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Author Note – Thank you to all those who reviewed the last chapter, especially a very sweet guest reviewer who made my day by leaving one. As always, Black' Victor Cachat is a fantastic and patient beta, go check out their stories.

Rooftop Conversations – chapter nine

"Courage doesn't happen when you have all the answers. It happens when you are ready to face the questions you have been avoiding your whole life."― Shannon L. Alder

Steve handles the debriefing with the military at the scene. While he relayed the information to the soldiers, Natasha discovered one of the perks of sticking close to the Big Guy after the fight, none of the military personnel present were brave enough to approach him. Apparently, they were still hesitant about the Hulks' involvement and kept a safe distance at their own choice without a word from the other Avengers to run interference. They didn't want to engage him like those at Culver did.

As she expects, Bruce finds her that night.

Hours after he transforms back, and sat through a debriefing filled with tension; Steve taking the lead and informing Hill about the inaccurate blueprints, and how HYDRA blocked their tracking systems. They all agreed the mission was a set-up, a test if not a trap. To what end is still unclear. Suffice to say, Hill left the meeting on her own mission muttering to someone on the other end of her phone about tracing the agent who provided the questionable intel.

The others filed out after her; Bruce essentially sprinting off to his room to shower, while offering a throw away comment about sand being in uncomfortable places. Tony followed with the other men while telling Bruce it was a downside of running around half-naked, then he switched tacks to explain the concept of using ropes during sex to Thor, while Steve trailed slightly behind groaning louder with every euphemism Stark used. Natasha left the room last, and made her way out to the roof. She spent the last hours of daylight watching the sky change slowly from picture perfect blue to dusky pink morphing to purple before the black eventually reigned as far as she can see. Her thoughts never straying far from the mission, or the possible repercussions.

The weapons Natasha liberated turned out to be nothing more than conventional ballistics with modifications based upon some of the stolen weapons, giving them more 'oomph', was Stark's technical analysis when he relayed it in the debriefing. They would need to investigate further before drawing any conclusions about their uses, whether they were to arm HYDRA's agents or to sell to raise funds. Natasha has her doubts, and assumes HYDRA wanted to draw the Avengers out, see which of them turned up and how they worked together up close, as well as discovering how their soldiers would be dealt with once captured. HYDRA used such simple bait, basic intel with enough detail from a source who was thought to be a SHIELD operative. No civilians were in danger, it was supposed to be an easy mission. Now they know which Avengers will show up and for what. That was part of the reason she suggested Barton sit this one out, so he would be the surprise on the next mission.

The set-up of the compound made the trap apparent. The guys wouldn't have seen it from outside, but with the remodelling from the original plans HYDRA were clearly trying to trap one of them. They were waiting for them, for her. They were prepared for them down to the heavy artillery for Thor and the Big Guy. Not to mention had a better understanding of the limits of Tony's technology.

HYDRA will most likely use today's confrontation when planning their next moves. No one has exact figures for how many HYDRA operatives are out there, their influence is widespread and their agents are still imbedded in government agencies, but it's unlikely they can afford to do this more than once. They lost a lot of soldiers during their latest attempt to conquer the world and, and with everyone looking for them now, that heavy focus will make it more difficult to move funds and resources. Those soldiers captured today were placid once the military turned up, yet facing the Avengers they never let up, not even when Bruce transformed. Once the Avengers were together in front of their compound they brought out the heavy artillery and concentrated their efforts on stopping them from leaving.

The main thing about today which worried Natasha was their stealth technology blocked Stark's sensors. It's particularly important to her job as she tends to be the one infiltrating compounds to gather information or turn off weapons targeting the team. She needs to know who's around her, she's confident in her capabilities but it's nice to get the drop on them. If she hadn't been so intent on securing the weapons on the plane, she would have tried to locate the source to get something Stark and Bruce to work with to counter their new toys.

Natasha stays in her chair as Bruce steps out onto the terrace, and places a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. Her eyes barely flicker as she lifts the cup to her mouth to blow on it before testing the temperature against her lip. He doesn't look at her as he walks to the railing, sipping from his own cup of what she presumes is tea.

