VII's 12 Days of Winter Writing

Day 1: Exhaustion

It was the middle of the night, and Natasha was sitting at her desk in her office.

It used to be the conference room, but none of them used it. Most of the time, none of them were even there.

It's been almost a year since Thanos killed half the population off with a snap of his fingers. Natasha and the team had failed to prevent it. They had lost a fight and half of the world.

Thanos said it was for the better of the world, and every day, Natasha tried not to see the positive effects of the Snap. Even as every inhabitant of the Earth has food and adequate shelter. People being supportive of one and other. Less pollutants in the air.

And 3.8 million people had died for it.

Nat sighed and checked the calender.

The date for first full year since it happened was coming soon.

-

The rest of that morning, until the sun rose, Natasha had tried tracking down her best friend, to no luck. She sat back and decided to get up. She had to start prepping for the meet-up the surviving of Avengers agreed to have.

Natasha was checking the rooms with a list of people who were coming on a clipboard.

Tony and Pepper with their newborn, Morgan.

Nat smiled at the prospect of seeing Morgan again. The last time was her one-month anniversary, where Tony told her that she would be his daughter's godmother.

Thor and company.

That meant she would need to get more beer.

Steve.

Natasha rolled her eyes. The old fossil, always alone.

She paused at the last name, pen hovering over it.

Bruce Banner.

Nat shook herself off.

She always seemed to have these weird feelings whenever she thought of the scientist. Sure, he ran away after she kissed him, and yes, he came back warning them of a space Titan with magical rocks that could kill everyone, but he was still something. Not quite a friend– they had definitely moved past friend– but not anything where they could've picked up from when he came back.

It feels like drinking whiskey without the burn in her throat, just the warmth in her chest, like a furnace. Sometimes, it was her heart, getting arrhythmia, which was something she might need to get checked out.

"Ms. Romanoff, there's someone at the door," FRIDAY said.

Natasha pulled up the security footage and sighed. Of course he was early.

She buzzed him through the gates and walked out to meet him at the front doors, one hand in her pocket and the other hurriedly tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Natasha," Bruce said softly. "Hi."

She looked at him petulantly, without meaning to. "You're early."

He chuckled. "I was told that's a good trait," he said.

"Not when you're early a day and a half."

Bruce held up a bag. "Well, then, I'm sorry. Do you want me to camp out in my car until everyone else comes?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Just... hmph. Come in. I guess I could use some company," she conceded.

Bruce grinned.

She led him through the hallways into the wing she occupies. "Your room is through here," she told him.

"Is that yours?" Bruce pointed at the door next to his.