Top Posts Tagged with #ysbsom

you should be scared of me.

"I used to have nothing, and then I got this job, this family." This, being SHIELD. [because you cannot convince me that Natasha spent years in SHIELD before becoming an Avenger, and she does not have any friends from SHIELD other than Clint.]

Chapter 2: I'm the violence in the pouring rain.

Pairings: Blackhill (eventually) - focusing more on Natasha and other agents in SHIELD.

Warnings: Violence, torture, abuse (red room is fucked up, what can I say), angst, PTSD-symptoms.

A/N: I update this like once or twice a year I'm so sorry, please only start reading if you're okay with that😭

Masterlist | YSBSOM AU | You can also read on AO3! | Previous Chapter

Sleep was a luxury.

In the Red Room, Natasha slept according to what was necessary to keep her body functioning.

The answer is five.

Anything less than that and her awareness becomes duller and her steps sloppier.

So that was what she has been used to, five hours of sleep everyday, since she was thirteen.

She can go way less than that, of course. No spy is a spy until they’ve had to suffer three days without sleep for a mission.

The Red Room did many tests on her to analyse her basic needs. They kept her awake to see how long she can last before her body gives up, or to examine how much sleep she needs before she starts missing her targets at the range.

She can handle many extremes that a normal human being could never imagine to handle.

She’s not normal.

She’s made of marble.

And marbles don’t break.

Staring at the ceiling of her room - which is insane to think about, that she has a room - she tosses and turns in the bed. She was awake until 1, examining her room, every single nook and cranny, no longer looking for surveillance equipment but other things. Escape routes, possible fake panels, reinforced walls, hidden devices, anything really.

When she was satisfied with her room's condition, she washes her face before going to lie on her bed. Her eyes blinking in the dark before she tries to control her breathing and shuts her eyes.

Whenever she was on missions away from the Red Room, these were surprisingly the times she had the worst sleep. The lack of handcuffs on her wrists. The fear that someone might attack her in the middle of the night. The fear that she forgot something the Red Room asked from her.

Because performing anywhere less than perfect means you don’t get to sleep in the Red Room.

So in a way, sleeping in the Red Room meant peace, and not so much comfort, but a lack of fear.

Natasha managed to relax her body enough to fall into her first sleep in SHIELD at 2.30am.

Her body woke her up at 5am on the dot.

Her right hand unconsciously went above her head during her sleep, causing a dull ache on her shoulder, but nothing she wasn’t used to.

She doesn’t want to admit it but she did miss the handcuffs. They’ve become a representation of a decent night of sleep for her. She used to hate it when she was younger, because it limited her movement and when the trainers wanted them to learn a lesson, they had no way to run from it.

Her feet still ache from the memory of being caned when one of the widows in her class was caught sneaking out to get some water.

She never liked being a part of teams since then.

She took a deep breath before sitting up from the bed, her hands moving back and forth the bed, as if it was memorizing the texture. She looks around her room - still in awe that it was hers - before she goes to the wash up and gets ready for what is coming her way.

Barton was a few minutes early to get her from her room, and they grabbed breakfast together with him once again taking bites and sips from her food and drink. She was certain that he knew what he was doing, and yet he still never spoke of it.

If only life could be that easy for her.

He spoke of bad food experiences and hilarious training memories. He was content to just sit there and talk her ears off despite a lack of response from her.

What he didn’t know was that she was listening.

She was filling in every single detail, remembering what he liked and disliked, who could be safe to approach in SHIELD, how his experience was when he first joined SHIELD.

Before they finished up breakfast, he started speaking of what she can expect from the evaluation, “Coulson mentioned that they’ll start with medical evaluation first later, so we’ll head straight to the doctors after this.”

The slight twitch in her jaw did not go unnoticed, and Barton knew that she’s still feeling so uncertain about everything.

He tapped on the table twice, catching her eyes, “You know you can ask me anything right? I’ve been through this whole process. Well I’m pretty sure they didn’t think I was as deadly as you were without my arrows, but still.”

Natasha hesitated.

After a second of consideration, “What do they want from me?”

“Who?”

“The doctors.”

Clint was surprised by the question, to say the least.

But then again, he shouldn’t be. From the brief interaction they’ve had, and the limited information they’ve gained from her, the Red Room was not a fun space. They probably did some messed up things to her.

Clint had to remind himself that this is someone who probably has the most skewed perception of everything in the world.

“For the med eval? Nothing much, probably your blood sample, prints, medical history, they’ll probably also have a physical exam, things like that.”

The Black Widow furrowed her brows, “So, no procedures?”

Ah.

Clint takes a sip of his drink, “Procedures? No, nothing like that. Unless they find some messed up shit that needs fixing, but that will be done with your consent.”

“Consent?”

“They’ll get your approval before they do anything to you or your body.”

“I get to choose?”

And that was such an innocent question.

Like a kid asking about being able to choose breakfast.

A question that told Barton more than he expected.

He once again finds himself meeting the redhead’s intense gaze.

“Always.”

And Natasha believed him.

For now.

Medical evaluation went surprisingly well.

Barton was helpful with his explanation of what exactly is going to happen and his insistence on the doctors explaining why and how they are doing every step. They did the usual physical exam, drew her blood and did some scans.

The Black Widow was unsurprisingly tense throughout the tests, but she never put up a fuss.

When the doctors started asking about past injuries, she became cold and detached.

Barton saw the exact moment she shifted off.

Her answers were clipped and clinical, like reporting a mission.

Coulson shared a brief glance with him, before pursing his lips as they listened on.

She spoke.

She spoke about the time she got hit with a bullet when she was twenty.

She spoke about how she used a grenade and suffered from blast injuries on her back.

She spoke about the broken finger bones due to interrogation.

She spoke about burn marks on her thigh caused by a fire.

The doctor wrote down all of it as she lifted her shirt here and there to show the marks. Coulson looked away, feeling uncomfortable to even be in the room.

And Clint…well, Clint watched.

He watched as Natasha lifted her clothes to show the burn marks on her thighs or the blast injuries on her back.

He watched how she reported all her injuries and scars.

He watched as she passed over certain scars.

Scars that he knew didn’t come from missions.

He had to force himself to not react.

When she stopped reporting, the doctor requested the Black Widow to lie down on the med bay so he could feel her abdomen and other parts for any anomalies.

And that was when Natasha reacted.

“What?”

Natasha glances around the room, her eyes passing the doctor’s.

She memorized how they got to the room, she could escape if she wanted to. And oh how she really wanted to .

Natasha had to give credit to the doctor, he was patient throughout the evaluation, even now, “I’ll need you to lie down so I can properly assess your internal organs.”

Natasha’s green eyes went wide for a split second, “No.”

Her hands itched for a weapon to protect herself. She remembers where the closest needle is situated for this particular reason. She absolutely despised doctors.

In the Red Room, the doctors were bad.

Doctors do things to you.