She sips her coffee again; black and bitter, exactly how she drinks it.

She can practically feel the anger reeling off of him. Natasha has been waiting for him and it's taken him hours to calm down enough to approach her. It'll take her mere minutes to undo the calming techniques he's perfected over the years.

"Do you ever think about what happens when this is all over?" Natasha asks him quietly to break the awkward silence.

Bruce chuckles darkly and shakes his head at the question, her audacity to ask it. "All the time," he replies.

"I never did, not before," Natasha admits thickly. "I learnt a long time ago not to put much stock in the future, because retirement isn't meant for me."

"You can't live your life like it's a suicide mission, Natasha," Bruce shoots back angrily.

"It always has been," she points out, refusing to raise her voice, yet. She knows it'll irk him no matter her volume or tone of voice. He doesn't see the necessity in her chosen path. It's one of the few differences between them. Though they both agree they should challenge a regime which hopes to reign tyranny on the world; Bruce clings to the ideal it can be done through rational conversation and negotiation without spilling blood. Whereas Natasha has learnt that's rarely the case but the man will do almost anything within his power to avoid a conflict unless he's pushed to his limit. She wonders exactly what that limit is. She also wonders whether he considers HYDRA a lesser threat than the Chitauri because they're human. He should realise by now what HYDRA are prepared to do take over the world. He should realise by now what the Avengers have to do to stop them.

"Why are you so curious about him?" Bruce asks with a cold, detached tone. She knows who he is referring to.

She looks up at his back, dressed in his usual plaid shirt and slacks, his stance reminds her of the Hulks' as he 'greeted' the sun. Except he isn't as accepting of her. At the moment, anyway. She already feels the strain on their friendship which is becoming harder for her to define. He's a friend, and she hopes he still considers her one despite their difference of opinion. She's had very few in her life and fewer she's trusted. They were fine till they had dinner, and everything became blurred and they entered this limbo. Neither felt the need to discuss the kiss further after the last time. They seemed to agree it wouldn't happen again but that didn't mean she didn't think about it. Even if neither of them classed it as a date, that evening was probably the only real one she's been on. All the others were assignments with the aim to distract lecherous men with her charm before she would either interrogate, infiltrate or rob them of whatever intel or artefact they held. Some evenings ended with disposing a body, some of them didn't.

But that night…that night she was free from assignments, free from the life she was being forced to leave behind. For the first time since Fury disappeared to maintain the lie of his death, she felt like she could breathe; spending a few hours with Bruce felt natural, unforced, there was no ulterior motive except to eat food and talk to the quiet, gentle man. Kissing him at the end of the night felt natural, unforced. And she pulled away wanting to kiss him again.

The pull she feels toward Bruce is confusing for her; nothing like she's ever experienced. She's never let anyone in this quickly, nor has she had the inclination.

It took Clint awhile to break through her defences. The residual programming from the Red Room made it virtually impossible for her to trust anyone, except he was persistent and she finally gave someone the benefit of the doubt and he never proved her wrong. When she first met her partner, she wanted out of her old life, her first one, spouting things about redemption and working for a cause – all the things she never considered or understood. Clint taught her so much. About SHIELD, her job, herself. He was the first person to show her a measure of unconditional trust by introducing her to his family, adopting her as a part of it. Her time with them is always bittersweet, he has something she can never have, but was she never given the choice about having a family. Though given her state of mind at the time and the control they had over her, if her handlers at the Red Room had asked she isn't sure how she would have answered. Part of her wishes Barton was here, but a bigger part is glad he's not, because she has no idea how to explain what is going inside her heart. She could use his guidance if she was able to talk about it.

"I think I have a crush on Banner, and the Hulk is kind of sweet."

She's sure he'd be doing some cognitive recalibration of his own.

"He's interesting," Natasha answers Bruce finally, shaking away her thoughts. Fascinating would be more accurate but semantics aren't everything.

"I know what you're going to suggest," Bruce returns, dropping the preamble.

"Saves me from saying it out loud then," Natasha quips. "I think it's worth a shot," Natasha adds honestly. He's not stupid and she hasn't exactly been subtle. She hasn't avoided talking about it, she hasn't suggested it herself. "The Big Guy," she breathes, "was amazing out there today."

