assassin

bloody knuckles

natasha romanoff
chapter four: bloody knuckles

My eyes fluttered open at 4:45, giving me two hours and thirteen minutes of sleep if my calculations are correct. I groan aloud, my filter not quite fully functioning due to the time. I drag myself out of Tony's phenomenally soft bed and sulk to the kitchen to grab a smoothie. As I open the fridge to snatch up my extra smoothie from yesterday, I notice a yellow stickie note attached to a now empty smoothie container. I growl as I read the note.

Sorry, Nat, just looked so good I had to grab one before I went. Hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive me ;)

Stark

Stupid, arrogant, smoothie stealing asshole. I slam the fridge shut, not caring if I wake up the sleeping soldier. I decide to make a whole new batch of smoothies, one for me, one for Buck, and one extra. I toss a bunch of ingredients into the blender: spinach, banana, almond milk, apple, coconut extract, and a pinch of cinnamon. I throw a cup of ice in along with the other ingredients, and jam the blend button. Within thirty seconds, my green morning smoothie was ready for consumption. Thank god, too, one more second without it and I would've gone more bananas than the ones in the drink. I pour one for myself and a second for my trainee, then proceed to the workout room to wait for Bucky.

I enter the room, set the two sealed drinks on the floor by the treadmills and start to head for the door so I can change into something a little more exercise appropriate. Before I can make it to the threshold, someone clears their throat. I turn groggily to see a once again shirtless Bucky Barnes standing beside a swinging punching bag. How could I have possibly not noticed him?

"Is that what you sleep in?" He asks, eyeing my pajamas with an amused expression on his face. I glare daggers at the chipper warrior.

"Yeah, so?" I bark back, earning a chuckle from my apprentice.

"No reason, I just think that Tony's old t-shirts don't quite fit you." Bucky comments. I ignore the insinuation to focus on the fact that he somehow noticed that the shirt was Tony's having only seen it for a few minutes. How? To be honest, at the moment I can't be bothered to care. It's almost five o'clock and I have a whole day of strenuous workouts and drills to get through with our newest recruit.

"I'm getting changed." And with that I exit, reentering seven minutes later in grey leggings with mesh all the way up the sides, paired with a camo-green push up sports bra and my red hair tied neatly into a high ponytail. I can see Bucky's, shall we say, pleased reaction to my costume change. With a satisfied smirk, I approach the stunned trainee.

"We're gonna start off with some simple push ups. It will get increasingly harder as I apply weights, obstacles, and challenges to your workout. The goal is to continue to support your body at roughly the same consistent pace. You'll finish when I say you're done. Now get on the ground." I command, looking straight into his fierce blue eyes with no hesitation.

"Yes, ma'am." Bucky obeys quickly, setting himself up in perfect pushup form. I tell him to start and he does so. The form stays perfect for at least a few minutes, so I decide to mix things up.

"Okay, soldier, let's see how you can do with a little weight against you." I put on two ten pound weights onto his back, yet still for another five minutes his form and pace stays perfectly consistent. He's determined and in shape, I'll give him that, but there's much more to come. I get a new idea, something fun and interesting. I take a quick swig of my smoothie for energy, then drag the fan over to a few feet from Bucky's face. "Looks like there's a storm brewing on the coast." I laugh, starting to sprinkle condensation from my drink into the way of the fan. These droplets begin spraying Bucky's face, but still not phasing him. "How about we add a little more weight." I smirk, taking both of the weights off of the soldiers back. Once the slabs of metal are back in their place, I climb onto Bucky's back and sit cross legged while he continues to lift and lower himself at a perfect cadence. After about twenty five minutes of Bucky doing pushups unwaveringly, I got bored and called him to stop. He jumps up from position and towers over me with a smug smile on his face, only a few drops of sweat present on his forehead.