Sometimes bad professional things.

Sometimes bad personal things.

Regardless, Natasha will not let anyone touch her.

Not only did she want to hide what the Red Room did to her, but she also did not want to give the doctor any chance.

A doctor’s touch is never good.

Natasha learned that at the age of nine.

Agent Coulson spoke up, his eyes warm but his lips pursed, “Agent Romanov, this is important, especially for someone that operates in the field. If there are any internal anomalies I’ll need to report it and ensure that you are fit for the field.”

Natasha knows when a superior is thin with their patience.

But she is not compromising.

“You’re not touching me.”

Coulson was nervous, they were doing fine until the doctor wanted to touch her.

Many plausible reasons for this reaction from the Black Widow so he took a wild guess, “Are you uncomfortable with Dr. Robert performing the assessment? We can call in a female doctor if you prefer.”

So, that was maybe the wrong assumption.

Because he got an even bigger reaction.

The moment Natasha heard about a female doctor she jumped up from the bed and her hand snatched the needle from the tray two steps away from her before anyone could even react.

She held out the needle, making her threat clear.

I will stab you if you try anything .

“No one is touching me!”

The doctor slowly walked away from her, “Okay, let’s all take a step back and calm down.”

Agent Coulson’s hand went to his sidearm instinctively, “Agent Romanov…put down the needle…”

Her green eyes were wild, which was a first.

Her gaze jumped between the doctor and Coulson, either forgetting Barton’s presence in the room or believing that he wouldn't be the one to do anything to her.

“I won’t let anyone touch me,” her voice came out cold and calm.

Definitely scarier than the shouting she was doing previously , thought Coulson.

This is the Black Widow .

He never really faced the Black Widow before, not on missions, not yesterday since he was busy when she was brought in. His interactions with her so far made it hard to picture her in action.

She was calculative and constantly on alert, but she never showed a hint of violent behavior so far.

(Well, except for that little misunderstanding yesterday, but Coulson thinks that was not ill-intended)

He wanted to call for backup just in case, but then again, he’s not sure that it would be the best choice.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a soft, “Okay.”

Clint has been watching the whole thing unfold.

He noticed the hand holding the needle, keeping it tight in her grip.

She never showed any hostility towards him, something that he counted as a win.

She was scared of Coulson and Robert.

The superior and the doctor.

And also the mention of a female doctor.

All these pieces of information, Clint wrote down in his little mental notebook.

He jumped down from the counter that he was perched up earlier, hands patting off invisible dust for show, while he walked towards the redhead.

Her hand kept its position, not moving towards Clint in any way.

Either she trusts me this much, or she doesn’t feel the need to use a weapon against me …

“Agent Barton,” came a clipped warning from Coulson.

He stopped when he was one step away from her, turning to face Coulson, “She doesn’t want the assessment, get the waiver that says she’s making this decision against the doctor’s advice, and let this be done.”

“Agent Barton, the medical evaluation is compulsory,” Coulson stressed.

Barton scoffs, “SHIELD got the most important information, she gave you a sample of her blood. The assessment of internal organs was mostly done out of necessity and for evaluation of fitness in the field. She’s fit for the field and you know it. Any internal injuries that she’s suffering are hers to deal with if she doesn’t want us to know.”

He looks back to Natasha, seeing her shoulders tight and looking determined.

With a tired sigh, “I can’t make this decision.”

Barton flashes him a grin, “Fine, we’ll go to Director Fury then.”

He walks the remaining two steps to the Black Widow, offering a small nod to her. Her eyes were still trained on the other two people, but Barton was glad when she willingly left the needle in his outstretched hand.

Fury was surprisingly agreeable to Clint’s suggestion.

Maybe it was how the redhead gave him a look that promised chaos and destruction should he disagree.

Or maybe it was how she reminded him of scared little kids that he’s seen in the field when he was a much younger agent.

Or maybe it was how this formidable woman managed to earn the respect and protection of one of his finest agents.

He was no blind man.

(regardless of what some people might whisper behind his back due to the eyepatch)

When Agent Barton first came in five years ago, he was much like the Black Widow.

Untrusting.

Surviving.

But as the years went by, he became a part of SHIELD, easily.

He was easy to talk to and had a perceptive mind - despite his jokes and humor.

He talked to agents like they were friends, bonded with researchers like they were colleagues, and even befriended all other levels of staff in the base.

Fury can easily say that Clint had friends all over SHIELD, people that know of him and are willing to help him, should he ever ask for it. He smiles and greets people wherever he goes, as long as he isn't on the job.

He hides in vents and crawls everywhere he wants to.

Something that Fury tried to stop, which proved to be a vain attempt.

He pulls pranks that people can never find in them to hate him for, and does favors for people who he knew would one day have something he wanted in return.

However;

He never took in someone as quickly and as fiercely as he did with the Black Widow.

Clint Barton was an easy going guy.

But he still had this wall surrounding him.

One that is probably made out of something like reinforced glass. You can see it, you know it’s there, and you can even occasionally tell how far away he’s standing from it.

But you can never break it.

You can never climb over it.

You can’t even see through it for long.

But here is the Black Widow.

Invited by Barton himself to stand at the edge of the wall. Maybe not having full access to enter yet. But she’s not being deflected away from the wall.

Clint Barton stands there, looking right back into the Black Widow’s eyes through the wall.

Both of them, waiting for someone to make the first move.

Fury shakes his head before agreeing to the proposal. Insisting that she sign any waiver so his second-in-command will not get on his ass about paperwork and proper procedures. He knew there was definitely something that the Black Widow was hiding to refuse this.

But he knew pushing will not get him what he wants.

As the director, he’s learned that there are generally two ways to deal with people, either the hard way or the soft way.

The hard way is forcing and commanding.

The soft way is compromising and waiting.

And of course, he’s learned that with most of his trusted agents, the soft way yields the most effective and efficient results.

Trust.

Something that they’re still earning from the Black Widow.

They’ll just have to wait.

“Is there anything else?”

He watches as the woman tensed up, waiting for something.

“No, Sir. That will be all,” came Coulson’s reply.

Something that caused the Black Widow’s gaze to flick towards him for a split second.

Interesting.

Not interesting enough to pry though.

“Dismissed.”

As the medical evaluation was concluded, they finally moved on to other evaluations. The physical fitness evaluation results surprised no one, with her performance in endurance and agility coming out way above other agents in comparison. Her results in strength were above average but nowhere near the highest.

“My position in the espionage division didn’t allow muscle building to be the focus in my training, most men don’t particularly like women who are bulky and competent.”

And that was a pretty fucked up reason to not build up muscles if Coulson ever heard one.

After lunch, her cognitive evaluation results proved to be the most interesting.

Due to the nature of SHIELD, their cognitive evaluation is rather different. They test areas that are important as an agent.

She was intelligent in the most efficient ways.

