Natasha & Bruce
One
Natasha & Bruce
When Tony looked back on it later, much later, he realized that their family came together in the way that his robots came together. Not all at once. Not built from the bottom to the top, or the inside to the out. Pieces here and there, drawn in vague design and then slowly, carefully crafted . Forged in fire and under stress, bent and folded into a shape that was sometimes not exact to the plan, sometimes had scratches, scars, or designs that were unexpected, but not unwanted. Weaknesses that could be compensated for with care, that turned out to be hiding strengths you never realized were there.
Yes, Tony’s creations often matched his blueprints down to microscopic perfection, but that was design. Even the wires were cosmetic, albeit functional. But there were pieces that were… unplanned. Idiosyncrasies. Flaws.
The sort of scar that made a simple rock into a gemstone. Perfection in a scratch that made everything seem more… human.
JARVIS, after all, had been an accident. The sort of accident that sometimes kept Tony awake for days on end, recounting the moments of his creation in terror at the thought of having done one thing differently and never having been gifted with such a <s>person, friend, family, son</s> creation. Those minutes - seconds, even - where too little sleep and too much stress had him typing in the code that changed everything . That made JARVIS. That moment, really, that showed Tony how much more there was for him in the world than weapons .
Flaws. Human error. Or non-human error. Sometimes, they created magnificent things, but they took time. All things that were worth anything did, he knew. Time and patience and sacrifices.
They came together like that. His family. The Avengers. Slowly. One piece at a time, often in fits and starts, occasionally backpedaling - scrapping a failed design. But they did come together.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t Bruce that came first. Tony had invited him. He hadn’t begged, though he could admit it was a near thing. It was so rare to find someone who could keep up with him but didn’t want to murder him. But Bruce’s incredibly justified fear of SHIELD and the military had him fleeing, and Tony was not the sort of person to stop someone retreating when they felt threatened. Not anymore.
So Bruce fled for anonymity and Steve (Captain freakin’ America) left to look at this new world and try and find his place in it. Tony didn’t protest his retreat. There was too much bad blood there, nevermind that Captain America had been dead the past seventy years. Tony still looked at him and heard his father’s voice, judgmental and sneering, telling him all the ways he would never be as good as Steve fucking Rogers. So Tony let him go - was grateful when he left - and didn’t say anything.
Thor left for Asgard, taking his brother with him and leaving the Earth behind. Tony regretted it some months later when he realized he had never asked the schedule that Asgard ran on. If the planet (he assumed it was a planet and Thor an alien… god… alien god?) spun at the same rate (on the same axis? The tilt? Did their life forms come from the ocean originally? What was the weather like? Air pressure? Atmosphere?) as Earth or were their days longer, their years shorter? Would four months on Earth be ten years in Asgard, or ten minutes? Would Thor come back to find them all gone? Was that the true reason they had never seen him before this? Divine immortality. It sounded almost as terrifying as a metal heart that could go on for fifty lifetimes. Would he outlive Thor? Would he outlive the universe?
Clint was stuck with SHIELD, stuck undergoing tests and psych evaluations to ascertain the cognitive recalibration that had shaken Loki’s mind-fuckery had cut the ties completely. There was no telling how long the archer would be under close scrutiny or if he would ever be released or just… quietly disposed of. Fury seemed like the quietly-disposing-of type. He probably made them walk a plank. Tony was sure the Helicarrier has a fucking plank. Probably a Jolly Roger, too. If not, he was going to make sure it got one. Or three.
No. Surprisingly, the first person to take Tony up on his offer of coming to the tower was Natasha. And it had been his offer, he hadn’t done it for Fury and the Director of SHIELD had known better than to ask, or perhaps he realized asking was unnecessary. Whatever the reason, two months of silence gave Tony time to fix the structural damage to the tower and put some changes into place. Namely, floors designed specifically for the Avengers, and an offer, carefully worded and sent out on the phone numbers he absolutely had not hacked from SHIELD’s database. He’d expected Steve to come back, cringing from the newness of a world seventy years outside his understanding, or maybe (hopefully, wishfully) Bruce, feeling safe behind hard steel walls and Tony’s personality, stronger than the vibranium of Cap’s shield. But no. It was neither of them.
Natasha slipped in quietly, avoiding the attention of all of the security guards and JARVIS’ cameras, and was sitting in the kitchen one morning when he came out for coffee.
