protected || natasha romanoff [DISCONTINUED]

it only seems kinky the first time.

"director carter?" i ask, knocking on the open door.

"yes?" she says, shuffling some papers.

"i need to get out," i say as soon as i sit down.

she nods. "i understand. but even if i had full trust in you, all agents have training they have to go through-"

"you know i have the training," i insist.

"i am well aware of your capabilities, romanoff. i am not, however, as aware of where your loyalties lie," she says again.

"you've treated me with nothing but respect. i don't have any reason to return to russia."

"there are a few more training sessions, besides your normal sessions, i can put you in," she says, not acknowledging my comment. "of course, you don't need them, but..."

"i'll do them," i say quickly. "thank you."

she smiles. "that's not all, romanoff." she leans forwards. "you and i are similar. if i were you, i'd want something to satisfy my curiosity."

oh god. what kind of answer is she looking for? "i... i'm open to..."

"not like that," she says, seeming to realize what i'm thinking of, "no, i have files i think you'll be interested in. you'll have to earn them, but i think they will help you learn about your past."

"thank you, ma'am," i say, more relieved than i let on.

"and congratulations on passing your test."

-

the next morning, i walk to the gym. it's set up differently, but i can't get a good look around before agent thompson walks in. i line up in front of him, along with the other agents, most of which i don't know. i'm assuming they aren't full agents yet either, because we're all wearing white t-shirts and long shorts with SHIELD's logo on them. which is apparently the gear for this type of exercise, sort of like high school with guns- or, i guess, high school. high school with less drugs? less illegal drugs?

"alright," he starts. "i have a fun exercise for you guys, but we're going for a jog first."

someone groans and he just smiles. "let's go. if you're not happy with it, you may leave."

nobody does. we all follow him outside. he stands in front of us again, pointing to a wide trail in the woods. "pair up. i won't be timing you, this is just to warm up."

everyone finds a partner except for me and one other girl, who i recognize. she was one of the girls who read my file, so she has to remember me. i step over to her reluctantly. we don't talk as we line up and start our run, and i focus on stepping consistently. it's a short trail, and we all finish quickly. my breathing isn't too laboured, either.

"good job, guys," thompson says, "let's go punch things." i smile to myself, and thompson continues as we start walking. "your SO's should be inside by now. we're going to change it up, and you're going to spar with them."

great, i get to hang out with barton even more. once we get inside again, i scan the room for my SO. he notices me at the same time and almost bounces over. i can't help but smile back. he leads me over to an area where we'll have space. we face each other and he winks.

"you may begin."

i take a step forwards and roundhouse kick at barton's head. he ducks and throws a punch at my face. i flip over his arm. he sweeps my feet out from under me, and i land on my back. i flip back to my feet. i kick at his chest with both legs, bouncing back up off the ground. i block his punches with my forearm. he tries to roundhouse kick me, and i roll underneath and wrap my arms around his neck from behind. he taps my arm twice and i unwrap myself, grinning.

"i'm just gonna pretend you weren't going easy on me," he groans.

"don't lie, i know you were trying not to hurt me," i say. "if it makes you feel better, i save myself in training- with anyone."

agent thompson walks over. "who won?"

i glare at clint as he opens his mouth. "he did," i say quickly. "he won."

"i want you to figure out what you could've done differently," thompson says, walking away- someone else has finished, probably.

"what was that?" clint hisses.

"i'm supposed to be competent. everyone here either knows my past or is curious. i need a reason to be in training, barton. don't blow my cover."