Over & Over & Over & Over
The date was now October 17, and the Rogues hadn’t seen nor heard from Tony in a week. They didn’t feel the need to reach out considering FRIDAY was able to help them with whatever they required.
Natasha made it her mission to try to corner him one day, but everytime she tried to figure out where he was, FRIDAY wouldn’t allow her the information. She would try to distract herself with ruthless training. Though it seemed every time she tried to rid her mind of him, he popped up.
A gnawing pain pawed at her. Never, in all of her years as an Avenger or SHIELD agent , had she felt this way before. The words he left with her stuck like glue.
“Guess it’s kinda hard to shake the whole double agent thing. Sticks in the DNA.”
She knew the words were semi-true. She had pledged herself to Tony, to the Avengers, to Tony again, and let him down. The repercussions were never his fault. If she had stood by him, maybe she never would have had to run from the government. Though, then, she never would’ve seen Yelena again.
The betrayal he must’ve felt.. No. She couldn’t allow herself to pity him. He didn’t want pity, and she didn’t want to be condescending. The human-shaped target in front of her was laden with bullets, however, she kept pulling the trigger.
Throughout the years, training in the Red Room, her aim became more precise, less reprehensible. Her hands shook less when pointing a gun, though sometimes they still shook. Sometimes she was overcome with anguish from her childhood. Sometimes Clint would have to remind her that she wasn’t working for them anymore. She was shooting at the bad people. Now, her hands continued to shake as Tony and Bruce popped in and out of her brain. Them angry, betrayed, hurt, bloody, dead. Bullet in the head, bullet in the heart, bullet in the neck.
Over and over.
For once, she was frustrated with the noise-cancelling headphones that were mandatory when in the small target room. Tony, when first designing it, originally for the compound, had made a joke that he didn’t want Clint to lose even more of his hearing because of Natasha’s propensity towards guns. Clint and Natasha had laughed quietly along with him.
Those days seemed so long ago now, never to be seen again. Neither of them could get Tony to look in their direction much less joke with them ever again. The red-head couldn’t stop the incessant trembling of her hands. The gun was nearly empty, only two more bullets and she could free herself from the room. Never once had she left with bullets still in the gun. And she wasn’t about to start. A smooth, gentle hand laid itself on hers, encasing it and locking their fingers together. She knew who it was before turning her head, yet still let out a quiet gasp as the man’s dark brown eyes stared into hers.
“Clint told me you would be down here.” Bruce smiled that smile that said so many things all at once. And it calmed her down, too, as her hands ceased their shaking. With her head turned to the right, one hand compromised, she pulled the trigger of the glock twice.
Bang. Bang.
And the gun was empty. Funny how sometimes all you need is a moment of.. clarity, let’s say. Bruce didn’t even flinch when the gun went off. He knew she would shoot the bullets exactly where she wanted them, and that was never him. Bruce’s hand, the one that wasn’t still holding Natasha’s, moved the headphones down to around her neck. Neither spoke, just trying to enjoy each other’s company, trying not to break the spell placed over them for the moment.
“When’d you get in?” Casual-sounding. A far cry from what she really wanted to ask, which sounded more like ‘Where the hell have you been? Why didn’t you reach out? Why weren’t you here?’ Bruce seemed to understand the restraint that laced her voice, knowing her and what she wanted to say.
“Earlier today. Came straight here,” a pause, then, “promise.”
Natasha nodded, nowhere near satisfied with that answer. But it did make her feel a little better that he had come straight to the tower instead of trying to hide from her. Or never coming back, never speaking to her again. Gods, would that have been awful. The last promise he had made seemed so far away now, back at the Barton’s house during Ultron. He had promised her that he would find a way to tame the Hulk, to calm him, he would start a family - like the Bartons - with her.
He had promised that they would run away together, leave the Avengers, buy a house in the middle of somewhere, and raise their kids in a safer environment than New York City. She had kissed his cheek, and promised that she would help him tame the Hulk easily. But she never got to. After Ultron, he left, and everyone thought he had died. He never got a funeral, because Tony and Natasha refused to believe that he was dead. Steve would ask them every few weeks if they could have the funeral to honor Bruce, and every time, they would tell him no.
“I knew you’d be back. Should’a made some money from it.” Natasha joked, laughing through it. The laugh was real, but sad, almost a sob. Bruce could see the tears in her eyes and wished he could go back in time two years, stop the Hulk from leaving, and run away with her.
“Of course I came back,” Bruce squeezed her hand, “I’ll always come back for you. We promised, ‘member?”
