She has always been more emotional than she likes. She can bottle it up, batten down the hatches and compartmentalize as much as the next one, but eventually? It always leads to something like this, and some part of her always feels so weak for it.

But at least Natasha won’t judge her. Her sister won’t see her as somehow less because of it. If anyone could understand it, it’s her.

It’s the arm curled tight around her, the warmth of a hand gliding across her back, that manages to keep her grounded. As calm as can be expected in a moment like this.

And it’s the sound of her sisters voice that disrupts the moment enough she laughs. A soft, slightly strangled sound, but still technically a laugh. “Shut up,” she murmurs.

It’s still another moment or two before she finds the will to let go of Natasha. What if she just disappeared when she did? What if none of this was real, just something she made up in her head, and when she steps back from it all, she will have to face a world without her sister again?

But she can’t just stay clinging like a barnacle to her sister all night on a ‘what if?’, so eventually she pulls away, swiping her hands under both eyes. “я тебя люблю…”