Her face warms as she remembers sitting in the sun with the Hulk. Quiet and reflective. He didn't interact with her that much, giving her time to solidify her idea. He grew slightly restless when the military task force arrived, but he was easily calmed with a few words from Natasha. After that they sat like that for a good hour before he started to shrink, his green skin giving away to blushing pink till she was sitting with a disorientated Bruce who recovered from his haze quickly and stomped back to the jet without speaking to her.

"I never intended to suggest this Bruce. I wouldn't lie about this, I know how important this is to you."

"You've been upfront in the past. You always said if Fury had asked you to persuade me, you would." He sips his tea.

Natasha nods even though he can't see her. Ignoring the little pull in her chest at the mention of her former boss. "He never did," she promises again.

Fury was more interested in what Bruce could offer as a scientist, while refusing to trust the Hulk around his precious agents. It took a lot to figure out how to contain the Big Guy if Bruce couldn't maintain control. The Cage would've only held him for a short while if what Thor managed to do to it with Mjolnir was any indication. But it would have given them time to evacuate their unnecessary agents from his vicinity.

Her plan has nothing to do with the absent, former SHIELD director, and everything to do with the man in front of her. "You don't have to be afraid Bruce; he's been consistently in control during your latest transformations. His focus has been on the enemy, no one else and none of them sustained life threatening injuries – whiplash and the odd broken bone. The rest of the team did more damage than he did. The Hulk is exercising restraint, something I believe is being influenced by you."

Bruce shakes his head at that in disbelief. "You can't say that for definite, neither can I."

"He's even saved lives. Stark, in New York. Today, mine."

Bruce ignores the titbit she tacked on at the end and continues to resist her reasoning. "There's still no way to stop him."

"Then maybe you should let us try."

"No."

"You're not even willing to try," she seethes at him. Her frustration building by the second. "Sometimes I think you're more afraid that we'll be able to stop him, and you won't be able to hide behind him as an excuse."

"He almost—" Bruce starts to argue but has difficulty saying the words.

"Killed me," she provides bluntly. "I know Bruce, I was there but that was months ago."

"Then why do you insist this is a good idea?" He swirls around to face her.

"He saved me today! And because you're more capable than you pretend to be," Natasha argues back. "I wish you would stop using that as an excuse."

"You expect me to fight! You always have, and you've been letting me think it was my choice."

"If you really believe that, you'd be half way around the world Bruce. If he believed that, he wouldn't let me anywhere near you." Her voice raises as she stalks toward him. "It is your choice Bruce, and you've already made it. You just keep pretending you haven't because you can't accept it."

He steps forward to meet her, his fist curling as he struggles with his temper. "Natasha," he warns.

"No," she defies. She's tried everything else, this is a chance she's got to take. "You wouldn't have come with us if you weren't ready."

"Natasha," he says again.

"No," Natasha hisses. "You told me I keep thinking of myself as a spy and you're right, I do. But I'm not the only one who can't shake their past life. You keep thinking of yourself as a monster and you're not, neither is he. You proved it out there," she gestures behind him at the city. "Twice. And for a third time earlier."

"No!" Bruce shouts, his eyes flashing.

She half expects to see sparks of luminous green and instead she sees the fine control he's mastered as he refuses to unleash his angry side. Instead Natasha stand steadfast, unwilling to flinch and back down. Not this time. Bruce seems to freeze, staring at her as his deep breathing makes his nostrils flare a fraction.

"Is everything okay out here?" Steve asks from the doorway behind her.

Natasha doesn't remove her eyes from Bruce, yet his flicker to their intruder.

"I've lived here for years, but I've never been this fascinated by the view. Thought we'd figure out what all the fuss was about," Tony says as she hears them step out onto the roof.

Correct that, intruders.

She feels their eyes aimed at her back as Bruce meets her gaze again for a beat, his frustration ebbing.

"You guys usually referee our bickering," the billionaire continues as he and Steve draw closer.

"This sounded a little more than bickering," Steve tells him, yet directs it at Natasha and Bruce, his concern clear.