She didn’t say anything and, after the initial shock (“I have a heart condition, you know!”), neither did he. Tony made coffee and slipped back to his workshop. Natasha discovered her floor and made herself at home
And that’s where it began.
The two months that Tony spent with Natasha in the tower were… interesting.
It wasn’t the first time they had lived in the same building, but at that time, he had known her as Natalie and had been dying. Knowing who she was for certain changed things, because frankly, Natasha was terrifying, and Tony had a huge amount of respect for someone he was pretty sure knew nineteen different ways to murder him with a paperclip.
After that first day when he ran into her in the kitchen, he didn’t see her. He knew, logically, that she had to be moving around, that she wasn’t staying solely on her floor and not going anywhere else, but there was no evidence of her even living there.
And then, a little over a month into her stay, he stepped into the entertainment room on what he had begun to call the Common Floor and found her watching, of all things, Bob Ross.
For a moment, he had been so startled, he’d simply stood there, staring. But Tony wasn’t the sort to be silenced for long, nor the kind of person to wear that dumbfounded expression for longer than the span of a second. A mask of bored interest fell over his face and he stepped further into the room, dropping with careless ease onto the other end of the couch. He had planned on playing Mario Kart. He liked the entertainment center on the Common Floor. It was… not larger. His floor had a fantastic setup, even better than this one, and the most comfortable chairs. JARVIS projected the image of the screen, so Tony could lay on the floor and play video games on the ceiling or hang upside-down off a chair and have the screen orient to match his sight-line. So really, his own entertainment room was far superior than the television on this floor, even if it did take up the whole wall.
There was something about being in a room meant for more than just him, though. Yes, the entertainment room on his floor had more than one piece of furniture. There was an armchair in there that Rhodey was particularly fond of, but Rhodey wasn’t here, and Pepper was both busy running SI and had really never spent much time in the entertainment room.
Tony would never say he was lonely but… he was lonely.
So sometimes he liked to go to the Common Room and play video games, as though at any moment someone might walk through the door and flop down into the seat next to him and tell him that Yoshi was a terrible choice of character and give them a controller because he was going down.
That it never happened didn’t change the fact that the room was a comfort.
So coming in to find Natasha there was… unexpected, unplanned, and perhaps just a little terrifying.
Okay, more than a little. Tony had a healthy fear of spiders, be they actual spiders or scary super-spies who were named after one.
And it was incredibly strange to sit there in a room with a woman who terrified him and watch Bob Ross calmly explain how to paint leaves on a tree. But as the minutes dragged on and no one stabbed him in the neck with a needle, Tony found himself relaxing into the couch cushions and letting the sound of the man’s voice wash over him. He’d never been a big fan of Bob Ross. Tony’s designs were usually done on a computer with JARVIS’ help, and when not, well, blueprints were a far cry from nature scenes.
Still, it was calming. It reminded him a little of Aunt Peggy, when he was small and his parents weren’t home. Sometimes she would sit at the table with him and they would eat cookies that Jarvis had made for them (oatmeal and chocolate chip), and she would show him how to draw planes or the shine of metal on a hubcap, or the light reflecting off Captain America’s shield. They were some of Tony’s most precious memories and in quiet moments, when there was nothing else begging for his attention, he liked to quietly pull them out and let them play in his mind.
It became something of a routine. Tony was still very busy with Stark Industries and building tech for SHIELD and designing some new weapon arrays for the armor. His days were often spent in the lab or at (ugh) board meetings that he couldn’t push off on Pepper, or doing a walkthrough of R&D. But at least once a week, Tony found himself wandering into the Common Room’s entertainment center to find Natasha there, already watching something.
Sometimes it was Bob Ross. Other times, it was documentaries on the most random of things – birds, the discovery of flight, ocean creatures, cats. His favorite by far had been the one about the creation of aerosol cans and the rising popularity of foods like cheese whiz and whipped cream in a can.
They didn’t talk much and Tony couldn’t even say for sure that a friendship existed between the two, but they had a mutual respect for one another and were both very capable of at least pretending to be polite. And amazingly, somehow, it worked.
And then Bruce showed up on his doorstep, looking a little lost and a lot uncertain about his welcome, and things changed.
