Moon River

Numb

Romanoff lingers in her apartment for the evening, dressed down in a comfortable pair of white shorts and plain soft green t-shirt. She glares at herself in the mirror as she brushes her teeth, slightly frustrated by a knock on her door.

Clint has specific instructions. If he's returning to inform her of a complaint she knows she'll break something.

Natasha refocuses in her breathing. Finding her 'center' as Bruce would say in their secluded yoga lessons in the gym. She huffs out a laugh and moves to answer.

Her shoulder drops as the door opens and she spots the physicist, "Pizdets."

He pulls in his lips, fingers intertwined with each other, "That didn't sound like a greeting."

She rolls her tongue over her teeth and subconsciously runs a hand through her damp, freshly showered hair;

"It wasn't."

He nods, "I uh. We're not in a good spot, just wanted to clear the air."

Natasha pulls in her cheeks and twists her jaw as she looks him over. The first two buttons of his purple top are undone to expose his clavicle, sleeves rolled up to tell her he's been working all day. Her eyes return to his cocoa stare. His exhaustion and tossed curls tell her he's making a point to stop by her apartment before going to his own.

Releasing a heavy sigh in the deafening silence, she cocks her head and consents to a guest.

"Natasha, I um."

She turns once he enters, crossing her arms with a smirk, "You gonna sit down?"

He releases his exhale sharply and sinks slowly on the edge of her sofa;

"I feel like you're about to strangle me."

Natasha shakes her head and settles on a space beside him, "Not today. I'm not in the mood."

He nods and lowers his focus, finding his fingers once again, "We didn't- leave things on a great note last time we talked."

She crosses her knee and folds her hands on top, "Because you walked out."

"Right."

"Ignored me the day after. That was almost two weeks ago."

He twists his jaw, "You started talking a different staircase just to avoid my room, Miss Romanoff."

She smirks sarcastically, "Maybe we shouldn't talk."

"I shouldn't-! Have-. Walked out."

Natasha glances forward, uncomfortable with her colder instincts when she hears the sincerity in his voice. She tightens her jaw to let him speak.

He shakes his head thoughtfully, his tone soft while he tries to elaborate;

"That's what I do Natasha; I run away. I don't always have a handle on my emotions...,' he rolls his eyes, 'Obviously."

Natasha can't help but release a quiet sigh, focusing on the gloss over his cocoa stare when he continues;

"Growing up-."

He pauses, a hand over his face while he smiles through his pain. Her eyes soften as her head tilts to listen. Even if she already knows where he's going she wants to hear from him.

He breathes and searches for her eyes, "I don't share a lot, Natasha..."

She waits with a gentle focus, hands held firmly over her knee.

"...but um...Look, I didn't have the dad of the year. He'd get... drunk, start rambling and wrecking everything and everyone. Mom didn't want to leave immediately so, we just tolerated it,' his voice cracks, 'I was his target so, mom being mom, would lock me up in a room- anywhere, it didn't matter. But I guess if you have a four, five, six year old you want to protect you'd teach them to run, and hide, or avoid. Doesn't always work...whatever. It got to the point where mom had enough and he lost his temper. He ended up...going too far,' he swallows, 'I was about seven when he um...when he...I still see it happening on a replay. He was an angry monster."