"Bicker, banter," Tony retorts. "Lovers' quarrel," he adds under his breath.

"Tony," Bruce admonishes before Natasha can, the last dig hitting a little close for comfort. "I was just going; I've got simulations running in the lab."

With that he sidesteps Natasha and leaves her with their friends. They let him run without comment. His footsteps growing quieter the further he gets. She counts off in her head, giving him enough time to pace through the living room. As soon as she hears the tell-tale metal clinking of his shoes as he reaches the staircase, she knows he's far enough away that she won't run into him again, and she spins and pushes through the other two men, leaving the roof without another word.

Bruce's fingers pause over the keys on his laptop, taking a moment to process the information in front of him. The words string together, blurring on the screen, his anger affecting his eyes and blocking his ability to reach any intelligent conclusions from the data Tony used to calculate the force required for the prototype Hulkbuster piston arm attachment he's making "out of curiosity". He slumps back in his chair, feeling like a failure once more today. This should've refocused his mind but it just confounds him further.

Giving up, he taps another key on his keyboard, and soft strands of music seep from the speakers. The sombre instrumental washes over him as he lays his head on the rest of his chair and closes his eyes, trying to empty his mind. Blindly he reaches up to remove his glasses and wipes his eyes with his other hand. Breathing evenly for several minutes eases him into a lull, syncing his heartbeat with his breathing. He manages to relax completely for what feels like several minutes before a soft cough interrupts him from the doorway.

"You got a minute, Banner?"

Opening his eyes on an exhale he sees Steve hovering in the doorway. Bruce always notices how the super-soldier looks more comfortable in his suit than his civilian clothes and the scientist suspects Steve only changes to fit in with those around him, making them comfortable around him. Yet right now, dressed in jeans and a checked shirt, he looks downright awkward. If it weren't for the decisive glint in his eye, Bruce would think he's about to turn on his heel and march away.

Unfortunately for Bruce, Steve does the opposite and steps into the room, dragging the spare computer chair away from the other workstation close to Bruce's desk.

"I was expecting Tony," Bruce says by way of greeting.

"Yeah," Steve agrees, blushing brighter than Bruce does when. "He was coming, but he got side tracked because Thor had a question about knots." He pauses. "Then Pepper arrived and Tony being Tony..." Steve trails off leaving Bruce to imagine how the rest of the conversation went.

Bruce fails to fight the smile which forms at the thought, if only because of how his friend will try to talk himself out of the hole he's dug himself into. It's a conversation Bruce wishes he was privy to. He glances at Steve out of the corner of his eye, and holds back the chuckle at his expression, figuring the talk was far too revealing for Steve's taste.

The two of them don't have much in common; Steve feels out of place in the middle of the lab while Bruce is grounded by science; Steve feels at home in the midst of a battle while Bruce blunders through it if he has to. Still they have found some common ground since the soldier moved into the Tower, bonding over their dislike of the chaotic modern life and their weariness of the Hulk. Neither of them like the idea of him being in the middle of the fight, too unpredictable for Steve, too dangerous for Bruce. While some think Steve was a little harsh when they met, discouraging any little thing which could provoke a transformation, Bruce appreciates his concern and honesty. He knows Steve's reservations were down to his lack of understanding Bruce's triggers and the science involved rather than actual malice. Steve has never asked him about what sets him off, though with Steve's search for his long-lost friend they haven't really spent time with each other to talk about it or any other interests with they could possibly bond over.

Which leaves Bruce questioning the motives behind his sudden appearance. If anything, he expected Steve to talk to Natasha rather than him, after their heated exchange. They're better friends, and Bruce assumed Steve would get her version of what happened before talking to him. He basically abandoned her to their scrutiny and questions. Though, he supposes Natasha could've just as easily walked away from them, denying Steve the opportunity to talk to her.

Bruce was the one in the wrong, and shouting at her when Steve and Tony interrupted. They usually give him the space he needs to calm down, one of the upsides of occasionally turning in to a huge rage monster. Bruce sighs; all he seems to be doing lately is alternating between being pleasantly surprised by her presence in his life, and being annoyed by her persistent need to risk herself when he transforms.

