Natasha lifts her device post phone call, swinging it from side to side;
"That was Izabella."
Bruce looks surprised, "Mikhailov?"
"She called to talk about a new bicycle and asked when you could help her with homework."
Bruce is unimpressed, folding the sweater she had on the day before back into his luggage in a haze.
Natasha bites her cheek, "I told her to call you directly if she needs anything while I'm away."
He twirls the band on his left ring finger while his eyes look across at the digital clock blinking on the nightstand.
Natasha can barely look at his sad eyes without sudden nausea. She hates to leave him, no matter how long the mission lasts.
"Hey,' her gentle call demands his full attention, 'This isn't forever. Once I have the intel I need I'll come home."
Bruce waits in the silence as he takes in every inch of her. He's staring as if it's a permanent goodbye, as if he needs to freeze every bit of this moment. Memorize every tint in her eye color, every freckle and curve of her mouth.
"What is it?" She asks.
He reaches for his jacket and tries to suppress when he he finally looks away from her;
"I know you don't need me to but not being there to protect you feels wrong."
"I know," She forces a smile, understanding where his words are coming from even if she wants to correct them.
Bruce swallows hard and melts into her palm now laid over his cheek. He breaks with an emotional tone, "You'll come back, right?"
She brushes her thumb over his skin. He's not asking about her person, he's asking about her mind.
"Bruce, yes. They can't break me. I'll come home and I will be myself when I do. I promise you,' she wiggles her beloved engagement ring, 'this thing won't leave my finger. Nothing is going to keep us apart."
Banner unravels quickly, content in her hold. He forces a laugh and bites his lip to keep his composure, "Nat I'm- breaking. I'm trying."
"I know-."
"I should be the strong one and I'm just- not. And, you're incredibly selfless. You're up and off, trying to make the world a safer place while I'm struggling to let you go- And gosh that's weak-."
"It is okay not to be okay,' she cups his cheeks with both hands now and makes him look her in the eyes, 'I love you, Bruce Banner."
"I love you so much, Tasha," he reaches to brush her hair behind her ear.
"Hold me Vrach?"
She hugs him close, her arms tight around his waist. Her eyes close over his arms pulling her close into his chest.
He whispers against her bright red hair, inhaling that comforting scent of her citrus perfume, "Be safe."
"I will."
"Can I kiss you 'goodbye'?"
She scolds firmly, "This isn't 'goodbye'."
"Can I kiss you anyways?"
Bruce tilts her head upward when she nods, moving in for a slow, breathlessly deep and passion filled affectionate maneuver.
Bruce is watching the spy put on an act worthy of an award. Her duality, skill, and persuasive tactics seem to be convincing enough.
While Ivan seems to approve whatever she's convincing both her and Alexei of in Russian, Bruce settles on a stool of a nearby bar and lifts up a menu. The idea of drinking makes him gag, but he left other calming options back in New York.
"What can I get for you sir?"
Bruce scoffs. The scent of the space brings negative memories to the forefront of his mind.
Before he can respond, Clint is parked beside Bruce and places his order;
"Two tequila shots and a beer."
"Oh, you don't have to-," Bruce starts.
Clint frowns, "I didn't. They're for me."
He nods. His eyes aren't entirely disappointed. Clint is just being Clint;
"Natasha told me you're staying?"
Barton licks the foam off the top of his beer, eyes focused on the drink he downs. He takes one shot next and answers once it's convenient;
"Yep."
Bruce closes his lips tightly and folds his fingers, "Cool, cool."
Banner takes one look back at Natasha in the lobby, playing off the most realistic kiss to Alexei's cheek he's ever seen.
His heart sinks, addressing the bartender without a second thought, "I'll take a shot. Of uh. Tequila, please. Thanks."
Clint slowly turns his head and studies the doctor's profile.
The physicist ignores completely and moves to text Tony Stark, filling his friend in on the remaining details he can without getting into too much trouble. Alex is on his mind now while he ensures their dog is taken care of.
Clint taps Banner's shoulder and lifts his third shot glass with the inclination of tapping with Bruce's.
"Salute."
"Yep," Bruce lifts his glass awkwardly, downing it with a gag and a cringe.
