Unrelenting
Avengers: Reforged IV: Unrelenting
Earth- 199 621, 2023
The Benetar
Peter Quill- now practically universally known as the hero-but-still-"outlaw" Star-Lord- and his team were soaring through the cosmos, Quill in search of one thing:
Gamora.
Almost a month ago, he saw her again after what he assumed to be the last time he'd ever see her; Her flawless olive skin, her beautiful maroon eyes, her dark evergreen lips… She had been real, not an imagination. He needed to find her, and he and Rocket were searching every database he could find to track her down.
"Quill, you're sure you weren't on somethin' during that fight? It was pretty damn intense" Rocket asked, assisting with the search. After Groot's second death five years ago, Rocket had softened up a little. He still remembered the hot-blooded redhead human girl from Earth being particularly easy to talk to, as well as Nebula softening up- particularly with the Stark kid. But, now he was helping Quill look for someone who very well may not exist.
"No, Rocket, I'm not 'on anything' now and I wasn't then. It was Gamora, okay?" Quill was getting short. Two weeks they had gone to every report of a 'slim-bodied, green-skinned, black-haired woman trying to kill someone', and nothing truly important had turned up.
"I am Groot," Groot mumbled from behind Rocket, his video game heeping. Rocket sighed before replying,
"No, she would not be on Planet X, Groot."
"I am Groot,"
"Gamora's one of the deadliest warriors in the frickin' galaxy! She would not have been kidnapped!" Rocket said incredulously.
"I am Groot,"
"Yeah- okay, we kidnapped her once for, like five minutes!" Rocket responded.
"I am Groot?" Rocket opened his mouth to say something, but Quill beat him to it.
"Wait… what did you say?" Quill turned quickly to Groot.
"I am Groot?" Groot repeated before returning to his game. Rocket sighed as the game resumed beeping.
"Different strategy…" Quill whispered, looking to the search algorithm Rocket and Nebula had built with an entirely new view.
"Different strategy."
Upstate New York Stark Lab
Scott Lang was trapped on the floor of a tight hallway, pinned down by his desperate lover, Hope van Dyne. She had her lips crushed against his, chewing away hungrily at his fast-fading resolve. He could tell that the sprouting erection now pressing against her inner thigh wasn't exactly calming things either. If fact, it actually reminded him of before the Avengers had arrived...
Two Hours Earlier…
Luis pulled up to the darkened lab as it cast an ominous aura in the evening light. He looked at the picture Scott had pulled up and did a double-take more than once.
"You sure this' the place, Scotty? I'm gettin' serious abandoned, haunted house vibes, man," He commented to Scott, who was in the back seat of their new 'X-Con Security' van. Hope was beside him, going over the Pym Particle formula, keeping it brief enough Luis wouldn't be able to chatterbox it to anyone else in any kind of coherent manner.
Scott looked out the window to the lab and made a face of mild affirmation. "Yup. Come on Hope," Hope cracked open the side door and jumped out with her purse on her elbow, followed promptly by Scott, carrying the sheet with the Pym Particle formula listed on it. "Thanks, Luis!" Scott shouted as Luis took off. The man waved at window with a "Good luck, Scotty!"
Hope shivered in the evening light, her light blue camisole under a thin dark blue button-up sweater not quite enough to shield her from the chill. Her thin black leggings weren't helping for the cold much, but when she turned to where Luis had driven off, Scott had to fight every atom in his being to not give her perky, shapely butt a playful squeeze. His eyes, however, were glued as a passing car's headlights- as well as the tight fabric of her leggings- emphasised the roundness of her ass, leading down to her strong, thick legs that made his mouth water as he stared at the beautiful curves.
He had a sudden memory of one of his early training sessions with Hope when he was only first becoming Ant-Man, when she had jumped against him and clamped his neck with her strong thighs before bringing him to the ground. Whether it was intentional or not, he had left that session in a hurry with a- hopefully well-hidden- erection after catching a hot, musky breath of her thinly-veiled vagina. The training had been intense that round, and therefore both of them had been sweaty and hot. Whether it meant he was weird or not, Scott was fine admitting to himself that- even sweaty- Hope looked and smelled amazing. Something about her natural scent drew him in, took hold of his imagination in the most primal way, caused him to want her- to need her.
Hope crossed her arms and rubbed her biceps, doing her best to warm herself up. She turned back to Scott, who looked up to her abruptly as her movement cut off his remembrance. They were relatively eye-level, as Hope was only three inches shorter than Scott. She took in his appearance quickly- a black t-shirt under a dark red hoodie and jeans with black sneakers he had clearly owned for a while. He was also turning ever so red, his eyes were wide and laser-focused on her own and he was as rigid as a rock, immediately giving away the fact that he had been staring at her ass. She giggled sweetly and hugged Scott, pressing her body against his. She snaked her arms around him inside of his red hoodie, reveling in his superior body heat. Her purse bunched up his sweater slightly, but he was clearly unfazed.
Scott kissed the top of her head in relief that she wasn't mad, smelling the rather florally-scented shampoo she had been using since he met her. At this point, it was practically a reassuratory method to tell him it was still Hope in his arms. The first time he had noticed the scent was the first time they had made love, just a month after Scott had destroyed the Yellowjacket in 2015, when he helped her train to be the Wasp. He had ducked to her neck and suckled when the smell hit him, enticing him to go further.
Hope nuzzled into his dark-coloured shirt in response, catching the faintest scent of his manly- almost musky- cologne. Luckily, Scott understood that the smallest amount of the stuff caused the best reactions, especially with her. The first time she had smelled it on him was when Scott and her father were training her to take her mother's mantle as 'The Wasp'. After a particularly intense match, Scott had roped her into a short hug. It was only for the briefest of moments she had sensed it, but it was more than enough to cloud her mind indefinitely with Scott Lang. But even without it, his personal musk was quite enough to attract her. Something about his smell brought about a sense of pure, undisturbed manhood.
It had been a few long, silent, warm minutes- or hours, it was hard to tell- of them enjoying each other's smells when another, harder shiver passed down Hope's spine.
"Okay, time to make some particles," Hope said, reluctantly withdrawing her arms from around her wonder-scented lover. But, when she went to turn to begin up the simple granite stairs of the lab, Scott stopped her by grabbing the edges of her sweater. He slowly, almost sensually did up her buttons, his stare intense as every button threaded through their proper slit. It reignited memories of Janet buttoning her up for earlier years in school, but somehow deeper, more hard-set in the throes of passion, to the point where Janet was actually Scott, and Hope was her current age, and in some odd way the old memory became a new one.
