Summary: For Mark's 50th and Scarlett's 33rd Birthdays. Thanks for making our ship sail! When you don't know your exact date of birth, every day could be your birthday. Filling in some of the gaps that lead to Brutasha/HulkWidow/BruceNat in Avengers: Age of Ultron.
Notes: Stand Alone Bruce Banner and Natasha Romanoff story that is canon compliant to the MCU and takes place after the Battle of New York and before Bruce's birthday in December of 2012. Thanks to Autumn_Froste who made time to read it on her holiday! I asked some of you for quirks, questions, and head canons to work into the story. Hope I hit them all!
"Whoa!" Bruce jumped as Natasha slipped her cold feet under his thigh. She'd talked him into watching Roman Holiday with her on a Friday night as a follow up to a conversation they'd had the previous week about old black and white films. They both had it on their favorites lists, so when Natasha texted him that morning to say it would be on the television that night, he'd been game to watch it with her over pizza and beer. He told himself it wasn't that big of a deal. Though Tony and Pepper were headed to Malibu, surely Steve and Clint were around, right?
The team had shared several movie nights since Bruce had moved into Avengers Tower after the Battle of New York. Other teammates had come and gone from there over the summer months and into the fall, and much to his chagrin, he'd worked a partnership out with Tony and become a mainstay in the upper floors. Nevertheless, Bruce was rather surprised when he and the former assassin were the only two there in the Commons area that Friday evening. Bruce usually sat back in the back of the large area (with its open floor plan, it really wasn't just a room) in his favorite chair in the corner near the hall entryway, so he could duck out without being noticed if he felt the need. However, with only the two of them there, he wasn't going to be rude and standoffish, especially since he'd been looking forward to seeing her, er, the movie all day. When he'd come straight down from his new and embarrassingly well-equipped lab, Natasha was just setting down the pizza box on the coffee table in front of the best couch that was located dead center in front of the insanely large screen.
"Looks like it's just you and me, Doc. Everyone else is out of town or indisposed," Natasha lamented, but she really didn't sound all that sad. What a difference a few months and a shared appreciation for hot beverages on sleepless nights had made between them. They'd tiptoed around each other for a couple of weeks before she'd come down to the Commons kitchen at 3:11am in search of hot water for instant coffee, and he'd talked her into sharing hot chocolate with him instead.
He'd handed her a steaming mug as they faced each other across the dark composite counter where she sat on a barstool with her back to the New York skyline. "Peace offering?" Bruce asked her.
Natasha looked at him without hiding her mild surprise, but she answered with a neutral tone. "Are we at war, Doc?" She was in her workout gear, and he was wearing Hulk-covered pajama pants and a t-shirt from the souvenir store in the lobby (first-run prototypes Tony had forced on him). He had two days worth of beard stubble on his chin, but his deep brown eyes were friendly and curious. She thought, not for the first time, that he really was appealing, handsome, in fact, when he wasn't wound tight like a jack-in-the-box or coming at you in the big, green, and angry economy size.
Bruce carefully set down the very warm mug in his hands as he took the bar stool opposite hers. "I hope not. I just wanted to say I'm sorry the other guy went after you before, you know, aliens and Asgardian nut jobs. You really didn't deserve that. Sorry."
"Not a problem." She waited a moment for him to look up from his beverage that was still too hot to drink just yet. "I mean it, Bruce. I ought to be the one apologizing to you. If I'd known about that smug bastard's plan just a few minutes sooner, maybe I . . ."
"That's okay. It worked out. You are okay, right?" He looked at her like he was a little doubtful.
"Right. Just don't go full parkour on me and gut the Helicarrier again for awhile," she replied with a nervous laugh.
He snorted, "I don't plan on it." When he looked at her, Natasha could tell he meant the apology. Maybe he was in a forgiving mood as well?
