Howdy everyone! This is my seventh (I think) fanfic in a series of fanfictions I'm doing in honor of Taylor Swift and my favorite album by her, Red. This one is based on the song I Almost Do, and it's a Brucenat fanfic. If you want to check out my other ficlets based on TS's songs, then my most recent one is twenty-two, another Avengers fic, based around the whole team. The others are all too well (an OUAT fic), i knew (you were trouble) (an ROTG and Brave fic), treacherous (a Coldest Girl in Coldtown fic), red (a Merlin fic), and state of grace (a PJO fic). If you have time to check them out, I'd be absolutely giddy.
Title: i (almost) do.
Summary: "After all, red and green do not mix, and monsters don't belong with heroes." In which two repented monsters think they are undeserving, and (almost) regret their choices. [Brucenat. Oneshot. Bruce x Natasha.]
Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers, or any Taylor Swift song. I'm not quite that talented.
Songs Used: Basically the whole Red album, but it's heavily inspired by I Almost Do. I also logged onto 8tracks and listened to a playlist called run with it, by dreaming-ofa-runaway.
WARNING: This ficlet is VERY MCU (it's set in the movies, not the comics). It also stays true to canon, so no reunion. Just Bruce thinking about Natasha and Natasha dreaming about Bruce. The fic also includes quotes from the song, but it doesn't exactly classify as a songifc. Oh, and there might be cursing, as this is the Avengers, not Sesame Street. Though there was that one time...
i (almost) do.
by clarabella wanderling.
"I bet, this time of night you're still up.
I bet, you're tired from a long, hard week.
I bet, you're sitting in your chair by the window, looking out at the city.
And I bet sometimes you wonder 'bout me."
~Taylor Swift, I Almost Do.
When he hit the mattress, he let out a groan he didn't know he'd been holding. His whole body ached -remnants of his time as the Other Guy, even if it was three months ago- but as he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, he found that rest was at the furthest corners of his mind, and something else -someone else- lay atop all the chaos and thought that was his mind.
Her name was Natasha Romanoff, and Bruce Banner had left her behind.
He sat up, resting against a wall of his old hut in a secluded Pakistani town, and shook his head. Not tonight, he thought, but his mind had other plans. He could see her perfectly in the cracked darkness, picture her red hair falling just above the shoulder, her relaxed-but-ready stance and perfect green irises. He could see her calloused hands holding his, murmuring claims of adoration as she pushed him off a cliffside, trying her hardest to look strong.
To Bruce, she looked like a tired, beautiful marble statue.
He thinks that there's an eighty-five percent chance that she's just got home (New York is approximately nine hours behind Pakistan, and because it is currently three in the morning -he's had a long night- it is estimated to be around six PM there), and simply kicked off her shoes and clothes, stepped into the shower, and climbed out again only to curl up on her balcony with a book. She most likely won't eat dinner. She forgets about food, and they'd often have to remind each other to eat.
The realization that she might be starving and not even realize hits Bruce hard, but he swallows it down, because Natasha in pain makes him angry and he cannot risk that.
Instead, he takes into consideration that it is Saturday morning here, and so, there, it is Friday. She's probably tired, he thinks, because training rookie heroes (he's heard about how the Avengers are growing in numbers) is hard, and because Natasha is always exhausted, she's just good at hiding it. He can picture her now, sitting on her balcony, a book in hand, but she's not really paying attention to the work, she's more looking at the city, at the sunken blocks of cement that have been around since Steve Rogers' birth, wondering how the hell she got there.
She's not the only one.
That image of her puts a smile on his face, but it's wiped away quickly when he wonders if she's thinking about him. Sometimes, he concludes. Some days. She probably gets a little rougher with people -Natasha does that when she's hurting- and blames it on dehydration or some other lie that sounds believable.
"I adore you," she'd said to him and Bruce thinks, for a moment, that maybe he should go back, because she'd said those lines with so much honesty and fearlessness that it almost makes him feel young.
Then he remembers the way she'd pushed him away, how the last things she's mouthed to him before he transformed into a killing machine was, "But I need the Other Guy."
And Bruce Banner knows he can't.
A monster like him does not belong with a hero like her.
...