Hope looked at Scott lovingly. Lovingly may not have even been the right word. It was like there wasn't even a word to properly describe how she looked at him. She stared as if the word she was looking for dripped with bubbling, enrapturing warmth, like it was a warm, juicy word that could only be said with tears streaming and a shattering voice. A word only applicable to the deepest of loves, the most intense of romances. Any other use would be overstating, any other use would be a disgrace to the word. She yearned for him in every discribable and indescribable manner; his touch, his kisses, his thoughts. Every part of him, she wanted. Every selfless action made her desire somehow deeper, every goofy smile brought one endeared to hers, every simple look caused her heart to hit her ribs a little harder, and every touch left the most beautiful, enduring, heartfelt scar that she would often rub over herself during the nights- especially those where they found themselves separated. Even though how much past her would have hating admitted it, their divide- physically, emotionally, obligationally- during the Sokovia Accords Disaster slowly consumed her inside. She hated him so much during those two years, hate that she didn’t mean, even then. Sure, she was angry, but she still needed him back then, she still wanted him.
Hope's olive eyes twinkled as he smiled to her. God, her eyes were one of the countless he loved about her. Her eyes, her hair, her curves, her strength. But the thing he loved most of all- however clichè it was to say- was Hope's mind. Her personality- strong, loving, resilient- her memories- however rough, painful or tragic- her passions- her feverish need to help, her love for her family, her passion for him. Without her mind, Hope wouldn't be Hope. She would be another woman, a woman who wouldn't want to be a superhero, a woman who didn't have the emotional nor the physical scars that made her the Hope he yearned for. And that was a concept he vehemently feared, an idea he toxically hated. His love for Hope wasn't only based on her body, her scents, her smiles. No, that was just sweet, sweet drizzle on top of the most beautiful, alluring, divine dish he had ever seen, let alone taste- and that dish was her mind, the mind that was a whirlpool of love for him, a black hole of nothing but what he desired.
A chaste kiss upon Hope's gentle lips and they began the walk up to the darkened lab. The granite slabs up the the door were wide and broad, and as they reached the door Scott slipped the card through the small slit of a lock. There was a fresh beep and FRIDAY- Stark's Irish-tinged AI- responded,
"Welcome, Doctor Hank Pym," The door swished open swiftly, and the two entered, Scott after Hope. It was black as pitch, with a large lobby. There was a heavy desk against the left wall with a high-tech computer on the table with a keyboard and mouse, as well as several hallways leading to different sections of the building, with a staircase leading up to the next floor on the right. Hope pulled a small pen flashlight from her sweater and clicked it on, casting a focused white beam around the empty lobby. The beam fell upon a hanging sign above the doorway, illuminating the words;
"Laboratory, Bio-Organics Lab, Pym Lab," Hope scoffed at the titles before following Scott down the hall. It was a tight hall, barely large enough for her to fully stretch her arms. Scott neared the end of the hall and stared at a door with another keycard lock. He flicked the black card through the slot and heard FRIDAY respond again,
"Welcome to the lab, Doctor Pym," Scott entered, Hope's light the only thing brightening the room. Scott scoured the wall for a light switch, but found nothing. Hope traveled across the room and flipped on a desk lamp, casting a short orange glow around the room. Across from Scott there was another sign labeled "Pym Lab" and next to it another, this one with, "Banner Lab". Both led to separate sections, with specialized tech for the designated doctors. Hope slowly passed the Pym Lab sign and illuminated another orange-lit desk lamp. Hope left Scott with the lamp she had just switched on and returned to what appeared to be Stark's work table- with Iron Man schematics, prototype nanobots and metal fragments scattered about- and turned off the lamp. The orange glow from Scott's lamp was now the only light source as Hope also clicked off her pen light. The dull light cast tantalising shadows over Hope's still form, allowing Scott to fully and truly embrace the curve and roundness of his lover's ass as it stared back at him.
It was perky, round and malleable, yet stiff and resilient. Her thighs were similar; thick, alluring, strong and supple. Hope turned her head to Scott but kept her back to him. He heard her breathing- even, steady, sure, yet the underlying sense of the loss of control laden underneath, much like his own. She turned her eyes back to the darkened lamp and released a quiet sigh, Scott still intensely grappled with her butt.
Not that she was arguing- his gaze felt hungry, passionate, intense, like he was ready to devour her whole- and it sparked something… powerful within her, something deep within her, so deep that if she spread her legs she felt a light would come for her core. She shakily swallowed her arousal and slowly, she slid her hands down her body to the inner pockets of her leggings. Scott thought she was reaching for something, and slowly- teasingly slowly- she pulled out a white-painted updated Ant-Communicator and began signalling a herd of ants. They marched in like soldiers and slowly began climbing the wall like a sentient string. They climbed until they reached a white security camera in the corner of the ceiling. They coalesced over the lens, leaving the two superheroes entirely unsupervised. She pressed a button on the new device, and the ants stayed over the camera even when Hope brought the device from her ear.
"Oh, that's cool!" Scott whispered. Hope chuckled at his childlike wonder. He brought his eyes to her back, shielded by her blue sweater. Slowly, she began unbuttoning and dragging her sweater off, revealing her sky-blue camisole and her creamy, flawless flesh. What caught Scott off-guard was the fact that he could see no other straps under the garment. He silently swallowed as his mind got entirely carried away with the possibilities, but everything he could have imagined was vastly wrong, leaving him caught incredibly off-guard by her next move.
She reached back down to the waistband of her leggings, but instead of going back into her pockets she pulled the waistband away from her sides until they were as wide as her hips. She slowly edged them down, inch by inch. Scott could only stare in paralyzed, silent apprehension as the roundness of Hope's nude ass became ever more apparent. However tight the fabric of her leggings were, the shadows cast by the orange light somehow emphasised the tight but firm nature of her ass as her flesh slowly became more and more visible. She let the waistband clamp back down under the curve of her hips, allowing Scott to stare for a moment. When a breath came from her, Scott held his, worried any noise from him would break her out of the trance she seemed to be in. After a silent moment, Hope traveled back up to the hem of her camisole and crossed her arms before gripping it gingerly. She began lifting it over her, revealing the curve of her sculpted, shapely back. Scott followed the band of the shirt diligently as it passed her abdomen. He licked his lips subconsciously when the hem reached the curve of her breasts. She hesitated for a second, only a second, before pulling off her shirt, her unveiled back still turned back to Scott. He almost gasped when what he could see of her breasts bounced from their slight fall, as did her hair that fell just below her sharp, rigid shoulder blades- so sharp they could cut glass.