"You should think about what she's trying to say," Steve starts gently. Bruce flashes him a look he hopes will stop whatever talk he's about to bestow. Steve remains unmoved by it.

"Yet you don't believe the Other Guy is stable enough in the field," Bruce counters.

"You're right, I based that original presumption upon the footage I'd seen before I met you or him, and I still think that to some degree. But I've got to admit, he isn't as out of control as I thought, and it's nice having someone that powerful backing your play."

"Have you figured out a contingency if he's the one who you have to fight?"

"No," Steve chuckles. "But I think Nat has it covered. He listens to her. I mean he's aware of the rest of us, and instinctively knows how to work with us, but when she approached him earlier it was like a switch flipped and he relaxed," Steve pauses and double checks' Bruce's reaction. "I don't know how else to define it, or really understand it, I'm not going to pretend I do or even try to. Somethings just happen that just defy any explanation."

"And if I asked you to? I can't remember any of this, Steve and I need someone else to be objective."

"We can show you the recordings from the Jet," Steve offers.

"I can't see beyond the rage, no matter his intention. I'll always find fault in the footage. I'm biased here Steve, I need a neutral, trusted opinion." Bruce isn't above a little manipulation himself, using the word 'trusted' would appeal to Steve's hero complex in his time of need. "Please."

"I guess he reacts to her, because you do," Steve replies after a long thirty seconds. "Because she reacts to you."

"She does?" Bruce questions while trying to hide his surprise, and not think of the kiss she initiated. Unfortunately, Steve sees right through it.

"Yeah," he offers kindly. "You have an easy way with each other, which neither of you force. It's nice to watch, considering the way things are going." Steve gives him look he can't decipher and adds, "If it helps, I don't think Nat suggested this because it's part of SHIELD's grand scheme. She made an observation while working with you and the Hulk, and is now trying to use it to help you."

"Do you agree with it?" Bruce asks.

"Yes," the soldier says without hesitation. "Nat is one of the best strategists I've ever known, and it's difficult for her to switch that side off."

"Don't ever play chess against her," Bruce advises with a wince, remembering the terrible loss to her weeks ago.

"What I'm trying to say is she's not playing you," Steve clarifies. "I had my doubts when I first worked with her, and she proved me wrong. And now I've been around her long enough to see through her defences. At first, I thought it was about SHIELD, distracting herself from everything that happened but I don't think it is. I've never seen her be like this with anyone which means you're different."

"You're different."

"We're different."

Steve isn't one to divulge his friend's secrets, and admitting that much is telling more happened between him and Natasha than either of them admitted to during their time in DC. But until she chooses to divulge that to him, Bruce isn't going to call them on it. It's obviously something Natasha doesn't want to discuss. If she chooses to tell Bruce, it's up to her.

"Just consider her plan from her perspective, and why she's proposing it." Steve stands, sensing this is the right place to finish their conversation, and starts to walk backward toward the exit, leaving Bruce with the parting words, "When you talk to her later, do so gently."

It's almost one o'clock in the morning when she steps out of her shower. Wrapping a towel around her body she walks into her room to dress for bed. She ignores the droplets falling from her wet hair onto her bare shoulders as she roots in the draws beside the bed for a tank top and shorts. She drops the towel onto the bed and slips the shorts on over underwear she selected. She picks up the tank top and starts to roll it up her arms when a soft knock stops her.

"Natasha," Bruce calls from the other side of her door. "Are you awake?"

She looks up, his voice may be muffled by the thick door but she can hear the apology in his tone.

"Yeah, give me a minute," she calls back.

"I can come back in the morning," he offers.

"No!" Her voice comes out louder, and more forceful than she intends. She swiftly puts the tank top over her head as she strides to the door. The tank settles on her stomach just as her hand circles the door knob to pull it open to find him standing on the other side wearing his 'deer in headlights' expression. "It's taken this long for you to work up the nerve to knock, if you go now you won't come back," Natasha explains huskily. "I was just getting dressed."

"So I see," Bruce says and fidgets on the spot, glancing at her damp hair and make-up free face while steadfastly ignoring her outfit. She would find it mildly amusing if not for their last conversation. "I wanted to apologise for the way I behaved earlier," he continues.

