Hey hey hey! So I'm starting to try and write more stories in the Marvel fandom! I'm not super great at it yet, but I know improvement only comes with practice.

I also haven't seen a ton of Black Widow stories, so while this does have several other Avengers in it, it's mostly gonna focus on Natasha. And Peter, a little.

I'd love to know what you guys think!

Also, any translations I need to add in will be at the bottom of the chapters :)

I don't own Marvel or any of the characters.

"Good," Natasha said to Peter Parker when the teenager blocked one of her attacks. As he grinned and looked proud of himself though, Natasha swept her leg under his. She expected the teenager to fall flat on his back, but instead he performed a partial kick-up jump and landed back on his feet.

"Luck," Natasha commented.

Peter's eyebrow quirked. "Talent," he argued.

"That's not enough," Natasha stated. "This needs to be an instinct, a skill. Talent will only get you so far."

Peter opened his mouth, intending to argue that talent had kept him alive till now, but before he could, Natasha came at him again. He blocked a series of jabs and kicks to his face and legs, but gave the spy an opening, which she took. Her boot connected with Peter's midsection, and the teenager fell to the ground, the air leaving his body in a whoosh of air. He wasn't hurt; Natasha had made sure that her kick wasn't as hard as it could have been, but it definitely wasn't a tickle.

Peter groaned and flopped onto the floor, spreadeagled. "Why can't I just use my suit and webs and get the bad guys that way?" he asked as he stared at the ceiling. He was sweating. Natasha looked at the clock; they'd been training for almost two hours.

"Because," Natasha replied. "You might not always have your suit, or you might run out of webbing. Hand-to-hand is a skill you should know if you're going to be in this line of work." When Peter didn't get up or give any indication that he was going to comply, the redhead rolled her eyes. "Come on," she instructed. She took two strides over to the apparently-defeated teenager. When she reached him, Peter suddenly kicked his legs in a circular motion, sweeping Nat's legs out from under her, just like she'd tried to do to him a few minutes prior. Natasha let out a surprised grunt, but when she landed on her back, she simply rolled backwards and got up immediately. She flipped her hair out of her face and had to block Peter's attacks as he came at her with an energy she hadn't seen in the boy yet.

She was impressed by how quick Peter's attacks were, even if they did seem a little rushed and sloppy. She still had to protect herself from them. At one point during their sparring, Natasha noticed an opening in Peter's defenses, and she exploited it. A quick jab to the back of his knee had him hitting the floor, but he'd learned from Natasha. He used the momentum and went into a front roll. When he got back to his feet, he turned and saw Natasha running at him. Without hesitating, Peter vaulted straight up into the air, and when he landed, it was behind the redhead.

Natasha was forced to come to a halt as she turned to face the teenager again, but Peter leaned out of the way of her punch and grabbed her wrist, twisting it in a fashion that she'd taught him earlier, and the spy was forced into a forward somersault, which ended with her landing on her back. Before she could make a counterattack, Peter was twisting her arm again so that she was forced to roll onto her stomach, where the teenager pinned Natasha's arm to her back.

By that point, Peter was having to blink sweat out of his eyes, refusing to let go of his 'captive,' and even Natasha was panting for breath.

"Much better," Natasha panted, turning her head as far as she could to glance back at him. Peter got a wide grin on his face, and released the Widow when she tapped the mat. They both got to their feet, and Peter finally wiped the sweat off his face with his shirt. Natasha shook her arm a little bit.

"Sorry, did I hurt you?" Peter asked, immediately dropping the confident air he'd gotten and going back to the sweet teenager who wanted to protect people.

"Not bad," Natasha assured him. "Believe me, I've had worse training sessions." She looked at the young man with a critical eye, but Peter detected a hint of pride as she looked him up and down.

"That was a good tactic," she commented, referring to his flop on the floor. "You had me going for a minute."

"Thanks," Peter replied, unable to stop the small grin that escaped as he heard the Widow's compliment.

Natasha tensed herself, preparing to launch another assault, but paused when she saw the kid's expression change from his smile to a confused and almost concerned look. The teenager looked around slowly, as if searching for something, and before Natasha could start her next attack, the teenager turned and hurled himself at Black Widow, throwing them both to the ground. Natasha's eyes widened, but she didn't fight back, because as they fell, gunfire began ringing out. Bullets pierced the wall right where she'd been standing before Peter had tackled her.

The gunfire stopped after a few seconds, and Natasha immediately pushed Peter's arms off her and got up into a crouch, pulling a small gun from one of her boots while a knife was produced from the other.

"How—where…" Peter didn't finish his question as he thought about who he was talking to. Instead, he got up and prepared for battle. His suit was in his backpack, which was in the locker room across the hall. He knew he didn't have time to grab it, especially because at that moment, one of the doors was kicked open.

