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They had allowed Natasha to move into regular quarters now, but word had gotten around, and almost no one else lived on the floor with her. She honestly liked it better that way. It felt nice to have a floor almost completely to herself, and she didn’t have to worry about encountering people who were likely to bolt in the other direction when they saw her.
She was intrigued, though, that someone else had opted to stay on the floor, knowing full well that the Black Widow lived there now. All she knew about that someone was that she was named Maria Hill, and that you didn’t want to mess with her. Well, the average agent wouldn’t want to mess with her, at least. Natasha imagined she could take her fairly well.
It was a while before she saw Maria in person, since Maria went on missions, and Natasha was still training with Barton, but finally, they passed each other in the hallway. Maria didn’t say hello, but Natasha watched after her, not even trying to hide how much she was staring. Maria didn’t seem to notice, and she disappeared into her quarters.
Natasha then realized that her entire thought process had just been taken over by one thought - God, she’s incredibly attractive. She chastises herself for the thought. There’s no room for attraction in the work she does, and she’s sure the formidable Maria Hill feels exactly the same way she does about it.
That didn’t stop her from admiring Maria from afar, though.
She would never say a word to Maria about it, but she decided she could enjoy the view, since the woman happened to live on her floor. She could content herself with passing views in the hallway, and let her imagination run wild about what Maria might look like when she sparred. When Maria was wearing her uniform, Natasha could see the outline of her shoulder muscles, and when she got lucky enough to see that, she felt her breath catch.
After a while, it became apparent to her that she was starting to feel nervous about ever approaching Maria. Which was not only juvenile, but incredibly embarrassing. This wasn’t high school, and she had faced many more terrifying things than approaching a muscular, impressive, gorgeous coworker. She realized faintly that all three of those adjectives had just been thought in sequence inside her mind, and cringed inwardly. Get a grip, Romanoff.
To solve the problem of her silly internal gushing about the other woman, and to bring herself back down to Earth a bit, she finally decided to approach Maria. She intended very much to play it cool, but Maria was even cooler. She greeted her with only a nod, and looked back to her book. So Natasha made herself speak.
“You aren’t scared of me.”