Her level of awareness of her surrounding and observational skills was top tier, and her ability to memorize details and specifics were invaluable to an agent. She phased through those tests like it was elementary.

When testing her linguistic abilities, Coulson was surprised to find that she was fluent in at least seven different languages, conversational in at least another two more.

“I was often placed in different countries for missions, knowing the language helps with blending in,” was her simple explanation.

No one dared to ask how she was taught.

Her problem-solving skills were…questionable. This was something that needed to be further discussed with his superiors. She had no issues working in the morally gray area, something that was to be expected. But her lack of care for her own safety was concerning, to say the least.

Lastly, it was time for a psychological evaluation.

She led the psychologists in circles.

Deflecting and lying.

Giving answers that she knew is expected.

The psychologist wasn’t stupid. He knew that she wasn’t being forthcoming with her answers.

He notes down the way she gives tidbits of information before deflecting the whole question. He notes down her body language and her incredible show of acting the entire hour that they were in his office. He notes down how she closes off when he tries to pry for an answer. He notes down how he was no match for someone as trained as she is.

He wasn’t a soldier nor an interrogator.

This is not a fight that he was trained to win.

Maria watches the recordings of the Black Widow’s evaluations.

Partly due to responsibility, and partly due to her own curiosity.

There weren’t recordings for the medical evaluation due to patient privacy that their head doctor insisted on, but everything else was fair game.

Fury told her about the denial of assessment, to which she just raised a brow and told him that as long as paperwork was being done accordingly there was nothing she can and will say to that.

She will admit to being curious.

Is she just hiding something?

Or is she actually terrified?

So she sat down in her office, going through the assessment results for the physical evaluations, while the recordings in the gym were played in the background.

She notes her abilities and how the redhead can be so effortlessly capable. She wonders how much training she’s been through, and what kind of training she had to suffer in order to achieve such skills.

Seeing her results and how they set a new record in SHIELD, motivated Maria to do better and train harder. She wasn’t going out to the field as much nowadays, but she still liked the challenge of keeping up and keeping fit.

She’s also secretly pleased that a woman was replacing many other men in the record holding position.

The cognitive evaluation recordings attained Maria’s full attention.

There was a part where Natasha was sitting in a room to watch a simulation video of an espionage mission. The monitor shows a first person point of view of someone breaking into a place, getting some files, and leaving.

Then came the questions.

What was the colour of the cabinet in the right corner when she first entered the office?

How many cameras were situated in the lobby?

What time did the mission take place based on the one clock shown in the video?

There was a picture in the office, what was the picture?

What information was retrieved based on the files?

Natasha didn’t struggle answering any of those questions.

This assessment was never meant to be easy.

In fact, no one in SHIELD ever managed to answer all the questions accurately.

Maria herself went through this test once, and she blanked out on two out of the thirty questions. She was the highest scoring in this assessment before this. One that she was secretly proud of since the fact that she managed to beat Agent Barton was an accomplishment on its own.

“ It was only one point! ” She can almost hear Barton pouting in her mind.

The Black Widow broke their record again.

She can remember minor details, pick up on important information, and detect anomalies like no one else could.

When the redhead demonstrated her linguistic abilities, Maria had to sigh.

She really needs to stop putting off learning another language.

Maria was never particularly interested in different languages. She hated studying a whole new system and trying to mimic voices and words. She spoke fluently in English and Italian, and she was fine with being bilingual.

With the amount of people around her that spoke at least three languages, it’s time she kept up with them.

(And if she decides to learn Russian after remembering how the redhead reverts back to her mother tongue when triggered…well no one will dare to say anything.)

Fury found her in her office three hours later, when it was close to midnight.

“Is it pointless if I order you to rest?”

She didn't even glance at him when she replied, “You know, common courtesy requires you to at least knock before coming in.”

Fury had the nerve to laugh, before taking a seat in front of her, “If I had common courtesy I wouldn’t be in my position.”

He took a peek at her monitor, “Watching the recordings?”

“Just finished them,” Maria shrugs before closing the final window of the recordings.

She stretches upwards, hearing the satisfying crack in her bones before letting out a long sigh and breath.

“What’s your conclusion?” asked Fury.

Maria thought about that question for a moment.

From everything she’s gathered through the recordings, the Black Widow has some of the most needed qualities for a field agent. She was observant, capable, and efficient. These are qualities that take a long time to train into someone.

But then Maria thought back to the way she makes decisions, her priorities and her values, and comes up with only one conclusion.

“That she’s a great soldier.”

Fury nods in understanding, prompting the brunette to continue, “I think we’re all concerned over the same thing, which is her decision making. It’s obvious with the way she works, that her priority will always be the mission objective. She lacks concern over her own or other people’s lives.”

Fury furrows his brows, “That’s not what we want.”

“True, but her decision often heeds the best results,” she answered pointedly.

Maria has been piecing together the puzzle to better understand how the Red Room functioned, “She is trained to be a soldier. The Red Room gives her an objective and she is to accomplish it without question. She’s taught to think about the mission before herself. She can get hurt if it means the mission is achieved. That might not be ideal, especially if she will be working with others, but that is what a good soldier will look like.”

Fury pursed his lips before nodding, “Tell her to jump and she’ll ask how high.”

They made eye contact before releasing a simultaneous sigh.

In theory, having a good soldier that will do whatever it takes to complete the mission sounds good; in reality, that just means they’ll need to instill new values into the Black Widow.

“You think she’ll be an asset?” asked Maria.

Fury tilts his head before answering, “I think she’ll be an asset once she starts trusting us.”

“That might take years.”

“My last gamble took three,” he smirked, knowing that his last gamble was Barton who joined S.H.I.E.L.D about five years ago.

“And the one before took six,” she retorted, referring to herself when Fury first stole her right after the Marines let her go.

“Well, I’m obviously getting better at this,” his one eye didn’t hide his mirth, causing his second-in-command to roll her eyes, “Or you could lose everything in this.”

“They didn’t promote me to Director for playing it safe.”

Natasha lies in bed that night, thinking about what happened throughout the day.

She was drained from a full day of evaluations, even if some were surprisingly easier than others, and it all went better than she expected.

She thought back to the medical evaluation, and how she reacted to the physical assessment.

She told them about past injuries from missions before that, skipping scars that were inflicted by the Red Room itself since it wasn’t an injury, but a punishment. She remembers each and every punishment she’s ever endured, mainly because she needs to learn to not make the same mistake again.

When the doctor asked to touch her to check for internal issues, she panicked.

She didn’t have trust in doctors, because they often take advantage of you.

It was that way in the Red Room.

And until she knows fully how SHIELD works, she wouldn’t change her stance on that just yet.

A part of her also didn’t want SHIELD to know about what the Red Room did to her for her graduation.

She never lifted her shirt near the front when she was talking about her scars and past injuries. Knowing that if they saw it, they would ask questions. The Red Room was sure to keep scars at a minimum, especially for widows from the espionage division.

The straight line had faded, but it was still there.