Natasha fired one bullet from her weapon, and the man that entered first dropped to the ground. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only attacker. More men came through the door. Natasha was doing her best at keeping the intruders at bay, but her gun didn't have unlimited bullets, and sooner than she would have liked, she heard the clicking of an empty magazine. Without batting an eye at the now-empty gun, Natasha simply brought her arm back and hurled it at one of the men advancing on them, dropping him like a stone as it hit him in the center of his forehead.

Now that her long-distance weapon was gone, Natasha lunged at the closest man to her, forcing him to fight with her and her knife, which was more of a blur than anything.

One of the men managed to wrap his arms around her chest, pinning her arms to her side, and she got a glimpse of Peter vaulting himself over the men he was fighting, similar to what he'd done to hear earlier, but this time instead of trying to pin them, the teenager just pushed his foot into the man's sternum as he turned around to find his opponent, and the stranger was slammed into the wall, where he crumpled like a rag doll.

Confident that Peter was able to manage on his own for at least a little longer, Natasha jerked her head back into the nose of the man holding her, smirking a little as she heard the satisfying crunch of the man's nose breaking. She was released, and without waiting another moment, she turned and kicked out, similar to what Peter had done with his own attacker.

The man crumpled and fell to the floor, but more men just replaced him and continued the assault.

The two heroes were still fighting, and they seemed to be holding their own, but that was before Natasha caught a glimpse of the next man who came in the door. Her eyes widened and she let her guard down. Taking advantage of her distractedness, one of the men attacking her swung his gun at her head. She noticed the movement out of the corner of her eye at the last second and tried to roll out of the way, but the butt of the gun still managed to clip her and send her to the floor.

She heard Peter yell when he saw her fall, but she didn't get up. She stayed on the ground, waiting, listening. Even when she heard something hard connecting with flesh and Peter grunted, she didn't move. Instead, she waited until she knew he was right above her, and then she shot up as fast as she could, jamming her palm into the man's nose.

He seemed to be expecting that though, and he caught her hand before she made contact with his nose. Not that easily deterred, Natasha brought her other hand up and raked her nails across his cheek.

The man let out a shout of pain. His cheek began bleeding but he only tightened his grip on her wrist. Natasha's face tightened slightly as the man began twisting her wrist slightly as his blood dripped from his cheek to the mat.

"Good to see you too, Natalia," the man greeted, his Russian accent dripping with disdain.

"Alexei," Romanov replied, jerking her hand as she tried to free her wrist. "I thought you were dead."

Alexei's eyes tightened, as did his grip. Natasha wanted to rip her hand free, but one of his other men had grabbed her free hand, so for the moment, she was stuck. "A valiant attempt on your part," he admitted. "Apparently it wasn't my time to go yet though."

Natasha looked to the side and saw Peter on the ground. When he'd seen her get hit with the gun, it had given his attackers enough opportunity to get the drop on him, and now the teenager was holding his head and groaning. She looked back at Alexei.

"Pust' idet mal'chik. On ne imeyet nichego obshchego s etim."

Alexei observed her, then looked over at the teenager. With a jerk of his head, the man standing over Peter leaned down and hoisted the boy up by the front of his shirt. Natasha noticed Peter's eyes were slightly unfocused, but she couldn't think about how hard the hit to his head must have been. The only thing she could let herself focus on was the problem at hand.

So when the man holding Peter delivered a solid right hook to the teenagers face, knocking him unconscious and then dropping him like a stone, Natasha didn't react. She just stared coldly into the face of the man she had thought dead. He matched her gaze, but his eyes had a cold, icy glint to them.

After a few moments of meeting Natasha's gaze, Alexei cleared his throat and looked away. Natasha felt a small moment of triumph in knowing that she had made him uncomfortable enough that he broke gaze first. The moment of triumph was short-lived though, because with another jerk of his chin, the butt of someone's gun was slammed on top of Natasha's head, and she crumpled to the floor in a limp mass.

Not trusting completely that the woman was out cold, Alexei nodded at one of his men, who turned her onto her back cautiously. The man carefully crouched down and tapped the Widow's cheeks, and when she didn't react at all, he nodded at Alexei.

"Good. Pack them up and let's move out."

"Them?" one of the men asked. "We are bringing the boy?"

"At least for now. I don't know who he is to Natalia, but we may be able to use him to make her cooperate."

Without waiting for any other questions to be asked, Alexei turned on his heel and strode out of the gym. With no choice but to follow orders, Alexei's men bound and restrained both of their prisoners and lifted them up.

They exited the gym as well and deposited their cargo in the back of a van before climbing in the back themselves. They closed the doors and hit the walls, alerting the driver that they were ready, and with a rumble, the van took off.

Okay! So what do you guys think? Like I said, I've mostly written only for the MacGyver fandom, but I've started branching out into writing Marvel stories as well. What do you guys think? In character? Out of character? Hard to follow? Questions, concerns, comments?

Let me know!

pust' idet mal'chik. on ne imeyet nichego obshchego s etim - let the boy go. He has nothing to do with this. (According to google translate)