A/N
Ok, so I just want to add that this story has been completed for a long time. Meaning it's complete and lying in my computer, but it needs editing. And I hate editing. So the rate of uploads depend solely on whether or not I have the time or inclination to re-read, edit, and upload chapters. So far so good though. Turns out I actually enjoy my younger self's imagination, if not her horrible grammar.
In case anyone might get lost, I've decided to add the lost paragraph of the previous chapter for easy reference:
"Lead the way," she tells me, unconcerned. We settle into an easy routine once I reach my door on the level for agent accommodation.
I microwave and eat my dinner, while Romanoff takes a shower, and clean up once I've taken my own shower. Then we go our separate ways, and I don't know about her but I sleep a little more deeply, knowing there's a second set of ears to listen for danger.
Chapter 5I come out of my deep slumber when my sensitive ears pick up the sound of the guest room door opening. Hearing the coffee pot brewing I burrow a little deeper into my blanket, not quite ready to wake up. But when the smell of coffee hits me, I'm out of bed, dressed in my tactical gear, and moving down to the kitchen before my eyes have fully opened.
"Mornin'," I mumble taking a seat as she prepares our mugs. "Milk, sugar?" She asks me. "You already know my favorite drink, I find it hard to believe you don't know how I like my coffee," I say sardonically. I'm only half-joking. It's easy to follow me to Starbucks every day and figure out my regular order. I don't really expect her to actually know how I like my coffee.
She gives me a half-smile, "Common courtesy, I guess." Turning back, she quickly finishes making our coffee. When she brings the mugs and allows me to take mine, my eyebrows raise. I take a sip and almost choke, before retrieving my jaw from the floor. It's perfect. Exactly the way I like it. "You know, I have a healthy fear for you most days, but when you do shit like this… you downright scare the crap out of me," I tell her, continuing to sip my brew.
She laughs… almost… I think. She's out the door as soon as her mug is empty, leaving me with my thoughts for the morning. When I'm fed and ready to go, I make my way back to Coulson's office. He looks up from his desk, waving me into his office. "This morning Fury told me you have a new partner once she finishes her basic training. You should've told me yesterday."
"I'm sorry sir. I forgot. I actually have a favor to ask for her sir," I look at Phil. He knows I only ever use my respectful, subordinate voice when what I'm asking is serious. He stops what he's doing, and gives me his full attention; "Go on."
"Her current accommodation isn't working out so well. The recruits tried the college version of a welcome party last night, sir. They tried to haze an assassin," I step fully into the office and close the door before taking a seat, as I start my appeal.
"I am under the impression she's fully capable of handling it herself," I raise an eyebrow at that. "It's not her I'm worried about. She demonstrated surprising restraint in dealing with them, yet she still managed to break at least one arm and bruise a couple ribs. If it was me they woke like that… I think we might have had a few less recruits to train. It's not even about that. They are going to keep testing her patience, and I doubt she has a lot of it, even if everyone got out alive, this time," I finish. Coulson nods his head, "I'll speak to Fury. But you know he can take a while to change his mind if he feels like it." I nod and leave for the shooting range.
When I get there the recruits are busy cleaning firearms. Well, the recruits minus the newbies from Romanoff's room. They're still in med-bay, nursing their wounds. I get my bow from its special compartment, grabbing a quiver of arrows as I head for the archery range, which had been added especially for me. "Hey Robin Hood, isn't the archery thing a little outdated?"
A hush falls over the room. It was a male's voice, so he's obviously not part of the group of geniuses from last night. God, the newbies are getting cockier by the day.
"You assembled your gun yet?" I ask, looking straight at the culprit. He's trying to hide behind a friend's shoulder, obviously not expecting me to call him out. He loses some of his confidence, but not the ego, nodding his head with a cocky grin still plastered over his face "Good, get your ass over here, and try not to hurt yourself doing it."
He runs over looking somewhat chagrined. I smirk at him, "Shoot the target." He seems dumbfounded, "Huh?" being his eloquent reply.
"You're in a shooting range, aren't you? There are over a dozen target boards all around us. Choose one. Point. Shoot," I calmly wait for him to start walking towards one. When he does, my smirk turns predatory. "No recruit. Shoot it from here." I can barely see the targets over the heads of the other recruits, and am putting all my chips on him being too chicken shit to even lift the gun in his hands.
"But sir, it's impossible to shoot a target from here. I can barely see them and the others are in my way. I'd probably just shoot them by accident if I tried." He has some brains, along with a spine. He'll make a good agent one day. But right now he's an unnecessary pain in my ass, so knocking him down a notch might do him some good.
"Exactly," I tell him, notching, and releasing an arrow in the span of a split-second. I don't need to see the target clearly, to know my arrow pegged it dead-center.
"What's your name recruit?" He straightens up, challenge shining in his eyes, "Rumlow, sir." I nod my head. "Don't get too cocky, and we might be able to shape you into a half-decent agent. I'd hate to see you killed just because you gave that mouth of yours free reign in front of the wrong people."
I'm about to continue on to my actual destination, when he seems to lose control of his tongue again. "Is that a threat… sir?" Damn, the kid has a death wish. I turn around. "No kid. It's a warning. My threats are usually accompanied by the breaking of at least two bones," I leave them to their own devices, having had enough of chicken shits for one day.
A few minutes later I hear shooting from the gun range, so their trainer must have finally decided to show up. Good.
When I finish my morning drills, it's almost time for lunch, so I go to put away my used weapons. When I get back to the shooting range though, I have a hard time not bursting out in laughter. The Widow is sitting near the far wall, shooting my arrow into pieces, the very same one I've left in the target this morning.
"You know, up until the point you decided to kill it, my arrow was still reusable." She lifts an eyebrow, her eyes sparkling in mischief as she fires another round across the room. Her bullet splits what was left of the arrow down the middle, leaving a mess of splinters and metal behind. "If you wanted it back, you shouldn't have left it." She tells me sardonically. I try not to smile at her antics.