His eyes are on Natasha now as she steps through the door with Alexei and Ivan. Watching her leave fills his eyes with tears and leaves his head pounding. The stray thunderstorm happening outside with the rain pounding at the door doesn't help.
Clint lifts his phone, "I found us a cheap spot to stay in Russia. Fury booked us a flight in two hours."
He gnaws at his cheek, working hard to maintain sanity, "Okay. Does Tasha have a tracker?"
"I can't tell you where she's going-."
"-That's fine,' Bruce grips at the table ledge, 'Does someone on this mission know where she is going?"
Clint waits, blinking, "Yeah."
"Okay," Banner pinches the bridge of his nose and rubs at his eyes, "Should we get to the airport? Catch a flight?"
"Yup."
Romanoff analyzes the large mansion their car stops in front of. She scans the large home, startled by it's familiar exterior as Ivan plows ahead.
Alexei stands beside her as she climbs out of the vehicle and extends an elbow she's hesitant to accept. In full on spy mode she complies with a forced grin;
"It's a big home. How can you afford this if you're not still with old friends?"
Alexei shrugs, "You guess."
"Tell me," she tilts her head slightly, fingers crossed for something- anything, incriminating.
"Another time."
Natasha enters the large lobby, pausing in her steps.
Alexei barely checks in, dropping her arm;
"Welcome home."
Romanoff whips her head over a young girl darting by with a stack of towels. The older woman yells at her to hurry up with something.
Natasha narrows her focus;
"Who are they?"
"The help."
"The little girl?"
"Riley Proctor. She's a foster."
"Performing child labor?" Natasha scoffs coldly.
Alexei laughs, "She's not working, she hangs out with the maid. That woman is always finding these random orphans who need a temporary foster home. Ignore her. Let me show you your room."
Natasha looks back toward the young girl in her uniform that matches the presumed maid. Riley glares back with an icy focus that could murder. There's hate in her stare, bitter maybe with a story to tell and Natasha wants to hear it.
Riley's long dark hair swings over her shoulders when she's called away, taking back to her 'boss' in broken basic Czech.
Natasha starts to head up the large staircase and follows Alexei up a second.
"Ivan ask me to test your loyalty."
The redhead huffs over the remark, "What does that mean."
"Just for tonight."
"The hell Alexei-."
He corners her abruptly, lingering outside a gray door, "Weapons."
She swallows hard, genuinely terrified as the muscles in her neck tense rapidly. Her palms begin the sweat, jaw dropping as she immediately loses any sort of 'fight' response.
Alexei is taller, stronger. He knows her every move.
"I don't have weapons."
"Bullshit," Ivan joins them with a spat, "Hand them to me. Your communicators, your knives. Give them to Alexei. We are all spies so you understand."
She shuts her eyes and takes a breath. Against her eyelids she recalls familiar cocoa eyes, his soft smile. She breathes: in for 6 seconds, out for a full 6…
"Okay," she utters calmly.
"Check ears. Every questionable item we find is another night in attic," Ivan snaps.
Alexei begrudgingly reaches for her ears, removing a com;
"SHIELD," He reveals it to Ivan who crushes it instantly.
Natasha forces herself to remain still...and breathing. In for 6 and out for 6…
She extends her pistol, removes a hidden belt and lets it fall to the floor. She taps her wrists and undoes a strap with her eyes falling to the ground. Her every instinct tells her to pin them, hold a knife to Ivan's throat.
"You have another in your pocket," Ivan mutters impatiently.
Natasha nods, "I'm getting to it."
"Are you here to spy malyshka?"
"No."
Ivan flips over his heel, addressing Alexei, "Give her a polygraph."
"That's excessive," Natasha calls, still unloading weapons, "You're already locking me in an attic-."
"For our protection. Cooperate, prove you can have trust. Your ring-."
"-I won't hurt anyone with it."
Ivan clears his throat, still discontent, "Pepper spray."
Natasha lets it fall, now surrounded by her weapons and everything typically on her person. She hates the vulnerability more than the cold empty attic she's being guided into.
"We will look through luggage," Alexei holds his hand on the door.
Natasha whips her head again over a familiar pre recorded sound, the voice makes her chest rise and fall rapidly;
"Shut that off!"
