Bruce was told that Natasha had died. It was painful and depressing and maddening; nothing like he had ever felt before, completely shattering his heart into the tiniest little bit. He tried his hardest to bring her back. An agonizing snap. But it done nothing. They said she would never come back. And he couldn't just accept it like that. He had to make the foe pay.
Underneath the debris, he told himself it couldn't end there. He still has one more mission, he must retaliate her loss, her sacrifice became his strength.
He stood from the ashes, head held up high, just in time to witness the orange portals appear from thin air; an avenger coming out from each one. Anticipation slowly crept up his body, his heartbeat started rising as he eyed each loop. Not her. Not her. Not her. Not her. Not her. Until he saw on the rightmost, the one he was looking for. Natasha Romanoff, alive, reincarnated. He was engulfed by joy and relief.
He wanted so much to run to her, lock her in an embrace, tell her how much he doesn't want to lose sight of her ever again. But they still have a job to do, he had no choice but to keep an eye at her from afar, in between his fights, making sure she was still there.
Immediately, during the aftermath, he seeked her through the crowd of their friends from work. He saw how the others hugged her, welcomed her back. She was smiling, she was happy, they all were. He took his step forward, but the reality of their situation hits him suddenly. He missed his window, things have been awkward since his return, they don't talk much, he can't simply just approach her. He watched from where he stood; she joined the others, and they took her away.
The day after the monumental win was a formal party by the lake. It was Tony's idea ofcourse, everyone thought that it was too soon, but after the hosts near death encounter - no one dared to protest.
He had shrunk down to his regular self for the event, sharply dressed in coat and tie. His eyes were on Natasha all through out the night, she was wearing a lovely dress and ofcourse she was beautiful. He had been waiting for an opportunity to approach her, for her to notice him. So he could re-establish a not so awkward friendship with her again. He knew she knew he was watching her, but she never spared him a glance.
The dance floor was heated and a battle between Sam and Peter emerged. He was temporarily distracted. His gaze and thoughts briefly averted.
Her position from earlier was vacated when he looked back. He got agitated, worried, she might have left before he could even say a word. The facility was nothing but ashes on the ground, and even with Tony's advanced technology, it would still be difficult to track her down.
It was a twenty minute search. Eventually he found Natasha, sitting all by herself on the bench by the lake. He let out a sigh of relief.
He tried to move forward, but hesitation flooded in him again. He doesn't know what to say, it had been so long since they've talked. And certainly, an apology would never be enough. Regardless, he knew it was time to do this, he may never get another chance. He swallowed hard, settled on the opposite side of the bench.
Five minutes. No one said a word.
"Still not a fan of parties, doc?" Natasha asked all of a sudden, breaking the silence.
Bruce was not able to clearly hear what she said. Everything inside him flustered at her acknowledgement. He tried to compose himself, tried to be sensible, but he was failing miserably.
Absentmindedly, he gave her a nod.
They fall into customary silence after, giving him ample time to calm down and think about how to start removing the thick air between them. But his thoughts weren't sufficient, he can't think of anything to make them start over, to make things okay.
"I was scared to jump off that cliff," Natasha said, beating their silent game. "I didn't want to do it, but I had to."
Bruce felt the air lightly shift yet this was a brand new woeful discussion. His heart couldn't help but break once again. She's brave and strong and fearless but she also had this vulnerable side that Bruce had seen when they were close. He's thankful she opened up to him, but felt undeserving of it.
He wanted to hug her, soothe her under his touch, take away the dreadful experience. But he doesn't have that physical prerogative anymore.
"I'm so sorry, Natasha. Believe me, I wish that never happened. If I could go back in time, believe me, I would have never allowed you to experience that," he said in earnest, pain reflected on every word. And he moved in closer, unable to stop himself from reaching her hand. He shivered slightly when their skin met, it had been so long.
"Up there, I thought about you," she confessed, and he saw the tears she's trying to hold back. "I thought about us."
Natasha stared at him, eyes soft, no mask on. "A part of me wished we didn't miss our window."
His mouth gaped open. Before her death, she thought of him, of them. He was certain in the past that she had moved on, time focused on things that mattered more. And this was quite overwhelming. It's something he never imagined she'd say.
"I..." he tried to speak, but her index finger rested over his lips, stopping him.
"Clint said I should tell his family he loves them." Her voice began to shake, no longer able to hold back the tears from falling, attempted to wipe it all away. She continued, "I couldn't do it." She shook her head. "They need him."
"Nat," he said, rubbing his thumb on her hand, another attempt to soothe. Clint's family was her family too, they took her in, they meant a lot to her. He understood her choice on Vormir.