A daily reminder of what she could never have.

She didn’t want SHIELD to know that.

She doesn’t understand how things work here. She doesn’t know if that’s something that they would be happy or mad with. She’s still so unsure of how everything works here, and it is exhausting.

Then Natasha thought back to how Agent Barton helped her.

He was the one that stood up for her, without knowing anything.

He just believed that she didn’t want to do something, and helped convince Agent Coulson and Director Fury that they should let her.

No questions.

No explanations.

Just plain trust that she can and should make decisions for herself.

He was the one that brought her in, and he was the one that she trusted the most (at least for now).

He is…good.

Very different from everyone else.

His presence brings a sense of calm to her.

Something that she has been craving forever.

His words were a soothing constant that grounds her.

Something that she needed now, more than ever.

She is far from fully trusting in him, since he could still be plotting something, gaining her trust before he betrays her; but maybe he can be different.

Just maybe.

Natasha didn’t let herself hope too much, but for some reason, her heart is telling her that she can hope a little, just this once.

The other evaluations were far easier than the medical ones.

It was similar to training in the Red Room, testing her physical abilities, assessing how much she pays attention and how to carry out a mission. The psychologist was fun to meet, and it’s been a while since she’s played with a psychologist.

She briefly wonders where the boss lady was today. She was surprised that she didn’t show up at least once during her evaluation, seeing as she was the one that interrogated her yesterday.

SHIELD has far fewer female agents when compared to the Red Room and Natasha’s uncertain if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

On one hand, the female agents she’s met so far seemed nice.

But on the other hand, the male agents were fine as well. Or at least, the ones that were of importance have been nice so far. The incompetent low ranks were far less pleasant to be around.

At that thought, the redhead lets out a huff of laughter.

Her badge has a level 2 clearance.

She herself is hardly a high-rank agent.

She doubts anybody else sees her as an agent, she noticed how they look at her when she’s turned the other way.

With caution and with disgust.

Like some sort of monster.

And maybe she is.

With that in mind, she closes her eyes and counts her breathing.

Forcing herself into her second sleep at SHIELD.

Hoping to get back her ideal 5 hours of sleep.

She woke up after 5 hours and 26 minutes.

Her body woke up at 5am on the dot once again.

She felt far more rested than she has in two months.

Part of it was due to the sleep she got, and part of it was due to the lack of anxiety for today.

Agent Coulson gave her a schedule for the training programme. It was detailed and showed exactly where she should be at what time, and what the training will be about.

A lot of physical activity today, she’ll need a heavy breakfast.

The lack of guessing relieves her the most.

Sure, she isn’t thrilled to be working with incompetent people, but training is something that she is used to. Dare she say, it brings her a sense of comfort.

Knowing exactly what to do and what is expected of her.

She sits up and once again smooths her hand on the bed to feel the texture. She grabs the water bottle that she has on the floor next to her bed and starts drinking half of it.

Training starts at 8am, and Barton said he’ll be by at 7.30am for a quick breakfast before he has to leave for a mission at noon.

She has a little more than 2 hours to spare…

Time to scout out the place.

Her tour with Agent Barton brought her mostly to the necessary places, she’s now looking to seek out the more…special places.

She briefly remembers passing by the conference room when she was escorted during the first day, but because of her weakness, she doesn’t know how she was brought from the interrogation room to medical.

A good place to start.

She ventures through hallways, never pausing to look at any specific room to avoid suspicion from others, and instead kept her pace so it seemed like she knew exactly where she was going.

She can feel the glare and stares from other people whenever she walks past them.

She passes the dimmed research labs, engine rooms, the gym, several offices belonging to people that she doesn’t know but has memorized the names of. She’s not only keeping note of rooms and locations, but other little details as well.

Fire extinguishers, water pipes, vent openings, reinforced glass…

All information can be valuable in the right circumstance.

She learned that when she was 12.

The blueprint of the helicarrier is slowly being put together in her head, it’s far from complete but she feels better knowing exactly where the escape routes and rooms with weapons are located if needed.

When she got back to her room she found Agent Barton standing outside.

“Hey, went for a morning stroll?” he asked, way too cheerful for 7 in the morning.

“Something like that.”

The training room was bigger than what Natasha expected. She briefly saw it from the outside when Agent Barton was bringing her around for the tour yesterday but the inside of it was actually quite spacious with many different sections.

The instructor made it clear that he wasn’t happy that Natasha was part of his class. She knows his name - Agent Wilson - but she still gave him the nickname Weaksauce, courtesy of his obvious inferiority and that one splat of what Natasha assumes is mustard on the bottom of his shirt.

He barked out orders and had them run laps around the training room after he introduced himself and Natasha’s addition to the class.

Natasha puts up a slow pace, matching the other agents, making sure that she was in the solid middle of them. She didn’t know how they treated training in S.H.I.E.L.D., but Weaksauce didn’t mention anything about needing to perform well in this. So she doesn’t over-perform, choosing to keep her stamina for what she knew was coming up after lunch, which was gym.

A lot of physical activity.

Other agents were, of course, shocked.

“I thought the Black Widow would be more badass, she can’t even outrun us.”

“Maybe it’s not the actual Black Widow?”

“She could be just bad at running.”

“Or maybe the rumours were overstating her abilities!”

It took a lot of training and self-restraint to not roll her eyes at that, she had to admit.

If she were to actually run, then she’d be done with the 30 requested laps already.

When everyone was finally done with them, he called them over, “Because I don’t want to scare off the newbie, we’re just gonna run through the obstacle course five times, as a team. I expect no delays compared to the previous record time from this class!”

It was a typical indoor obstacle course, scaffold ladders, shuffle bars, a whole lot of rope, tall grilled walls…nothing she’s never faced before.

They all started when Weaksauce blew his whistle. Once again, she kept herself firmly in pace and stuck to the middle of the group of agents. The few agents that thought they managed to overpass her were way too happy to cheer out their excitement on this accomplishment .

“Come on! Aren’t you the Black Widow?”

“Catch up with us, will ya?!”

“They didn’t teach you how to climb in Russia?”

Natasha of course, had to start noting down everyone’s capabilities. The ones with obvious strength advantages based on their climbing speed, the ones with agility when crossing the rope bridge etc. And the ones that were busy looking at her ass, that means they’ll be the easiest target for manipulation.

What can she say, she’s an observer, it’s a habit that she can never shake off.

She was drinking water when one of the weaker agents came over, “Not terrible for your first time, Agent West holds the undefeatable record of finishing this in less than 3 minutes though.”

She nicknamed him Spaghetti when they were doing the obstacle course. (Yes, he had spaghetti arms compared to the other agents.)

He would be a good person to take advantage of, if he wasn’t so obviously the weaker ones among the group. He’s part of the last few who finished the courses earlier.

He’s no use to me .

Agent West, the one that had eyes often kept on her ass if he’s not ahead of her, butted in the conversation, “I doubt anyone can break it, I was in the zone that day.”

