There were times Bruce Banner simply couldn't make a decision when life threw things his way. Normally a cup of tea and some meditation would do the trick — even a shot of whatever Tony was drinking at the moment, if the predicament was too complicated — but no sir, not this time. The cool air caressed his features, failing to clear his mind.
At this point he was convinced Fate loved to fuck with him because damn, that was some pretty fucked up shit. It was hard. Really, really fucking hard. Bruce knew that could be /it/. Ever since Betty — his heart slowed down for a fraction of a second that felt like an eternity, windpipes closing abruptly — Banner had a small chance to find...
Love? A... someone?
The thought was exciting as much as it was terrifying. His record wasn't exactly a clean one, suffering and horror dripped from every memory he had regarding any type of relationship with people, especially romantic relationships, if he could call the pathetic attempts that.
Bruce had been a demure young man, even way before the gamma radiation and everything; barely speaking unless strictly necessary and shielding himself behind dusty books of Physics and Advanced Mathematics. His mother's death and the abuse he received from the sorry attempt of a father had been such crucial triggers he would call them the metaphorical needle and thread that sewed his lips shut.
It was a good think Loki wasn't there to read his thoughts, he realized. He had the feeling the comment would be hardly appreciated.
But that wasn't about Gods who tried to rebel against their father and ended up fucked up beyond belief nor the metaphors used to describe the pretty awful childhood he had.
Thing was — that could be it.
She could be /it/.
But he couldn't be that selfish. Being around him was like playing with the safety pin of a hand grenade. He couldn't bear the idea of accidentally hurting her.
Her eyes bore into his own and Banner felt his knees weaken considerably, fingers curling around his wrist. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, a faint prickly sensation in his eyes. /Fuck./ "Natasha, I, uh..." he gulped, finding himself unable to say those words. "I—"
"Bruce," her voice was mellifluous, bright eyes reflecting her true thoughts. It was funny, he thought, how trusting she was of a person who couldn't be trusted. "Bruce, /breathe./"
He did as told, taking in a sharp intake of breath... and choking right after that, dissolving into a coughing fit. His cheeks burned both from the embarrassment and lack of air, and his chest felt like it was on fire, rising and falling erratically.
"Jesus," Natasha said almost fondly, reaching forward to lightly rub his back. "Are you okay?" Bruce was so tired he didn't make a complaint, instead leaned into the touch and closed his eyes in hopes it would help him organize his thoughts. His eyelids weighted a ton, the bags under his eyes more noticeable.
Yeah, good luck with that.
"Nat," Banner murmured in defeat, brown eyes flicking to her face, "I can't... I'm a monster. I can't be what you want. The Other Guy is volatile and easy to enrage, I'd never—" His fists clenched.
"Bruce..." The man raised a hand and she trailed off though didn't took a step back. That was the closest they had ever been, and to Natasha it was the greatest development in their relationship. Bruce had become her lifeline and being away from him was torture.
"I'd never forgive myself if he hurt you." His tone was laced with self-hatred, voice trembling by the time he finished the sentence. She could read him easily, he knew that ever since their first meeting in Calcuta. A strand of loose auburn hair fell between her eyes but she paid it no mind, too busy looking at him. His fingers twitched, yearning to touch her soft hair. One of her hands moved to rest in the hollow of his throat, thumb absently stroking the bit of skin there.
She definitely wasn't making it easy.
The Hulk, curiously enough, seemed to actually relish the small display of affection. It seemed to work as good as the Lullaby.
"Listen to me, Bruce. You're not a monster. Do you want to know what a monster is?" The corner of her mouth quirked upwards, a certain harshness to her tone. "You're looking at one. I'm not asking for a perfect man; we've been through Hell and surprisingly lived to tell the story. Plus, I've always liked my men a little flawed." Natasha smiled again, and Bruce let out a sigh.
"I never considered Him a little flaw. If anything, He's a massive, green one." The agent huffed and shook her head, the other hand tangling with the dark curls adorning Bruce's head.
"You're scared, and so am I. Romance — love is something I had learned to repel during my time in the Red Room. Love is for children... or so I thought." Vulnerability flickered in her eyes and she furrowed her brow. "But I'm willing to give it a try. I know we can hurt each other more than we can possibly imagine, but I know we won't. You know the darkest side of me, the ugliest one. I like to think I know yours. I know what I'm risking."
"Do you?" was all he could say at the moment. No one had said that, /ever./ His body was trembling slightly even though there was a kind of warmth he had never felt before in his chest.
"I do. I adore you." Bruce Banner was sure Natasha had never been that sincere in her life, and such thought left his breathless for a good minute. Natasha, obviously, was amused.
He cupped her cheeks with shaky hands and took the liberty to rest his forehead upon hers. It felt so natural, so /right/ Bruce couldn't even think of saying no.
"Say it again," he all but pleaded, feeling her warmth breath on his face. "Please."
She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his own, an unspoken promise of love. "I adore you, Bruce."
"I... I adore you too, Nat."
There were times Bruce Banner simply couldn't make a decision when life threw things his way. Good thing he had Natasha to help him now. He wasn't alone anymore.