She turned, her ass now pressed against the ledge of the table, her half-erect breasts facing him. Her nipples were pink, small and soft, but perfect for her body. He stared at her breasts for what felt like hours until Hope slowly began approaching him. He looked up to her eyes when she began moving, keeping his eyes on hers despite the slight bouncing just below her collarbone. She stood straight up in front of Scott and slowly bent down, dragging her leggings down her pristine, peachy thighs.
Scott almost stopped breathing altogether when Hope's vagina, slightly glistening from arousal, hit the air. A small fluff of her dark chocolate hair rested above, smooth and shiny. He heard the quietest of gasps of surprise from her before she continued carrying down her leggings, passing over her powerful calves before they reached her ankles. She stretched the ankle of her pants over her sneaker, and pulled it off. She repeated the action with her other shoe, leaving her entirely nude from her shoes up. Scott stared her in the face before rushedly discarded his sweater and his shirt before promptly moving to the button of his jeans.
Hope licked her teeth when Scott's lean, muscled body, tight and refined, came into view from underneath his shirt, and the shadows his erection created already toying with her heartbeat. The button of his jeans popped from the slit and the zipper followed thereafter, revealing a grey pair of boxers. Scott's erection pushed into the air, still constrained and almost painfully- for the both of them- restrained against the fabric. Hope smiled and bit her bottom lip, tugging it into her mouth slightly. Her sap-coloured eyes peered into his grass own as she reached her hand around the band of both his jeans and boxers, slowly tugging them down Scott's body. Once they passed the ridge of his hips, they fell to his ankles, which he promptly stepped out of.
They both stood- their bodies heating the air around them- for countless minutes, both of them with flushed chests and faces before Hope suddenly turned and moved towards a desk with complicated machinery, vials and beakers. Her lithe ass faced him, making him swallow as his imagination ran away from him.
"Let's make some particles, Scott."
This woman was going to kill him.
Present
His mind was becoming clouded, but there was a nagging sense of being watched that caused Scott to slowly break the kiss.
It was a sudden bang, though, of someone being slammed against a wall that brought the two fully apart. Hope jumped off of her boyfriend and stood, putting Scott between her and the noise. She felt her entire body tense up and her eyes become pinpricks. Again, she instinctively clicked the button on the right glove of her suit, this time receiving a spark from her regulator. Luckily, she wasn't shocked, as her father had actually made a small “update” to the suits in the past weeks; After Hope had told him about the malfunctioning sizing coils and the electrical shock Scott had received in the janitor’s closet at Cassie's school, Hank had since fixed the sizing coil problem but he also insulated the regulator better, so when they did occasionally spark it wouldn’t affect the wearer. A very small part of felt bad for her reaction, but the loud sound was far too close to a gunshot for her recently broken psyche. Her mind was then slingshot back to the moment she felt the cool metal barrel to her temple. Shivers ricocheted down her back when her brain replayed the heavy ka-chunk of the rocket falling into place just next to her ear.
Scott slowly entered the lab with Hope following close behind, watching as Captain America pinned a now armourless Rhodey- his armour was in some kind of sentinel mode in the corner- against the wall. For a moment, the robot turned to Cap, but eventually resumed its neutral stance.
"What the Hell was that, Rhodes?" Steve questioned, enraged. Rhodey was neutral, his face unresponsive. He sneered as Scott approached, angry and silently demanding a response.
“They attacked. I defended. That simple, Steve,” Rhodey scoffed, staring Scott down. Hope looked away, unable to keep her eyes on his face for more than a few seconds. She couldn’t even hear his voice without feeling the cool ring against her head, and the feeling of warm blood droplets on her face as the memory of Scott falling backwards, dead, resurged through her mind. Her breath caught in her throat, leaving her unable to breathe. She could still feel Rhodey’s indignant stare on the back of her head as her breath stayed just inside of her throat.
“Rhodey, it was a defensive measure, we know these people. And they only attacked because you opened fire!” Steve shouted, releasing Rhodey onto the floor. Scott nodded behind Steve as Natasha walked up to Hope, who was still struggling to breathe. The redhead led her out of the lab, leaving the door open behind them.
“Hey. You good?” Natasha asked as Hope gasped in a breath. Her chest, still covered by her Wasp suit, heaved with her, the silver breastplates casting a golden glow on the wall opposite with the leaking orange light from the lab. Hope fervently shook her head, and she put her hands against the wall shakily to stabilize herself. Scott emerged from the lab, standing opposite Hope. The brunette stared at him before turning back to Natasha.
“I… I watched Sc- Scott die…” She choked out, new tears of remembrance welling up behind her hazel-green eyes. Natasha nodded, unfortunately and uncomfortably understanding what she meant. Scott, however, became alert to Hope’s words. She looked to him again, her eyes quivering as the memory kept replaying behind her eyes.
“Hope…” He whispered, approaching her and wrapping her warmly in his arms. He slowly slid down the wall, Hope traveling with him. He looked to the cracked lens of his nearby helmet and sighed.
“What's so bad about the crack, other than the obvious?” Natsaha asked in an attempt to distract the panicking superhero, following his gaze. A few weeks ago, she had donned a similar suit, but she assumed the helmet was to protect her in case of emergency in space. Scott didn't really go to space all that much as Ant-Man- at least, not that she knew.
“Pym Particles are incredibly volatile on the human mind- ants are unaffected due to their more simplistic minds- so you have to wear a sealed, specialized helmet, or else the particles’ll… Mess with your brain.” Scott sighed, cradling Hope’s head in his arms. She laughed nervously at his complicated explanation- too complicated to be his own. She licked her lips before laughing,
“You do remember what Dad says,” She licked her lips again. “I thought it was just in one ear, out the other with you,” He smiled at her response before whispering,
“Only when it’s about having to stop dating you,” Hope chuckled tearfully, readjusting her body so her legs sprawled down the hall, her head tucked safely in Scott’s lap. He ran his hand through Hope’s hair, comforting her. She closed her eyes as a single tear fell, caught by Scott’s other hand. He flicked it away and smiled as her breathing began to even again.
“I don’t think Hope can go back in there,” Scott began, looking to Natasha. “I’m gonna go in there, get the particles and bring her home. She needs to sleep.” He sighed. The redheaded Avenger nodded slowly, thinking of something else. “Can you stay with her? I don’t want her to be alone.” Scott asked. Natasha shook her head with,
“Uh, no. She needs you, I can grab your stuff. What is it?” She asked, standing for the wall she had been leaning against.
