The Avengers had spent most of the afternoon inside after having returned from the morning's call to assemble. Tony had taken a decent knock to the head (though he'd never admit to it) and Steve was insisting that he stayed inside. And if Tony had to, well dammit they all did, too. Thor didn't mind it; he relished the time he got to spend getting to know more about his teammates and the customs on Midgard, especially now that the Allfather afforded him more time in this realm, and after the excitement of the mission from that morning a little time spent at the tower sounded pleasant enough.

Currently Natasha occupied the kitchen with him, her sleeves rolled up high and a small smile on her lips as she watched the KitchenAid whirl the double-chocolate cookie dough around. Every so often she would dip her finger to check the consistency, and add a little more of this or that. When it was perfect her face would light up in a way Thor had not seen before. Well, not on her. Centuries ago, when he and Loki were still young boys, his baby brother had stolen a fruit tart from the kitchens, his own reward for a having mastered a new spell. His face had turned as pleased as Natasha's was in that moment, and when she gave a quiet chuckle of success he couldn't help the ache that set in his chest.

It wasn't the first time she'd done something to remind him of his brother.

It had been just earlier that day that she'd taken him off guard. She and Barton had been taken hostages separately so they could be interrogated, but their interrogators hadn't thought twice to take out their com devices. Hell, Thor wasn't even sure they realized the two agents had them in. While the men on the jet listened to Barton crack jokes about just how terrible of a job they were doing at intimidating him ("Seriously, you've got these cuffs to try and keep me held? My boyfriend uses these on me all the time. This is nothing. And don't beat me too hard-he likes me pretty.") Natasha was more of the strong and silent type. While the men around her talked quietly to one another, the smirks evident in their voice as they conversed who would take her first, all the other Avengers could hear through the grinding of their teeth was Natasha's easy breathing. Thor was amazed; how could she not be furious? Or at least worried? He knew she would have tricks up her sleeve, but rare was it that she could keep her terror entirely to herself. If she felt it at all. It seemed he had much more to learn about the strength of these Midgardian women.

"You're in a rather tight spot aren't you, Natasha Romanov?" The man asked. There was the scraping of a chair as he must've pulled one closer and seated himself opposite her.

"Been in tighter."

"Have you? So you know exactly what we're going to do to you to make you scream then, do you?"

"Likely. Though I can't understand why you thought separating Clint and I would make much of a difference."

"Can't have you two getting out."

"And separating us will keep us from escaping."

There was a pause. The Captain shouted for the pilot to speed it up; he worried too much for Natasha the same way Thor did. She was strong, yes, but she was still a lady to be protected no matter how often she insisted she didn't need them. Stark was already out in his suit trying to get a lock on to their exact location, and from the front seat of the jet Coulson talked to him, asking him what the base looked like, what the best plan of attack was, and other technical questions that soared over Thor's head. Bruce was nowhere to be found; the Hulk needing time to calm down before he could change back to his more mild-mannered self. Thor took a seat on one of the chairs in the quinjet, feeling very much useless as he tried to listen to what Natasha was saying now.

"You seem to know a lot more about my organization that we thought." Natasha sounded mildly impressed.

"Goes to show that even with all of your technology and government funding you can't keep the truth from someone determined to find it."

"Ever think of joining up?"

There was a laugh from the man. "You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

When she spoke again there was a smile on her lips. "I suppose I would. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For doing your research. It's impressive."

And the man was off, blabbing on about how they'd gotten past SHIELD's firewalls and barriers, how they'd been hacking into some of Tony Stark's computer systems (not knowing, of course, that Tony had set up those fake accounts and systems himself to draw them out.) As the man talked his speech became less formal and he sped through his explanations, monologuing to draw attention to his deeds as the rest of the Avengers team hurtled towards them. They hadn't gotten her to say a damn word but by the time the man had run out of words Natasha knew all the right pressure points of conversation to hit, knew exactly who to reference so that-when her would be knights did arrive to break her out-the "interrogator" was a huddled puddle of a man. He wept openly about how his mother had never loved him enough while Natasha cooed to him on the ground that he was doing a perfect job as it was. She'd picked the locks to her cuffs quite some time ago, and with a small, secretive smile she stood up and walked over the man so that the agents could apprehend him.

Thor had greeted her with some surprise, amazed at how cool and collected she'd been under pressure, and she just shot him that secretive smile again. She was never in any danger, and while her physical prowess was significant and her work with a gun prestigious, her tongue was her greatest weapon.

Loki had always been the same. So long as he was not silenced Thor would take him to fight and travel with him everywhere they would go. Loki had often said that the reason he read and talked so often was to keep his tongue and mind sharp as the blades they fought with, for words would always hold more power than one blade ever could. More damage could be done, he had argued, by a single correctly uttered syllable in one day than an army could do in a month. And as Thor always had, he'd believed him. Word-smith that his brother was, there was no situation Loki could not talk himself out of. Even when the Allfather was in one of his moods, it was Loki or Frigga who calmed him down, never Thor (though by the Norns he had tried, always yearning for his father's acceptance.) So to see Natasha standing there, all secrets and intelligence and cunning far greater than any other Midgardian he'd ever known he couldn't help but be reminded of his brother, who was still a prisoner on Asgard.

His heart sunk at that thought, expression turning pensive as he considered the similarities between the red-headed spy and his younger brother while the rest of the team made it back to the jet, Thor trailing behind in a reverie. The pair's tastes and humors were very much alike, though Loki's catered to the slightly darker side, and Thor firmly believed if they had not been enemies the two would have been friends.

Perhaps Natasha could even be the one to pull Loki out of this darkness.

