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Natasha looked at the pile of dishes in the kitchen sink with a sigh. For Earth’s Mightiest Heroes they were a bunch of slobs and unfortunately it was her turn to do the dishes. With a long suffering sigh she rolled up her sleeves started rinsing an stacking the dishes beside the sink to make room to fill it.
“You know there’s a dishwasher for that right?”
She turned around and found Bruce on the other side of the island, leaning heavily against the counter. He looked tired, he’d been spending a lot of time alone on his quarters. Natasha knew he went down to the labs when he thought everyone else was asleep, but she kept quiet. They all had their way of coping with what had gone down six months ago.
“This way is more relaxing,” she said, turning back to the dishes.
She felt Bruce’s eyes on her as she let the water fill the sink, and an awkward silence fell between that she wasn’t sure how to break. They hadn’t talked much since things had settled down. They’d gotten into a huge argument a couple weeks ago, but other than that the only time they really interacted was when everyone was together.
“Want a hand?” he asked. He sounded uncertain and she turned around to see him wringing his hands nervously.
“Sure,” she answered, nodding at the towel on the counter. “I’ll wash, you dry.”
He looked relieved, like he’d been expecting her to turn him down.
“Okay.”
Bruce stepped up to her side and picked up the towel, ready for the first plate she handed him. The silence stretched between them again, tense like their interactions hadn’t been since the beginning and Natasha was helpless to bridge that gap again.
He was angry with her, underneath the relief that they were both still alive and that the biggest threat to the universe was neutralized. She understood that, gave him his space to process the last few years, but she if she could go back she wouldn’t change what she did.
She watched him out of the corner of her eyes. Despite the tense air between he seemed more relaxed than he had in months, a little tired but without the dark circles he’d sported a few weeks ago. He was getting better, that much was obvious, healing little by little like the rest of them.
Natasha was getting there too.
“What was for dinner?” he asked, cutting into her silent musing.
“Lasagna,” she answered, handing him another plate. “There’s some left in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
She saw his longing look at the refrigerator, and chuckled lightly.
“When was the last time you ate something?” she asked softly.
He shrugged and held his hand out for the next dish. “I had oatmeal this morning.”
“I think there’s some garlic bread in there too,” she said, taking the drying towel from his hands. “I’ve got this. Eat.” It was a command that he followed without hesitation.
He set himself up at the island and the silence that followed was as heavy as it was before. She finished the rest of the dishes while he ate two pieces of lasagna behind her.
“How have you been?” he asked quietly when she put the last glass in the drying rack.
Natasha paused, caught off guard by the loaded question. She cleared her throat as she turned around to face him and crossed her arms over her chest protectively. When she looked at him his head was tilted curiously as he chewed on the remains of his meal.
“Taking it day by day,” she finally answered and he nodded, looking back down at his plate.
It was all she could do, live in today and try not to dwell too long on the destruction that was and could have been. She’d spent the last few months trying to get back on steady footing again, to try and rebuild, but it was a slow process. Slower for others, it appeared.
“I hear that,” he said conversationally, looking back up at her. “This was good.”
“Sam made it,” she told him, pushing off the counter to lean against the island in front of him, closing some of the distance between them. “If you came to dinner, it would still be hot.”
His eyes softened fractionally. “I think I might.”
She smirked, a warmth spreading in the pit of her stomach. “I’ll save you a seat.”
Bruce smiled at that before his expression grew serious again. Natasha waited for him to say something.
“I was angry,” he started, not looking at her. “I still am. At you, but mostly at myself. I’m trying, I really am. And…” he trailed off, his eyes searching hers.
It came out almost pleading, and she resisted the urge to reach out to him, unsure if her touch would be welcome.
“And?” she prompted gently when he remained quiet.
“I need to know we’re okay,” he said, his tone pleading now. “I can’t lose you too because I was too stupid and self loathing to take a chance.”
A lump formed in Natasha throat as his eyes searched her for an answer. The corners of her mouth lifted involuntarily.
“How long have you been waiting to say that?” she asked, her voice thick.
“Long enough,” he said and let out a sigh.
“We’re okay,” she promised and any watched the rest of the tension seep from his body.
She reached her hand out and squeezed his softly, but he did one better. He stood and rounded the island to wrap his arms around her in a warm embrace. Natasha let herself sink into hug, closing her eyes and holding onto him tightly. He kissed her hair and pulled back to look at him.
“I missed you,” she told him, holding his gaze.
She’d said it before, several times since he’d returned and the dust began to settle. But this time she felt like he really heard it.
He brought a hand up to rest on her cheek. “I missed you too.”
Boldly, she leaned up to close the rest of the distance between them and press a chaste kiss to his lips. He pressed back, parting his lips slightly at her urging. The kiss was soft and sweet. A promise.
Bruce pulled away first, a lazy grin gracing his lips. She felt giddy, it was almost unnerving.
“You’re washing your own dishes,” she said, breaking the heavy atmosphere they’d built up around them.
Bruce chuckled and pulled her back against his chest. She sighed contentedly and let his warmth envelope her.
“I’ll wash you dry?” he asked after a few moments of comfortable silence.
Natasha didn’t move, just nodded against him. “Fair enough.”