Chapter 1

'Hi, Bruce.'

His name slips so easily from her tongue, reaching his heart oh-so-divinely, like the first sound to a deaf man's ears. Once, so very long ago now, that same tongue was in his mouth, softly caressing along the crevices of his mouth. She adored him, she'd said just before wrapping her hand around his head, keeping it there as she quickly leaned into him for a kiss that he never expected. It happened so suddenly; seeing the unmistakable sentiment in her eyes, feeling her warm lips over his, experiencing her tongue gently probing inside his mouth, and then just like that, two years passed.

How has it been two years, when it feels just like a few minutes ago that he was telling her that he wouldn't turn green?

Here he is now, instantly transported back to that moment, first fiddling with his open sleeves, and then steeling his hands on his forearms, because all that he wants is too much privacy with her that the others can't afford them. There's so much that he needs to know, questions that he has to ask and assurances that he needs to make, but with eight other pairs of eyes looking at him, he can't do any of that. Besides that, they look like they have somewhere else to be, with something else to do that doesn't involve him, so he swallows his wants down his throat to make an easy acknowledgement.

'Nat.'

And then the air is taut, so extremely tight that he tightens his fingers on his forearms, only to release them for a short flexing, joint-relaxing movement. Maybe he should just let the past remain in the past, even if the past is more immediate to him than it is to her. He almost wishes that he hadn't said anything now, that he'd simply kept his mouth shut after announcing his return…

Or… Wait… No… Uh, she's on the verge of smiling… Yes, that's definitely a Natasha smile – slight, not as subtle as it could be and simply like the Nat he knows.

She's glad to see him.

Or she's happy to hear his voice call her name.

Or he just looks funny and dorky to her.

Whatever it is, it clears the air again, breathing fresh air into his lungs, and whispers that maybe, just maybe, the years haven't taken everything away from their last meeting.