Some of the other agents patted him on the back and some were genuinely looking at him with something akin to admiration in their gaze. That caught her off guard a little, and she choked out a soft laugh.

“What are you laughing at?”

Oh what the hell.

“The fact that you guys think that’s an impressive record.”

“I didn’t see you breaking it just now,” Agent West took a step towards her.

“I had no need to.”

His eyes tighten just a little.

Ohh…someone’s a little sensitive . That also went into her little mental notebook.

“What did you say? You think you’re better than us?” he asked, fist clenching by his sides.

Some of the other agents came up to try and stop it, but Natasha is not someone who fears or cowers easily, “I know I am.”

The smirk must be what set him off cause he almost punched her, until he caught sight of her hands.

Then he smiled.

Natasha’s brain registered that a second before he brought up his own hand, “All you are, is a prisoner.”

“Look at this,” He shakes his hand while his free hand points at his wrist, “No tracker.”

No one ever accused the Black Widow of being a saint.

She’s filled with rage.

And right now, that rage is spilling out.

Her eye flashed for a split second before she lunged towards him, fist clenched and ready before she was pulled back by none other than Spaghetti, “Agent Romanov!”

His hold was nowhere near tight, but the fact that he managed to react a half second faster than everyone else says something about him. The other agents slowly started to help pull her back before someone actually gets hurt.

Natasha took five deep breaths to calm down before she sent another glare towards Agent West.

Weaksauce dismissed the class when things cooled down since Natasha knew that she can’t afford any mishaps for now. He grabbed her hand when she walked past him, causing the redhead to almost punch him out of reflex.

His eyes were hard when he spoke. “Try not to cause any problems in my class Agent Romanov, cause I will send your ass back to Director Fury if needed.”

Breakfast with the other agents was uneventful.

Natasha kept to herself and only took fruits from the open bar in the cafeteria. There is still a chance that they will try to do something to her food and she was not taking that chance. Just fruits and water for late breakfast is hardly a filling one, but it already did more for Natasha than she could hope for.

She did have a proper breakfast with Agent Barton in the morning, so this was just to replenish whatever energy she used up during the morning run.

She’ll need to do some infiltration to better understand how S.H.I.E.L.D. works and their motives to keep her here, before she can trust their food.

Or dying of hunger might not be the worst way to go, I suppose .

After that, it was a quick two hours in the gym where everyone sort of just did what they wanted. Natasha stayed to the lighter gym equipment, running and some quick pull-ups to make sure she wasn’t slacking on her training.

The lack of directions was surprising, but this is a class of qualified agents - according to Commander Hill - so she suppose it makes sense to expect them to have some sort of self-discipline.

Most of the guys had some competition on who can bench press the most or who can do the most pull-ups. Natasha just watched as they wasted their energy, for something as meaningless as ‘bragging rights’.

She was glad that no one else came up to make small talk with her. After that little incident in the morning, she wasn’t sure how they might react to her. She wasn’t scared of them, just what she might do to them if triggered.

When it was time for lunch, they were stopped by none other than, “Deputy Director Hill!”

The agents all stood up straight upon hearing someone shout her name. Natasha followed swiftly, observing the woman with curiosity as she gathered behind the other agents.

The brunette stood near the entrance and took in their tired and sweaty bodies, before she nodded and addressed them, “I know it’s supposed to be lunch time, but that’s getting postponed. Follow me.”

“The gun range?” asked Agent West when they stopped.

Maria raises a brow as if annoyed by the obvious answer. She snapped her fingers and counted five agents, “Line up.”

The agents did as told, standing up to the gun range, looking at the pistols and earmuffs in front of them.

“Ten shots, the one with the best result gets one request fulfilled by me, within reasonable range of course.”

And oh ho.

That sparked some fire.

A request fulfilled by the second most powerful person within S.H.I.E.L.D.?

That could mean anything .

Well, anything within a reasonable range.

Most agents have heard of seniors being granted off days or even personal equipment in their rooms. Some even ask for specific missions or special treatments during training.

So obviously, everyone was eager to show their best side.

Everyone was buzzing with motivation, except Natasha.

Natasha stood at the back, wondering what this meant.

Within reasonable range? That could mean anything or nothing.

She watches as the other agents shoot their shots (literally), they didn’t do too bad. They really are qualified agents. But most of them at least miss the bullseye three times. Their eagerness, lack of concentration, over-exertion in the gym earlier, caused them to just miss slightly when shooting.

Rookie mistakes.

Maria watches as the Black Widow stood up to the stand and put on the earmuffs. She knew how the other agents would perform, she had been watching the cameras in the gym. She knew for a fact that they would be too tired and excited to aim properly.

A few agents did better than she expected, but that was neither here nor there.

She’ll admit that she’s curious at how the redhead might perform.

She didn’t waste too much energy in the gym but it was still a substantial work-out routine that she did. That 25 pull-ups in one go within a minute was no small feat.

Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, the Black Widow performed the best.

She got tens on all of them, but Maria did notice the quick clench on her jaw when she hit one closer to the line than the others.

Maria expected the Black Widow to outperform the other agents, one does not simply become the most hunted assassin in the intelligence community for years without having skills.

But she was surprised by how the redhead seems to be a bit of a perfectionist.

Whether that clench was disappointment towards herself, or reflex from past training in the Red Room…

Well Maria can only hope she’ll find out one day.

“This is what happens when you exhaust all your energy in one session,” she tells them after the last batch of agents were done with their shooting.

“You will have missions where you need to be active for more than a day, stamina is important in the field. Knowing when and how to evaluate your own stamina and energy is also important,” She looked at the few agents that were competing against one another when she said that.

“It might not be obvious but being tired will affect our other capabilities. Your hands go shaky, your breathing is labored, your attention is spread elsewhere, and your shooting is affected. It’s important to train yourself on how to keep control of your body and know how to work around it.”

This was a lesson that Maria taught all the agents.

It was a lesson she learned before her time in S.H.I.E.L.D., and it’s probably one lesson that she’ll hold onto until the day she dies.

“Dismissed.”

Natasha was walking out of the gun range when she was called, “Agent Romanov, you won the challenge.”

The redhead smirked before crossing her arms, “Are you surprised?”

Natasha might never admit it but she did find the brunettes' presence grounding for some unknown reason.

“Not exactly, but I do wonder what your request might be.”

The Black Widow furrowed her brows, “How do you define a reasonable range?”

“You have a limited range of requests you can ask for, since anything like having an ‘off-base’ day is off limits. Anything that I can write off in a claim towards Fury will be acceptable I suppose,” shrugs the Commander.

So monetary requests.

Tangible things.

That helps narrow things down , thought Natasha.

“Can I think about it before giving you an answer?”

The Commander looked at her before nodding, “You have one week.”

With that, the agent gave her a quick nod before turning to leave the gun range.