Having Bruce at the tower was both wonderful and… tense. Natasha was visibly distressed by his presence. Having the unflappable spy who was better at putting on masks than Tony act in such a way was deeply disturbing. Worse still, Bruce was aware of her upset and it caused a feedback loop that just kept ratcheting up the tension in the tower until Tony thought he might just tear his hair out.
And of course, he couldn’t blame either of them. Tony wasn’t worried about the Hulk. Having faced all that he’s faced in his life, seen the monsters whose faces continue to look perfectly human even while they rip your heart out of your chest, Big Green wasn’t anything Tony felt he had to be concerned about. Well. He had made sure Bruce’s walls and floor were structurally sound and able to take a beating, but that was just being practical.
But while Hulk didn’t scare Tony, he obviously scared Natasha. Bruce hadn’t gone into huge detail, out of shame or a desire not to reveal a trauma that wasn’t his, Tony wasn’t sure, but he’d been given a few details here and there and put the rest together himself – that Natasha had been trapped and in the presence of a furious Hulk. Add in the fact that Natasha was a super-spy to whom trust was probably not a word she knew in any language, and yes, that sort of event would leave scars.
Bruce would cringe when she entered the room and she would freeze and visibly attempt to hide her emotions, which just made Bruce cringe in shame and made her worried he would turn into Hulk.
Tony began to look forward to being called out to battle the random science experiment gone wrong. Yes, even the giant gelatin monsters that smelled like sour tofu.
It was only a matter of time, he knew, before things came to a head. He knew neither how to solve the issue, nor how to prevent it, short of kicking one of them out of the tower, and there was no fucking way he was going to do that. He’d gotten attached to both of these broken people, and since he was just a little (a lot) broken himself, he’d maybe started slotting pieces of himself in with theirs, trying to build something from all the shattered bits of what had done to them. He’d been starting to make… he didn’t know.
A family, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind, one that he gagged and buried under six layers of don’t-give-a-shit, because Tony Stark didn’t need a fucking family. Stark men were made of iron.
And if that voice in his head told him that even iron needed a hammer and an anvil and a set of tongs holding it so it could be smelted into something new, well… he gagged that voice, too.
But he didn’t know how to help Natasha and Bruce work out the tension between them. When it came to dealing with reporters and the military and schmoozing with the sycophants, Tony was a social butterfly, a man of quick comebacks and sharp wit. But those were the people who were there for Tony Stark and what he could give them, Tony Stark and his money, Tony Stark and his parties, where they whine and dine and don’t spend a dime. The people who didn’t care about Tony beyond what they could wheedle out of him. Those people were easy to deal with because Tony knew every one of them was an enemy. When he walked into a gala or stood in front of a line of senators, he stood on a battlefield and wore a different sort of armor. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. The original armor. The mask that could fool the world.
But these people. Natasha, Bruce, these people who he thought he might be coming to lo- appreciate the presence of, even enjoy it. He couldn’t snap a witty one-liner and solve the issue, because he didn’t want to walk away from this. He didn’t want to lose this. He didn’t want to drive them away. But he didn’t know how to fix it.
Before he could work through the problem, miraculously come up with a solution, it was too late.
It happened late in the evening on a Friday. Tony normally didn’t pay much attention to the days of the week but Pepper had roped him into a meeting where he was set to discuss some of the projects he was working on for SI, so the bigheads on the board would stop freaking out about stock. Seriously, it was like they were worried he was going to run out of ideas or something. Tony had ideas hidden away that he didn’t feel the world was ready for yet, ideas that he didn’t plan to release for another two decades, and frankly, he was thinking of designating an entire laboratory floor to that collection, because there was a lot. Running out of ideas? Tony couldn’t shut his brain off for five fucking seconds, never mind the rest of his life.
He’d tried to let himself be distracted by work (he did have a lot to do, after all) but Pepper was adamant. Tony was actually a little excited (and a lot wary) for the day she met Steve Rogers. He was pretty sure Pepper’s mildly-irritated-at-Tony look could have the good captain pissing his tights. He hoped he caught the meeting on camera.
So he went to the boring board meeting and met with the boring board. At least they let him talk about his designs for a while, but then they wanted to discuss money and stocks and Tony’s mind wandered off to the drawing station in his brain where he designed blueprints. He’d vaguely heard Pepper sigh beside him, but the benefit of having her there was so she could take care of the business side of things and let Tony build stuff. She was CEO, after all. And he was, according to her, a five-year-old adult with an impressive Lego collection.