There's no stammering, just pure confidence and honesty in his words and that's what gets him through the door. She holds it wider, inviting him in and shuts it behind him with a loud click. He waivers a few feet in. She lets him ponder a little longer and steps around him to pick up the discarded towel to press the excess water from her hair.

She tries not to smile as he flounders a little at being in her private room, and she realises it's the first time either have entered the other's bedroom, yet she's better at hiding her sudden mindfulness of the setting. All of their previous interactions have occurred in the common living areas even if they found themselves alone most of the time. She's not messy, not by any means, but with just the lamps and closed door, it seems all the more personal. Unwilling to let them fall into a stalemate, she directs him "Take a seat," and leaves him to decide between the chair and the bed.

Bruce looks between the pieces of furniture and decides on the bed, shocking her a little with the move. Natasha weighs up her own options, she could sit next to him or in the chair opposite. She goes into the bathroom to hang the damp towel on the rack, intending to come out and sit in the chair. Except she meets Bruce's gaze when she returns to the doorway her feet carry her to him and she delicately perches on the half of the bed he's left free for her, leaving a good amount of space between them.

"I shouldn't have shouted at you," he starts.

"You weren't the only one raising their voice," Natasha points out.

"Yeah but you are trying to help, and I jumped to conclusions based on assumptions without really thinking through what you are trying to offer me or why. And that it has more to do with you than me."

Natasha regrets her choice of the bed over the chair and wishes she could make the switch. "I projected," she admits. "I was trying to offer you some sort of redemption, I just thought with the Hulk starting to work with us now would be a good time to suggest it."

"I'm not you Natasha," Bruce points out.

She'd taken note of their similarities and ran with them, not realising Bruce isn't ready to accept the idea of redemption.

"I do appreciate what you want to achieve, but I'm never going to be a hero," he shuffles a little so he is half facing her. "Not like you."

"I hate to destroy that little delusion of yours, but you're already a hero Bruce," Natasha tells him. "You saved four lives today, including mine."

She waits for the realisation to sink in, his slack expression slowly evolving contemplative surprise. She offers him a soft smile when he meets her eyes again, his gratitude and reserved resignation. The moment lingers, and she feels the pull she felt the night she kissed him. Bruce must feel it too as they both start to lean in.

Her senses are filled by his proximity. She smells the faint whiff of aftershave he must have put on after showering, feels his breath on her face but she keeps her eyes on his, her heart thundering in her chest, unwilling to control it, she continues to move closer till their noses graze. Her eyes flutter closed, their lips barely touching when she pulls away.

"I'm sorry," he whispers as she pushes up from her bed and steps away to put some distance between them.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong Bruce, I-uh-I," Natasha wrings her hands as she tries to explain. "You're not the only one who's sorry. I just realised that if I kiss you now you'll always question if I was manipulating you or if the kiss was real. You won't mean to, but you will."

"You don't know that," Bruce tries to reassure her.

"I do," she tells him. "Because I would."

"I guess we're more alike than we realise," Bruce smiles sadly, making her feel worse rather than better. "So, no kissing then."

Natasha nods resolutely, taking in his dejected shoulders, feeling it herself and can't help adding a qualifier, "Well, not until you can trust me."

His eyes snap to hers, his brow raised in silent question. They've been over this before. "It's not you I don't trust."

"Not with him. Not yet," she points out. She fights the urge slide her fingers along his jaw to tilt his head to the right angle before dropping her lips to his.

Instead she drops into the chair and watches him come to a conclusion. "But you're good with him. Independent witnesses verify what you and Tony have been trying to tell me."

"'Independent witnesses'?" She questions teasingly, cocking her head to the side.

"Steve and Thor," Bruce provides. "I just don't have a first-hand experience to trust in myself."

"We have footage Bruce," Natasha reminds him, stepping back from him giving them some distance.

"It's not good enough," he counters.

"Will it ever be?"

"Probably not, there's always going to be some measure of reservation when it comes to him," Bruce agrees. "But I'm a scientist, not a fighter, and I need to investigate a phenomena, to acquire new knowledge, or correct and integrate previous knowledge before I believe in something."