It's a quote drilled into her on repeat. Over and over again. Suddenly she's 14 years old again, huddled in the corner of the Red Room.
"You must be broken," Ivan calls, "Shut the door Alexei."
"Ivan!" She tried to run, hands banging against the door that closes as she collides with it.
The Black Widow lets her jaw fall slack with tears in her eyes. Her fingers toy with the ring on her finger, plugging her ears next.
There's no vent, no windows. A small crack in the top corner of the room might be impossible to pull at.
She sinks slowly against a wall and shuts her eyes. The incessant noise is causing the most distress, she can barely think. Natasha slips to and from spy mode with half a thought to call it quits and disappear at her next available opportunity.
Against the darkness of her eyelids she tries to hum Moon River and block out the record she can't seem to locate.
"This room," an elderly woman reveals the attic of her cryptic home, a true budget styled air BnB, complete with two twin beds clearly not meant to fit the two grown men.
Clint looks toward Banner with a hand gripping the strap of his backpack.
"Geez," Bruce jumps over a mouse as it runs under their feet, the wood pulling from itself with each step they take.
"Great,' Barton breaks his silence as he steps further inside, 'This would make for some haunted house. Just a few more cobwebs."
"Here is key," The woman aggressively calls out, half deaf and hunched at the waist.
"Spasibo," Bruce speaks up louder, settling on one of twin beds opposite Barton.
The doctor takes in the scene, chuckling when Clint opens his mouth;
"This is like something out of a nightmare I had in China. My partner and I stayed in some custom built shack."
"Complete with mice?"
He shakes his head and lays back down on the crooked bed frame, "Rats. It was hell on earth."
Bruce copies the action and lays back cautiously, "It's better than the attic I rented up in Brazil."
"Yeah?"
He laughs absent-mindedly, far too numb for any sort of emotion;
"...The roof would leak right about there… right over my head."
"Bugs?"
"The spiders were about meh,' he sizes up a quarter and then doubles it, 'that big. Not terrible. I'd still take those over the bats in Mexico."
"One time,' Clint rotates, hand tucked under his head, 'I was with the circus, and this fucking lion broke out right? Went right to my tent, I woke up with the damn thing inches from my face."
"No kidding."
"I'm not even fuckin' kidding- frickin serious man. His mouth was like fuckin' right there. Second most scariest moment of my life," his slurring and oversharing tells Banner he's drunk.
Bruce sits up and contorts his mouth curiously, "What was the first?"
"Fighting Nat for the first time," Clint yawns as he responds.
Bruce smirks and nods, his arms crossing. His thoughts shift to Natasha; their tough teammate who could handle a worldwide collapse and come out unscathed. He shifts uncomfortably, missing her embrace. He's lost without her voice, her comforting touch and sly remarks before bed. She'd have something to say about his messy hair or contorted top.
He swallows hard in an effort to recalibrate, looking over to see Clint fast asleep. Bruce settles back over his own cot, afraid to change out of his clothes from the day and wake the archer. He lays back down over the flat pillow and curls up into a tight ball.
Bruce forces his eyes to close even if he'd prefer to stay awake, trying to imagine her soft voice...probably humming Moon River as she goes about her day. He sighs heavily, finding solace in a recollection of the color of her hazel-green eyes.
Natasha has her arms crossed, staring down a numb Alexei from across the breakfast table. He's shoving cereal into his mouth which gives Natasha time to analyze his figure.
The scars on the sides of his head and his cheeks are new. Chiseled jaw bone and cleft chin. His hand is bandaged with a finger that hasn't healed correctly.
"Eat Natalia."
His remark stirs her from her trance.
"I'm not hungry."
His eyes flick up, pausing over breakfast. Alexei sits back and mimics her crossed armed position, "I apologize for last night-."
"Which part of it," she leans forward with a sarcastic head tilt, "The attic? The pre-recorded message? You know I keep my knife at my hip on a daily basis. That has nothing to do with you. The polygraph-."
"You barely passed. Ivan knows you are here for SHIELD."
"I'm not," she remains still and cautious of her eye contact in an attempt to convince the man across from her.
Alexei sighs, shoving the box of cereal in her direction, "I did not mean to hurt you-."
"You hurt me the day you left for that mission and never came home. Was there a flight or was that a lie too?"