“Good job today, Agent Romanov,” came her voice once again before Natasha could fully leave.

She stopped in her tracks and glanced over her shoulder, giving Maria an unrecognizable look.

Before she could call her out and ask what’s up, the redhead was already gone.

The next day started oddly enough, in a class setting.

Natasha showed up to the class and found most of the agents being surprisingly attentive and excited for it. She remembered from the schedule that it’s languages today, and found a female agent about her age at the front.

She has gorgeous blonde locks and Natasha found herself taking note of how tall she was. A few of the agents near the front were talking to her about this and that, while she answered them with sarcasm in a dead tone.

The Black Widow won’t lie and say this woman didn’t intrigue her.

When she saw that there were language classes in the training schedule she had to laugh. She was known in the Red Room for being the one who picked up the most languages while being fluent in most of them instead of mixing and being choppy in the actual usage.

The Red Room used extreme methods to teach languages, but once Natasha found her way to pick up different languages, it earned her some esteem from the madames and the general himself.

She was often sent to different parts of the world for missions, something that she loved and hated. It gave her a chance to explore and experience the world, but also used to remind her of the freedom that she didn’t have.

She was snapped out of her thoughts by the agent at the front.

“Alright, you’ve all seen me and worked with me before so you know what to expect,” her blue eyes swept through the room before she briefly paused at the Black Widow herself.

She tilts her head in consideration, before deciding that she definitely has not seen this redhead in her previous classes before, “Well, most of you.”

She walks closer to the seated agents, “For the newbie, I’m Agent Morse, people call me Bobbi.”

Natasha nods in acknowledgement before she sips on her juice box that Agent Barton gave her earlier.

She stopped when she noticed everyone looking at her.

Looking around and realizing that they were expecting something from her.

What exactly?

“Your name?” came the question from Agent Morse.

The Black Widow internally sighed in relief at knowing what they were wanting from her, before clearing her throat and answering the tall agent, “Agent Romanov.”

Agent Morse just gave her a quick nod before addressing the class again, “Good. The last time I saw this class, we were learning something a bit more physical, this time, we’re switching things up.”

She clasped her hands together before turning her gaze at everyone in the room, “ Can anyone tell me what language I’m speaking right now?”

Natasha’s legs twitched at the familiar language.

No one in S.H.I.E.L.D. spoke Russian to her.

She knew that some of the people that she’s met do know the language, and she’s aware that the evaluation showed that she knew the language as well, but if this woman in front of her is acting like she never read Natasha’s file…

Well then.

“No one? ” she asked once again, her right brow raising slightly.

Natasha kept her mouth shut while she observed everyone else in class that were genuinely confused. Surprised that not a single one of the rookies at least recognised the language, and even more surprised that not a single one of them even guessed that she might know the language.

Well I guess I am more known for my physical capabilities rather than my linguistic abilities.

She was snapped out of her thoughts by Agent Morse mumbling to herself, “ Total amateurs, great. I’m gonna pour ketchup into her boots tonight.”

Natasha is not someone who loses it easily.

But god damn that sentence caught her off guard.

She huffed out a choked laugh before she could stop herself and all eyes were suddenly on her once again.

Well, there goes her plan to play pretend …

Blue eyes squinted as they observed her, “ You understand me.”

Not a question. More like a statement.

The redhead just smirks, “ Maybe.”

“You speak Russian fluently? ” asked the senior agent, her tone hinting a sense of amusement that Natasha was glad to hear.

“More fluent than you, I’m sure.”

Listen, no one ever accused Natasha of being modest.

She’s not.

Being modest didn’t earn you anything in the Red Room.

Being confident on the other hand, something that the mademes for some reason really enjoy seeing in her. Confidence in her own capability is acceptable and encouraged.

And it seemed like this is something that Agent Morse enjoyed seeing in her as well.

She laughed before responding in a different language, “ Romanov, right, I should’ve guessed. But can you speak Japanese?”

And so it began.

The language war.

“If I want to.”

“What about this? There’s previously only three other agents that can converse with me in this language.”

“Isn’t Mandarin the second most spoken language in the world?”

“That might be true, but I’ve used this language much more than I’ve used Mandarin for missions.”

“Maybe your handler just likes sending you to North America for no reason, and Spanish isn’t that uncommon with Americans and Europeans.”

“It’s possible. Final quiz, do you know this language then?”

And the back and forth ended before Natasha could really get excited.

It’s been a while since she’s got puzzled by another language. She’s fluent in many of the commonly spoken languages, but there are still many languages out there that she never got a chance to learn.

The pronunciation and flow sounds familiar, it’s definitely a language that she’s heard before. Maybe from some of the other girls in the Red Room.

The Red Room was efficient and effective that way.

They don’t need every single girl to learn every single language. Each widow learns a few specific ones and they’ll be mostly placed in missions that will need those languages.

Her confusion must be obvious because Agent Morse grinned, “ Aha! You can’t speak this language, can you?”

That it was a question was obvious, but Natasha genuinely could not even guess what she was saying, “I don’t know that one.”

She lost.

And for the first time in a while, Natasha didn’t feel sad that she lost.

She didn’t immediately get defensive or fear that she might get punished.

She’s surprised more than anything.

Seems like S.H.I.E.L.D. does indeed have capable and intriguing individuals in many aspects after all.

The taller woman sighed in relief, “I am so glad I at least know one language that you don’t, if not this lesson might be awkward.” Her body didn’t show that she cared at all, about Natasha not knowing what language she just spoke.

She wasn’t angry.

And Natasha’s reply came out before she could stop herself once again, “What was that?”

Mentally, Natasha smacked herself in the head and made a mental note to keep herself more in check before she got in trouble. She’s been slacking in her self-control, especially in front of this agent.

“Portuguese,” answered Agent Morse with a small smile.

“Hmm,” nods the redhead in quick acknowledgement.

Suddenly they were reminded that they weren’t just two agents in a room, there were actually a whole class full of rookies as well. Agent Morse schooled her curiosity at the new redhead in the class, and continued on with her lesson.

“Alright, who here wants to become a field agent in the future?”

Bobbi was shocked when the newbie matched her in class. It’s been a while since any junior agents matched her linguistic abilities, or any agent at all, really.

She briefly remembers some other agents talking about someone new joining when she was walking - running - to class this morning; but she just came back from a month-long mission three days ago, and half the time she’s back was spent in her room getting back some much needed rest and acclimating herself back to her identity.

There are some messages that she hasn't gotten to, that might have information about the new agent, but she had been busy rushing to class this morning after almost oversleeping - keyword almost - she made it with two minutes to spare.

So she had zero clue about who this newbie is, other than the fact that she’s crazy smart to be able to match her with so many languages. And when she saw the redhead walking past her, her curiosity got to her.

What better way to know someone other than asking them directly?

“Hey, you just joined S.H.I.E.L.D. last week? I don’t recall ever meeting you,” asked Bobbi when she caught up with the redhead.

