"You seriously just expect me to sit here while you go off on your own?" I argue, following the woman around the house as she frantically throws her stuff into a bag. "Fury was killed, Natasha, i'm not just sitting at home and watching the paint dry."
"Yes actually, you are. You're still healing from your escapades with Tony and i'm not risking you getting even more hurt." She pushes past me and into the bedroom, throwing her bag on the bed before going through the drawers of our dresser.
"It's not your risk, it's mine." Her eyes snap over to me. "I'm going with you."
"No, you are not." She spits. Pushing past me again she makes her way down the hallway, swinging her bag around her shoulder. I go to protest once again, but she swings herself around, inches from my face she lifts her finger up to me. "Don't even think about saying anything else."
The room goes silent, her eyes never leave mine.
"Fine, i'll stay here."
"Promise?"
"Promise." A beat of silence passes, her eyes flicker between mine. A small smile tugs at her lips as her eyes gloss over, she always hated leaving. "You're a terrible liar."
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And with a quick kiss she was out the door. I sighed loudly turning on my heels and heading back down the hallway when the door that just slammed closed, opened back up once again.
