"Hey! I said no powers!"
Y/n and Natasha were the only two people in the dim training room. The sound of heavy breathing and shuffling of feet echoed throughout the open space. They were the only two people awake. The light of the moon seeped in through the window, creating a cold but calm atmosphere - a complete contrast to what was actually going on.
Their shadows danced gracefully in the light of the moon, flitting from place to place with a feather-like ease. At first glance, it looked like the pair were doing some type of contemporary dance, but they weren't. They were fighting. Complete hand-to-hand combat, no weapons, no powers (well, sometimes some powers). It was aggressive, but it flowed. Every attack had a block, and every block had a counter.
"Oh, so I was supposed to let you choke me out?" Y/n teased with a breathy laugh. She had used her powers to teleport out of Natasha's chokehold. She didn't teleport far, but far enough to break the flow and lead to them both standing still, waiting for the other to make the first attack. Visible clouds puffed out of y/n's mouth with every heavy breath, but they were both far too hot to realise how cold the room actually was.
A glistening sheen of sweat coated both of their faces as they stood opposite one another. One on one side of the large mat in the centre of the room, and one on the other. As much as they wouldn't admit it, the usage of y/n's powers gave them a needed break. They were both so, so out of breath. Every muscle ached from the constant movement, and the tiny bruises and cuts that littered them just seemed to be amplified by the cool light of the moon.
The training sessions that they shared together were never light. They always went full-out, and that was what the pair adored about them. It was gritty, aggressive, and horrible, but they weren't angry at one another. Hell, the amount of times that Natasha had smiled at y/n whilst kicking her in the gut was almost comical. Every training session was an outlet. An outlet for their frustrations with the world. An outlet for the crazy things going on in their minds.
Natasha shrugged with a laugh. She pushed her messed-up hair out of her face using the back of her hand, the other resting on her hip in an exhausted way. "We were both taught on how to get out of chokeholds. You didn't need your powers. Or are you finally going to admit that I'm better than you?" Nat teased with raised eyebrows. She strolled toward one of the many benches in the room, tossing a towel and a water bottle in y/n's direction.
Y/n gasped as she caught the towel and the water bottle. "You see, I'd admit that, but I don't like lying." She teased, her voice muffled by the towel pressed against her face. She patted as much sweat as she possibly could off of her face before she set it over her shoulder, beginning to stroll toward Nat so she could join her on the bench. "You're just jealous that I have an advantage over you." She hummed casually, earning a dramatic scoff from Natasha.
"The only person I'm jealous of is Steve. How the hell is he able to have a better ass than me?"
*****
"Y/n?" A voice called out, but it didn't seem like y/n had heard it.
She was sat on one of the benches in the training room - the exact bench that her and Natasha used to always sit on, except this time she was alone.
If it wasn't for the fluorescent, medical-like lighting that plagued every hall in the compound, y/n would've been sat in the dark. There were no lights on, and the windows had been covered over with curtains. The mat in the centre of the room was covered in a thick layer of dust - just like a lot of the things in the compound. It felt more like an abandoned building than it did a home.
Y/n was back in her grimy, smoke-plagued mission suit. She didn't have anything else to wear. There was no way she was going into her bedroom - she was already in a bad mental state, that would've just made it worse - and it was obvious that she wasn't going to wear any of Natasha's clothes. The only thing that she had on hand was her worn out, dirty mission suit. The heavy-duty boots suffocated her feet, and bullet-proof material all across her suit just made her feel trapped. It stunk of smoke, blood, and sweat. Y/n debated if there had even been a point in cleaning all the blood off of herself in the first place.
She was hunched over on the bench, her elbows resting on her knees as her head hung low. Tears dripped down onto the cold floor below her, and her whole body seemed heave with every sob. She really did try her hardest to stay quiet, but her sniffles still echoed throughout the whole room. Crying alone was a familiar feeling to y/n, but nothing had ever hit her as hard as this.
"Y/n?" The voice called out again, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps entering the training room. It was just one person, but it was enough for y/n to immediately put her guard back up.
As soon as she heard someone call her name, y/n immediately sat up straight. She furiously wiped at her eyes and cheeks with the backs of her hands, using her thumb to wipe over her nose a few times. It hadn't been a pretty cry. Her nose dripped, spit oozed out of her mouth, and every single tear had been red-hot and thick. But, it only took a few seconds for y/n to clear herself up and look presentable - almost as if covering up her sadness was a common thing for her.
She blinked hard to try and focus her blurred vision, forcing a standoff-ish look to appear on her face. She wasn't exactly sure who the person was yet, she had been far too spaced out to recognise the voice, so it was better to act angry. Maybe if she acted annoyed, the person would leave her alone so she could cry in peace.
