He woke up in the middle of the ocean and can only really think just how inconvenient it was that Hulk had to run here of all places.
He was alone, which left something cold in his stomach but came as no real surprise. Transformations had become more lucid in the two years since the Avengers formed. Now Bruce could catch snatches, remembered batting Ultron away like a fly and Hulk running away before anyone could celebrate his victory. There was a brief moment everything had been crystal clear. Hulk didn’t know how to operate a quinjet, but Bruce did, and for the first time they had worked in complete unison.
Now, it seemed the jet had fallen out of the sky and the Other Guy hadn’t bothered to even keep some scrap for Bruce. Not even one of the floatation devices that he knew were built into the seats.
He reached into the back of his mind, already knowing he wouldn’t last long without help. Hulk is smaller than usual, only muttering when Bruce found him. ‘Thanks for leaving the plane behind,’ Bruce said, but only got a quiver of confusion in response. Hulk didn’t quite grasp sarcasm. ‘Okay, get back out here. You got me into this mess, now get me out.’
His eyes fell shut and he stepped back, waiting for dark green to swarm over his senses.
Instead Hulk shoved him back to the front, growling quietly. ‘Tired,’ he grumbled. ‘Hulk sleep. Banner swim.’
It was then that Bruce realized what felt so off in his mind. The Hulk wasn’t angry. What was usually a boiling pool, frothing with rage, was now a soft mourning.
Bruce sighed and began to swim.
“I adore you,” she had said. “But not like that.”
When Natasha kissed him, it wasn’t out of passion or love. It was a goodbye to what they tried to have, and an apology for not ending this sooner. Bruce let the Other Guy come up, held him there and made him understand what it was.
He keened in Bruce’s head and rushed out as soon as his feet had left the ground.
Bruce’s first boyfriend had hit him when he was angry. He was fifteen, his boyfriend was seventeen. They kissed, sometimes a little bit more, and Bruce was happy. When he screwed up and got a punch in the face for it, he knew it was so he’d remember not to do it again.
When his boyfriend got drunk and hit him, Bruce began to wonder if that was the truth.
A psychology class in high school told him. Kids with alcoholic parents will often end up dating an alcoholic. It was the same for kids with abusive parents, or drug-addict parents, or neglectful parents. It felt like home.
‘That’s what she was to you,' Bruce mused. A half-eaten stalk of kelp was in his hands. He didn’t remember getting it, only blinking out of his stupor of swim-swim-swim-rest-swim-swim-swim-rest with it tangled around his leg. Hulk wasn’t angry, so he wouldn’t come out, and it was left to Bruce to keep going. He was surprised he hadn’t drowned yet.
Hulk rumbled a warning, but he still wasn’t angry.
‘She reminds you of Mom, doesn’t she?’
It made sense, he supposed, that the Hulk would develop feelings for her. Natasha reminded them of Mom, and Mom was stability in a world that wanted nothing but to see them break. But ‘that’s not love, Hulk.’
“What are you singing?”
Bruce stopped, and looked up from his work. Natasha was standing in the doorway, curiosity on her face. He hadn’t even realized he’d been singing.
The smile that crossed his lips was shy and dismissive. “An old lullaby my mom used to sing.”
A month passed before they got the next Code Green. He woke, shaking, with the sound of Natasha singing in his ears and Hulk’s sleepy purring in his skull.
A block of driftwood floated his way around evening, large enough for him to fall onto. It held him up as he slept, until early morning when it slipped away and he slipped beneath the waves. Bruce opened his eyes to light shimmering in his vision. He squinted, shut his eyes, and realized he was lying on the ocean floor.
And he was breathing
The notion struck him as odd, considering humans had lungs and lungs were meant for air.
A shimmery feeling at his sides caught his attention a moment later. If he hadn’t drowned already, Bruce figured there was no actual issue in staying down there a bit longer.
Somehow, he found out, he had developed gills in his sleep. There was a rumbling in his head. ‘Banner can’t do anything without Hulk.’
He pursed his lips and found himself smiling.
‘Thank you, I guess.’
“I’m sorry. None of this is real Natasha. The Other Guy… we’re connected. When I loved Betty, he loved her to. So when he loves you--”
“--You love me.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry.”
“I suppose we’re just going to have to figure this out.”
He determined it to be three days he spent in the ocean, swimming and napping when he found the sand had risen close enough to the surface. Around twilight on the third day, he spotted a shoreline. When the sky was dark, he collapsed on the sand and slept until someone shook his shoulder and asked, “Está despierto?”
Bruce stretched and yawned, then covered his sides as he realized the six notches apart of his new hydro-respiratory system would be concerning. “Estoy despierto, gracias. Dónde estoy?”
He supposed he could have washed up in worse places than Peru.