"You're willing to test it?" Natasha asks to make sure she's hearing him correctly. He hesitates over the direct question even though he's hedging on agreeing with her.

"With safety measures in place," he finally agrees. "You can try to talk him into transforming back."

She doesn't greet his assent with any kind of enthusiasm or gratitude, it would likely make him rethink his consent. A decision of this magnitude deserves some time to sink in, especially for Bruce. Acknowledgement of such would trigger his skittish nature. That doesn't mean she isn't proud of him, his bravery to expose himself to all the things he's terrified of. It's a huge admission for him and hopes she can do it justice rather than fail him. The amount of faith he's putting in her is almost overwhelming, so much so she doesn't trust herself to speak at the moment so she lets silence ensue and Natasha watches him idly glance around her room.

It's a sparse room, no personal belongings besides clothes. All of those are kept in Barton's spare bedroom, alongside all of the photos of Lila and Cooper, all of the pictures they drew for her, all of the keepsakes from their times together that she would never take with her when she left. Nothing which would ever lead an enemy back to them. Aside from her laptop or phone charger and the hand guns she taped to the back of the head rest and the underside of the desk, and some clothes, nothing else in the room belonged to her.

Moving back toward the bed, she scoops up the damp towel and folds it as she walks to place it on the towel rack in the bathroom. Returning to the doorway she finds Bruce watching her from the bed, a pensive expression on his face and her stomach drops. "You've changed your mind already?" Natasha sighs.

"No, no, I just…" Bruce trails of to collect his thoughts. "I was just thinking about me, him and how people see us."

"What do you mean?" She steps forward.

"People don't see the difference," he balks, looking confused with his own admission. "I don't know myself really." He stands and moves toward the door. "It doesn't matter and it's late."

"You don't have to go Bruce," Natasha says, moving behind him.

"No, you were getting ready for bed, I should—" he gestures at the door, stepping forward to place his hand on the handle.

"I don't have a problem separating you from him Bruce," Natasha tells him. He isn't the Hulk, and the Hulk isn't him. She knows what he's trying to say even if he doesn't. It's exactly how she feels since she released her files onto the net, she wants people to see beyond what she's done in the past, see beyond her skill set.

"You really don't, do you?" Bruce whispers, staring intently at her face. His warm brown eyes full of wonder as if he's just figuring it out. Natasha shakes her head to answer him. His feet shift like he's about to take a step toward her but it snaps him out of his reverie. He shakes his head a little before clearing his throat. "No one else makes the distinction between us," Bruce confesses.

"Glad to be the first," she quips. He blusters, his mouth tries to form words but he can't quite manage it and she realises he doesn't see the dividing line either, his knack for self-loathing projecting back from his feelings toward the Hulk. Unbidden, her hand lifts to his cheek, turning his eyes to her. She expects him to flinch or move away, yet instead he leans in to her touch by a fraction, the warmth of his skin welcoming her cool hand. Her heart kicks up a notch. He's so close, closer than he was on her bed, and it's testing her resolve. It would be so easy to close the distance. "I can see the similarities too," this time she smiles sadly.

"What? Our temper?" He tries to deflect from the sudden reddening of his face.

"No," her smile brightens for a flash. "Small things, nothing anyone would see unless you let them. Physically, you have the same stance sometimes, your focus, also you both appreciate a great view, especially if it's a setting sun," she says thinking of the sun.

He frowns a little at that but it's just a wrinkle in his brow. Her thumb moves of its own accord and strokes the edge of his cheek bone, just under his eye. His features relax at the soothing gesture. "Your eyes are always the first thing to change in a transformation," she tells him. "Either yours turn green, or his turn brown before anything else changes, it's how I know you're coming back."

His eyes widen a tad at her observation and when she thinks he's about to withdraw a hand settles on her hip. She sighs and her eyes drop closed as she moves into his embrace, unwilling to fight the pull. Her hand drops to his neck, guiding him, encouraging him as their cheeks brush and noses graze. "I thought—" she starts to say with an undignified, uncharacteristic groan but he shushes her.

"You're thinking too much," he says before capturing her lips.