𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗡 | 𝗡. 𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗙𝗙

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𝐏𝐨𝐳𝐧𝐚𝐧, 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝

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"Uh, uh," Natasha said, grabbing Truth before she could brush past her in a storm of barely contained fury, ignoring the burn of her skin as she tried to direct her to the couch. Truth shrugged her off, and when Natasha reached again, she batted her hand away, starting a short hand-to-hand grapple that ended with Truth getting pushed onto the couch, Natasha standing over her with her arms crossed.

"So, you want to do this the hard way?" she asked.

Truth stared up at her, only to swing her foot out, tripping her. Standing, Truth took a step forward only for Natasha to grab her leg and pull, Truth catching herself with a hand, wincing as she held up her weight with her injured arm.

"I saw that," the redhead said, only for Truth to huff.

"I can fix it myself," she replied.

"I know you can," the other woman agreed, "but, will you?"

"I would if you let me go."

She waited, wondering if Natasha would indeed let her go when her hand grabbed her foot. Truth pulled away in reflex, but Natasha's grip was firm enough that she managed to take off Truth's boot.

"Hey!" Truth exclaimed, getting up to try to snatch it back when Natasha held it away from her.

"You going to start behaving?" she asked.

Truth didn't answer. Instead, with her hand on Natasha's thigh to keep her from scooting away, she stretched her arm out as far she could, but Natasha did the same, leaning further and further back until her back hit the floor. With nowhere else to go, Truth took her chance, lunging forward just as Natasha tossed it a few feet out of reach.

Both assassins froze when they heard a sharp thump, like something had fallen to the floor.

The moment of clarity made Natasha more aware of their position, Truth laying completely on top of her, so many points of their bodies touching, their legs, their stomach, fuck, her breasts pressed against hers—

"What was that?" Natasha asked before she could get ahead of herself, her breathing heavy, though she doubted that was because of their mock wrestling.

"Nothing we can't fix later," Truth breathed, and Natasha, who felt her tense before she even moved, quickly grabbed her waist before she could lunge for the shoe, her hands grazing bare skin as her shirt rose slightly, and then Truth released the most high-pitched laugh Natasha had ever heard from her, reflexively rolling off of the redhead.

Natasha sat up, her elbows planted on the floor, staring at Truth, who laid beside her with a hand on her chest as she tried to catch her breath.

"What was that?" she repeated, unsure if it was what she was thinking.

But then Truth shook her head adamantly.