Natasha nodded, she did remember. It was all she thought about for two and a half years. Bruce never would’ve broken a promise, she knew that to be true. He was a man of his word, through and through. Never, not once, had he ever broken a promise to her. Nevermind that he’s only made a few, but he’s always kept them. Always reminded her that some people were good and trustworthy in the world.
Their bodies acted like magnets, drawing closer and closer until Natasha could lay her forehead on Bruce’s chest. She matched his breathing pattern, squeezing his hand so tightly he thought it might break. They stood like that for a few moments before Bruce led her back to her room.
It was decorated graciously, looking nothing like the Raft cell, her room during SHIELD missions or the Red Room, she noticed that immediately, which made something within her shift. She knew that Tony loved her as a sister, had heard him say it when poisoned by sleep deprivation, but the consideration he had put into her room just made it even better.
Bruce didn’t force her to speak, something she had always admired about him. His sheer compassion for others, especially herself and Tony. Side-by-side, the two damaged heroes laid on her queen-sized bed. Their hands stayed interlinked, neither wanting to release the other from their grasp.
It was more of an abandonment issue deal. Natasha, having all her loved ones leave her, or get her in trouble with the Feds (cough Steven cough). Bruce, having all his loved ones hurt him or leave. They needed the constant reminder that the other was real, that it wasn’t their imagination playing tricks on them that they were finally next to each other again.
FRIDAY, helpfully and silently, brought up a hologram screen to show them the time 6:23 am. If this had been.. before, the team would’ve already had a meeting since Cap had made Monday, 6 in the morning meetings mandatory. Since they weren’t currently being reprimanded for being late, they figured they were able to sleep in today.
Would things ever go back to the way they were? Would they ever get woken up at the ass crack of dawn for a team-bonding experience that none of them wanted to do? Would Tony ever speak to them other than out of necessity again? Why did Ross have to meddle in something that had nothing to do with him? The Avengers had been fine without the Accords. They didn’t need them, it had only torn them apart.
“Rest, Nat.” Bruce whispered, watching the gears twist and turn in her head. “You need to rest.”
Natasha knew, logically, Bruce was right. She hadn’t slept the whole time back at the tower. At first, she felt guilty for not utilizing the gorgeous room Tony had designed and built for her. But she soon realized that it was her room. Something that was hers and she could use it whenever she wanted. Or, she didn’t have to. It was finally her choice.
She nuzzled closer to his warmth, craving the proof that he wasn’t leaving her again. As they laid on the bed, Natasha tucked into Bruce’s side, they allowed themselves to close their eyes and rest. At least for a while.
Normally, when the tower was this quiet at 9 am, it was because Tony had given all the workers the day off, and Cap had everyone down stairs in the training room. However, as Natasha brought up a live feed of the Rogues all in the common area together, silently sitting besides one another, she couldn’t help but get the feeling that something was wrong. Bruce was still fast asleep next to her, thank the Norse gods he didn’t snore or she would’ve had to kick him out. He was right, she needed rest, and wouldn’t be able to get that if he snored.
All of the Rogues were there…except Wanda. Natasha rolled her eyes. She was probably somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be.
“FRIDAY, could you please show me where Wanda is?” Natasha whispered, running her fingers through Bruce’s curls. She knew that it would help him keep the Hulk at bay while he slept. FRIDAY pulled up a screen showing Wanda with a teenage boy that seemed to be hanging upside down from the ceiling. “What the fuck? How is - whoever that is - doing that?”
The boy wasn’t even the slightest bit alarmed that Wanda was there. He was even smiling and laughing along with her jokes and stories that she was telling. One of the boy’s stories was about how he stopped a group of bank robbers with Avengers masks on. Wanda was more relaxed than Natasha had ever seen her, other than with Pietro.
It was alarming, to say the least. She recognized the boy's voice, but couldn’t figure out from where. Wanda didn’t look fazed by the fact that her conversation was between her and someone that was sticking to the ceiling.
“--Peter, that’s dangerous!” Wanda was saying, as Natasha was pulled from her thoughts. Peter, now named, stuck his tongue out at Wanda and proceeded to do a backflip off of the ceiling and land gracefully in front of Wanda. Huh. That’s what Yelena was talking about, knees bent, one arm up, one arm as support. Poser.
Bruce stirred in his sleep, and Natasha stilled immediately. Not that she thought he would be angry, or worse Hulk out, but she knew that if woken now, Bruce would stay awake for as long as possible until his body gave out because he wanted to be with the team. He hadn’t even gone to Tony yet, hadn’t been in his lab, and she knew he yearned to, but also that he would have to be dragged out and back to bed.
