Natasha was glad that familiar faces were around. Tony, Pepper, Steve, she was glad that they were there and yes, perhaps that was a little selfish, but Natasha had no problem with being selfish. People were allowed to be selfish, something that others had seemed to have forgotten when they took first opportunities to shame and put others down, but Natasha would have none of that. She didn't want to be alone. Perhaps that was selfish. Whoever had a problem with it could kiss her ass.
She wasn't, however, glad that Steve had apparently been there for so long. She had never met someone who lived in such isolation and yet needed companionship as much as Steve Rogers did, and sometimes she wondered if he knew just how transparent he really was. Steve didn't lock himself away because he wanted to be a hermit, he did it because he didn't want to be a burden, a mentality that was rooted from his youth that Natasha could relate to on a level that was just a tad too personal for comfort. No one wanted to comfort the murdering Russian and help her wash the blood from her hands, but no one wanted to comfort a man out of time surrounded by strange and incomprehensible changes. That was what they had found in each other; mutual comfort that they didn't have to talk, they just understood. Their situations were anything but similar, and yet the emotions that were left in their aftermath were identical. Always on the fringes of society despite always being in the center of the battle. That was what they were about.
Natasha knew how she would feel if she had been isolated from her world for three years, and she could just imagine that being magnified for someone who had lost two worlds in a span of less than ten years. She didn't wait for him to find her; he would avoid her, and convince himself that he wasn't avoiding her, because that was who Steve was. He wouldn't know what to say and, if Natasha was honest, she didn't either, but she was the one in their friendship who had the confidence to throw everything to the wind and just try. It didn't have to be complicated. And when it did, they would figure it out. She found him shortly after her arrival as soon as they let her wander freely, and it wasn't long before she spotted him, his unmistakably broad build bent over a box to do something she was sure he convinced himself was very important. Natasha waited. She knew she wouldn't have to wait long.
When he turned to look at her it was... strange. He was obviously Steve, and three years wasn't a remarkably long time when it came to an anti-aging super soldier, but she saw it. There was something about his face, and perhaps it was in her head, but she saw age there. Perhaps it was weariness. Or, perhaps, it was both. Natasha and Steve worked together well in the field, he was her right hand just as much as she was his, and seeing a difference in him that she couldn't quite explain unsettled her more than she wanted to admit to even herself.
"Hey soldier." She greeted him with a casualness that only felt right, because Steve was Steve, and in three years he would still be Steve. He was one of the few people in her life that Natasha trusted, blindly and without hesitation. That was significant to her. He wasn't moving so she did instead, her eyes wandering over the boxes that he had been sorting through before she gave a facial shrug and her arms crossed over her chest. "Busy day?" She fell still when she was finally standing beside him, her eyes still on the box of ammo that he had just been going through instead of looking directly at him just yet. She was working on it. "What are you doing, counting rounds?" She finally managed to make herself look up at him completely. "I didn't know you could count. That serum does wonders."