Steve Rogers thought he was one of the lucky ones but Natasha Romanoff, well, she thought that she was terribly misfortunate and she would love to kick fate's ass. In a world where soulmates are real, unequivocal marks etched on skin signifying an i...
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The gym was old, dusty, and rusty.
Inside the building, the fading sunlight beamed through the dirty windows, shining in Natasha's emerald eyes. Underneath her shoes and Epic's large paws, the cement floor cracked and crumpled with loud creaks. Natasha couldn't resist the urge to look up, squinting against the bright sunlight as she examined the ceiling, wondering how in the world the massive building was still standing. More importantly, she wondered why Steve Rogers' was training here. She, at least, understood that it was in his beloved city, Brooklyn, but that was about it. Surely, he could afford a membership at a private gym or even build one of his own. He was Captain America, after all. Men threw their money at him while women threw their panties at his face.
She was still vexed that Fury asked her, of all people, to recruit Steve for the Avengers Initiative.
"He remembers you from Cairo. Recruit him and that's an order, Agent Romanoff."
Natasha wasn't even sure if she wanted to be a part of it herself. Truthfully, she just wanted to save Clint and help him get home to his family. It was never that simple, however.
It never was.
There were extraterrestrials involved, a man who emerged from The Tesseract - someone who had superpowers and could control minds. The situation was much bigger than she could comprehend, something even she herself had never been trained for. At least, if Fury thought she could handle that, certainly she could handle seeing Steve Rogers again and omit the vestige that had sparked between them in the Cairo safe house.
As she walked down the gym's long hallway, she could hear the sound of chains swinging violently, the distinct sound of fists hitting a punching bag over and over again so forcefully that she knew it was bound to break.
There was only one person who could punch like that.
Epic suddenly halted beside Natasha, her nose in the air. She could hear her dog - sniff, sniff, sniff - beforeshe took off running to where Steve was training in the other room. She rolled her eyes, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she watched her dog run into the room, her tail wagging excitedly. Sometimes, Natasha was convinced the dog had a sixth sense, and it was reassuring that she trusted Steve. She could never let herself fall for him, even if he was her soulma - no, he wasn't - but she could trust him. If she could convince him to be a part of the Avengers Initiative, they would be teammates, and teammates had to trust one another.
That she could not deny.
"Epic!" She heard Steve exclaim, and she stepped into the doorframe of the training room to see the soldier on his knees, the massive, black, German Shepherd cradled in his arms looking as if she was a tiny puppy.
• • •
As Steve slammed his fists against the punching bag, the bag swinging around him violently, he felt his muscles strain and sweat drip down his heaving chest. It wasn't enough to beat fifty shades of red into the punching bag, however. It was never enough. He never left the gym feeling tired, his muscles never straining with exhaustion, and it was entirely vexing. He wasn't made into a super soldier to train in a rundown gym. He was made to fight, to fight like the soldier he really was, to win wars and help those who so desperately needed it. He didn't belong, not in the gym and not even in the decade. He punched harder and harder, thinking about the life he'd lost, the dreams that had to be forgotten.
