A Call to Action (Avengers Fan Fiction #1) | REWRITING

Chapter 16

Author's note: Thank you for all the votes and reads! Please don't forget to comment if you wish to.

The cold training room was about to heat up.

Natasha and Clint were up first.

Tasha smiled devilishly at Clint as she cracked her knuckles and neck. Her short red hair was set behind her ears as her parakeet shaded eyes focused on him. She stretched in her gray tank top and black shorts and yawned. Fighting was one thing. Training? That was like child's play to her. But, for Coulson's sake, she agreed.

Barton walked up to the mat and made sure his brown shirt was tucked underneath his blue gym shorts. It was better than the ends of his shirt flying around and distracting him. He hesitated. He wanted to avoid training against Natasha. She grew up with fighting, which was something he couldn't match. His light blue eyes watched her carefully, attempting to study the first move she was going to make. He knew her tactics. All he had to do was apply them. He closed his eyes and put his hands together, silently trying to find his inner ferocity. Clint exhaled loudly and took in every sound of the room. Grunts. Breathing. Papers fluttering. Shoes squeaking. Something being punched.

He was in the zone now. Everything had registered within his mind.

Natasha acted first. She threw her fist at Clint's rib cage, but he quickly arced his back to dodge it. He retaliated, aiming his fists at her, but she deflected every single. This went on for about a minute before Tasha decided to spice things up. She kicked him in the chest and made him fly into the wall. Clint groaned, but picked himself up. He was stronger than this. The funny thing was Natasha already knew that. She could tell he wasn't fighting with all of his energy. Otherwise, she'd have to wrestle him to the ground in an attempt not to knock him out or kill him. She backed him into a corner and waited.

They stared intently at each other for a few seconds, just standing there and taking in the moment. The training session went by in a flash, but they could only do so little to each other. They already knew one another's moves. It was difficult not to predict what was coming at them next. Their chests heaved and sweat dripped down their faces. Clint wiped the sweat off of his face as a distraction and swept her off of her feet with a swift kick to the shin. Natasha growled as she hit the floor. He bounced off of the wall onto the other side of her, making sure she didn't have the opportunity to grab him in mid-air. Barton waited patiently for Romanoff to get off her arse and continue training.

Nat didn't want to go all out and hurt him. She would do more damage than she would hope to. So, thinking logically, she got up and elbowed him in the stomach. He hunched over, allowing her to grab his arm and twist it behind his back. Clint yelled out in pain; his first thought was how he would get out of it.

Barton twisted his arm farther and popped it out of place. To Natasha's surprise, he got free of her hold by rolling away. He grabbed his arm and put it back into its socket so fluidly that it almost seemed like he did that every day. Natasha grimaced at his actions, which only made Clint's lips curl up into a smile. He loved making her cringe. It was something that couldn't be done everyday. His fist came in contact with her nose, making her jerk backwards a bit. Clint covered his mouth slightly with his hands in shock. "Oh, Natasha, I didn-"

Natasha grabbed him and body slammed him into the ground. The sound of his body hitting the floor thundered through the large room and echoed against the walls. She grunted and wiped the blood trail falling from her nose.

Clint stayed on the ground to catch his breath a bit and picked himself up. He nearly fell over, but grabbed a hold of the wall next to him. He huffed, "I'm remembering a much simpler time. The good ol' days when...oh wait. That was this morning when I was in bed. And that's where you'll find me if you need me." Barton stumbled out of the room on the hunt for his bed.