"I've gotten used to you," Tony complained one morning when he came downstairs expecting to see Bruce in the kitchen, and instead hadn't found him until lunch.

"I... sorry?"

"No," Tony waved a hand, "don't apologise. I like having another genius around. I just didn't think I'd ever get used to seeing anyone that wasn't Pepper. Maybe it's a sign? I should keep you here forever."

"It might yet come to that," Bruce sighed. Despite their best combined efforts, Ross was still determined to capture him if he set one foot outside the tower. "Reluctant as I am to ask anything of them, I can't help thinking that SHIELD might-"

"- they built a cage to trap you in, remember-"

"-but they were keeping people off my back before-"

"-yeah, so they say-"

"-Natasha said so, and I trust her-"

"- you shouldn't-"

"-she's part of the team-"

"-she's an agent!"

"Tony..."

"I'm not actually trying to keep you here, honestly." I might be. "I know you want to go home. Any- any word from Betty yet?"

His face fell and Tony could have kicked himself. "I can't contact her in any way, Ross made sure of that."

"But you're working on it?"

"Of course." But his hands twisted together, a habit that showed he was nervous. Tony had learnt that sign pretty early on.

He'd learnt a lot, actually. More than he'd expected to, because he'd started specifically listening for those tiny tidbits that Bruce sometimes dropped into their conversations, when he was feeling especially safe and secure. Small facts, like his hometown, (Roswell,) where he went to college, (Caltech,) his favourite TV show, (Firefly.) Infuriatingly, he'd learnt nothing more about the elusive Betty Ross. Bruce had become strangely reluctant to talk about her. Tony had seen a few photos from her file, and one that Bruce had brought up on his monitor one time, a group picture of a the two of them and a few friends at a campfire. (Dorm building tradition, apparently.) It showed a clearly camera shy, adorably curly-haired Bruce with a mug of something, curled up next to a girl huddled in a man's jumper. His, probably. A bittersweet memory.

Tony yearned for the little details that Bruce was willing to part with. He just didn't know why.

It had been two weeks now, and Bruce still didn't feel entirely comfortable around Pepper Potts. Part of him thought it was something to do with the fact that she was always completely immaculate- never a hair out of place, always perfectly manicured, always calm and efficient despite whatever mess was thrown at her. And next to her, Bruce felt like a fool. A mumbling, badly dressed, fidgeting fool. If he was attracted to her he'd describe it as some sort of beauty and the beast parallel, but he wasn't. His life was just too erratic, too out of control, and Pepper was the very essence of control. A halcyon girl, keeping everything smooth.

Tony, on the other hand, was a tornado. Admittedly, the fun kind that spirits you away to Oz, (or an R&D candyland,) but a tornado nonetheless. And that was far more comforting, more familiar. Certainly more relatable. Of course, Pepper had got that straight away.

"You're both as bad as each other," she sighed one morning, taking in Bruce's sleepy shuffle through the doorway and the smudged equations he'd frantically scribbled onto his left hand at some point during the night. (It was impossible to find a notepad in Tony's lab. Or any form of paper.) "Did you get any sleep last night?"

He took a long sip of coffee before answering. "A little. I never really sleep that much."

"That's not good for you," Pepper reprimanded him, though a faint smile played across her lips and she was clearly trying to stop herself from laughing, as he tried to operate the kettle in his sleep-deprived state. He looked over at her, ready with a sheepish grin- and then the wave of nostalgia hit him, sweet, and longed for, and oh, so painful.

Betty stood in the doorway, neat and tidy in the early hours of the morning. Hands on her hips. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Of course," he lied, blinking back his initial shock at her appearance in his dorm building, dodging past her to get to the kettle, running a hand through his mop of hair. "You know this isn't your building, right?"

"I wanted to come check that my boyfriend hadn't collapsed of exhaustion while I was away."

"Looking after Bruce is my job, actually." James tripped down the stairs, and straightened up with an impressively large yawn. "And you're a liar," he added as an afterthought, stealing the toast that had just popped up. "You were awake all night. You were definitely awake when I went to sleep."

"Traitor." His room-mate just laughed.