The redhead slowed down her pace before chancing a glance at the blonde next to her, “Yes, ma’am.”

The blonde agent wrinkled her nose, “Ew, don’t call me that, Bobbi is fine, or Agent Morse, if you must.”

Natasha didn’t know if she’s being serious or if this was a test, but she seemed nice in class and she did recall a few other agents calling her Bobbi.

But she’s not taking any chances.

She’s no idiot.

“Agent Morse, then.”

Bobbi huffed out a laugh, before asking, “How many languages do you speak?”

Natasha looked at her warily.

Not many people would ask such direct questions, and if she was her instructor, shouldn’t she already have access to her file from the evaluation yesterday?

But she supposes since this is something that S.H.I.E.L.D. already knew, there was no reason to hide it from her.

“Fluently?”

“I suppose?”

“Seven, I think.”

Natasha wanted to keep a few things up her sleeve.

Even during the evaluation, she didn’t correct them when they made wrong assumptions about her language abilities, giving her the loophole to act like she only knew 7 languages fluently.

Bobbi didn’t bother to hide her surprise.

Speaking seven languages fluently is no small feat. She herself had been holding the record of language master in S.H.I.E.L.D. for the longest time.

Well not anymore it seems.

She was scared to ask, “And, not so fluently?”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve used Norwegian and Latin,” answered the Black Widow.

Latin?

Who speaks Latin?

“I’m impressed, I’ve never met another agent that spoke more than five languages,” she said.

It was true.

She’s met other linguistically talented people, mind you.

But never agents.

She was deep in thought that she never noticed Natasha’s shift in body language.

The Black Widow was intrigued by Agent Morse.

She’s never met an agent who is so…unsuspicious.

Or maybe she’s just hiding really, really well.

“What about you?” she asked, disliking how it suddenly got quiet when the other agent was deep in thought.

“Just the few I spoke just now. I learn only when a mission requires it, language isn’t exactly an interest; but it doesn’t hurt to have the advantage though,” she shrugs.

The redhead was surprised.

So S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t force the blonde to learn all she could when they realized that she’s gifted in this area?

Didn’t cuff her to a chair and make her memorize and learn vocabulary?

Didn’t withhold food unless she can pronounce the words accurately?

Didn’t make her kneel under the rain while they quiz her on slang and grammar?

Interesting.

If what she said was true…

“You only need two weeks to learn a new language?” She recalled that Agent Morse mentioned this during the class earlier.

Agent Morse tilts her head and seems to think about it for a moment before nodding, “If I want to act like I’m a native speaker without the fear of breaking then about that length, if I just need to blend in for a quick stay, two days should be fine.”

That’s…

“That’s very impressive.”

Bobbi’s eyebrows shot up at the praise, her blue eyes meeting green ones and seeing how they were sincere and filled with a hint of admiration.

This woman in front of her, a new agent who spoke at least seven languages fluently, is the first person to actually acknowledge her linguistic abilities.

Bobbi never lacked acknowledgement or even respect from other agents about her linguistic capabilities, god knows how many times Coulson called her a god for helping him translate this or that; but this was genuinely the first time someone actually praised her for it.

She got the occasional ‘good job’ or ‘that’s so cool’, but no one ever just looked at her with such admiration and respect purely based on this skill of hers alone.

*Beep* *Beep* *Beep*

Her eyes widened as she looked down at her watch, “Oh shoot, I have training with May in five minutes! I’ll catch you around Agent Romanov!”

She says, before jogging off so she’s not late and causes another mat-eating start to her training session with May.

Again.

She turned around one last time and shouted, “It was nice meeting you!” before she took off in a full sprint.

Natasha Romanov was left standing in the hallway alone.

Wondering how anyone would ever feel ‘nice’ about meeting her.

The next night, while Natasha was wandering the halls during her short break, she found Agent Barton in one of the small rooms with a bunch of papers and files laid out in front of him.

Not wanting to scare him, she announced her presence by knocking on the barely closed door, before waltzing in like she belonged there, “What are you working on?”

Clint looked up and saw the redhead with a little box of nasty coffee drink in her hand.

“I suppose this is a good time to introduce you to how things work in S.H.I.E.L.D.” He nodded her over and opened a file in his laptop, “This is a mission package, your team leader - or in our case our handler - will assign you a mission with a general plan. You go through it and fix it up with more detailed planning, submit it back to your superior, get it approved, and then carry out the mission. Mission reports are expected within a week of the mission, if your superior isn’t a hardass then you might get leniency on that, but that’s pretty much how things work out here.”

Natasha listens while her eyes glances over every piece of information she can take in, in front of her. She sees floor plans - some which were surprisingly familiar, personal information, past mission reports etc.

Her eyes took in the file shown on the laptop before asking, “What do you include in mission reports?”

“Basically just note down how things went down, any unexpected events, what you found etc.”

Nodding, “Sounds tedious,” she commented.

Clint raised a brow at that, surprised that she didn’t find all these…familiar.

“The Red Room didn’t have much paperwork?” he asked before he chickened out.

He knew that the Red Room in itself is quite a sore topic, especially given how Natasha often stiffens when it’s mentioned, but he is just so…so curious.

Thankfully, Natasha didn’t feel interrogated, “Mission debriefs happen right after the mission, and that’s it.”

The agent had to blink twice, wondering how that would ever work, “But what if it’s a long term mission, don’t you need to keep track of things?”

He thinks back to missions he’s had in the past that lasted more than five months, and wonders if he would ever make it out without mission reports. The amount of times he’s had to refer back for certain details or important information is considered minimal in S.H.I.E.L.D considering that he is one of their top agents; however, he doubts he could remember passcodes or things like target family details.

Natasha flips through the floor plan, looking at it with an odd gaze, “That’s why there’s a mission debrief, we have people writing down important information and they will be responsible to analyze and handle the information we brought back.”

Huh .

“So you’re just the muscle, huh…that sounds nice.”

Natasha just shrugs.

“This is your mission?” instead she asked.

“Yeah, just some good ole observation and data retrieval,” he answered, going back to work on his mission plan thinking that their conversation is most likely over and the redhead will leave the room.

It seemed that way.

Until he heard chairs being pulled behind him and the redhead plotting herself down.

“Alone?”

Clint was still trying to process how the redhead just sat down behind him, so his answer was mostly on autopilot, “Easier for me to work alone than with others, and being trusted by Fury means higher difficulty missions.”

He tries to focus back onto his mission plan, he really did.

But having one of the world’s most deadly assassins sit behind you really takes his attention off the mission. He can barely tell you the target’s name if you asked him now.

The redhead was reading, that much was certain, since Clint didn’t feel her gaze on his person. Mostly just looking past his shoulders and reading what he’s doing or the various files on the table.

After a solid 20 seconds of trying to type something into the mission plan, he gulped slightly before saying softly, “You reading off my shoulder makes me have performance anxiety, I don’t even know what I’m writing anymore.”