"At that point, when I knew it was going to end like that. A part of me wished to have cleared this thing between us," she told him, now it's his eyes that were a little damp. "I should have atleast lived a day in my life, and I could have spent that well with you."
Bruce was ofcourse, remorseful. It was possible that they could have worked things out if he didn't decide to walk out. He should have returned, shouldn't have let blame and guilt took over him for the last five years.
He wanted to say something back to her, tell her everything on his mind, but he couldn't. Unable to come up with the right words to say. He lets go of her hand, she looked disappointed.
"But then, how could that even happen, right? We're not the same as we used to be anymore," she continued, scoffing at her own remark. It burns them both. They act and feel like different people around each other, but they had to be, to save the world, to cope; unfortunately, distancing from each other in the process.
"It will be hard to get back to that," she said.
He wanted to rekindle what they had. Missed the way it was before, interactions and conversations without any trace of bitterness and tension. A part of him hoped deeply that they still can.
He released a long exhale, being unable to respond is killing him. No matter how much they go on about their regrets; it was impossible to reverse time, undo their actions, the events, but now the world is saved and at peace, he thinks there might finally be some time. He opened his mouth and said, "Will it be too soon if I try to hit on you now?"
Her face was blank. He waited a few minutes to see it change. It didn't. She was serious and clearly not amused. A huge wave of embarrassment slapped him all over. Out of all the things that ran inside his mind, he had to say that. It was very bad. He should've started with an apology instead.
"I'm sorry, that was inappropriate and tacky, I'm sorry," he said in a panicky tone, one hand rubbing his nape. He tried again. "I want us to be colleagues who could actually talk to each other again."
"Colleagues, eh?." Her voice still doesn't sound pleased.
He felt so bad for this, wanted to take a moment to find the mjolnir to hammer himself with it.
"I mean friends. We should try to be friends again," he said, but his words stung. He cared for her still, more than a friend. But he's screwing this up. And even after her confession, she might never consider re-entering that fondly path again. "Friends?" he asked, gesturing for a hand shake.
She stared at him for a long moment, silent, unwavering.
"I'm really sorry, Natasha. I really am. I don't know why I do what I do. And I am so sorry for everything that I did to you. I did you wrong over and over again. You shouldn't forgive me, I'm unworthy of it, I don't deserve that," he said, confessing what he felt. He had so much more to say, but felt it doesn't matter now.
He felt her hand in his, squeezing gently. Her smile, the expression on her face looked woeful. She said, "I am so sorry too, Bruce."
As expected, she stood up, left without another word, footsteps lingering. Bruce's heart wrenched, they've come to an end. He's devastated. There's no more second chances. Tears flowed down and he tried his best to wipe it all away, it's time to leave the party.
He stood there, head down, unexpectedly felt her weight on him. Her lips pressed on his cheek. It was long and chaste and lovely and he felt every second of it; thinks it'll probably be the last one. His hands found its way to her waist, feeling her in his palm one last time. She pulled back.
"Please don't go. Let's try work this out." His voice pleaded.
"I'm sorry Bruce, I have to," she replied simply.
"I will make it up to you, please Natasha."
She wrapped her hands around his neck and his snaked her waist. He locked her in his arms tight. He's not sure if he can her let go.
She whispered in his ear, "I have to go, but I'll be waiting for you at the bar."
He was not sure he heard her correctly, so he pulled back a little, saw the expression on her face turn to the complete opposite of what she had displayed earlier.
"You better have a new pick up line," she said with a small smirk.
His eyebrows met in the middle. It was possible that he wouldn't have believed what he just heard if he hadn't seen her speak.
"What's wrong with the old one?" He replied quickly, insides suddenly feeling fluttery.
"Nothing. Something fresh for this new beginning? But if you're feeling nostalgic, well okay, let's go with it," she smiled and he wanted to kiss her. "It worked well before."
"I'll think of something then," he replied, a little giddy, mind-boggled at the turn around of events. He's not complaining, just surprised and incredulously happy.
She played her game well and he doesn't mind. It was miraculous to have another chance.
Natasha leaned up to place another kiss on his cheek.
"If you give me something good, might give you one here." She said, reaching out a thumb to run over his lips delicately.
"I guess I have to bring my A game then."
She winked before heading back towards the party. He wanted to scream with joy.
They still have so much to talk about, a lot to be done to get things back to how it was before. But for now, the knowledge of them, both wanting this second chance is enough for him. And between the two of them; he knows they're going to make it work this time around. No more running and hiding from each other.
And all he needs to do to start it off is just a high quality pick up line. But maybe, he'll still charm her with his classic line. She liked that after all.
He went over to the bar, watched her mix them a drink before saying,
"How did a nice girl like you wind up working in a dump like this?"
She laughed out loud, pulled him down by his tie and they kissed.