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I'll Be There For You

Part 2

5 years ago- Steve Rogers' house

Sorry for your less, Rogers. Steve, I'm sorry for your loss. Stay strong kid, and sorry for your loss.

"Thank you" Steve replied automatically, shaking countless hands of blurry figures presenting their condolences. Standing right next to him, his girlfriend Peggy kept a watchful eye open on the whole funeral reception. Later, Steve would be grateful for it, but right now, his mind felt lost in such a daze that he couldn't think properly. His mother was gone. First his father last year and now, barely a few weeks after his seventeenth birthday, his mother. Gone in an accident, by his fault. If he hadn't stayed late at football practice to share a few drinks with his buddies, if he hadn't called her because he was too drunk to drive...

He felt Peggy straightening her shoulders and hissing:

"God, not her."

Momentarily intrigued, he followed her gaze and spotted none other than Maria Hill among the guests. She was wearing a sober black dress and her hair tied in a tight bum revealed the sharpness of her features. He involuntarily searched for her steel-blue eyes -he might not be fond of her, but those goddamn eyes were something else- ...and slapped himself mentally for it. Now was neither the place nor the moment. People were staring at her now, wondering, like Peggy, the meaning of her visit. Everyone knew her as the cold teenager living on her own downtown; and everyone knew she and Steve weren't the best buddies around. Ignoring their inquisitive gazes, Maria cut through the crowd, never lowering her eyes, and headed straight towards them. She had barely reached them that Peggy shot dryly:

"What are you doing here?" The imperturbable steel blue eyes stared straight back at her and Steve thought he felt his girlfriend stiffen.

"I am here to pay my respects." Maria replied in that cool, cold tone that annoyed him so much. She paused, took a deep breath, as if to brace herself before losing her nerves and turned back to Steve: "Could I have a word with you?" She asked, and added when Peggy opened her mouth to protest: "In private"

His girlfriend sent her a glare.

"You don't have to, Steve." she said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

The young man's lips thinned into a line. All the people around him, showing comfort and pity, filling their speeches with words that didn't match the look in their eyes. Them, opposed to the straightforward teen who never beat around the bush and whose eyes didn't hold hypocrisy but something more like...sympathy? Understanding? Something different, that caught his attention, awoke his curiosity and triggered the sudden urge to get out of this room. Everyone was treating him like glass. She wouldn't. Right now, he felt like he needed it. So he brushed away Peggy's hand and without taking his eyes off Maria's, replied to his girlfriend:

"I'll be right back."

Steve pushed the gym's door and entered. As he expected, most of the rooms were deserted, aside from a few girls practicing their gymnastic for an upcoming competition, or the dance room where a redhead was gracefully executing a series of moves to the beat of a drumming song. He pushed the doors leading to the boxing room and glanced around. He could have believed it empty, but the faint grunts and punching sounds at the far back or the room told him otherwise. Steve migrated towards the source of the noise and spotted her.

As Clint had mildly put it, Maria Hill was beating the crap out of the punching bags. Her face was sweating, hair tied in a loose ponytail, clothes -a sleeveless T-shirt and black leggings- were starting show signs of humidity. Her eyes glowered each time her fist hit the plastic, and she didn't see him arrive, too focused on her task.

Which was probably why her foot connected with his jaw in a rotated high-kick when his extended hand brushed her shoulder, and he landed flat on his butt.

"What the..." he swore, holding his bruised jaw. Maria's eyes widened in recognition.

"Jesus! Rogers, I'm so sorry!" she blurted, immediately crouching next to the fallen man. "You're okay?"

"Ask me again in ten" he muttered, rubbing his sore point. "No broken bones, at least I think...where the heck did the high-kick come from?"

"Self-defense. Don't sneak up on me next time" she replied deadpan. "Did you bit your tongue?"

"No. Still seeing stars though." he joke, blinking hard to keep his mind in focus. Damn, he thought, he hadn't felt this knocked out since his days in the football team.

"Good." She knelt and sat on her feet, watching him attentively. She hadn't changed much, Steve thought as he took a second glance at her. Thin but not bony, muscled arms but not overly either, clean and bright from the exercise steel blue eyes...

"I take it you're better now."

Uh? he thought, off guard.

"You're staring. I take it you feel better." A blink later, Steve realized he had been indeed staring. But not at her face. Just a bit lower. Oups.

"Y-yeah I'm...I'm good, all good." He babbled, feeling the rise over his cheeks and cursing his momentary distraction. She had a nice body, but that didn't mean he was allowed to watch. Especially since she was standing less than a meter away from him. And had a kick-ass high-kick. To his relief though, the corner of her lips tilted upwards; so he figured he was forgiven for the time being.

"Good. What do you want?" For the second time in five minutes, uh? was the only thing that popped in his mind. The puzzlement must have been more evident, since she sighed and added: "I don't remember you being overly fond of me in high-school and I never saw you walking through the doors of the boxing room. Ergo, you came here for a reason. I am asking you now, what is it?"

"Do I need a reason?" he challenged, although knowing she was right. When she kept staring at him with the 'you think I'm dumb?' expression, he caved: "Fine. I came because I heard about your father passing."

Obviously, that was not something she expected. The blink, then frown, then slight barring of her teeth showed her annoyance.

"Was it Clint?" Steve didn't answer, so she stood up and returned to her punching bag. "Well, thanks for the visit. You can tell the brat I don't need a babysitter."

