You Must First Belong Nowhere

don’t run, i won’t hurt you don’t believe that you’re worth what you’ve heard you deserve, you deserve to be loved

She had to admit that there was a certain appeal to the idea of putting one of her bullets straight into Whiskey’s ass but she resisted the urge, instincts kicking in as she picked off anyone she wasn’t positive he could get on his own. “You going to stop spinning around like a damn rodeo clown and get to the objective, or what?” Widow called out to him as soon as there was a clear path, remaining where she was in the likely event that they got some more company while he was retrieving what they’d come for.

“It’d be easier to solve if you hadn’t mucked it up in the first place, Whiskey.” Her face remained neutral despite his grin, popping a fresh clip into her gun. Regardless of the mess they were in, she still intended that they both get out alive. “I’ll cover you, get to the target.”

“Has it ever crossed your mind to stick to any of the plans we make?”

need to know info: Russian agency knows as the комиссарамужчины, or Commisarsmen established in 1918, shortly after Lenin took power runs out of the Bolshoi Theater, recruits are pulled from the most skilled dancers agents named after most deadly creatures in Russia Nat’s codename is Widow

“I’ll try my best to avoid it.” She responded with a smile before leaving the room, wandering through the halls with the intent to leave. Yet she knew if she left, she’d have to go back to her apartment with little to do since training was off the table. Sure, she could do her incident reports but that didn’t sound appealing at all. Instead, she pulled out her phone and punched in the number she’d memorized a few minutes earlier, waiting for the line to pick up. “How do you like your coffee?” She said as soon as the ringing stopped, not bothering to say who it was. He had said that she could call anytime.

Natasha glanced down at the card and memorized the information quickly, slipping it into her pocket more for the sake of normalcy than actually needing the card. She smiled at his comment and slipped away from him to put her shoes on, covering a wince as she did. He’d already given her way longer on the bench than she needed and she wasn’t about to let her pain land her in more trouble. As she got ready to leave, she thought about the doctor and how he never seemed to smile, deciding that it was going to be her project while she was recovering. He’d told her she could call whenever and she planned on taking advantage of that. “Am I free to go then, doc?” She asked, returning her attention to him.

His offer surprised her a little and she thought about it, wondering if he’d actually sleep if she left him there. Deciding that he likely wouldn’t, she shook her head. “I sleep out here all the time.” That much was true. She scooted herself towards the arm of the couch and curled her legs underneath her, using the hand still in his hair to bring his head down to her lap. Like that, she could run both hands through the familiar blond locks.

Like father, like son, fighting sleep until the last minute. “I’m tired, too.” She forced herself into a mirroring yawn, relaxing more into the couch as if to prove her point. She wasn’t all that tired but he was more likely to sleep if he thought she would, too.