Natasha arrives home at exactly 1905 (which is, 7:05 PM), kicks off her shoes and drops her clothes in the hamper. She steps into her shower, and steps out five minutes later ("Pleasure does not equal perfection, Natalia."). Natasha slips into her pajamas, grabs a book, and slips out onto her porch -the Avengers headquarters is out in the country, so no more balcony for her- watching the wooded area around her instead of the book. It's titled Pride and Prejudice. Jane Foster recommended it, but Natasha's always too busy to finish it.
Now, though she has the time, her mind strays to other things.
Her training kicks in ("The road to Death is painfully clear, and usually begins with affection."), and she tries to hardest not to linger on the man that will most likely come back, though maybe not to her. There's a clanging in her head as all the angels and demons in her mind give her a headache. The sun's setting now, a mess of colors that resembles the red that she knows very well.
Natasha slides off her chair, mind still on the one person who slipped past her boundaries in ways even Clint never had.
Once she reaches the safety of her bed, gun under her pillow ("Always expect the unexpected, girls. Always.") and heart heavy, she sits there, back slouched and eyes weary. His name is etched against the nerves of her mind, and she says the words aloud, tonguing them with a sort-of addiction she didn't know she had. "Doctor Robert Bruce Banner," Natasha says, and smiles to herself, just a little bit.
They made quite a mess, they did. She thinks it's probably better off this way, taking time off from each other, maybe losing his trust in her (but at least he's trying, at least he's trying).
After all, red and green do not mix, and monsters don't belong with heroes.
She sighs, violently shaking her head, hand subconsciously reaching towards her cellphone (she used to call him, when she couldn't sleep. And he used to do the same). Her fingers stop halfway there, retreating with a hiss sliding out of her mouth, because she understands, she does, but it hurts, and she wishes she didn't understand that well.
For, when she dreams, he's still touching her face, and the lullaby still works. But then it changes and it's the Other Guy, the Big Guy that (used) to like her, and she is asking -begging- for him to just turn around, to just take the quinjet off stealth mode, and they can run away because the world's been saved and everything's okay, baby. It's all okay.
Instead, he ends the connection, the confusion and hurt etched on the Hulk's face a little too human for Natasha's heart to handle.
Natasha collapses on her bed, staring at the ceiling before turning on her side, sliding under the covers and hauling them up around her, as if for protection ("You are the Black Widow. Protection isn't in your vocabulary. Extermination is.").
She curses at the pain in her heart and the images resting at the back of her eyelids. In a futile attempt to comfort herself, to bring back good memories, she glances at the setting sun and whispers, "Hey, Big Guy."
She should've known, really.
A monster like her does not belong with a hero like him.
"Sun's gettin' real low."
...
Bruce is attending to a young girl when she recognizes him as one of the Avengers. She asks for the redheaded woman who happens to be her role model. Bruce knows Natasha would've winced at that, but he smiles, and he says, "She's back in America."
"Are you going to back to visit her, doctor Banner?" The girl asks him, eyes wide.
He sighs, "Maybe. Probably. Eventually."
"Does she miss you?"
A laugh. "I like to think she does."
"Do you miss her?"
"Very much, yes."
She scrunches up her nose, "Then why are you here and not with her?"
Bruce winces. "There was a fight," he says, slowly, "She did something that surprised me, and after that I needed some time alone."
The girl looks solemn. "Do you ever send her letters, doctor? I think you should. I think she must miss you."
Banner gives her a half-smile. "You know, sometimes I almost do."
...
Natasha walks slowly past the post office, clutching an envelope with an address in her hand (by now they've managed to track him down; an old Pakistani town, of all places) and a burden in her heart.
She's about to enter, when it occurs to her that he left. Not forever, or at least, Natasha doesn't think it's forever, but he left for a reason, and he needs to be on his own.
So she turns, rips the letter in half, and sticks it in a trash bin. She is walking away when a voice calls out behind her, "Letter to a lover, miss?"
When Nick Fury meets her line of sight, she tilts her head slightly. "Somethin' like that," she responds.
"You change your mind?"
"Yeah."
He nods. The street's crowded, people bustling about, but before he melts away he asks one more thing. "Do you regret him?"
Natasha gives him a bittersweet laugh, as if to say, I've tried, but it's impossible to regret someone you crave. "Somedays, I almost do." She instead responds, "But most days I wouldn't dream of it."
"Oh, we made quite a mess, babe.
It's probably better off this way.
And I confess, baby.
In my dreams, you're touching my face."
~Taylor Swift, I Almost Do.
I don't know what I did with this, but reviews would be lovely.
God bless,
Joss.