"Listen . . . Bruce, please." She looked at him earnestly, and he recognized the change in her tone. "I'm sorry I let you down and broke my promise to get you out of there. I really had Clint on my mind. He's my oldest friend in S.H.I.E.L.D. That and Loki's staff was doing a number on all of us." Bruce nodded, listening patiently. She couldn't explain to him how difficult it would have been to tell Laura and the kids they'd lost Clint on her watch. "After we got him back, Clint asked me why I wanted to get involved in a war when I'm not a even a soldier. I told him I was compromised. I made that promise to you, and I couldn't keep it. You were like a fresh red line in my ledger. I had to do something to make up for the wrong I'd done you and the damage that caused." Bruce nodded, so she went on. "Please understand, I do know it cost you dearly to lose control, and the last thing I wanted was for you to feel responsible for others being hurt. Bruce, I'm sincerely sorry it happened. I do get that it takes a terrible toll on you when the other guy comes out. We all pay a price when shit hits the fan, but I can only imagine what it costs you."
Bruce had been studying her as she spoke. Saying this to him had cost her something, too. She was good at what she did, the best, in fact. Failure or being compromised, as she put it, would have been personal for her, especially because she'd broken faith with him. Her word was her word. Somewhere in that chaos, Bruce knew he'd become more than just another mark to her. He reached across the tabletop and carefully laid his hand on hers. Natasha looked up at him and wrapped her hand around his fingers, surprised at how warm and comfortable his touch felt.
"Thank you for telling me this, Natasha. I don't hold you responsible. I was . . . well, I was angry when I spouted off in the lab. I knew I was getting played on three or four levels when I set the staff down, but I couldn't crush the genie back down in the bottle far enough or fast enough. I guess we both have things to be sorry for on that day. If it's any consolation, I know you were only being professional and trying to do your job the best way you could. We all fell right into Loki's trap. I'm just glad it wasn't worse." If Hulk had seriously injured her . . . Bruce didn't even want to go there.
Natasha looked relieved, "Thanks, Bruce. I hope we're back on solid ground."
He smiled at her and squeezed her hand. "We never really left it. I knew what I was probably getting into when I decided to come back." She looked at him and knew he was talking about a lot more than a fight with Loki and the Chitauri. She squeezed his hand back and ran her index finger down his wrist and palm as she let go.
Natasha smiled and held up her mug for a toast, "To peace offerings and solid ground?"
"Here, here," Bruce said and they clinked their mugs carefully together.
"Oh, wait!" Natasha blurted before they could drink. "I know I saw it on top of that cabinet." She quickly jumped off her perch and practically vaulted up onto the counter near the industrial grade refrigerator and felt behind a decorative ceramic basket on top. "Ha! Found it," she laughed and pulled out a round-shouldered amber bottle of bourbon with a bright red top.
"Maker's Mark," Bruce said with a chuckle as she deftly tossed the bottle to him and leapt down to the floor. "This reminds me of celebrations and birthdays. Dad drank that stuff at the Officers' Club on base when he had a breakthrough in his research or on most holidays." The trademark red wax seal was already broken, but the bottle was mostly full. He opened it up and wrinkled his nose at the smell. Bruce didn't have many fond associations with alcohol.
"Better than Old Crow," she joked and held out her cooling mug of chocolate. Bruce poured a finger full and then another in as she cleared her throat. "Don't be stingy. I need help getting to sleep."
He shook his head and only put a splash in his own mug. If he'd started drinking earlier or felt a little more sure of himself, he'd have said something swave or funny about helping her get to sleep. Instead, he settled for "Bottoms up then."
"Happy Birthday, but I know it's not till December 18th," she said. He raised an eyebrow as they drank. "It's in your personnel file, Doc."
"Of course, so when is yours?" he asked.
"You tell me," she shot back with a raised eyebrow.
"I don't like digging in other people's business. Just tell me."
"I'm serious. It could be today or tomorrow for all I know," she said with a shrug.
"You really don't know?" Bruce asked. Several possible reasons were flitting through his mind, none of them pleasant.
"No. I don't," she said quite seriously and shook her head.
"Well, then, just in case, Happy Birthday, Ms. Romanoff!"
Although she'd left before he could ask her about why she didn't know her birthday, that encounter had taken a lot of the unspoken tension out of the air between them. Over the past few months, there had been several late night conversations in the kitchen when neither of them could sleep or a few others when he'd stitched her up after a mission. So, it wasn't like they hadn't spent time alone together, but it still made Bruce pause now as he stared at her back while she cued up the right movie channel on the almost stadium-sized screen. Tonight, here and now, there was no kitchen counter nor a first-aid kit between them. Nope, just a big comfortable couch, a pizza, a movie, and an evening to share. Just. The. Two. Of. Them. He could feel his heart beat a little faster as he considered the possibilities and the consequences.