Natasha draws back and bows her head apologetically.

Her head has been swimming with information and questions ever since she recognised the floorplan. She knew it from one of her past missions, one that happened this year as well.

She reads Agent Barton’s mission plan and knows that he’s taking the long way in. His floorplan is outdated, that’s why she struggled to recognise it at first glance. This one was probably 3 years old.

She’s been thinking if she wants to tell him.

Scared that it might be un-welcomed.

Or that he’d question her opinion.

He had no reason to believe her anyway.

But he’s been nice to her.

And if he uses the plan he currently mapped out, there’s a higher chance for him to encounter security.

There’s no harm in telling him what I know, I guess .

Mind made up, she pulls the floor plan and lays it on the table, covering his laptop for a bit which led to his questioning gaze.

She stood and pointed at a part of the floor plan, “There’s an easier way to do this. You crawl vents all the time, there’s one from this side of the building that goes straight into the engine room here; you can exit the engine room, take a right turn and your destination is just right down the hallway from there. If you want to use vents all the way then you can also enter the room next to the engine room and that vent will lead straight into your destination.”

Whatever Clint thought the redhead was gonna say, it was definitely not this.

“How do you know that?” he asked.

Natasha shrugs, “I was here like three months ago, so unless they made some huge renovations between then and now, I’m 100% certain this is the easiest way for you to do this.”

Clint looks at his floor plan and then at Natasha, before his gaze follows the vent route that Natasha showed him just now, his head swimming with calculations and scenarios of the mission.

“I do prefer vent work, it’s way easier than sneaking,” he mumbles softly.

If what she said was true, then crawling vents is much easier.

Less chance of dealing with guards.

Less risks.

Much more up his forte.

But…

He pulls up a copy of the floor plan in his laptop and starts making notes based on what Natasha told him. Drawing the vents that Natasha pointed out and doing brief planning on his entry points and exit points.

The redhead is quiet as she watches him work, noticing that he isn’t putting this in his mission plan but instead drawing a separate one instead.

Clint looks up when he remembers that he’s not alone and he’s been leaving Natasha to stand over him for the past two minutes.

“Listen Natasha, I trust you. I do; however, I cannot put that as my mission plan and submit it for approval since Coulson will most likely not approve something based on one person’s information. But I will get there, scout the vents and if it’s true then I will do it that way.”

The Black Widow blinked once.

“And I will let Coulson know you helped when I’m back.”

And she blinked again.

“You trust me?” was the only thing that came out.

Clint suddenly remembers that it’s probably quite a rare thing that someone will trust a notorious assassin with something like this, but he had a gut feeling, “Well you didn’t kill me last week, and you never did try, so why wouldn’t I?”

The question took Natasha off-guard, she can think of twenty different reasons why she wouldn’t trust herself on the top of her head, “You don’t even know me.”

Clint just grins at her, “Call me optimistic.”

That’s stupid.

That’s a bad trait to have.

She was taught this lesson when she was seven.

“Optimism will get you killed in the field,” she says, her face masking the myriad of emotions she’s feeling.

There’s a deep pulling in her heart, at the idea of him getting taken advantage of due to his optimism. A sense of displeased, at the possibility of him being carelessly optimistic and causing his own downfall.

She shoves all of that into the back of her mind, hoping to digest it later back in her room, without the observation of anyone.

Clint watched as the Black Widow said that with a straight face, knowing that she believes in it wholeheartedly. Many agents believe in such a perspective, but Clint likes to think that his optimism often leads him in the right direction.

The woman standing in front of him is his best example.

“It’s a 50/50 chance most of the time. You might lose, or you might win,” he said that pointedly, not hiding the fact that he’s referring to her actions right now, and how his optimism two days ago led them here.

Feeling uncomfortable under Agent Barton’s gaze, the redhead walks two steps further from the table, creating some distance between them and changing the topic, “You don’t have to tell Coulson.”

“Of course I do, if you helped, then you get credit for helping.”

“I didn’t tell you the information to get credit,” Natasha replied, not knowing why hearing that sentence from him felt wrong.

Clint just tilts his head, “Why did you tell me then?”

Once again, Natasha is speechless.

Why indeed?

She thought about how he has been helping her, how he has made her feel somewhat better about living.

But this wasn’t gratitude.

It was…

What is it?

“I don’t know,” she mumbles softly.

Disliking the feeling of uncertainty. How can she do something without knowing why she did it?

Clint’s heart did a little tug at the lost and confusion shown on the Black Widow’s face, knowing for a fact she might be struggling with everything that has been happening with her, especially when being in an environment so different from the Red Room.

This is a woman who was raised to seduce and kill since young.

This was a child that never got the chance to grow up and learn.

“Maybe you’ll figure that out someday.”

When considering what she wanted her request to be, Clint mentioned that if she really is out of ideas, start with something tangible. He asked her about her belongings and if there’s anything she had that she missed.

She didn’t.

Widows don’t form attachments.

Then Clint asked if there was anything she wanted.

She didn’t.

Growing up in the Red Room, you don’t get the privilege to want something.

You get what you need, and you be grateful for getting it.

“ You can start wanting now ,” Clint told her, to which she just scoffed and took one of his M&Ms before walking away.

It took another two days, more conversations with Clint and a full night filled with Natasha having flashback memories before she figured it out.

She got her answer at 4.12am in her room.

She had to fight and control herself to not sprint to the Commander’s room to request for it immediately.

She wants this.

She opened the door and entered the room after hearing the Commander’s “Come in.”

She placed herself two steps in front of the brunette’s desk, standing in the perfect form, hands behind her back, clasped.

Maria finished typing her sentence in her report before looking up, “Is there something you need, Agent Romanov?”

She nods once, “I’ve thought about the request.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Maria prayed that it wasn’t something obnoxious or clearly forbidden.

God knows some of the previous recruits had tried asking for ridiculous requests, like promotions and pets, and one even had the audacity to ask for a personalized weapon.

The redhead has shown that she’s quite a reasonable person so far.

Well, if you discount all the…assassinations…anyway.

Maybe she’s not too reasonable…

“I want a hoodie.”

There’s no way Maria can do that for her, of course she’s asking for something-

Wait…

“A hoodie?” The brunette didn’t hide her surprise.

The redhead read into her shock as disbelief, her shoulders tensed a little before asking, “Is that too much?”

Maria almost laughed out loud.

Almost.

“No, just- just unexpected.”

She paused there.

Blue eyes and green eyes locking onto each other.

Maria, waiting for some explanation.

Natasha, waiting for some reprimand.

Neither are getting what they want.

The tension is just uncomfortable at one point so of course, Maria didn’t want to push it, “Alright. I’ll get it for you. Expect it by the end of this week.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

[Next Chapter]

Trending Tags

Last Seen Tags

#ysbsom

Trending Tags

Last Seen Tags

#ysbsom