Rufflett Lohansson

He’d brought the stuff to make shrimp tacos as an excuse to stay a little longer and make sure she ate something with some nutritional value. Rhodey mentioned the last few meetings they’d had she’d only picked at a sandwich or small snack. Bruce offered to cook, but Natasha insisted and took over the stove. 

Bruce was left at the island to make the guacamole. 

“I got injured on a mission, forever ago,” she said, her back still turned to him as she moved the shrimp around in the pan. “Clint brought me to the farm while I was on medical leave and Laura taught me how to cook while I sat at her kitchen table.” 

“How did I never know that?” Bruce asked, tilting his head to one side. 

She turned around and pointed the spatula at him. “You never asked.” 

“In my defense I didn’t even know she existed before the whole Ultron mess,” he defended, pointing the fork he’d been using to mash the avocados at her.

“Fair enough,” she conceded with a shrug and turned back to the stove. 

Bruce watched her for a moment, watching her shoulders tense as she stirred the shrimp with a little too much force. He sighed and went back to mashing avocados. He wanted to say something reassuring, but knew she wouldn’t appreciate an empty sentiment. 

It had been almost three years since Thanos’ snap. They’d tried to come up with some way the bring everyone back for months after they discovered the stones were gone. But without all six stones, there was not force powerful enough to reverse what had been done. Unless they could somehow turn back the clock and prevent the snap from ever happening in the first place, those who’d disappeared would likely stay that way. 

It was a hard truth to swallow, their failure resulting in the decimation of half the lives in the universe and subsequent devastation it caused the other half. Moving on almost felt like a betrayal to those who were gone, but life still persisted. On Earth, there was still a cloud of grief that hung in the air, but people were resilient and life went on. 

They all had their ways of coping. Bruce threw himself into studying the science of the stones, trying understand how something like that could exist, seeking out any information that could be gathered through the universe. Natasha took over what was left of the team and anyone willing to fight the evils that still existed in the world. And though she didn’t talk about it, he knew about the orphanage she’d planned and passed on to Pepper to open under the Stark Foundation’s name. 

Life wasn’t back to normal, but they were getting by. 

“How’s the guac coming along?” Natasha’s voice broke through his musing and he looked up to see her setting the pan of shrimp on the island. 

Bruce chuckled and glanced down at the bowl that was still just mushy avocado. 

“Slowly,” he answered. 

Natasha walked around the island and sat in the stool next to Bruce. She pulled to bowl away from him and started dumping the fixings he’d already chopped up into the bowl.

“I’ll finish this,” she said, already starting to mix it all together. “Can you get the plates down?” 

He raised an eyebrow as he stood from the island. “Demoted to plate getter?” 

“You can pour the drinks too if it’d make you feel better,” she offered with a smirk. 

“Oh wow, you’re trusting me with drinks too?” 

“Only if you can handle the responsibility, Doc.”

He grinned and set the plates on the island. “I’ll try my best.” 

He uncorked the wine he brought and poured them both a glass while Natasha set out everything else they had to go with the tacos. 

They ate at the island in a comfortable silence. The food was delicious and Bruce had more than one helping. 

“That was delicious,” he said when he was full, wiping his mouth with a napkin. 

Natasha smiled and reached over to swipe away a few crumbs from the corner of his mouth. 

“You should come around more often,” she said, her lips quirked up in a small smile. “And not just when everyone else tells you they’re worried about me.” 

Bruce opened his mouth to argue, but shook his head. 

“I really did miss you,” he said softly, sliding his hand over to cover hers on the countertop. 

“I believe you.” She turned her hand over, under his and slipped her fingers through his. “I could even teach you some of the recipes Laura taught me.” 

His smile grew and he couldn’t help but lean over and kiss the side of her head. “I’d be honored.”

“Come back next week and I’ll make you the best damn fried chicken you’ve ever had in your life. Those are Laura’s words, not mine.” 

“I’ll hold you to it,” Bruce said and kissed her temple again. 

Natasha smiled and squeezed his hand. “I look forward to it, Doc.” 

They cleaned up the kitchen together, Bruce taking over washing the dishes while Natasha dried them and put them away. He stole glances at her every few minutes and smiled to himself. He decided then and there that he’d make it out to the facility at least once a week. It had been almost a year since he’d been back before this visit and it wasn’t just for Natasha. Bruce needed this just as much as she did.