“Really? Thank you. There are two metal jugs with glass windows. In one there’s a red fluid and there’s one with blue. They’re pretty light. I think Hope’s purse is in there too. Thank you,” Scott repeated, smiling to Natsaha. She nodded and re-entered the room, finding only Rhodey and Steve in the room. Banner, Loki, Thor, Wanda, Vision and Peggy had taken the unconscious Valkyrie into Banner’s section of the lab, readying her for the full-body scan.
“What’s up, Nat?” Rhodey asked, all too casually for the shit he just pulled. She didn’t answer, passing him by and reaching Pym’s section of the lab. There were indeed a jug filled with a red liquid with a strip of aged masking tape labelled ‘Shrink=Red’ scrawled on it in what Natasha could only estimate was a seven-year-old's hand, and an identical jug with blue liquid and another piece of tape with ‘Grow=Blue’ in the same writing on it. Natasha picked them both up, and they were surprisingly light for their size- they looked like they could hold about six or seven liters of fluid each, with sturdy handles arcing over the top. They were certainly weighty, but lighter than, say, water would have been.
Beside the one labelled ‘Shrink=Red’ was a black, leather purse with a golden zipper on the top, currently closed. The redhead took the purse in two of her fingers, the purse just lighter than the two jugs, somehow. Though, the load was easy enough.
Once again she coldly brushed past Rhodey and exited the lab, finding Scott and Hope both stood up. Scott took both of the jugs of Particles in a single hand, his other occupied by Hope’s. Hope gingerly took her heavy purse, settling it onto her shoulder. Scott bent down the collect their two helmets. He settled Hope’s pointed, bee-shaped mask onto her face with a click. He then pressed a button just under the left antennae of the helmet, retracting the suit into the small ring around her neck. He did the same with his own broken helmet. When his gun-metal grey helmet disappeared, Hope leaned up and pecked Scott’s stubbled cheek lovingly.
“Thank you,” Hope whispered to Natasha, her stare absorbed in the floor. Natasha swallowed her words and nodded slowly as the two turned to leave, Scott helping a mentally numb Hope down the hall. Scott pulled his phone out of Hope's purse and dialed someone, asking them to pick both of them up.
Natasha’s face faded as Hope walked out. She didn’t know Hope, but from the few minutes she had seen of the woman a few weeks ago, as well as Scott’s word about her a few weeks ago, she guessed that Hope was joyful, full of life and spice. But this Hope… Quiet, disconnected from reality, shivering and fearful, as if she were afraid to talk- to breathe- lest she or another be filled with bullets.. It felt all too understandable to the redheaded Avenger, as she was also currently going through it. It may not have been the same trauma, but the results were similar enough for Natasha to sympathize. As Hope and Scott found the exit of the building, the Wasp-lady rested her head on Scott’s shoulder and nestled into his arms, keeping herself warm and safe, despite her quite battle-capable suit.
It wasn’t the Wasp suit that wasn’t capable, Natasha thought, it was the Wasp herself. Hope was in no condition to fight. Not physically though- Hope actually seemed very strong and capable still, but it was her mind that wasn’t ready. Her mind was broken, scared, like a small animal. A small, innocent animal held at gunpoint.
And she knew the cause. Everyone knew the cause. Natasha felt her brow furrow when the scene of Rhodey holding Scott and Hope at gunpoint reemerged in her mind. The cocking of his gun was the worst part, because Vision’s light had illuminated her face of fear and desperation- desperation to survive, to be freed. Natasha heard a crack as her fist ightened beyond human levels. Any tighter and her hand would become a black hole, set to devastatingly consume everything.
She turned back and reentered the lab, Steve and Rhodey still the only people in the lab, Rhodey’s suit keeping a careful mechanized eye on the two. Steve’s shields were in their reduced state, barely noticeable under his sleeves. He was leaning, arms crossed and a pissed-off glare to Rhodey, against the doorway to the Bio-Organics lab, where Natasha could see the rest of the group.
Peggy, Vision and Wanda worked on hooking the machine to Valkyrie’s slim, sleek body. Her sleeves were rolled up, electrodes placed on her arms. Loki stood- with Thor’s help- and placed two more electrodes under her shirt. He swallowed sadly as he stroked her soft face, lingering on her cheek. He could have sworn her eyes fluttered behind her eyelids. Wanda looked apologetically to the withered God before she gently handed him a large net made of wires and electrodes. Loki nodded silently and nestled it onto Valkyrie’s head. The screen at the end of the machine lit up. Bucky approached the screen and waved over Bruce, who was taking notes. Vision rested his arm and Valkyrie’s- with a cursory glare from Loki- and scanned her, his eyes flashing yellow and spinning. He nodded and retracted his hand slowly, as if in contemplation.
Despite the situation- both with Valkyrie’s unconsciousness as well as Rhodes’ bullshit- the dim orange lit of a desk lamp nearby lit Bruce’s face perfectly. Every wrinkle, every edge, every curve was illuminated perfectly. His glasses were tauntingly covering his eyes, but when he approached the screen, he removed the- unknown to him- problem. His deep, shiny brown eyes stared in careful consideration and his lips fell into their natural pursed state. His tight curly hair was black at the ends, but the closer to his tanned skin it became the lighter it got, greying slowly. It was not something most women would find, attractive, or sexy, nor alluring, but Hell- she was not most women. The wise disposition he exuded- and kind of lived up to as well, in certain situations- attracted her wildly, especially in the dim, moody lighting of the lab. Natasha had to turn her head and regain control of her heart as she felt her face heating up. Ten years ago, maybe even five, she would have scolded herself for having what honestly seemed a childhood crush, but now, especially with her current mental state, she didn’t care.
At all.
It felt good, quite honestly, to embrace something she had looked down upon almost her entire life. She looked back to Bruce, who took an open opportunity to smile to her. She responded with a wink that she could tell turned him a little red under his collar.
