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Laundry was simple, easy, no thought required and he really needed that he needed to do an everyday thing and let everything bad float away. Basket piled high with articles of clothing that needed a wash and that pink stained binder he hated dipping over the edge like it might fall. Yes this was simple, easy, and he could do this one thing that he’d done a thousand times.
The dirty clothes tumble into the machine and maybe his hands are a little shaky, but it’s rather chilly in this part of Avenger’s Tower so that’s why they were like that, not because he was on the verge of tears even though he’d just finished crying not five minutes ago. Why is everything blurry, and did water just land on his hand? His head shakes resolutely and any more tears are knocked aside to be ignored. He’s not crying, he’s not sad, everything is fine and he’s doing laundry.
Right. Focus.
Hands that are shaking from how cold the laundry room is grab onto a bottle of laundry detergent, no it’s fabric softener. Damn. Why are these bottles so hard to figure out? Is it so much to ask that fabric softener and laundry detergent bottles be clearly labeled?
“Hey, is this softener?” he calls out to Natasha.
No response comes and he looks over to see the woman hunched over the computer and extremely focused. A twinge of regret and despair zaps through him but he calls out again.
“Hey, Nat, d’ya know if this is softener or detergent?”
No response from the woman and he grumbles irritably before pouring the bottle of liquid into the detergent holding section of the machine. Horror burns through his system and brown eyes widen in despair, the tears coming back full force and it’s all he can do to shove them away. The bottle does in fact contain fabric softener and not laundry detergent.
“Oh, no,” he moans softly. “What do I do.”
His pools of (e/c) blink furiously as he tries to hold back tears while unbidden memories and emotions rampage through his system.
Tripp crumbling to pieces. Useless.
If only he’d been faster.
Daisy’s matching look of horror. His fault.
He should have been there for Daisy.
He should have been there for Tripp.
He was so pathetic and useless.
So unnecessary and unneeded that he couldn’t even do laundry.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, (y/n)?” Suddenly Nat is right there. A warm hand rubbing his back comfortingly.
“N-nothing,” he chokes back a sob and points at the washing machine. “Just fucked up is all.”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, let me fix this, you just try sitting down have Jarvis make you a cup of coffee or hot chocolate.”
The redhead smiles at him warmly and he nods vaguely and begins heading to his room.
Fuck up. Useless. Can’t even do laundry.
Fuck up. Useless. Can’t even do laundry.
Fuck up. Useless. Can’t even do laundry.
It plays like a mantra through his head as he heads back to his room to collapse across the bed hot tears streaming down his face. The crying comes back whole heartedly, ugly sobs wracking his form, why can’t he ever get anything right? Massive waste of space. He’d be doing the world a favor if he removed himself from the equation.
Minutes pass. Or maybe hours. He isn’t sure.
A warm hand rests on his back and with puffy red eyes he looks up at Natasha smiling softly.
“I fixed it, everything’s fine.”
“Why am I so useless?” he croaks and she tsks.
“You’re not useless, (y/n)” she sits on the bed next to him. “We all mess up sometimes.
“Not you or Tony, or Steve, or Clint, or any of the other Avengers, Daisy and my teammates never mess up.”
“That’s not true,” Natasha says softly, “Clint’s a mistake waiting to happen, and have you seen Steve and Tony try to eat breakfast?” She arches a single eyebrow delicately and he let’s out a small giggle, sitting up to curl into her side.
“What about you, Nat?” he asks softly and cuddles into her side.
“Well obviously I’m perfect,” she dismisses with a teasing smile. “But I suppose when I first began training there were a few fumbles.”
“Really?” his eyes widen in surprise. “The Natasha Romanov messed up?”
“Once,” she replies curtly and runs a hand through his (h/c) hair.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles into her side.
“Nothing to apologise for,” Nat smiles and pulls him down on the bed. “Try getting some rest I guarantee you’ll feel at least a little better in the morning.”
(y/n)’s eyes close obediently and Natasha begins singing him a lullaby in Russian. After a bit he drifts off to sleep and Nat stays with him the whole night.