A/N: This was a fun prompt to fill.

Prompt: "You were drunk so you broke into my apartment thinking it was your friend's but my cat likes you so I guess it's okay."

Hope you guys like it!

There had been an explosion at the lab today, and Bruce's clothes are singed. He's tired, wants to shower, and feels like he might pass out as soon as he sits on something relatively comfortable. Forgive him for not, at first, registering the woman sprawled out on his couch.

He pauses in the middle of setting his keys on the coffee table, staring. He's aware that he should've jumped out of his skin upon seeing her (how'd she even get in? There's nothing to indicate that she'd used force), but all he can bring himself to do is sigh and reach for his phone. She might be very pretty and very much asleep, but he's not in the mood to deal with this right now.

Still, it doesn't seem like she's taken anything…

Bruce blinks again, looking close. Is that…? Yes, that's Godot curled up against the woman's shoulder, sleeping at soundly as she is. His hand falters while it hovers over the phone before he retracts it, completely at a loss as to what to do.

He starts to deposit his things over by his desk, careful to keep an eye on the interloper, when the clatter of his phone slipping from his grasp has her stirring. Her eyes flutter open, but she groans and buries her face in a couch cushion. The movement jostles Godot awake too, who noses at her curiously.

"God, Clint, not so bright," the woman mumbles, but then she freezes and looks at Godot in confusion, then at Bruce.

"Oh shit."

"Hi," says Bruce.

"Oh shit," she repeats. "But this is… you have the exact same furniture layout. Where's Clint? Did you kill him or something? I need to know where you hid the body, I have a bet with Steve about that."

"Um…"

The woman waves her hand. "I'm kidding. Also, I'm really, really sorry about this. I was drunk on my ass earlier, and I always break into Clint's place, so yours wasn't any trouble and, uh… nice to meet you? I'm Natasha."

Bruce suspects that she might still be drunk, but he doesn't call her out on it. "Bruce Banner. I didn't call the cops, so I hope you didn't steal anything."

"No, no, of course not," Natasha replies. "I like your cat, by the way; what's his name?"

"Godot."

"Mine's Liho. She's a pain, but I love her anyway."

Natasha stands up, a little unsteadily, and pets Godot a few times before she looks at Bruce again. "I should probably get going… y'know, so that you can have some peace and quiet. My friend Clint lives in 403, and I crash at his place a lot, so… maybe I'll see you around?"

There's something hopeful in her voice that makes him a little hopeful too (and surprised, because he's not exactly what anyone would call a catch). "Sure," Bruce says, surprised at how willing he is to accept this stranger's tentative offer of friendship; he tends to avoid most people like the plague. Natasha, however, beams at him and walks out of his apartment with more grace than any inebriated human being should be capable of.

After the door closes behind her, he looks down at his feet and can't quite suppress a grin.