She had been in love before. Her face fell as she remembered… Clint. Yes, when they had first met- when he saved her life, directly disobeying the orders of Nicholas J. Fury, one of the most dangerous men, even now- she had felt the pang of love from her then-untrained heart hit her. Ever since then, she had kept it hidden from him, especially when he began talking about his family, his wife-
‘You mean the wife who killed herself because of you?’ The voice hissed. Almost as if another of her super-spy reflexes, Natasha felt her back back stiffen and her blood run cold. Unknowingly, she also whispered, ”No,” which caught only two peoples’ attention; Vision with his supercomputer brain and sound sensitivity and …
Bruce. His eyes came off of the preliminary results for Valkyrie and onto her own body again. She fought a winning battle to stand up straight when her thoughts returned to Laura's body, as well as the voice reprimanding her, taunting her. Bruce pointed to the screen and whispered, "Anything happens, call me over.” Bucky nodded and turned to the screen.
Bruce neared Natasha, watching carefully as she absentmindedly analyzed the lab floor. He placed a hand on her arm, causing her to snap out of her depressive trance. She looked to him, her eyes begging him to come closer.
“Is… it back?” He asked simply. ‘How did he know about the voice?’ She asked herself. As if he read her mind, he whispered, “I’ve been there, Nat. I know how it feels, and I know… what happens when you… think you killed someone,” He was clearly stepping on eggshells, but with him it was entirely different from anyone else. She knew he didn’t think he killed Laura, even if she knew no one else thought so either.
She let out a breathy laugh at his nervous discretion and she nodded quickly as his hand fell to her own and squeezed it. She smiled to Bruce, her bandaged hand- the one he wasn’t squeezing, or else he might not have seen tomorrow- aching with the memory of punching her mirrors. “Are you seeing her again?” Bruce asked when Natasha looked into the shiny surface of a nearby table. She looked back to him and shook her head no after a moment. Bruce nodded slowly, but watched her gaze return to the surface. Her smile dropped when her reflection stared back at her. However, the hair on the back of her neck spiked when she sensed something nearby. It wasn’t Rhodes, and it wasn’t Steve, either. It was something else, something stealthy that only she could sense, like a spider crawling on her arm.
Within only a second, she had her gun out and aimed in the direction of whatever she was feeling, which happened to be a roof corner of the room that lead to Tony’s lab. Bruce’s gaze immediately snapped to her aim, as well as Wanda’s eyes widening when she saw the gun, though she didn’t move. Vision took a careful, defensive step before her, but kept a close eye on Natasha. Wanda tucked herself behind Vision, taking a note from the Avengers’ leader and using him as her own invincible shield. He smiled to her, which she returned.
“Who’s there?” Natasha spoke to the corner. There was no response, but she still felt the thing there. “These walls are thin and this gun is powerful; I’m giving you to the count of three to come out.” Still no response. She felt like a mother scolding her children as she began. “One.” No reaction whatsoever. “Two.” She felt the sensation of the being adjust itself nervously. “Three.” She brought down the hammer of her gun with a dangerous click and readied her finger to shoot before two hands shot down from… The ceiling?
“Okay, okay!” A young, Queens-accented voice shouted. A teenager- no older than a high-school student- came out of a vent that was around the corner, sticking to the ceiling. His body was slim and fit, covered by a red and blue suit with a black webbing pattern and golden highlights over it. There were white, sharp lenses on the mask, and both were glowing white. The suit had a metallic sheen to it, obviously recently polished. On the kid’s chest was a black spider emblem, with four of its legs pointed upwards and the other four downwards.
“Peter?” Banner asked, looking to the teen. The mask receded from his face, clearly crafted from some form of nanobots, probably Tony’s with how advanced they seemed. A youthful face stood in its place, with puffy brown hair hanging from his scalp. The teen suddenly fell from the ceiling, but managed to maneuver his body to land on his feet. The kid was a slight bit taller than Natasha and the same height as Bruce, somehow. A smile grew on his face before he asked,
“Doctor Banner? Black Widow?” He sounded confused but joyful, his childlike wonder steadying Natasha’s nerves somewhat. He didn’t seem alarmed at all to be looking down the barrel of The Black Widow’s gun, and his clear nerve was admirable for someone his age, as most twice his age shook under the barrel of the Black Widow.
“We know this kid?” She looked to Bruce but kept her gun trained on the kid in front of her, who nodded. Peter moved forward and offered his hand for a shake, rushedly saying,
“I’m Peter. Parker. I mean, I’m Spider-Man, from the airport? And that crazy fight a couple weeks ago.” He was clearly excited, but on edge and nervous at the same time. Natasha felt the memories come back to her, remember seeing the kid attached to a flying Mjolnir with a web, holding the Tech Gauntlet. She disarmed her pistol and put it back in its holster on her belt as Parker disengaged his suit, watching it return to a small, thick bracelet he wore, the bracelet the same colors as the suit. He shook the woman’s offered hand before Bruce followed after, shaking the teen’s hand respectfully. They both watched the teen’s grin of childlike wonder grow. “What are you guys doing here?” He asked.
Bruce stood back to reveal Valkyrie, hooked up to the machine with Loki standing over her. Thor stood nearby, patting his brother’s shoulder. Wanda and Vision stood near her feet, speaking in a different language. Bucky, who Peter only knew as the ‘metal-armed dude from the airport’ was intently watching a screen, waiting for something to happen.
“What happened to Miss Valkyrie?” Peter asked, looking to Bruce. He looked back to her and told the story of the dart with a tranquilizer and Loki’s panic. Peter nodded along, his excellent studies in science class paying off as he could understand even the more complex ideas Bruce spoke of. Natasha turned her gaze back to Valkyrie, her light-skinned hand clutched in Loki’s own. He looked worried, and beneath that he was weak, almost sickly. He was a stark contrast to what she remembered of him eleven years ago- holy shit, was 2012 really eleven years ago- when he brought an alien siege to New York, hypnotized one of Earth’s best scientists and her best friend, as well as scared her near to death with the Hulk.
Back then, he was strong, full of life and evil intent. But now, he was gentle, concerned, and he looked as if he wanted to trade places with his Queen. His change in attitude brought her mind to the thought of people’s ability to change, to grow past what they once were.
‘Too bad you can’t, what with that bloody ledger of yours. You always think you can change, but you refuse to. You always think yourself a hero, but we both know you couldn’t stay good for more than a week. And you know I’m right… Natalia.’ The voice’s use of her birth name sent paralysing shivers down her back, making her visibly stiffen. Both Bruce and Peter noticed, but the teen quickly waved it away as he approached Valkyrie. Loki looked up to him as threateningly as possible, but the dark bags under his eyes and his pale, thin disposition lessened the threatening to unsubstantial levels to successfully intimidate the teen.
“Is she gonna be okay?” He asked, turning back to Bruce, who nodded slowly. “You said it was only a tranquilizer, how long’s it been since she was hit?”