"Their loss," Bruce said with as causal of a gesture as he could manage and grabbed them a couple of lagers he knew she favored from the fridge and snagged the hot sauce from the condiment caddy. He also knew she liked the right corner of the couch, so he sat a little to the left of center. Not too close and not too far. The physicist noted they were both wearing Stark Industries shirts, but his was a sweatshirt and hers was a hoodie that also matched her sweat pants.
"Laundry day," she explained, intuiting his wry look.
"Me, too, and casual Friday," Bruce added with a grin. Along with a ton of let-out dress clothes, Pepper had funnelled him more than a few of Tony's other hand-me-downs, which included the comfortably broken-in pair of Levis he had on. These were probably some of Tony's work jeans since Bruce could wear them without cutting off circulation somewhere important when he bent over or sat down or tried to breathe. The pairs of embarrassingly tight "drainpipes" he'd forwarded to charity without even trying to put them on.
Natasha settled next to him and claimed the bottle he'd set on the coffee table for her. "I ordered the pizza with mushrooms, peppers, and onions since that's what we both seem to like."
"Observant of you," he noted with a fleeting smile, and she opened up the box, handing him a plate to help himself.
"Kinda goes with the territory, Doc," she said with a small dramatic sigh. She was trying not to be too smirky, but his dry humor, which barely made it out of his mouth before he was blushing with embarrassment, completely appealed to her. Bruce had started out their interactions in Kolkata with snark before he Hulked out on the helicarrier, and then the next time they'd run into each other at the Tower, he'd progressed to small witty quips that she barely caught at first. Now, he seemed comfortable enough to try ribbing her a little along with his own charming self-deprecations. Yes, she decided she liked that because it meant he was finally getting comfortable with her. Real trust was down the road, but at least it was now on the map. She took a drink from her bottle and smiled at him fondly as she caught him staring. His hint of a blush blossomed into full bloom, and he tried to cover it up by stuffing pizza in his mouth then staring at the label on his beer. Damn, he was cute and she wasn't above teasing him a bit.
They'd made it through the pizza and were up to the part in the movie when Audrey Hepburn's character, Princess Ann, accidentally takes off on a scooter and Gregory Peck's Joe jumps on the back behind her to try and help her control it as they careen through the streets of Rome, leaving chaos in their wake. Natasha had slipped out of her shoes and was sitting with her sock-covered feet tucked under her, but for some reason, they were still uncomfortably cold. She and Bruce were both laughing at the chase scene when he leaned forward, and she stuck her feet on the warm spot where his cute butt had been.
When Bruce leaned back he found her icy feet well under his thighs and jumped. "Whoa!" He immediately realized what she was doing, so he didn't come completely off the couch or turn green. "My God, where did you get those blocks of ice you call feet?"
"I've lived too far south for too long. My circulation has slowed down like a lizard, and I can't get my feet warm," Natasha complained. "Sorry, you're too cozy not to use for a heater."
"As long as you're sure you aren't getting sick or something and putting off a visit to a real M.D."
"No, I generally don't get sick," she said. Sometime she'd tell him about that.
"I don't either, but that's because of the Gamma killing everything before it can get a foothold." He was sure the redheaded beauty was setting him up for something, but Bruce knew he could fix her temperature problem easily enough. "Here, let me see your feet." From Bruce's perspective, one of the few advantages to running on Gamma was that he always ran a little warm. Granted, it wasn't that great in the summer months when New York was sticky and humid, especially on those days when Hulk seemed to use concrete dust for talcum powder. He just toughed it out most of the time, but tonight he was glad to put it to good use.
In Natasha's opinion, his running warm was one of the growing number of perks she was discovering as they'd gotten to know each other better. His hands weren't big enough to envelop her feet like Hulk's could, but he knew a lot more about getting comfortable on a couch. Bruce turned toward her and propped himself up with a pillow before he took Natasha's feet and guided them under his armpits. "How's that?" he asked her with a rather satisfied smirk.
"Ah, getting better by the second," she purred. "You must be Gamma powered."
He grinned, "That's part of it, but no significant radiation to worry about for years now."
