A/N: This story started out as a challenge to myself to write a complete story in a series of 100 word drabbles. I quickly realized I would need more than that, so there are longer chapters as well. I hope to develop a sense of anticipation in the reader with the 100 word peeks into what characters are thinking and feeling. Let me know what you think! Thanks!
-Neg
It seemed unbelievable that the confident, competent Natasha Romanov could be frightened; Bruce believed though. He knew about the gun quivering in her grip, the tiny squeak behind her spoken reassurances. He remembered the catwalk shuddering with her frenzied efforts to free herself, escape him, escape them.
Was he the only one who knew? Was there still another? He knew for certain he had terrorized her, and still did. He also knew for certain that he was desperate to protect her, to make sure she never felt fear again. His own terror was that the Other Guy felt the same.
A chrome buckle was clenched in his fist when he woke in the rubble, so he dropped it. While dressing he caught himself tucking it in his pocket. Strange. On the long ride he dug it out and examined it. Familiarity just barely tickled at his conscious mind, and he suspected this was something the Other Guy knew more about.
In the city, walking toward the rest of the group, he saw another glint of silver chrome. Flashing from her hip through the dusty air, drawing his eye to her curves. As if he needed, or they needed an excuse.