“Only about an hour, maybe hour and a half.” Loki answered quietly, yet sharply. It was then that Bucky called for Bruce, something changing on the screen. Bruce came back over and analysed the screen- unaware to Natasha’s breath silently catching in her throat when he put his glasses on.
Valkyrie’s heart rate was rising, as were her brain functions. She was waking up. Her eyes were twitching rapidly behind her eyelids and her fingers were curling and tightening into a fist before relaxing over and over, like she was trying to warm up cold hands. Loki moved to her side, stroking the wrist of her right hand. All her movement ceased, but a certain piece of her brain scan glowed ever brighter- the piece that controlled emotion and attraction flared, and suddenly her dark brown eyes flashed open.
With an almost drunken yell, Valkyrie shot up from the table, and threw her unobstructed left hand in an uncontrolled swing. Wanda managed to stop the warrior woman’s fist with her scarlet powers before it reached anyone. Valkyrie’s chest heaved as she looked around the room to the people around her in an unfamiliar location. Her first words were understandable ones, even through her slight slur.
“Where am I?” Loki patted her arm and told the story of how she had come to the lab, leaving out Hope and Scott as well as Rhodey’s gunpoint incident. She sighed quietly when Loki spoke, welcoming the sense of familiarity. He smiled at the end of his explanation, to which she returned. Her chest suddenly began itching, and she pulled off the source of her irritation; the electrodes, as she did with the ones on her arms. She reached for the device atop her head, but Loki stopped her. He nodded to Bruce, who flicked a few buttons on the screen. Two lights that had been glowing blue suddenly turned off and a click came from the helmet. Loki turned back and nodded to her as she removed the net of wires.
She flipped her legs over the side of the examination table, her boots dangling a fair amount off the ground, but she held her head when the room began spinning. Bruce spoke up when Loki went to help her down.
“It’ll probably take an hour- maybe two- for the tranquilizer to fully wear off. Take it easy,” Valkyrie nodded unsurely, before jumping from the table solo. As soon as she hit the ground, her legs gave out. Luckily, both Bruce and Loki caught her, and Loki heaved her arm onto his shoulder, ignoring his leg crying out once again. Valkyrie hazily looked to her lover's leg confusedly, before asking,
"Is you leg… Better?" She looked to his eyes, her eyes clouded and hazed with the tranquilizer’s sleepy effect, but still full and colourful, shining with vitality and life. Loki grimaced and shook his head. She nodded and tried to take her arm back to stand on her own, but again her legs couldn’t support her weight and she almost collapsed, being caught by Loki again.
“Don’t try to stand on your own yet, my love,” He whispered. “You have not the strength. She nodded quickly, doing her best to help take at least some of her weight off of Loki’s shoulders. Steve came in without Rhodey, drawing Valkyrie and Peter’s attention. He smiled to the conscious Queen, who nodded back shortly.
“What were the results, Bruce?” He asked. Bruce walked back over to the screen and hit one of the buttons below, and a moment of silence came. Then, slowly, a few small sheets began emerging from underneath. He took the sheets, ripping them from the stock of stationery. He adjusted his glasses and looked at it confusedly. Peter approached and also looked to the sheet, mimicking Bruce’s look of confusion. They looked to each other, then back to the sheet.
“Bruce?” Steve asked. Bruce looked up to him.
“Well, as we guessed, this… chemical was based off of one of ours, but there’s a few more pieces to it. These other elements- the ones I expect Vision couldn't… quantify, these are some of the most complex molecular structures I’ve ever seen- these elements are… not Earthly-” Thor interrupted.
“Can I see?” Thor asked. Bruce handed him the sheet, and Thor peered at the sheet with quite the scientific gaze. “They’re Aesir.” He said simply, garnering odd looks from everyone. Loki and Valkyrie raised eyebrows, and Thor came over to them, showing them the sheet. Loki nodded, while Valkyrie laughed.
“I never was one for the science,” She sighed.
“Yes, those are Aesir. Actually, isn’t that what the guards use for riots?” Loki asked, looking to his brother. Thor nodded quickly. “They typically work for a few hours, why was Valkyrie out for only one?” He asked, looking to his brother.
“I think the Earthly elements counteracted the Aesir ones, making it less intense on Aesir bodies. That, and Valkyrie is… Well, a Valkyrie, some of the most powerful warriors in Aesir history.” Loki nodded while Valkyrie gave a proud, almost cocky smile. Now the only question remains… who on Earth had a vendetta against Valkyrie and enough knowledge of Aesir chemistry to build such a tranquilizer?” Thor asked, returning the sheet to Bruce and Peter, who stood stunned at Thor’s unexpected hidden knowledge.
“I don’t know, and I rather don’t much care. The only thing I care about is getting back to the New Compound and getting our Queen safe.” Loki said with a tone of inarguable finality. Steve nodded along before turning to Peter.
“Why are you here, Queens?” He asked. Peter looked to him oddly, before a splash of realization hit him. “Oh yeah! Missus Stark said she needed something from this lab.” With that, he quickly turned to Stark’s section of the lab and shot a web from his Iron Spider wrist ring, landing squarely on a thick drawer’s handle. He gently opened it, and the handle of a red-and-gold briefcase popped up. He webbed that as well and pulled it out, the force of the briefcase moving causing the drawer to roll closed. “Almost forgot about that.” He sighed sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.
“Right. Hey, kid, you wanna check out the New Compound?” Steve offered. Peter’s eyes lit up and he nodded frantically.
“Um, yeah!” He said, jokingly incredulous. “I gotta call May- hey, can I say it’s official Avenger stuff?” He asked quickly, his eyes twinkling as he looked to Steve.
“Of course. You’re one of us, kid. You are an Avenger.” He smiled, patting the kid on the shoulder. Peter grinned like a small child and leapt forward, hugging Steve around the waist tightly. Steve was taken aback for a minute, but patted the teen’s back unsurely. He looked to Natasha with a careful, somewhat confused smile. The Avengers began filing out- Peter occasionally jumping on and off the walls with excitement- leaving only Vision, Bruce and Natasha left.
"You go on ahead, Nat. I'll be over in a minute," Natasha nodded after a moment, hesitantly following the others. Vision and Bruce looked to each other carefully, Vision with a concerned look.
"When should we tell Valkyrie of her… condition?" He asked hesitantly. Bruce sighed in contemplation, looking back as Nat waited outside the door of the lab- he could tell. She was out of earshot, but he knew it was a good idea to be careful, especially something so sensitive around someone as skilled as Natasha.