"Since when do you sleep? You exist on books and herbal tea come nightfall, don't deny it. I have to force him into bed," he explained, noticing Betty again and winking. "But I bet you don't!"

Bruce nearly dropped his tea. "James!"

Half-smile, half-frown. Wholly beautiful.

"I don't know how this building copes, you're just as bad as each-other. I brought bagels."

You're just as bad as each other.

"Bruce?"

He snapped his head up to see Pepper staring at him with a concerned expression. "You didn't sleep at all, did you?"

That smile. The tone. The perfect, put-together girl who was so much better than him in every way. That's why he was so uncomfortable around Pepper. She was too much like Betty. Looking at her made him think of Betty, of every inch of her. Of their house, their cat, their sweet, ephemeral life. Of their favourite diner and the few photos they had up at home. He had one photo left now, hidden under a stack of letters that he'd written and not had the courage to send since returning to New York. The previous night's guilt returned to him now, even stronger than before.

Bruce made his apologies to Betty- no, Pepper, and retreated. His false heart pounded, and the lies felt heavy on his tongue. Somewhere in his head, a low roar sounded and reverberated until he felt sick. You can't escape.

Tony was too absorbed in what he was reading to notice the click-clack of Pepper's heels as she strode across the lab. It was only when she peered over his shoulder and her long hair tickled his face that he jumped out of his skin.

"Pepper!" One hand went over his arc reactor, earning him a pair of rolled eyes, and the other waved away the files he was so engrossed in with a hasty motion.

She frowned. "What are you hiding?"

"What are you doing in my lab?" he countered.

"I'm one of the three people allowed in here, remember?" I need you to look at these." She gestured to the papers she held. "Though clearly, you're more interested in whatever you were trying to wave away."

"I wasn't trying to-"

"Jarvis, what was Mr Stark just looking at?"

"Traitor," Tony hissed, as several blue files swam back into view. Files with headings that read "New Mexico," "California," "Virginia," "Kolkata." All under the heading of "Robert (Bruce) Banner, PHD."

Pepper was silent for a few moments as she took it all in. Bruce as a child. He had the largest, darkest eyes she'd ever seen, a mop of curly brown hair, and a thin, frail body. He ought to have been endearing, but his face was too haunted. She skimmed the articles that surrounded it. "Local Woman Beaten To Death Outside Her Home." "Genius Kamikaze Child Expelled For Failed Explosive Attempt."

Then, a letter of admission to California Technical College. Some happier photos, Bruce and Betty, Bruce in a shy graduation picture, Bruce sitting with a group of friends around a dinner table, Bruce and- was that Dr Selvig? Yes, laughing and working together, sun streaming in through an open window of the lab.

And then, of course;

Culver University. Grainy cellphone pictures, reports of damage. Trees ripped from the earth. Buildings, crumbling. Stacked photos of destruction, of a green beast. Of death. Then Harlem, Kolkata, New York. Pepper looked away.

"You're very quiet," Tony said finally, breaking the silence.

"I can't..." she broke off, struggling for words. Shocked. He reached up and awkwardly patted her arm.

"I'm sorry, I know it's a lot to take in. Not a very pleasant story, is it?"

Very quietly, Pepper bent down to look him in the eyes.

"I can't believe you could be such an ass," she finished, seething. "You call this a story? This is his life!"

"I-"

"You listen to me, Tony." The files flew away with a wave of her hand. "This is private. If he wants you to know these things, he'll tell you. And he'll tell you because he trusts you. Though God knows why."

"Pepper-"

"Did he say you could go rummaging through his file?"

"Well, not exactly..."
"Did he express any kind of consent or wish for you to know any particular details of his life?"

"Well, sometimes he'd drop hints about..." he couldn't finish. What did he really tell you? The name of his school, his favourite TV show. His head dropped in shame. "I've fucked up. Please don't tell him."

She straightened up, and smoothed back her hair. Almost imperceptibly, she was professional again, her face calm and smooth, her demeanour almost clinical. She dropped the papers on his lap and started to walk away.

"Tell him yourself. And sign these before I get back."