He inhales, "All you read is truth."
"Except for the part where you died."
"Natalia-."
"It's 'Natasha'. If we're going to make this work, you need to call me by my name."
He points to her hand, "And you need to take that off."
Natasha rotates her hand, looking at her ring, "You need to be patient with me. You need to realize that I moved on after you didn't come home-."
"-Are you here for me or for SHIELD?"
She barely stammers, ready to vomit through her words, "You. Just, you."
Clint is fiddling with his earpiece when Bruce comes down the creaking stairs, a hand in the pocket of his sweatpants;
"Have you heard from Nat?"
"The connection went dead,' Barton answers abruptly, 'Fury is on it."
Bruce crosses his arms and shifts uncomfortably up against the wall, "Do we have an address."
"I told you once, I told you twice, I can't give it to ya. We don't need a…green incident. No offense," Clint shares a hesitant glance.
"She's nearby?"
"Close enough."
The two jump over a thunderous explosion that rocks the house, the power flickering on and off. Clint looks up with a sigh, "Jesus. Who pissed him off?"
Bruce tugs at the back of his neck, "It probably didn't go well with Jane."
"Huh?"
"Thor tried to propose. I'm going out on a limb here and guessing she said 'no'..."
Barton grumbles, "Yeah well. I had a breakup too, you don't see me doing target practice down the halls."
"Just the tower gym."
"Alright! At least I don't blow up green-."
"How's the cabin?"
"Who told you-!" Clint stops himself mid sentence, "Natasha used to be better at keeping secrets."
Banner stands to address the knock on the door, cracking it open to greet a dejected Thor in his tan coat. The demigod waves, hammer in other hand with his cheeks drained of all color;
"Greetings my dear friend! May I enter?"
Clint mumbles without looking up, "You missed the Tower by 5,000 miles."
"Indeed! Hiemdall guided me to this new location so that I may spend some time with my closest friends."
Thor wraps a tight arm around Banner's shoulder.
Bruce rubs the back of his neck and closes the door upon being released, "It's been uh, thundering a lot lately, how are you?"
"Good! Yes. Quite good," Thor deflects, "Birdman! You must share the secret stash of intoxicating beverages I know you enjoy hoarding! I am...quite thirsty."
"In the fridge," Clint says from the other room.
Bruce catches up to him, hesitantly blocking off the fridge, "Hey, man. It's been a minute. Do you wanna catch up a bit? Before you go straight for the beer…"
"No," Thor holds his grin and urges Banner to move.
The doctor rolls his tongue over his lip, "I really, don't think that's- for the best."
"Grab me one," Clint calls out.
"Clint,' Bruce scolds, 'It's 10am!"
"Why stop at one! Why not indulge in two or three?! The more the merrier," Thor moves into the living room with his beers.
Bruce points with a narrowed focus, "When did you buy booze anyways?!"
Clint mumbles, cracking the cap open on the table he's still sitting at, "At the airport."
Bruce overthinks, "Where was I?"
"I don't know. Probably crying about Nat."
Thor snickers, "How long have you been separated from Lady Romanoff?"
"We're not separated- she's working."
Clint laughs, eager to keep poking at his teammates, "Where's Jane?"
"Ah well…,' Thor's eyes go blank, 'Well, it's quite a funny story...she sort of. Well. We…"
"She dumped you."
"Clint," Bruce scolds.
"Dumped? No, no. No of course not,' he freezes, his grin falling immediately, 'She went all...crazy. Started flying. Grew some fangs- all vampire-like so I had to do what I had to do."
"She's dead?!" Bruce panics.
"No! No. Not quite. I needed some 'space'? As you would say? So I sought out my closest friends here on Midgard for some company. That is what happened. It appears we are the same, Dr. Banner."
"Identical," Barton fiddles with his com, testing different frequencies.
Thor wraps an arm back around the scientist, "Fear not, we shall mourn our losses together."
"I'm not mourning," Bruce snaps.
Clint snickers, wiping away a stray tear for how hard he's laughed, "He's sulking. And he needs someone to hug while Nat's away."
"Clint! I swear to science-!" Banner's eyes go wide with anger.
"Sulk not my friend,' Thor moves in for another embrace, 'I will hug you."