“Maybe we shouldn’t. I mean, that isn’t really our business, Vision.” Bruce muttered, looking at a different sheet he had removed from the machine, this one an odd type of X-ray- actually, it looked more like a CT-Scan- of Valkyrie’s entire body. Her organs and muscles were fine, healthy, strong- even for one of her species- and in good shape. But, in her uterus, there was a small distension. Upon a closer look, it was made obvious that…
Valkyrie was pregnant. Only five or six weeks, but pregnant nonetheless. There wasn’t enough of the embryo to determine if it was human or Aesir, but bets fell on entirely Aesir.
New Compound
Wanda sat in one of the chairs around the glowing table in the center of the central room, a cool bowl of cereal in her small hand. Natasha came into the room form below, dressed in a simple black sleeveless turtleneck and baggy black sweatpants, surprisingly casual for her usual super-spy appearance. Her red hair was fluffy and bright, but yet the older woman seemed somewhat tired. She had been training for a while, and she had obviously just showered- whether that had been alone was a bit of a question, judging from the smile on her face.
Natasha looked oddly to the younger girl, who was absorbed in a Romanian-lettered book. The girl was dressed in a red sweater and a black, plain skirt, a fluffy brown blanket from her room dressed over her body from her shoulder. She watched as the brunette took another spoonful of cereal and flipped a page, her scarlet power moving over the book as the page fluttered. The book was old and worn, but clearly well-loved.
“You know it’s like, almost midnight, right? Everyone’s gone to bed.” Natasha asked, looking to a clock on the wall. Thor, Loki and Valkyrie had returned to New Asgard, Parker had gone home, Rhodey was- God, she didn’t care- and the rest had all gone to sleep by now. Wanda met eyes with the older woman, her left cheek puffed up from the cereal and her face neutral with wide eyes. She swallowed slowly and nodded wordlessly before asking,
“Then why are you awake?” Natasha scoffed at her words, “And besides, cereal isn’t only for breakfast you know. Have you ever tried night-cereal?” She asked tauntingly, her accent melding her words in quite a lovely manner. Natasha held her head and up and shook it, placing her hands on her hips. Wanda developed a coy smile and inserted a bookmark onto her page before folding the thick book shut. She left it on her seat with her blanket, carrying her half-empty bowl with her. She placed it gently on the counter nearby and entered a cupboard, dragging out a box of oats, corn flakes and granola, the same kind she was currently eating.
She closed the cupboard and opened the one next to it, pulling out a clean, shiny brown bowl, the rim of the bowl thicker around the top. She placed the two items on the granite counter before pulling out a silverware drawer and a large tablespoon. She then turned to the fridge and opened it before pulling out a quarter-empty four-litre jug of milk, closing the door with her powers. She twisted the cap off and poured Natasha about half the bowl before resealing the jug. She opened the box and poured some in, the bowl now up to the brim with cereal and milk. She unceremoniously dipped the spoon in and slowly slid it to Natasha, retaking her hold on her own bowl and eating another spoonful. She then returned the milk to the fridge and the box to its cupboard before looking to Natasha, who stared into her bowl absentmindedly.
Wanda stared for a moment at the redheaded Avenger before tapping her bowl with the spoon in her own hand, creating a dull tink. The noise struck Nat out of her gaze and made her look to the brunette, who stared concernedly. Natasha looked back down to the bowl and swallowed. Her breath hitched and caught in her lungs when the contents shifted. They shifted into the vague shape of Laura's face, her eyes dark and angry. Natasha's spine froze solid and her stomach dropped at the sight, but when Wanda tapped her shoulder, the face disintegrated.
"You see her." The other woman said with a tone of finality. Without even thinking, Natasha nodded slowly, mildly surprised at Wanda’s knowledge. Wanda tapped the older woman's shoulder again, this time harder to attract the redhead's attention. Natasha looked up to Wanda with tears edging in her eyes, looking back down stubbornly. The cereal was shapeless, but the memory of the face was definitely going to be enough.
“I saw him a lot, too,” Wanda began, her voice hitching slightly. Natasha looked up to the other girl. Wanda nodded quietly before continuing, her chestnut hair waving with the motion. “Pietro- my brother. I couldn’t even eat without feeling horrible. And when I did, to stop… the pain, I would… give it back up.” Natasha looked down as she realized what she meant. She had actually done that in the past week, but only once thankfully- the midnight after she had learned of the news, the grief had gotten the better of her. Though, she was still scared to eat, just because the sensation had been so horrible that one night.
“But, one night, I realized that… That me doing that to myself isn't what he would've wanted. It's not what Laura would've wanted for you either. You can’t blame yourself, Natasha,” The way her voice fell off the younger girl’s tongue brought a certain, unrealized beauty to it. “You have to keep living- for her sake- and you won’t live if you don’t eat.” Natasha looked up to Wanda in modest, certain surprise. She hadn’t thought she wasn’t that malnourished, she couldn’t be.
Was she?
Wanda grinned slightly with a look of disdain. “We can all see it, Nat. You're cheeks are thinner. Your eyes are dark. I could probably see your ribs if you lifted your shirt. Wanda nudged the full bowl of cereal under the older woman’s crossed arms. “Eat, or you’ll get as pale as me.” She laughed. Natasha looked down to the bowl carefully. The face hadn’t reformed yet, and as Natasha picked up the spoon, she heard Wanda bring her book over from her chair and flip it open to the page she had left on. Natasha looked back down to the bowl, scooping up some of the granola carefully, some of the milk dripping from the spoon back into the bowl, splashing playfully.
Natasha looked up to Wanda, who was still engaged in her book. With a deep breath Natasha quickly shoveled the food into her mouth and swallowed, the rough corn flakes scraping her throat as they traveled down. She dropped the spoon into the bowl, unreactive when the milk splashed onto the table. Her body rejoiced at the sensation of food finally entering her body, but her body was unfortunately used to it, as she had overcome this sort of thing before- twice in recent memory, actually. This happened every time she fell into a severe grief. The first time in recent memory was when Bruce had disappeared in 2015, and that had lasted just over a week. The second recent time was back just after the Snap, in 2019. That episode had lasted for three weeks, but Bruce had helped her through it.
This too she would best.
Natasha felt a massive pang of guilt as she looked back down to the bowl of grains. She swallowed the last of the taste before she put her head in her hands.