"I know. If you'd read your files, you'd know I know."
Bruce snorted, "Just don't turn into Princess Ann and push me off the couch."
"You have nothing to fear as long as you keep my toes warm." She looked at Bruce and cocked her head to the side. "Why don't you stretch your legs out? You look kind of uncomfortable."
"I'm good, but let me try something." Bruce pulled her right foot out from under his arm. He clapped his hands together dramatically and briskly rubbed the palms together before he laid them on the sides of her foot, pressing his thumbs firmly into the arch. "You're really tense. Let me work out the kinks for you." He chewed his lower lip as he shifted his hands to massage the various pressure points on her foot and heel.
Natasha gasped as he released the tension in the nerves and tendons. "Oh, shit! Don't stop. Ouch! It hurts, but it feels sooo good!" She found herself relaxing and feeling better like she'd had a glass of wine and slipped into a warm bath.
Bruce chuckled, "I'm sorry it hurts, but I thought you probably kept your tension in your feet." He finished with her right foot and switched over to her left foot with similar results.
Natasha sighed and stretched luxuriously as he finished up, "So, you just worked my 'kinks' out, hmm? How about yours?"
Bruce shrugged. "Maybe it is one. I do enjoy giving you some relief. Would that be a kink?"
She laughed, "No, that's not what I meant."
He looked at her almost innocently. Bruce did know what he wanted. He was just reluctant to breath it into being between them out loud. They had a nice friendship developing, and he didn't want to ruin it by wanting too much or asking too soon.
"You, Dr. Banner, are a tease. You helped me with my itch. Let me help you by scratching yours." Natasha rolled forward in a fluid motion onto his lap with her knees astride his hips. This surprised Bruce almost as much as her cold feet, but he sat there blinking at her, not sure if this was what he most desired or most dreaded. She pushed him back, so their hips were squared up and he was in a reclining position.
"Please, Natasha." He reached up and stroked her face with his right hand. "I want to do this right. I don't want to do this halfway."
"Have I been reading you wrong all this time? Don't tell me you have cold feet, Doc." She was teasing him, but she wasn't kidding. His quickening pulse and the sizeable bulge in his pants said she was right. He wanted this too. As a rule she didn't mix romance and work. Flirting happened and they'd certainly done that enjoyable dance for months now, but her gut said they both needed something more dependable and solid. She was pushing him, but the look in his eyes said he wasn't backing away.
Bruce shook his head. "No. No cold feet. I want this to happen. I want to be with you, but it needs to last or not start at all. I can't do casual. I'm selfish, Natasha. I want it all."
"I can't guarantee that, Bruce, but I'm willing to try it with you. I want to play for keeps." That was all he could ask from her. Natasha placed her hands on his shoulders, leaning down to press her lips to his, and he responded, slowly at first but quickly adapted as her lips and tongue coaxed his desires into flame. Bruce ran his hands across her thighs and squeezed her ass before settling them on her hips. They kissed for several minutes, opening up to a deeper give and take. Natasha finally leaned back, both of them feeling breathless.
Bruce laughed, lips a bit swollen, "It's not my birthday yet. Are you sure it's not your birthday?"
She smiled down at him, "Odds are one in 365, so it could be."
"What are the odds I could get you to come with me upstairs?" Bruce asked her.
"A lot better than us finishing this movie tonight." Natasha reached over and pressed the the function on the control to save the abandoned film for later.
"Hold on," Bruce instructed and rolled forward onto his feet, supporting her weight with his arms and hips as she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his torso. Natasha told herself she really should have known he was stronger than he appeared. He grinned and raised his eyebrows, guessing she was recalibrating her estimations of him.
She laughed as he set her down, thinking about the fun and the unwrapping they were going to do, especially since she knew he was capable of more pleasant surprises. So was she. Natasha kissed him and playfully bit his lower lip before looking him in the eye again. "On second thought, Doc, maybe it is my birthday."
End Notes: Hope you enjoyed this. Please let me know. If you want this to be a two-parter, you will have to express your interest with some encouragement. In the meantime, if you love this couple or just enjoy the writing, please checkout Special Needs: A Bruce and Natasha FanFic, which is still running and not met its end as well as my shorter works. May all your birthdays and holidays be safe, warm, and full of the best surprises!