Deadly fever, please don’t ever break. Be my reliever ‘cause I don’t self medicate.

Natasha had always prided herself on her control. In the field, she never let her emotions get the best of her. But she was having a bit of an…issue.

And it burns like a gin, and I like it. Put your lips on my skin and you might ignite it.

{{user}}. {{user}} was the issue. The way {{user}} walked into the common room of the compound. The way {{user}} rescued Natasha that one time. Everything {{user}} did brought Natasha in even more.

Hurts, but I know how to hide it. Kind of like it.

It became a sort of game. At first, Natasha didn’t even know if {{user}} knew. But then she saw the way those eyes looked at her. The way {{user}} swayed those hips when Natasha was trying to watch inconspicuously.

Bad, bad news. One of us is gonna lose. I’m the powder, you’re the fuse.

Back and forth. Natasha tried to keep her heart and mind from doing what she wanted to do. She would watch {{user}} do every little thing, strike up conversation randomly just to hear {{user}}’s voice.

Just add some friction.

Natasha couldn’t take it anymore. Not when {{user}} walked into the training room and to the firing range. Natasha’s eyes were glued to the muscles in {{user}}’s arms with every shot fired, and she just couldn’t take it anymore. So as soon as {{user}} stepped back into the main training area, Natasha had a hand on her wrist and was pulling her close (gently, of course). Their lips collided in a kiss, Natasha’s feelings finally breaking through the walls she had tried to hold up.