Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Notes: MAJOR MAJOR MAJOR spoilers for Age of Ultron! I was happily retired from fanfic, but when certain pairings are messed with, even though I have to accept them as canon, I still have the urge to...fix things.

People Like Us

by Kristen Elizabeth

We come into this world unknown

But know that we are not alone...

"They're real sweet."

Natasha Romanoff tore her eyes away from Clint Barton's kids just long enough to look at the man who had approached her from behind. She hadn't realized how lost in thought she was until someone had actually been able to sneak up on her.

Fortunately, it was only Steve Rogers. No threat there.

Smiling softly, she returned her attention to the two kids running around their front yard. "They are."

The wooden beams of the porch steps creaked as Captain America lowered himself down next to her. Resting his elbows on his knees, he was quiet for a long moment, something she appreciated about her fellow Avenger. He never felt the need to fill up silence with chatter.

"I like it here," he finally said. "I can see why he went so far to protect it." She felt him glance at her. "And why you helped him."

Natasha leaned back on her elbows, closed her eyes and turned her face up towards the warmth of the sun. "He's my best friend."

Another moment passed. "Always thought that was code for something else."

The corners of her lips turned up ever so slightly. "Good. It worked then." She opened one eye to find him staring at her, obviously puzzled. When caught, he blushed—he actually blushed—and quickly averted his gaze. "Clint and I have a history that's...complicated," she admitted.

"I'm not trying to pry," Steve assured her.

"I know. And maybe that's why I'll tell you." Sitting back up, she dusted off her hands. "Someday."

He accepted this with a simple nod of his chin.

Out in the yard, the kids squealed with delight as their father chased them, going to great lengths to pretend that one of Earth's heroes couldn't catch two small children.

"I used to want all of this." Steve's confession lingered in the air. "House, wife, kids...even the porch."

It was Natasha's turn to look at him. "Used to?"

He lifted one muscled shoulder. "It all hinges on the right person. Without her..." He half-chuckled. "Well, what's the point of wishing?"

"I don't know." She looked back through the screen door, into the house where Bruce Banner was helping Laura Barton make enough sandwiches to feed most of the Avengers and her children. "Maybe just to have something to hold on to through the fight. Through all the fights."

"He likes you, Nat." Blinking, she swung her head back and fixed him with a stare that demanded more information. "He just doesn't know what to do with you." When Natasha arched an eyebrow, Steve amended his wording. "About you."

"I'm not that hard to figure out and he's a genius."

"He's a guy who likes a pretty girl," Steve reminded her. "We're all on an equal playing field there."

Natasha gave him a flirtatious smile. "So, you think I'm pretty, Captain?"

Grinning back, he shook his head. "Tell you one thing...he sure didn't like it when I told him you'd been doing that."

"Doing what?" she asked, all innocence.

Steve patted her knee as he rose to his feet. "Just give him a break, okay? You both deserve to be happy."

She watched him walk a few feet out into the yard, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Steve?" He paused, but didn't glance back. "So do you."

Without replying, Captain America kept walking.

That night, when the children, including Tony Stark, were settled, Clint sat in front of the dying fire in the living room hearth, nursing a final whiskey. His wife was curled up next to him, as much as she could with her rounded belly, fast asleep with her head on his shoulder.

He sensed they weren't alone long before he heard a familiar creak on the wooden floor.

"Don't creep, Banner. Make yourself at home."

The man who tried so hard not to be the Hulk came around the couch, apology written all over his face. "I saw the light and thought it would be someone else."

"Let me guess: someone curvy with red hair?" Clint drained his glass, careful not to move too much. "She went to bed a little while ago. You could join her if you wanted."

Bruce hid a cough of shock behind his hand. "I...I just don't...get you two."

"What's to get? Nat is my best friend."

"I always thought that meant...you were, you know, being discreet."

Clint gestured for him to take a seat on the overstuffed chair nearby. "If you're fishing for a story, it's not really mine to tell."

Bruce sat down gingerly, like he might crush whatever he touched. "I'm not fishing."

"But you want to know if Nat and I were lovers."

Bruce stared at him for a moment. "Is that a S.H.I.E.L.D thing? Brutal honesty?"

"Life's too short to beat around the bush," Clint said with conviction. "So, short answer: yes, we were." When Bruce immediately looked at the man's wife in horror, Clint went on, "Laura knows. It was a long time ago. Long before I met her."

"She acts like she doesn't care."

"Cause she doesn't. She's not the jealous type." He turned his head to kiss her forehead. "When Nat and I met we were very different people than we are now. Two assassins with a death wish." He smirked. "Who happened to be damn hot. Of course we hooked up."

"That's all it was?"

"Well..." He looked down at the melting ice in his glass. "I'd be lying if I said yes. We cared about each other. That never went away."

Bruce cleared his throat. "What happened?"

It took Clint a minute to answer, very telling considering how forthcoming he'd been thus far. "I wanted something she couldn't give me. So...she let me go." When Bruce opened his mouth to inquire further, Clint shook his head. "That's all I can say. The rest is her business."

Closing his mouth, the other man nodded, resigned.

"She likes you. She might even love you."

Rather than make him smile, as it was intended to do, this statement affected Bruce more like a bullet. He looked away as if in pain. "She deserves someone better."

"Why don't you let her make up her own mind about that?" Clint suggested. "She's a grown woman. She knows what she's doing."

"She thinks she can fix me. Make me better." Bruce paused. "I am what I am. It'll never change."

"Then nip it in the bud." At the risk of waking his wife, Clint pointed a finger at his teammate. "I'm serious. Underneath all that leather and flirting, there's a tender heart. She'll never admit it, but I know it's there. Hurt it and I will hurt you."

The Hulk gave him a patient smile.

"I will try to hurt you," Clint conceded.

Bruce shook his head. "There are things I don't get to have. As much as I might want them...the big guy keeps them out of my reach."

A few seconds passed. "That...sucks."

"To put it lightly," Bruce agreed. "I'm not trying to lead her on, but..."

"She's never really been good at taking 'no' for an answer. Yeah." Clint snorted. "I know."

With another sad smile, the doctor stood up. "You've got everything here. But I bet you already know that."

His teammate inclined his chin in acknowledgment. "Everyone deserves something like this. Everyone."

But Bruce knew better. He had made a choice long before the Avengers, before Natasha, before his self-inflicted curse ever became an asset, that made every choice for him from then on.

So, when the fight was done and the world had been saved again, he made another choice and left.

He had done what was right, what was necessary, he told himself the rage died and he returned to what passed for normal. Even the big guy knew that Natasha was off-limits.

To Be Continued