"It's a good first step. Remember, we're all here for you, Nat." Wanda rested her petite hand on Natasha's and squeezed it. She withdrew her hand and took in another spoonful, almost begging the Avenger across from her to mirror it. Natasha picked the spoon up from the bowl and she tried to eat another. Her hand was shaking, almost unbearably, before a warm, large hand steadied it. Wanda's face silently reacted somewhere in the realm of 'oh shit' and she hurriedly left, her bowl still resting on the counter.
Natasha looked to the hand, the tan shade immediately identifying it as Bruce's hand. She turned to him, her green eyes filled with her tears. He was dressed in a crisp, faded purple shirt and brown jeans, his glasses fogged up ever so slightly from the heat dampness of his face- he had just showered, clearly, and the smell of his soap eased her mind. He wordlessly relieved his glasses and helped her hand to her mouth and coaxed the spoon in. She closed her mouth, but didn't allow the cereal down. She shook her head fervently in desperation. She didn't want anymore guilt to flood her body. Bruce put his palm on her lips but left her nose unblocked, simply not allowing her mouth to open. Her eyes begged him not to, but his hand was firm and unmoving. Natasha glued her eyes shut, preparing for another wave of guilt.
She felt like a small child being fed by their parents, like she was incapable of feeding herself. Never mind the fact that she was somewhat incapable. But, when it was Bruce, there was also an odd combination of safety, passion, embarrassment and love. She felt safe with him, safe in his embrace, safe with his mind. Everyone else- she knew they wouldn't, but irrational fears threw all logic out the window- would judge her, look at her weirdly, or see her as less strong.
But Bruce? He understood. He understood that even the invincible, unbreakable, undefeatable Black Widow indeed had moments of vulnerability, breakability… Defeat. During her episode from the Sokovia Accords, Bruce wasn't there, and the episode was far harder due to that. But during the Snap's aftermath, he was. He had instinctively done this for her, like a bird caring after its young, like…
Natasha finally caved in and swallowed the spoonful in her mouth, tensing her body in expectation for the wave of remorse. The now-soggy flakes were luckily easy on her esophagus. Bruce moved his hand away from her pink lips, readying another spoonful for her. The wave of guilt she expected never came, though. Her lip quivered as her mouth turned up into a shaky smile, and Bruce carefully breathed out a smile. He took hold of the spoon again and brought another bite to her mouth, this one with a particularly large chunk of granola that she would have to chew.
She swallowed her fear as her lover took a gentle hold on her jaw. She opened her mouth and allowed the spoonful in, toying with the heavy chunk for a minute. She felt Bruce's hand return to her lips, keeping them closed. She adjusted her hold on the chunk so it was between her jaws, before steeling her nervous mind and clamping down, reducing it to rubble.
She swallowed the spoonful easily, and Bruce once again took back his hand from her mouth to prepare another bite for her. She smiled as he dipped the spoon in and out of the cereal, and her emotions came up far too fast for her liking. Tears rolled out of her eyes and she sobbed once quietly. It was enough to draw his attention, and he brought another spoonful. This time, he took Natasha's hand and allowed it to grip the silverware, her grip much like that of a pencil. She slowly brought the spoon to her mouth and enveloped the bite in her mouth, and Bruce kept his hand to his side. She was tempted to spit out the mouthful just to see her consequences, but when a look of calm happiness crossed his face she quickly swallowed.
"If Sam were here, there would make so many innuendos." Natasha laughed quietly, resting her spoon back in the bowl. Bruce laughed through a smile, looking back up to his lover's eyes. His smile faded, replaced slowly with a look of warm adoration. He slowly moved towards her, and she mimicked. They both had no idea how close they were until they felt each other's warm breath on their faces. Natasha's breath hitched when Bruce closer the distance, pressing his lips to hers. There was the slightest spark in her heart when his tongue poked her lip, but she gladly opened and closed her eyes, allowing herself to get lost in their moment. Her arms crawled around his back as scratched at his shoulder blades so hard that- even through his shirt, red marks were left behind on his skin.
Bruce slowly moved from inside her mouth to the corners, and began traveling down. He sucked on her jaw as she bit a moan in response. The brim of her turtleneck restricted his path, and he dared not move it- not in the kitchen, not when anyone could walk in on them. Instead, he moved back up to Natasha's lips and opened them, sticking his tongue in and wrestling Natasha's for control, the slick surfaces giving way quite easily. Even still, Natasha- with the most keen sense of body control he had ever seen any a woman- eventually won the dual and suppressed Bruce's tongue into submission. He sighed with contentedness as Natasha moved her thin, skilled tongue around his mouth, crossing over every edge, bend and point with a lavish romance.
Natasha pulled away, her breath deeper ever so thanks to her amazing body control, posing as a stark opposite to Bruce's heavy breaths. She smiled to him, resting her arms on his shoulders as he rested his hands on her hips, like they were dancing to music only audible to them alone. The beat to which was their hearts, fast and wild, perfectly synchronized as they stared into each other lovingly. Natasha swallowed her words when Bruce sucked in close to her ear, his intense breathing raising the ginger hairs on the back of her neck. As an electric spike shot through her nervous system- making her toy with her lip as Bruce tongued her earlobe and her jaw- she lost control of her body for a moment, and her subconscious took over and sent her head back, casting her red hair over her shoulder, even at its short length.
Bruce rested Natasha's returned forehead against his own, sighing contentedly, "God, I love you, Nat." The words sent the strongest shock down her back. Even in her current state- bony, malnourished, depressed and emotional, he loved her. Even when she had caused him to leave he still loved her.
And even when his other half had left, she still loved him as well. Even in the biggest disaster of her life- between his leaving, their family being ripped apart and her being hunted to the ends of Earth- she still had his life and- even if it was buried deep within her most secure center- he had hers as well. She had wrestled with the mental fight of 'do I only love him to stop Hulk?' and every time, the answer remained a solid 'no'. She loved Bruce for his heart; wide and open to anyone that knew how to serve themselves into it- and luckily she was very flexible, for his mind; wise and kind, able to heal next to any wound- physical and emotional, and his empathy.
He cared so much about everyone that it was almost a weakness, but when he showed his love for her- even in the smallest way; a cursory cup of coffee, a gentle hug, a few minutes alone, a hard, rough night after an even harder day- it all supercharged her heart in a way she didn't think possible- to a level so high she thought a beam would burst forward from her chest, a la Iron Man.
Natasha raised her head in a gentle parallel to Bruce's, both their eyes twinkling in romance. Natasha opened her mouth to respond, but no sooner had she made a sound before the wall exploded to her left, across from the kitchen.
To Be Continued...