Their return to bickering was a relief to Tony, who had been afraid that he and Pepper had lost the friendship he had been so grateful for, before Afghanistan and the two of them falling into a relationship. They had tried it, they had, both pushing to keep it long after they knew it wouldn’t work. Pepper couldn’t handle not knowing if he was heading out to his last battle, if she would get a phone call and have to listen in as he died (and seriously, what had he been thinking, calling her in those last moments? What would he have said?), or watch it on the television.
And Tony, though he loved her, would always love her on some level, knew that he would eventually resent her prodding him to eat and sleep and come out of the lab, as though he were a child and not a grown man. He did enjoy his toys and creating was often more like playtime than an actual job, but Tony had run Stark Industries, had been CEO, had brought SI to new levels. His reluctance to deal with the boring parts didn’t mean he was incapable, but sometimes she acted as though he was, and it grated. It was different when she was his personal assistant and friend. As his personal assistant, it was her job to tell him when he had meetings and make sure he didn’t forget about them, and as his friend, he knew she cared about him and wanted him to take care of himself. But in the sort of relationship they had been attempting, balance was required, and it hadn’t existed, and so there was no way it could work.
He had been afraid, despite the breakup being mutual, that there would always be a tension there now, always an awkwardness they couldn’t get beyond. Four months after what had been dubbed The Battle of New York, though, the two were casually bickering as they had in the past, the awkwardness of an ended relationship gone. There was still some heartache. That would probably linger for a while yet. Tony had loved her, after all, and he knew she cared about him, and he thought, if things had been different, they could have been something great.
Still. He was glad to have his friend back. Glad to keep her even as just that.
And also to foist CEO duties off on her. He was not sorry he had done that. Pepper was good at what she did, and with Avenging going on in addition to SI and SHIELD needing work done, it took a huge burden off his back. Pepper could have the meetings. Now if only he could get her to stop dragging him to any of them.
They were in the elevator when the whole tower seemed to shudder around them, and then a familiar, muffled roar sounded in the distance. The elevator made an incredibly disturbing grinding noise and then shuddered to a halt.
“Oh my god,” Pepper muttered, backing into a corner like that would save her if the elevator fell the twenty-five floors to the bottom of the shaft. He decided not to tell her how futile it was to try and brace herself.
“Talk to me, J.”
“Dr. Banner has had a minor incident in the kitchens, Sir.”
“That didn’t sound minor,” Pepper whispered.
“Dr. Banner has ‘hulked out,’ as you say, Sir.” The AI’s British tones took on a note of irritation as he added, “He has wrecked the communal kitchen and destroyed the oven. I have taken the liberty of shutting off power to that floor.”
“Where’s Natasha?”
“My sensors detected her entering her floor moments after Dr. Banner’s transformation. Sensors on that level were then disabled. I am unable to detect her exact location.”
Tony nodded. He would have to trust Natasha’s ability to take care of herself. “J, I need to get these doors open and call the armor for me.” He tapped the bracelets around his wrists that functioned as a homing beacon for the armor, even though he knew it wasn’t necessary.
“What’re you going to do?” Pepper asked, as the doors slid open. They weren’t level with the floor and Tony had to crouch and jump out of the elevator, turning around to help Pepper down to the floor. He felt her relax as her feet touched solid ground.
He stepped away as he heard the crash and tinkling sound of shattered glass, and then the armor was there, latching onto him, snapping into place. The faceplate snapped down over his eyes and the mechanical echo of Iron Man’s voice said, “Go see what my oven did to piss off my Science Bro.” He sent her a jaunty wave and blasted out of the building, through the shattered window and then up, bypassing the need for stairs or the elevator by rocketing to the communal floor. He broke another window, which he knew Pepper was just going to get on him about later, because getting someone to replace these windows was a tragedy in three parts.
He briefly considered taking the armor off to going to check on Hulk without its protection. The thing was, though he trusted Hulk and Bruce, this was the first time the jolly green giant had made an appearance since Bruce had moved into the tower, and though Tony had his suspicions, he wasn’t entirely sure what had set Bruce off. Best to go in as Iron Man, who Hulk had a good camaraderie with, just to be sure. If Hulk hurt Tony, even by accident, Bruce would never forgive himself.
So he landed on the communal floor and headed into the kitchen at a casual pace, spotting Hulk easily. He was sitting on the crushed remains of the breakfast table, hands in his lap, actually pouting at what Tony thought had once been the oven. It was in the place where the oven had been at one time, but looked more like a crumpled shoebox now.