"Thor?" Her soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts, forcing him to look over as she sat down beside him. When had they gotten back on the jet? "Are you okay? You know there is nothing you could've done to stop them getting me, and look, I'm fine. No use beating yourself up over it."

Norns, was he that transparent? His lips spread into an embarrassed grimace, dropping his head into his hands to smooth his hair away from his face. Even if she didn't know the reason behind it, she was still adept at reading his emotions like words on a page. "It is astounding how well you can read me, lady Natasha." He chuckled before leaning backwards. Only she and Loki were ever able to figure him out so quickly and simply. He felt his throat close up as he thought about how he'd never be able to hide anything from her, just as he'd never hidden a thing from Loki in all their years of living and growing up together. He turned quiet after that. Emotions had never been his strong suit, and that weakness was only ever exploited when they could be discovered so easily.

He turned his attention back to the present Natasha, who had started to move around the kitchen, spraying down pans with what she had explained to him was a non-stick spray (whatever that meant) and dropping thick dollops of cookie dough onto the metal pans. She was more at peace here than he'd ever seen her, despite being on her feet. In the back of his mind he remembered her stories of how she had pretended to be a housewife for a precious arranged marriage, and now, years later, she slipped into the old habits as easily as if she were putting on a new shirt. He envied the man lucky enough to have her affection, knowing Natasha to be just as fierce a lover as a fighter. The few run ins that they had had were enough to stand as testimony to her skill and knowledge, and to add on her cooking skills and intelligence?

She was more Loki's type anyway. He sighed as he got up, stopped only by a small hand tapping at his shoulder. Natasha's smile turned indulgent as she offered him the spoon, thick with gobs of brown dough and what Clint had explained to him as chocolate chips. His hand reached out to catch one of the morsels before it could hit the floor. Nat grinned. "Want the best part?"

"Thank you, but why makes it best?"

"Because you aren't supposed to have it." She winked once he'd taken it and turned away to the oven once more. Thor froze, falling backwards into the sea of memories that constantly played through his mind, the spoon nearly forgotten in his hands. How did she do that? He missed his brother with a fierce passion, and it was as if Natasha was feeding off of it, emulating who Thor needed most. Loki had always known how to make Thor feel better, and it was generally through the use of sweets and the bribery of a good sparring session later, or an adventure in the woods. Numb, he reclaimed his seat from before,, absently licking at the spoon as he watched Natasha go back to work. Each movement was calculated, well thought out so that not a single fraction of an inch was wasted. Loki was the same way, and yet the pair of them managed to look graceful where Thor knew he would be a bumbling idiot.

He half expected his brother to face him when Natasha turned around, and the second son of Asgard's name nearly rolled off his lips as he made to complement the offering of food she'd given to him. "L-Natasha. This is delicious." Hopefully his best, brightest grin would cover it up, though he knew there was no way to get anything past Natasha. She would mull it over and bring it up in her own time if it benefited her; if not, he expected she'd leave it where it was.

"Thank you, Thor." She smiled, setting about to already cleaning up the mess the flour and egg shells had made. Thor offered to help but she simply shook her head. "It gives me time to think," she promised him with a smile that said he didn't want to know more, and he was left to the tranquility and peace of the remaining cookie dough. What was it that occupied Natasha's mind so much, Thor wondered, finishing off the last bit of chocolate before moving to deposit the wooden spoon into the dishwasher (just as Tony had told him to. Thor was getting better-he really was!) A small hand on his wrist stopped him, and gentle fingers plucked it out of his grip before he could so much as get a word out to Natasha. She waved the spoon in front of his eyes, shaking her head. "Stark may not have told you, but wooden spoons? Not in the dishwasher." She set it in the pile of other dishes to be hand washed, and Thor marveled at her patience. He would have simply thrown everything in the contraption and let Tony replace anything that may have gotten broken; it was his fault, after all, for not getting something more stable.

The cookies were done soon after that, piping hot and oozing melted chocolate. The smell alone, suddenly amplified in the previously stale air, was enough to make Thor salivate, and it was with round, eager eyes he watched Natasha dole out two cookies: one for him, and one for her. Two tall glasses of milk followed, and Natasha took a seat beside him, feet balancing on the bottom rung. Glass in hand she grinned up at Thor and offered up her class for a toast.

"To cookies after a hard day's work."

"To cookies," Thor echoed, grinning. The glass clinked lightly together as they touched the two against one another before taking a sip. Nat showed him how to dunk his cookie, and Thor kept her entertained and laughing with stories about Volstagg's prowess at eating.

"He puts me to shame, I assure you." He said with a grin, wiping his own tears of mirth from his eyes. He turned solemn as his mind filled in the blanks he'd intentionally left within the story, all of which dealt with Loki's part in the tale. They weren't anything crucial to the plot, but it was always a story that was good for a laugh between the pair of them.

"You miss him, don't you?" Nat's voice is quiet and as gentle as he could imagine, as though he were nothing more than a babe getting ready to be put to sleep.

"Volstagg?"

"Loki."

He took back what he said about her not being able to tell what he was thinking about, and not for the first time did the idea run through his head that she could read minds. The name was a knife through the heart. He nodded swiftly, turning his gaze down to his half filled glass of milk. Yes, he did, very much if he was honest with himself (and he always did try his best.)

Beside him, Natasha tipped herself to the side to rest her head on his arm, relaxing against him and enjoying the heat his body constantly emanated. He would've made a great snuggle partner, Natasha realized, but that was to be filed away for a later day. Much later. How long they stayed like that neither knew, only that when they broke away it was with a lighter heart on Thor's behalf, and a genuine smile that stretched Natasha's lips as far as they'd go.

A/N: Characters don't belong to me, all to Marvel. Title of the song comes from "Walk" by The Foo Fighters