One Month

Chapter Nine

Peter sat on the floor as he watched Natasha. She walked over to him and crouched down. "Are you not going to dance?" Natasha asked with a laugh. Peter fidgeted.

"I'm not sure I can," Peter told her. She gave him a confused look and he inhaled a shaky breath. "I haven't danced in front of anybody in years. I'm scared I'll freeze."

"Don't worry," Natasha said as she grabbed his hands, "I'm out of practice, too." Peter knew that she was lying, he had watched her dance twice now. She was wonderful, flawless, and tactical. It made him understand how she could fight so well.

Natasha pulled Peter up, and he stood beside her in front of the wall-length mirror. She was in leggings and a tank top, he was in shorts and a t-shirt, but she paid no mind to their difference in outfits.

"I'm curious of what you know," Natasha suddenly said, and Peter glanced at her. "Let's start with the positions."

"We're taking baby steps?" Peter asked with a laugh. Natasha simply nodded.

"You were limping earlier, Peter," Natasha pointed out and he frowned. He thought that his ankles had just hurt, not that he had limped. "First position."

"You sound like my teacher," Peter said as he followed the instructions.

"Second."

Peter jumped into his legs shoulder length apart and his arms outstretched. Natasha laughed at his small bounce.

"Third."

Peter placed his heels together, one in front of the other, with one arm outstretched and the other curled just in front of his abdomen.

"Fourth."

Peter crossed his feet closer to their midsections as he pulled the outstretched arm in and lifted the curled above his head.

"Fifth."

"I believe it's 'Rest in Fifth,'" Peter joked as he crossed his feet closer once again and lifted his other arm so both were above his head.

"I believe I was instructing, little spider," Natasha joked back before she smiled. Peter dropped his hands and glanced at Natasha in the mirror.

"Was Mr. Stark mad when he came down from my room earlier?" Peter asked. Natasha looked up at him, and he could see her consciously debating.

"He wasn't mad," Natasha decided on. "He wasn't happy either. Tony told Pepper that you were smarter than your actions and he hated to see you waste your potential." She cut herself off abruptly and Peter watched her through the mirror. "He really cares about you, Peter. I'm not saying your wrong, but do not lie to him like that again. If you want some space, ask for it, okay?"

"Okay," Peter mumbled before he looked at the clock on the wall. "How long have you been down here?"

"For nearly two hours," Natasha told him. He watched the hands go around for a moment before he wet his lips.

"How long do you usually stay down here?" Peter bargained. A part of him wondered how long until he would be alone. He sat on the floor again and he met his own eyes.

"It depends on how I feel," Natasha told him as she sat beside him. She was watching him. "Sometimes an hour, sometimes six."

"Six?" Peter asked. He hadn't kept track of how long he had been on the roof, but he knew that it wasn't six hours. It would have pained him too much to dance for so long. "How are your ankles not dead?"

"I may be out of practice, but I've spent the last year working all of my muscles back up," Natasha informed him. "I'm only now working on all the choreographies I used to perform night over night to no end."

"You've got to be lying," Peter remarked, and Natasha shook her head, still serious.

"I'm telling the truth," she said before she stood back up. "Now, am I going to get to see you dance or are your ankles still aching?"

They're still aching, Peter's mind told him, but he stood to his feet and said, "I can dance," a little too defensively.

To his dismay, Peter stumbled and nearly fell once when his ankle protested his actions.

"Maybe you shouldn't be doing this," Natasha suggested after a moment. "I am not here to be the reason for you going to the hospital."

"I won't go to the hospital," Peter told her as he let himself fall on his bottom. He rubbed his ankle before he sighed. "I thought that I could just jump back into it. I don't want to deal with all the waiting and exercise."

"Don't rush yourself, Peter," it was the first time Natasha had warned him about anything. Although they both knew what ballet, especially dancing en pointe, could do to somebody whose body was severely unprepared.

"What about a month?" Peter asked as he raised himself back up. He tested his ankle and frowned when his nerves sent pain back to his brain. "After my ankle heals, a month of training again. Do you think that I could do it?"

"Maybe if you ease yourself into it," Natasha commented, "but you wouldn't be able to do anything extremely strenuous, even after a month." Peter didn't like that he had to take it slow, but he nodded his head and walked away from the mirror.

"Then, I'm going to rest my ankle," he informed Natasha. She smiled.

Before he left, she called after him, "I'll bring you an ankle brace in a moment, don't pass out too soon." Peter just nodded his head and began the long, aching trek to the bedrooms upstairs.