“Hey there, my favorite jelly bean. What’s got you so looking so green?”
Hulk looked up at him, dark eyes huge and expressive in a face that was so much like Bruce’s and yet so different. The giant green rage monster was definitely pouting, and wasn’t that an interesting look on him.
“Hulk smash,” Hulk said lowly, dropping his head again.
“I see that. That usually makes you happy, big guy. What’s going on?”
Hulk shuffled his feet a little, adjusting from side to side, and the wood beneath his bulk groaned in protest. The big guy actually sighed a long breath and Tony was reminded of the kids he sometimes ran into at galas, that had been dragged there by their parents and told to behave. That long-suffering sigh was one he was all-too-familiar with. He usually didn’t want to be there either.
“Hulk smash Tin Man’s stuff.”
Tony sank down into a crouch so he could peer up at Hulk’s face. Downcast, all sad eyes and regret. “That happens sometimes. I’ve smashed lots of my stuff. Should’ve seen my workshop when I built the armor.” He waited for a long moment but Hulk only seemed to try and pull his giant limbs in closer, trying to make himself smaller, and it hurt Tony to see it. “If you’re worried about how I’m gonna react, you don’t have to. It’s okay.”
Hulk glanced up at him then and he knew, on some level, Bruce was still conscious, just by the look of resigned exhaustion in those great big eyes. “Hulk go?”
Tony frowned, trying to parse exactly what was meant by that, because either Hulk was asking if he should let Bruce come back, or he was asking if he should leave . He wasn’t sure asking for clarification was the best way to go.
“I like having you here, Big Guy. You can stay as long as you want.”
Hulk mouth turned down in a frown. “Spider want Hulk to go.” Large fingers picked at the rubble beneath him. “Hulk scare. Sorry.”
Tony chest ached. He wanted so badly to tell Hulk – to tell Bruce – to stay, but he knew that this wouldn’t get any better. Not the way the two were dancing around one another. He couldn’t keep them both there knowing they would be constantly unhappy, that Bruce would hulk out again and again until he finally gave up and ran from the stress.
“I think, maybe,” he said, reluctant, “that’s something Bruce needs to talk to Natasha about.”
“Tin Man’s castle,” Hulk grumbled petulantly, and Tony grinned at him calling the tower a castle . He’d have to ask Bruce why that particular word transferred over.
“Hulk and Spider’s lives,” he retorted. “I’m not your jailor, big guy. I’m just your friend.”
“Friend,” Hulk said softly, almost reverently, and Tony turned around and put his hands on his hips to hide the shine of tears in his eyes.
“Well, since you’re here, how about I put you to work. You wanna help me move some of this mess? I think our kitchen needs a new stove.”
When Hulk reverted to Bruce later, Tony carefully helped him to his floor, glad he was still wearing the armor. He tucked the unconscious scientist into bed and took a long moment to just stare at the tense lines on the man’s face before making his way back to the penthouse with a heavy heart.
Bruce would be gone by morning.
Bruce was not gone the next morning.
In fact, he was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea and a bemused expression on his face. Tony tried to walk casually to the coffeepot, he really did, but his own surprise had his legs stuttering to a halt in the doorway, the uneven gait alerting Bruce, who raised his head. There were dark bags under his eyes and his skin was a little red where his cheek had been pressed against his hand, but his eyes were alert and Tony wondered how long he had been awake.
Was he just waiting here to say goodbye?
“Tony,” Bruce said, eyes widening slightly, and Tony realized he had just said that entire stream of thought out loud , damn his caffeine-lacking brain.
Bruce stood up from his chair and Tony took a step back, barely conscious of the movement. He grinned at Bruce and forced a laugh out of his throat. “Morning, Brucie-bear. I see you’re an early riser, which is just disgusting, by the way. How’d you sleep? Better yet, have you had coffee yet? Do you want coffee? I want coffee. Coffee is good. Awesome. Great !” And if he said that last part a little bit too much like Tony the Tiger, well, he’d blame that caffeine withdrawal.
He stalked over to the coffee pot, which blissfully allowed him to turn his back on Bruce, and shoved the ceramic mug beneath the drip, punching the button with a little too much force. He heard Bruce’s footsteps move closer and hunched his shoulders, waiting for the inevitable farewell.
