Natasha's sensitive to the prickle of eyes on her, wouldn't be much of a spy if she wasn't. Coming to SHIELD is a lot like walking into a zoo where she's the main attraction. Senior agents watch her warily, like she's a loaded weapon waiting to go off and they’re not wrong. The deprogramming had taken longer than she’d expected, putting each shard of her shattered self under a microscope like cutting herself open a hundred times over. In theory she’s been cleared, there's always the question of loyalty though, and there's no test for it but time. The junior agents don't know what to make of her, but they know not to touch — there was one accident, only one, and the field agent would be able to use his wrist again after intensive physical therapy. After watching the tapes, Fury backed her up and added a six month probationary insult to injury.
The only person that doesn’t fall into either category is Hawkeye. Barton’s eyes on her sends a frisson of something down her spine and it’s not pleasant. The gym is a riot of activity at almost all hours of the day and yet it always seems to get just a little bit more crowded when she goes to spar, agents outright pausing to watch the matches. Natasha works her way through the hotheads within the first week, beating them thoroughly enough that even the most brash operative hesitates to approach the mats. Then it’s the experienced field agents and she sweats for those victories, even bleeds in the case of Melinda May.
It’s still not the challenge she needs though. That throb of awareness doesn’t dissipate throughout any of those matches and she knows that Barton’s watching, is certain that he’s the match she’s itching for. He’s courteous, waiting for her opening.
She leaves him though. She has nothing but the sharpest edges of herself to give and she don’t want to break him.
Touch , PG, no warnings, 2/2
Natasha's sensitive to the prickle of eyes on her, wouldn't be much of a spy if she wasn't. Coming to SHIELD is a lot like walking into a zoo where she's the main attraction. Senior agents watch her warily, like she's a loaded weapon waiting to go off and they’re not wrong. The deprogramming had taken longer than she’d expected, putting each shard of her shattered self under a microscope like cutting herself open a hundred times over. In theory she’s been cleared, there's always the question of loyalty though, and there's no test for it but time. The junior agents don't know what to make of her, but they know not to touch — there was one accident, only one, and the field agent would be able to use his wrist again after intensive physical therapy. After watching the tapes, Fury backed her up and added a six month probationary insult to injury.
The only person that doesn’t fall into either category is Hawkeye. Barton’s eyes on her sends a frisson of something down her spine and it’s not pleasant. The gym is a riot of activity at almost all hours of the day and yet it always seems to get just a little bit more crowded when she goes to spar, agents outright pausing to watch the matches. Natasha works her way through the hotheads within the first week, beating them thoroughly enough that even the most brash operative hesitates to approach the mats. Then it’s the experienced field agents and she sweats for those victories, even bleeds in the case of Melinda May.
It’s still not the challenge she needs though. That throb of awareness doesn’t dissipate throughout any of those matches and she knows that Barton’s watching, is certain that he’s the match she’s itching for. He’s courteous, waiting for her opening.
She leaves him though. She has nothing but the sharpest edges of herself to give and she don’t want to break him.