We Can Have This.

Chapter 6

It hadn't even been 24 hours in the facility where they'd brought Natasha, but she was already feeling restless; the dull beige walls, sterile smell and the low humming sound. Clint and Bruce were codling her, not allowing her to leave the bed without aid, insisting she needed rest, and she was beginning to lose her temper. She pulled the intravenous tubes from her arm and swung her legs over the side of her bed, standing and looking for her boots and pulling them on. Their eyes were on her with that concerned and worried look that, though kind, annoyed her to distraction.

"Guys, I'm physically fine, Shuri said so. Bruce, you said so. So please stop looking at me like that and just let me walk, move. I know you're worried, and it's sweet, but I wouldn't have laid around in bed before, and I'm not going to do it now."

She walked from the room, ignoring their insistent comments, striding past Yelena as she walked in the opposite direction with a nod. The facility itself, the new base for the Avengers or what was left of them, was nothing like what Tony had created. More a converted hospital where Bruce had moved all his research. She supposed that recycling old buildings instead of demolishing them was better, and Bruce wasn't a millionaire. Superhero work didn't exactly pay well. You didn't get paid to save the world, only official Sword business. She wandered far from her room and was now disoriented; it didn't matter. It was good stretching her legs, even if it was down building corridors. Where was James? He'd not left her side since her return but quietly exited when the others had entered this morning. Had he gone home? Where was his home? She wondered if there was a gym in here somewhere; maybe he was there. The smell of warm chlorine and the familiar noise of shifting feet, fists on leather and quiet grunts along the corridor suggested there was more than just a gym, and that's where she found James.

She rounded a corner and found James punching a weighted bag; his hair was tied back, and he wore a tight black sleeveless shirt. He looked good, and for a moment, she enjoyed the show. When he punched the bag hard enough to break it, sending it flying across the floor, he stopped and saw her watching. He didn't seem all that surprised at her being out and about.

"Hey, I was looking for a fossil. Guess you'll have to do," she jested, her tone purposefully flirtatious.

"You're up," it was a statement rather than a question, her jest and tone utterly ignored.

"You surprised?"

"No," he walked over to the bag and surveyed the damage.

"Steve was always doing that. You guys should hit something else."

"Doesn't feel the same," he replied.

"So, is this where you boys work out between missions?"

He put the bag back down; fixing that would not be a straightforward job and, most likely, a pointless one.

"No. I don't come here much at all. Only when Sam calls me here, and that's not often. No one comes here much, not really. Without Steve, Tony, you, not much of a team."

It made Natasha sad that the Avengers seemed so lost. She'd certainly never wanted to lead them; it was a heavy burden. Right now, it was the last thing she wanted to think about.

"Spar with me?"

"You sure?" his face was sceptical, brows furrowed with concern.

"You're the only one I trust not to hold their punches."

That wasn't the only reason; James trusted her judgement and allowed her to make up her own mind and her own mistakes.

He cocked his head and moved to a prepared stance. As expected, he didn't hold back, or Natasha didn't notice if he did. His new arm was deadlier than his last, and all his tells, the noise of the mechanisms as they prepared to manoeuvre, had disappeared. At least that focused killer look in his eyes was gone, the one he'd always had whenever they'd exchanged fists before. She was fighting Bucky, not the Winter Soldier on a mission, and that was the difference- slightly less deadly. She twisted away, wrapped her legs around his neck, and pulled herself upward. It was strange her muscle memory acted almost instinctively without much thought.