“If I told you I was gonna take off, what would you say?”
Please don’t, Tony thought brokenly, but swallowed the plea, forcing a grin onto his face and turning to look at Bruce. The guy was standing in the center of the kitchen, hands loosely clasped in front of him, fingers rubbing together and just watching Tony. Why was he watching? Why didn’t he just get it over with? Rip out Tony’s heart like Obadiah had and saunter off.
Okay, that wasn’t fair. Bruce was nothing like Obadiah and he wasn’t doing this to hurt Tony. He was doing this to protect himself. Tony could understand that. He’d built a robotic suit of armor decked out in weapons with the ability to fly in order to protect himself. Bruce’s means of protection was just different. That was all. It was fine. I was all fine.
“I might demand some postcards,” he said lightly, though he could feel his smile was too wide. Too many teeth. Far too many teeth. “Maybe a souvenir from the gift shop wherever you end up. Do they still make yo-yos? Send me a yo-yo, Bruce.”
“Tony.”
His fingers trembled, traitorous little bastards, and he turned and grabbed his coffee cup, his shaking hands sending coffee over the sides. He brought it to his lips and sucked the contents down, ignoring the scalding pain in his throat. Caffeine. He needed caffeine and the armor. Something he could wrap himself in with a mask that hid his face. Something to make it stop hurting so damn much.
He shoved his coffee cup back into the machine and hit the button again. His could feel the muscles in his shoulders bunching together and his hands gripped the counter hard. “Are you gone yet?” he whispered harshly, not turning around. He didn’t want to watch Bruce leave. He was so tired of watching people walk out of his life.
“Tony,” Bruce said again, and he sounded tired and hurt, and he could have the first one, but the second belonged to Tony . Bruce didn’t get to feel hurt right now. Bruce was leaving .
“Tony, turn around. Please.”
He considered not doing it. Considered just standing there staring at the coffee pot until Bruce left, defeated. But the idea of not truly saying goodbye (there had been so many times when he never got to say goodbye ) would hurt so much worse later, and Tony had enough regrets.
With a sigh, he turned around, looking at Bruce. He gave a shrug when the man didn’t say anything because here he was, facing him. Are you gone yet?
When Bruce moved, Tony had less than a second to wonder what-the-fuck, and then Bruce’s arms were wrapped around him and he was being held tight and for a moment, his brain actually stuttered into stillness. His arms, folded across his chest, were pressed hard against Bruce’s chest, and the man’s hair was tickling his ear.
He felt himself shaking and tightened his hands into fists to stop it. His voice still quivered, though. “Bruce?”
“I’m not leaving,” Bruce said, and his breath was warm on Tony’s neck. “I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to check if it was okay, after last night. After the Hulk came out. I wanted to make sure that it was okay I stayed.”
Tony dropped his own arms from their tight cross, bringing them up to grab at Bruce’s shoulders. “It is,” he said quickly, desperate to reassure.
Bruce’s arms squeezed and tightened the hug. “I know,” he said. “I wasn’t sure but I know now. And I’m not gonna leave.”
Yes you will, a voice spoke in the back of Tony’s mind. It sounded like Obadiah.
“Okay,” he said quietly, pushing the cruel voice away, and tried not to wonder why the hand Bruce buried in his hair felt so sad . He got to keep his Science Bro! This was amazing!
“What about…” He swallowed. Why did he want to bring up doubt? “What about Natasha?”
Bruce huffed a laugh and pulled back to look into Tony’s face, that bemused look back on his face, accompanying a smile. “I talked to her this morning,” he said, his voice wry, which suggested there may have been less of Bruce talking and more of him just being talked at . “Who do you think convinced me to stay?”
“Natasha?”
Tony wasn’t sure about having this conversation. Part of him thought for sure he shouldn’t say a thing, should just pretend that Natasha’s conversation with Bruce had happened between them and he didn’t know a thing about it, that Natasha would prefer it was never mentioned.
But it had been mentioned. And Natasha was the reason that Bruce had stayed. The reason that Tony hadn’t woken up in the morning to a floor empty of the man it had been built for. He had to at least acknowledge, to her, that she’d done something. He had to thank her, somehow. And yes, he could have made her a new, far superior weapon than the one provided her by SHIELD, but since he intended to do that anyway, that seemed like cheating.
Why couldn’t this be as easy as wooing a reporter?
