𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗡 | 𝗡. 𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗙𝗙

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"I didn't take you for a teacher."

A brief flicker of a smile. 

"I don't take myself for one, either. Today was more of a means to an end."

Truth tilted her head, her lips curving up at the corners.

"Sorry about your bacon."

Natasha shrugged, moving now to one of the storage closets that sat at the back of the room.

"'Sorry' doesn't bring it back."

"Never does," Truth replied easily. "But, I'll make it up to you."

Studying the assortment of weaponry, Natasha debated.

"Should I take your word for it?"

"People usually do."

While Natasha rummaged through the choices, Truth decided she'd spend the rest of her night working on her core and settled into a headstand.

When Natasha walked into her field of view a few moments later, Truth raised a brow.

"A kusarigama? Never thought you'd be into chains."

Natasha smirked as she began to swing the weighted chain lightly to test its weight, the sickle end in her right hand before switching it to her left.

"I wouldn't use one in the field, but they're fun to play with."

Truth forced back a smile, moving from a headstand into a handstand without issue.

Turns out they both loved a good double entendre.

"You know," Natasha started after a few minutes. By then, Truth was still in her handstand with her legs split evenly in a line. "There's something I've always been meaning to ask you, even before we met."

Truth was curious. People hardly asked her questions, mostly out of fear rather than respect, and when they did, it was almost always about what she could and couldn't do. And, especially when it was about her powers, it was like most people didn't know how to ask things the right way.

But, when Natasha Romanoff admitted to wanting to ask Truth Castello a question, she didn't even hesitate when she said yes. Because she knew the other woman would be nothing but respectful, just as they had respectfully approached each other the night before despite the rocky beginning.

It was like, although they'd known each other for barely a full day, they understood one another like they understood themselves.

Two broken assassins looking for forgiveness.

"Ask me."

"What made you pick the whip?"

Caught off guard, Truth tilted her legs down in a slant until her left foot touched the mat, alleviating some weight off her arms, and glanced at Natasha.

She was beautiful with the kusarigama. She moved with grace and power with every swing of her arm, the way she twirled the chain over her leg and caught it with her other hand in fluid movement. It was then that Truth realized the Black Widow didn't have a signature weapon. She was fluent in all instruments of death.

Why did she pick the whip? Truth had to shift through her memories to find the answer because, to her, there was no question for the feeling of rightness that engulfed her every time she picked up her weapon of choice.

Because it had been just that. Her weapon of choice.

"It was the first thing I'd ever decided for myself."

The clean slices through the air slowed until they stopped, descending the room into silence. Truth brought her legs up again before completing a half-cartwheel and landing on her feet, the blood rushing down from her head.

"I like knives a lot, but you can only throw so many before you run out," she explained, "so I had to pick something else. Now, don't get me wrong, I can fight with anything, but everyone has their preferences. My brother likes guns. For me, they're too noisy, too...distant, and I'm a sucker for a good martial arts technique. The whip compliments my preferred style—latigo y daga—as well as my abilities. Not many people know that it's a decent weapon for combat."

Natasha listened intently. It was, so far, the longest she's heard Truth talk about something, let alone so passionately.

She hadn't meant for her question to delve into something so personal, however. They had done a good job avoiding most personal things already, but it seemed that Natasha had to mess it up, just as she had feared.

But...Truth never would have answered if she didn't want to.

"I think," Natasha said, "that if I had had the choice, I would've picked...well, I have a few favorites. Baton, bo staff, spear."

Truth hummed.

"You like the option of range as well, then."

"I suppose I do."

The quiet they fell into this time was thoughtful. Truth longed to know more and Natasha debated if she'd gone too far.

"I can leave."

With how often Natasha Romanoff seemed to catch Truth Castello by surprise, you'd wonder if the latter were even a telepath.

"You can stay."

"This is your space," Natasha argued. "I shouldn't have came back."

"If I didn't want you here, I would've thrown another knife at you when you came through the door, and I wouldn't have missed."

Natasha tried. But, she couldn't hold back a smile.

"So, you admit that you missed?"

Truth ducked her head as her lips, too, began to curve of their own accord.

"How else were you supposed to come back?"

✠ ——— ✠ ——— ✠ ——— ✠

Merry Christmas! And Happy Holidays to those who don't celebrate! Thank you so much for all the votes and comments. They mean a lot to me and I'm glad you all are enjoying reading!

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