"He didn't sent me!" Steve protested, attempting -and succeeding- to stand on his feet. Now that he thought of it, the young man had not tried very hard to stop him from finding her... "And even if he did, he's just worried. He sees you as family." Three successive punches made the bag tremble badly. Steve couldn't help making the parallel with the target filled with arrows. No wonder why those two got along so well.

"I am not interested in a pity and moray party either." she shot, not sparring him a glance. "Now unless you've got something useful to say..."

Steve felt the urge to huff in indignation, but something in her voice -a very subtle, light tremor- held him back. She had never relied on anyone, he remembered. She never had family, friends, no-one to confide, no shoulder to cry on. Steve crossed his arms and gave himself a few seconds to figure out his next course of action. A lady who wasn't used to normal means of comfort, and who could only response to words with sharper words and creating distance. How could he get to her without making her feel pressured? The obvious hit him as she gave a high-kick to the punching bag.

"Actually, do you want a sparring partner?"

Maria paused in her next punch and stared at him in disbelief.

"Pardon me?"

"A sparring partner. A human being against whom you fight. Your punching bag looks like it won't survive much longer."

He hoped she wouldn't ask him why he was doing this, because he had sincerely no idea. So he waited patiently while she studied him, unreadable and distant. He tried not to stare, tried to ignore the way she stood, straight and strong, as he had always known her.

"I never thought you'd hit a woman, Rogers" she eventually said; and spotting the slight feral look in her eyes, Steve knew he was in big, big trouble.

"So, how was the training?"

Natasha Romanoff looked up and spotted Clint in the doorway. The teenager was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, an appreciative glance in his eyes. She rolled her own.

"Barton, will you stop eying me like a piece of meat?" She was only wearing her sports bra and a long black leggings spooning her curves. In response, he merely shrugged.

"Can't help it. My best friend is the hottest girl around. And why won't you change in the girls' locker room?"

"The others are stupid, chatty and hypocrites." she replied while slipping on her sweater. "Why do you think I hang out with you?"

"I'm smart? Incredibly attractive?" Natasha rolled her eyes again, but didn't stop the small smile spreading over her face. "Don't hide that pretty smile of yours, you know I can see it."

"Shut up." She replied sweetly while untying her hair. She was halfway through braiding them when a little detail came back to mind. "What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were supposed to go back home hours ago."

"Needed to blow some stream" he replied with a shrug. "Maria's having problems, so I sent Steve to check up on her. I was on my way to see how things were going on when I saw you." He shrugged again. "Figured I'd stop to say 'hi'." Natasha shook her head in exasperation.

"Don't tell me you're trying to play matchmaker with those two?" At Clint's sheepish grin, she added, narrowing her eyes: "You do realize Maria will kill you if she finds out about that?"

"I'm pretty sure she already knows."

"And you do realize she has a very mean punch?" she asked, deadpan.

"I trust you to save me." he replied with a sweet smile, that Natasha did not return. Once, for fun, she had tested her martial art against Maria's boxing. While none of them had come out unbruised, Maria hadn't been the one lumping around for a week. Needless to say, the redhead wasn't keen on repeating the experience. "You will, right?"

The puppy gaze got her every time, and he knew it. Still, she snorted with an indifferent shrug:

"Nope. I'll let you deal with her wrath on your own." Clint immediately put a hand over his chest and took a pained expression.

"But Tasha, I thought you loved me?" When she rose an eyebrow: "Fine. Leave me alone to face my destiny."

Natasha couldn't help it; she laughed heartily.

"You're such a drama queen."

"I'm not a drama queen!" he protested, but picked up her bag when he noted she was ready to leave. Natasha grinned as they walked out of the dance room and through the silent corridors.

"You're right. You're just an idiot." Clint frowned, as if deep in thought.

"Maybe. But I'm still your idiot."

The words hung in the air and Clint suddenly looked embarrassed. Natasha didn't speak until they were out of the building.

"You don't need to carry my bag each time, you know." she said casually, although she secretly loved it. She still had no idea why the young man had decided to befriend her one day, when she wouldn't let anyone in; why he had pushed and pushed her around until she, miss independent, came to let him carry her freaking bag out of the gym. Like a perfect boyfriend.

"I'll do it anytime, you know" he parroted her just as casually, the cocky grin back in place.

Clint wasn't the golden boy. While his grades kept at decent level -she suspected Maria tutored him from time to time- he was impertinent, a joker, easily distracted and never holding back when caught in a fistfight. Still, he was always attentive to his friends and family. No blatant demonstration of love, but a subtle word or action to show he cared, in his own way. And the fact he showed himself trustworthy and loyal made her lo-like him even more. She frowned, wondering if she had been indeed on the verge of thinking the L word.

"Tasha?"

His eyebrows were frowned, staring at her with mild worry. Natasha considered him. They bantered and flirted with each other, but she never actually thought of deepening their...friendship. Well, truthfully, she had. The way he looked at her sometimes, the brushes of his hands -accidents she always categorized...maybe considered it, but not seriously. Never seriously. Clint Barton was her only friend and if she came to lose him because she had misread...

Before she realized it, Natasha leaned closer and kissed the corner of his mouth. Just a quick peck, gentle and affectionate. A peck that could be taken either for friendly, or...

"My idiot" she repeated, fighting the sudden urge to run. "And don't you dare forget it."

He stared at her, flabbergasted. The redhead turned away and walked -yes walked, not ran- away from him. Leave it to him to figure things out.