Because it meant too much to him. More than any sex had ever meant.
Plus there was the whole thing where Natasha scared the hell out of him.
The fact that JARVIS’ sensors could now detect Natasha’s floor and her presence on it seemed like a gesture of welcome, however. Or, at least, Tony was taking it as one.
There was a large room, mirrored all around, that Tony had included in the design of Natasha’s floor without knowing what it was going to be used for. He had received an anonymous email that all but screamed SHIELD around the time that he was in the planning stages of the tower’s new rooms. He’d told JARVIS to trace the email back but had been informed that the trace led nowhere, which had been distressing – who was good enough that they could outwit JARVIS? – but it hadn’t been a huge concern at the time. He’d put it off to deal with at a later date, when he didn’t have a million things to do. That time hadn’t come yet, unfortunately, but he also hadn’t received any other emails and no one had attempted to hack his systems. Still, a puzzle.
But now, he could see that the room had been meant for, and he was… surprised.
He was even more surprised when Natasha turned around to look at him, dressed in a form-fitting black leotard.
“Stark,” she said in greeting, studying his face, her own blank. If she was looking for any sense of him being overcome by her appearance, she wouldn’t find it. Natasha was an incredibly attractive woman, he could admit that easily, but she could also probably kill him with her pinky toe. Besides that, Tony might play into the media’s view of him as an uncaring ass and giant playboy, and yes he’d slept with a lot of women and men over the years, but he never slept with anyone who wasn’t one hundred percent interested. He didn’t know the actual relationship between Natasha and Barton, but he had a feeling she was taken. He wasn’t planning on even stepping in the direction of her way.
Whatever she was looking for, she seemed to have found it, because she turned away from him (and he thought he should probably take a moment at some point to have a quiet freak-out over the fact that she trusted him enough to turn her back to him).
“I…” Tony’s jaw worked for a minute, trying to figure out how to even say what he wanted to say. What did he even want to say? “I talked to Bruce this morning.”
“Mmhm.”
He watched, mildly horrified, as she grasped her one leg and pulled it upward, bending over slightly as she did a damn fine job of trying to press her toes to the back of her head. He was pretty sure if he attempted that, the muscles in the back of his thigh would just explode.
“Uh… I didn’t… expect to see him,” he said, when she turned her head and looked at him while her leg was folded over her spine . “I figured he’d be long-gone.” He took a deep breath. “But he wasn’t.”
“No,” she said slowly, as she eased her leg back down and shifted position. Holy shit, there were other stretches? Didn’t you get a free pass once you managed to turn yourself into a pretzel? Here’s a medal of success, you are done and free to go. That sort of flexibility should come with telekinesis, just to spare the mind’s of the people witnessing it. Oh my god, does she have a pelvis? Note to self: surreptitiously x-ray Natasha.
Her lips slid into a smirk and he cleared his throat. On second thought, ask politely first and if she glares, run.
Tony could feel himself jittering like he hadn’t had enough coffee and was itching for the next cup. He needed something to go on. Did he tell her he knew she had talked to Bruce? Or did he just… leave? Leaving sounded good, actually. Safer. Less traumatizing. He could go have Jarvis look up the stretches Natasha was doing so he could determine if she was, in fact, a cat, and that’s why she looked like she could probably squeeze through the bars of a jail cell and just walk out the front door.
Oh god, he was going to have so many nightmares .
He nodded sharply. “I’ll just let you… stretch,” he said, and he totally didn’t squeak the last word as she did a sideways split while holding her ankle and seriously, she didn’t have any bones at all. She was made of liquid. Like a cat. Or a really scary bowl of pudding.
He turned and walked out of the room as fast as he could while still walking, worrying the hem of his shirt between his thumb and forefinger. His shoulder rapped against the doorframe as he turned the corner into the hall. He made it about eight feet before he let out an explosive sigh and turned around, striding back into the room.
Natasha had one leg up on the bar and one arm over her head as she bent over backwards. As he stepped into the room, she tilted her head a little further and regarded him with a disinterested curiosity.
Tony took a breath, his fingertips tapping against his thigh. He met her gaze, wondering if it said something about his life that talking to an international assassin while she was basically upside-down didn’t even phase him.
“Thank you.”
Her lips upturned the slightest bit and he gave himself a mental pat on the back. Maybe things would work out, after all.
And then Steve arrived.