"What." Y/n muttered in a harsh tone. She had lifted her head up, but she didn't turn it to face whoever it was. Her eyes were puffy, and the lump in her throat just seemed to grow with every second that she wasn't crying. But, her voice was believable. There wasn't any shake or any sign of distress. Just pure anger.
"I just came to check on you." The person hummed in a gentle voice, giving y/n enough time to realise that it was Steve's.
The pair had never had a perfect relationship. There were a lot of ups and downs, and a lot of rocky times, but there were two people that connected them both. Bucky and Natasha. Steve was best friends with both Bucky and Natasha, they were all so close. But they were also super close to y/n. So, if either person was acting out of line, Bucky and Nat weren't afraid to put them in their place - especially Nat. She had given Steve countless bloody noses over stupid opinions, and y/n had been scolded like a child put in the 'naughty corner'. Natasha and Bucky were the glue that held Steve and y/n together - willingly or not. He was the only person that could even slightly understand what y/n was going through.
"I'm fine." Y/n snapped, staring straight ahead at the dark wall in front of her. She sniffed a few times, continuing to wipe at her eyes with the backs of her hands. She didn't want to be near Steve, especially after the most recent incident with Tony. Her neck was still sore. "What're you even in here for? Want to choke me out again?" Y/n said harshly, continuing to stare forward as the side of the bench dipped, signalling that someone had sat down next to her.
Steve let out an exasperated sigh as he sat down beside y/n. Usually he would've snapped back at such a harsh comment, but he didn't. He simply let it slide. "You see, I'm having a hard time believing that you're 'fine'." He hummed, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared forward at the same wall that y/n was staring at. Neither of them made eye contact. "Crying in a dark room isn't really a good sign of being 'fine'."
Y/n's breath hitched as she listened to Steve. She was expecting an argument. She wanted an argument. She wanted to do anything except talk about her feelings, yet here they were. She sniffled, running her hands over her face before letting her chin rest on them. "I'm fine. I just want to be alone. I don't want to talk to anyone. Can you let me go back to that, please?" Y/n asked, still trying her hardest to keep up her tough exterior. It wasn't working very well, but she was trying.
Steve didn't move. He stayed where he was sat, staring at the wall as if he was admiring a painting as he listened to y/n. "That's fine. I'll stop talking." He hummed casually, completely ignoring y/n's request for him to leave. There was no way that Steve was going to leave y/n alone. She didn't deserve to be alone. Scott and Thor had offered to go in, but Steve decided that it was best that he went instead. It wasn't the right time for any of Scott's jokes, or any of Thor's random rambling. Steve and y/n had very similar bonds with Nat. It just felt right for him to be there.
The pair ended up sitting in silence for a long while. They were sat on completely opposite sides of the bench, as far away from one another as they could possibly get, but both were very aware of each other's presences. It wasn't awkward or tense. It was just still and quiet. Y/n's sniffles would periodically break the silence, and the same would happen with the occasional fidgeting from Steve. But nothing more. Nothing more until y/n's head suddenly dropped, hanging low, just like how she had been when Steve had first walked into the room.
"It's not fair." Y/n whispered in a wavering, broken tone.
She couldn't hold up her tough exterior anymore. The longer they sat in silence, the more y/n's mind was flooded with memories of Natasha. Tears flooded her eyes and threatened to fall, and the lump in her throat was too sharp to push down or ignore. Her shoulders fell, hunching back over as her head hung low. "She was supposed to-" Y/n cut herself off, gasping in air as she fell into a heavy sob. She tried her hardest to form words, desperate to rant and describe how she was feeling. Hell, she wanted to scream, but she couldn't.
Steve's face softened at the sound of y/n's wavering voice. He finally turned his head to face her, his whole demeanour seeming to drop. He understood exactly how she was feeling, and to see his feelings portrayed in her was so, so painful. He shuffled over to her on the bench, wrapping his arms around the sobbing girl as he pulled her tight into his arms.
It wasn't an aggressive hug, nor was it a chokehold of any sorts. It was a pure, grief-filled hug. Probably the first ever hug that the pair had shared.
Tears streamed down Steve's cheeks as he listened to y/n sob into his shoulder. Her whole body shook with each heaving breath, but he didn't care. His eyes were closed tightly, a gentle hand running up and down y/n's back. There was no way that he could comfort her or reassure her. This was pure grief. Natasha was dead.
"I know." He whispered in a sad, shaky tone. He very rarely cried, the last time he did was at Peggy's funeral.