Note- So I'm giving up the italics are for thoughts. They now just represent dreams. Or emphasise or a words, or time.
-Natasha's POV-
"What if I fail?"
"You never fail. You are made of marble."
I turn, behind me are shadows. Shadows of men surround me. I'm sitting on the floor of the ballet studio. The studio that I spent hours training in until my bones broke or blood stained my pointe shoes. I look at my hands they are smeared with todays mission.
"Again." Music begins to play.
"Again." Repeats almost to a chant. Then I'm being dragged from the room by strong arms.
"Bring her downstairs," I hear an old voice yell.
"No! Stop! Let me go!" I scream and scream.
"Don't let her go free until she complys." The same voice urges the men. I struggle helplessly between there strength.
"Please stop," I plead.
"I comply. Let me go, I comply!" I awake fast. Not noticing I had spoke in my sleep. Tears fill my eyes. My vision blurs. I thrash around under the covers. I stop when I can no longer move. A tight embrace finds me. I turn realizing a strong chest was keeping safe. Tears tear through his shirt soaking his skin.
"Natasha, please stop. I'm here. You're ok," My body tenses at his words. Time slows around us. I was trapped. Not in the way I was in my dream. But the way my head falls peacefully on Steve's shoulder. How I felt secure in his arms. It takes awhile for me to stop crying. When I do, I sit up.
"Thank you," Is all I manage to utter. I glance beyond Steve. The alarm clock reads 2:29 am. Steve sits up with me.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he questions politley. I hesitiate. Not knowing if I should tell him. He has been so kind to me he deserves some answers. I nod my head at his words.
"I really don't think you want to know."
"Natasha, I do want to know. I want to understand you." His eyes fill with empathy and compassion.
"Where should I start?" I ask. Knowing how complicated my past can seem.
"How about from the beginning." He states.
-Steve's POV-
I try my best to listen with no emotion. I try to keep a brave face. Knowing that what she will tell me is nothing words in a file could explain.
She begins to explain how she doesn't remember her parents. How she was orphaned at a young age. Eventually captured and forced into the Red Room. She tells me she trained in ballet as a cover to the outside world. When really she and 27 other young girls were being trained to be the most dangerous weapon the world has ever seen. She tells me how they were punished if they didn't follow through with training. If that meant not killing someone or refusing to complete something. Even if she messed the tiniest thing up. They were to be tortured, raped, or even starved. She even said sometimes it was a mix of all three. She explains the training they went through, she called it killing, seducing, and torturing 101. She was trying to make light of the situation. In no way did it help.
I can see in her face she is in no way comfortable in telling me any of this. But she continues,
"When I turned sixteen they had a graduation ceremony. At that point there was only 10 other girls left. It was kill or be killed. Steve," She looks at me with pleading eyes. I rest my hand in reassurance on top of hers. Then I nod slightly.
"I killed all of them. Showing no mercy. Expressionless. I didn't hesitate to come out on top." She pauses for a while, keeping her eyes trained on the mattress.
"Afterwards, they put me on a operation table. I blacked out. But they told me that they sterilized me. They said that I had won. That I was the Black Widow." Her hands begin to shake at the words. I know that it wasn't the end of the story. Instead of letting her contiune I grab her waist and pull her to me. I takes a minute for her to respond. When she does she wraps her arms around me. I pull her into a tight hug.
"Thank you for trusting me. I know that was hard," I say softly. Now her face is dry. Her eyes remain sad and desprate.
Suddenly she pulls away from me. She gets up from the bed and grabs the room service phone. I hear a click then she begins to speak.
"Hi this is Ms. Johanssen calling from room 509. Could room service send up some your finest Vodka and two glasses please." She waits and nods at the person talking.
"Ok thank you. Bye," She hangs up.
"Finest Vodka?" I question. She shrugs her shoulders.
"I'm not paying for it," She slyly says. I smile at her. She is the most damaged person I have ever met. No. That's not how I should put it. She is the strongest person I have ever met. I smile at the thought.
-Natasha's POV-
I hear a knock at the door around 15 minutes later. I get up and open the door. I realize I'm wearing booty shorts and a skin tight tank top. I don't give a shit. Never have. Never will. The man is young. To young to have a job. He politly hands me the bottle and the glasses. I thank him and hand him a tip. I walk back over to Steve. I place a glass in front of Him. He is now sitting at the kitchen counter. I pull one of the stools away from the table and sit across from him. I open the bottle and pour us both some. I raise my glass and nod to him. Pouring it all down my throat. I repeat the same actions four maybe five times. But hey who's keeping track?
"Damn Romanoff," Steve nods. Pouring himself his second drink. I laugh. A smile spreads across his face.
"People say Russians drink Vodka like water. People think it's a sterotype. But you'll never hear a Russian deny it." I smirk. The bottle is almost empty. I'm envious that when we wake up tomorrow he won't be hungover. But I sure as hell will. I pick my drunk ass up and throw myself on the bed. Steve begins to head to couch.
"Would you mind sleeping up here with me?" I question nodding towards the bed.
"Sure if that's what you would like," He responds.
"Captain America always such a gentlemen," I giggle. He smirks also and lays down next to me. I look over to him. I may be drunk but wanting to kiss him wasn't just a thought after a few drinks. He looks back at me. I melt at his expression. I slowly lean my head foward. I can't stand the anticipation. He leans foward also. Our foreheads touching. I gently place my lips on his. He kisses me back. I curl into him. My head laying softly on his chest. I feel him breath. I begin to feel tired watching his stomach rise and fall. Before I slip into sleep. I feel a kiss on the top of my head. I smile.
Finally first kiss.
Thank you for reading!
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- Your Author, Ellie
YOU ARE READING
Learning to Love
Fanfiction•Completed• Natasha Romanoff the infamous Black Widow, has settled into her new life working for S.H.I.E.L.D. She has found a family in the Avengers. She has everything she wants. She finds herself starting to feel. Feelings that she was never allow...
