Insatiable Habits

Hard Training

You hit the unforgiving concrete floor of the training room with a loud thud. A metallic saliva forms at the back of your throat as you cough up a sound amount of bloody liquid next to your hand.
"Move it. We're not done."
Your eyes shift upwards as Natasha stands formidably, towering over your defeated body.
"You've won Romanoff, I'm not sure what else I've left to give".
You cower under her clear disappointment.
"Move it, I said".
Clearly, the disappointment had not been enough for her to spare you. Natasha Romanoff had always been a determined worker. She trained hard, long hours. Though, there was always a sense that she had an odd perversion with beating you. This was just training. Why did she have to push you so far every time?

Clint had assured you that she'd take it easy this session, considering the fact you had only recently returned from Budapest with him. You were exhausted - not to mention injured. Perhaps she was somewhat irritated by the fact Tony had sent you as opposed to her. Though on second thought, that surely cannot be true ?

That night, upon your arrival, Clint had brought you into the complex with both his arms wrapped round you - supporting you as you limped feebly through the glass doors. With all the other Avengers asleep, apart from Tony who was notified of your arrival, Clint tried his best to escort you to your room quietly where you could clean up and go to bed. However, as you neared the corner, Natasha appeared in the hallway almost as if she had been waiting with Stark. The lighting was dim, and your worn eyes were preoccupied on trying not to close yet you were still able to identify the fury on Natasha's face. You peered up at her sheepishly, almost embarrassed by your vulnerable state. The seconds of silence in the air were loud and foreboding. Though, it was quickly broken by Tony's footsteps running up behind you. He took you by your waist pulling you from Clint's support and carried you down the hall. Behind you, Natasha scolded Clint fiercely, chiding him for being so irresponsible and not taking care of you.
By the time Tony had escorted you to your room, Natasha had caught up and swept you from his grasp. You were too weak to question this unconventional kindness from the widow - who you were led to believe had an absolute distaste for you from the moment you had joined the team.
She was gentle, lowering you onto the edge of the bathtub, her fingers brushing across your cheek as she whispered sweet reassurances towards you.

You don't recall much of that night.

All you remember is that she cleaned you up nicely, patched up your injuries and put you to bed. You also remember, vaguely, asking her to stay. But the empty space beside you upon waking concluded the outcome.

The following day not much had changed between you and the spy. At breakfast, she didn't as much as glance in your direction. It bothered you, but not in a way so disrupting that you felt the need to poke at it. Things were left that way, the way Natasha had intended - you thought.

So now, you were ready to train again. Why had she beat you so bad ? She had been the one who saw your pain first hand - appeasing it herself. You couldn't understand the desire to strike you in such a harmful way when she had been the one to patch you up.

Your thoughts were disrupted by the assassin's hand waving in your view. Your eyes widened at her and before she had a chance to speak, you turned and walked out the room in an attempt to avoid your reignited emotions.
Natasha called for you as you sped through the halls, unwilling to turn in fear of shedding a tear in front of the woman.