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Thor rubbed at his scar as he entered the kitchen, mumbling a tired greeting to Clint and Bruce, who were talking quietly by the coffee machine. He headed in that direction, internally complaining about how much he wanted coffee for the third time that morning. The two Avengers had resumed their conversation and Thor didn’t want to interrupt, so he silently reached next to Bruce for the coffee pot. At the movement, Bruce flinched away, but stopped just as quickly as he had jumped, his gaze falling on Thor.
“Sorry,” the god said, his voice still thick with sleep, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Bruce waved him off with an easy smile, relaxing back against the counter. “You’re fine, I just thought you were going to hit me there for a second.” He said it as if it was a joke, but Thor felt almost personally offended, but mostly just saddened, by the statement. He glanced at Clint, whose eyes were pointed at the ground. Well, he was no help.
Thor took a miniscule step forward, the grogginess shedding from his stature as he grew worried for his friend. “Why would I ever hit you?” He asked, his voice as quiet as his heart was loud.
But Bruce smiled, like he was used to this situation. “I always think that,” he answered, “hard to break the habit.” A laugh was on the edge of his lips, Thor could tell, but his eyes were dead, not shining, not sorrowful.
“I’m sorry,” was all Thor could think to say. He started to lift a hand to rest on Bruce’s shoulder, but froze as he realized what he was doing, not letting his arm move any further but not dropping it back to his side. Bruce was still watching him with those eyes, somehow careful and broken and blank all at the same time. Maybe they looked broken because of how blank they were. It hurt Thor to see Bruce like this, his lips curved up but the smile not reaching above his cheeks. “May I?” He asked after a long time of just staring, long enough for it to be uncomfortable. He lifted his hand up just a few more inches, drawing Bruce’s gaze. It took a moment for Bruce to register what Thor was asking, but he eventually nodded, his grin starting to grow warmer.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, his voice quiet. “It’s just-” his lip twitched in a way that Thor couldn’t quite decipher, something that looked just as pained as it did humorous, “-I don’t take well to fast movements.” Thor nodded, even though he didn’t fully understand, and finished the action of resting his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce leaned into the touch, and before either of them knew it, Thor was pulling Bruce into his arms, careful and slow but impulsive and passionate all the same.
He could feel Bruce’s shallow breaths against the crook of his neck, then the doctor’s arms were returning the embrace, wrapping tightly around Thor’s middle.
“Was that okay?” Thor murmured, his mind still reeling about what had just happened.
“Yes,” came Bruce’s voice, warm against Thor’s skin. “Perfect.”
They only pulled apart when Clint brushed past them to get back to the coffee pot.