The red-head quietly asked FRIDAY to cut the feed, and she relaxed back into Bruce’s arms. As she repeated her breathing exercises, counting in her head, needing the noise to be silenced, she thought back to the first time that she realized she held Bruce in a different part of her heart than the other Avengers.
It was after the whole Winter Soldier debacle with SHIELD. The Avengers were back together for a minor mission, they were supposed to get in and out easily. More of a quiet mission, no real publicity in it, which Bruce preferred. There was no need for the Hulk, but Tony had insisted that Bruce was an Avenger and, therefore, was a crucial part of the mission even without the Hulk.
Bruce had appreciated the gesture at the time, but when he realized that meant he would be the getaway driver/medic, waiting for the other 5 to come back, he deflated. Natasha had felt bad, knowing that it hurt him to not be useful to the team unless he let out the murderous, monstrous side of him.
Natasha was injured at multiple points during the mission, and Steve ordered her to go back to the Quinjet for medical assistance. If Bruce said she was okay, then she could come back out. The woman scowled at the star-spangled man, but he didn’t back down, and she gave in.
Bruce laid her on the gurney that was always in the Quinjet just in case. He was careful to avoid the bleeding gashes as he gently manipulated her body so that he could clean the wound for her. He maneuvered the tight outfit so that her upper half was bare, barring her bra. She tried her scowling trick on him, hoping that he would let her back at the opponent.
“I’m sorry you can’t fight.” Bruce mumbled, wiping a washcloth over a cut under her chest. Natasha did her best not to wince when he accidentally brushed his finger over it.
“Not your fault, I suppose. Unless you stabbed, shot, and punched me while wearing a mask, and then came back here to act all innocent.” Saying it sounded ridiculous, but she had just spent months working for Nick Fury. Her eyes narrowed at him as he wrapped bandages around her ribs. “You didn’t do that, right?”
“No, I didn’t.” Bruce chuckled, helping her sit up to test the tightness of the bandages. At her nod, he cut the roll and taped her up. She found that a laugh escaped her as well. Natasha noticed how he never pressed hard enough to hurt, always a gentle hand with this one. He seemed so.. sweet, so calm. Especially in circumstances like this.
He looked relaxed as he taped her lip to stop the bleeding. There was no tenseness in his shoulders when he put all of his supplies away. She realized that whenever someone referred to him exclusively as the Hulk, he got a look in his eye. Not a green look, but a pissed one. However, when someone called him Dr. Banner, he looked as though he appreciated the title. It seemed to her that he liked being a doctor, liked caring for others. It also dawned on her that she craved that.
“Thank you.” Natasha said. That elicited a smile out of the doctor.
“Whatever you need, I’ll do my best to deliver.” Bruce replied, a hint of.. something in his voice. As he continued to shower her with questions about her well-being, trying to convince her to get some rest while the others fought, she simply stared at him. She answered in short sentences, ‘yes’s, ‘no’s, ‘I’m fine’s. As she looked at him, she was overwhelmed with the sudden rush of love.
He took care of her the way no one ever did. SHIELD doctors were rougher, they didn’t care. They knew her as an agent, nothing more. The Red Room was worse. Sometimes they didn’t bandage her up, leaving that to her. But Bruce- Bruce cared about her. He wanted to be completely sure that she was alright before stepping more than two feet away from her to grab some ice for her bruises and painkillers for the throbbing in her ribs.
Natasha Romanov needed someone to love her. Bruce Banner needed to be that someone.
“You alright, Nattie?” Bruce mumbled, his voice plagued by sleep. Natasha turned to him, tears in her eyes, all their memories together were too much to think about all at once. Their first meeting, their first deep conversation, their first patch-up, their first lullaby, their first kiss. She wished so many times that that kiss could’ve been at a different time, in different circumstances. She hoped that she would get a redemption for that.
“I’m perfectly fine, Bruce.” Natasha grazed her lips over his hairline, smiling against his skin. The man under her laughed softly.
“We.. um.. should - uh - probably talk at some point.” Bruce stuttered through the sentence, his face flushed. Again, logically, Bruce was obviously correct. They would need to have ‘the talk’ eventually. Figure out what they were, what they are, and what they could be. What they wanted, needed, craved. But it was too early, too soon, for soft Bruce to turn into serious Bruce. She couldn’t deal if he switched on her now.
“Later, please.” So she decided to put it off, like she had before. Before Ultron, when Bruce tried to talk to her, understand what was going on between them, she would shut down. And now she was doing the same thing.
Over and over.