Dancing With Our Hands Tied- Natasha Romanoff

06- glass

"Driving me insane
Driving me insane
Driving me insane
Driving me insane
Driving me insane
Driving me insane
Driving me insane
Driving me insane"-Be Nice To Me

Quinn

Complications.

They happen all the time. For a multitude of different reasons.

But most of the time they are uncontrollable. Absolutely nothing can stop them from happening. No force in the universe can stop them.

Right?

***

The chill air spilled out of the fridge. I leaned down to get a better view, finding the orange juice in the back row. I grabbed it along with a glass. I tried my best to fill the cup as quietly as possible due to the fact it was well past midnight.

I took a sip of the juice and leaned my hip against the counter. We got back from our missions around 6:00pm. I was extremely exhausted but I still couldn't fall asleep.

"Night owl?" A hushed voice came from behind me.

I quickly stood up straight and turned around. Natasha was standing in the doorway. I have only seen her in jeans or athletic outfits, her pajama pants and tank top were a big change.

"Couldn't fall asleep." I finally remind myself to respond.

"Me either." Natasha walked into the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cabinet behind me and filled it with water.

She drank some before setting it down and turning toward me.

"So why can't you sleep?" She asked with a slight heat tilt.

"I think I'm just worked up about todays mission." I tilted my glass in my hand, pretending to admire the contents.

"We won." She picked up her glass and took a few steps forward.

"Its not that." I glanced back up at her. "I'm sorry." I blurted out.

"What?" A confused expression covered her stoic face.

"About today. I wasn't focused and I should've been more prepared." I desperately attempted to stop the word vomit that was beginning. My usual basic human skill of being able to control my own words is thrown out the window when Natasha walks in. Along with my ability to regulate my own heartrate. "I'm not gonna make excuses, it's just you make me nervous. Besides it was my first mission, and you hate me, so I was-"

"Wait." Natasha interrupted me. "What did you just say."

"Oh fuck- no- I didn't mean-" Multiple different sentences came blurting out of my mouth at once. My own flustered emotions allowed my to lose focus over the seemingly heavy glass in my hand.  It slipped right through my hands, crashing into the tile, fracturing into a hundred small pieces.

A loud crash sounded throughout the kitchen and I immediately dropped to the floor, trying to gather the mess of glass and juice. A large, sharp piece instantly dug its way into the meaty flesh of my palm. Blood immediately flowed out of my hands, spilling into the glass-orange juice mess, covering the tile in red.