like a vice.
You don’t even realize you’re crying. “Don’- Мама don’t leave. Please don’t leave.” You don’t want to be alone. You just want to sleep but you can’t sleep because when you sleep your mind attacks and attacks and attacks and you can’t keep dealing with this forever you’re so tired.
“Hey hey, no i’m not going anywhere детка. Im not leaving, but i need you to breathe, please.” You can’t stop yourself from closing your eyes. You hate the way she’s looking at you, she looks so sad and you’re the one doing this. God look at you, look how pathetic you’ve become.
“I ju- I just wanted everything to stop. i wanted to be normal in sorry. i’m sorry мама i’m sorry i’m just tired i’m sorry.” The words get caught in your throat and choked out in a sob. You try to pull back, hide in you pillows and shut out everything, but natasha’s returned grip is solid and fierce, yet gentle, and kind, and she pulls you into her chest as you fight every cry that bubbles up.
“Let it out малышка, don’t fight it. It’s okay, i’ve got you. I’ve got you, love.” Her hold on you grows tighter and you can almost feel your chest open just from her words. No matter how much you were taught and built against it from birth, Natasha was your lifeline.
Minutes or hours later, you’re cries turn to whimper and the bone-deep exhaustion makes itself known again. Your arms feel so heavy, you can barely keep your puffy eyes open and you just want to sleep for the next month.
“Hey,” Natasha says it so softly she’s worried you’ll miss it, but she doesn’t want to startle you. “Let’s get you changed. I’m just gonna grab you some pajamas, okay?”
You must’ve nodded, because natasha moves and you faintly hear your dresser draws move. You’re half asleep as natasha helps you change into comfier clothes, you’re eyes aren’t even open once she’s tucked you and herself into bed and holds your head to her chest.
“I love you so, so much малышка. Got to sleep, okay? I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
Your answer is a whisper “I love you, мама.”
You’re out like a light, you limbs heavy and mind blissfully quiet. Natasha hardly sleeps, thinking only about you and the conversation you need to have.