Barton lingered on the roof of the tower, lingering up at a point no one would even think about attempting to climb. Of course, Clint was different, usually settling at the highest point imaginable. Except tonight, he settled for the main level bringing up a few bottle of whiskey.

Barton was content alone, tossing his emptied bottle beside two more emptied containers before popping open a fourth. He chokes on his last sip, ready to spit his liquor the instant the door opens. He stammers once he sees who it is, hiding the bottle for his friend's sanity;

"Hi Doc. What up? You alright?"

He smiles, catching a bottle that rolled away from Barton's collection. He tosses it within his grip, slowly heading towards Clint;

"Yeah, can't sleep. You?"

Barton smirks, "Same."

Bruce keeps one hand in his jacket pocket, handing Clint his bottle. The archer licks his lips, wishing he were able to hide his beverage;

"Sorry Doc, I don't like drinking in front of you."

He smirks, sitting down beside him. The scent lingering in the air has already started to bother him, digging up old memories. He tries to ignore it, staying positive;

"No, it's fine."

He shrugs, "Well-"

Bruce corrects himself, "Actually, you should know that alcohol effects you differently at night. Probably shouldn't be drinking at this hour yourself."

Clint puckers his lips, studying his half-emptied bottle, "Eh. Probably not, but I've got nothing else to do. Any reason you came out here instead of the lab?"

He smirks, "I don't always feel like dealing with R & D."

"That's hard to believe."

He scoffs, hand running through his thick curls. Clint sighs to himself, eyes lowering into his bottle as he chugs down a heavy gulp;

"So, I guess you see Nat more then I do now."

He shrugs, "I think it's about the same."

Clint rubs his thumb against the container, "You're her go-to guy. How was that concert?"

Bruce stays restless, elbows rested on his knees while he tugs his hair, tongue twirling inside his mouth;

"Fine. She seemed content."

"It doesn't take a lot to make her happy."

"I've noticed."

Clint chuckles, mouth full of whiskey, "She likes to cook, but don't ever let her bake. Her cookies are awful."

"Poor kid, they can't be that bad."

Barton widens his eyes, "No! Doc, trust me, they're awful. Nat spent 4 hours in the kitchen making these things...she loved them, but I was sick for a week. That's like when she attempted baked ziti. Awful. Her Russian stuff is great but don't let her try anything else. The girl can't do it."

Bruce just nods, only half listening. Clint chuckles, rambling onto something else;

"And when she wants to go away, don't mention Scotland. She's had nothing but bad experiences there. Not bad, just typical clumsy Natasha. It's pretty funny actually...you just ask her about China. We had a mission in China, oh my God, hilarious...So, what's the update? She giving you a hard time? You look kind of, blank, I'm not reading you as well as she does."

He smirks, "She scares me when she does that."

"You and me both. I've never seen Nat so dedicated to somebody."

Banner feels his heart burning, coming up with his only reasonable solution. No matter how much it hurts;

"You know what Clint, I uh...I've got to ask you for a favor."

Clint, gives him his complete attention, nervously waiting, "As long as it doesn't include a homicide, you should know I'd do just about anything for you."

"No! No, I- no. I just, I've been thinking- Clint, look, ugh. You know how I feel about Natasha...I love her Clint. She's, the best thing that's happened to me a long while."

Barton raises his eyebrows, "However...?"

He sighs, looking down as he clasps onto his fingers;

"I've got a lot of, people, wanting to slit my throat, and God forebid...anything should ever happen to Natasha...Clint, I've got to protect her-the rest of you guys too for that matter. And honestly the only way I know how is to leave. I can't afford to keep you in harms way and it's not fair to Natasha. She's got enough to worry about-"

"Bruce, do you even hear yourself?"

"Yes Clint-"

"Doc! We've all got trash we drag around with us."

He shuts his eyes, "Except my trash includes the entire government and a large green threat!"

Clint closes his mouth the instant he opens it, sighing;

"Look- I'm not going to lie, that does frighten me, for Natasha's sake at least."

"She's not safe with me Clint. I don't want to hurt anyone and the best thing I can do for people is stay away from them."

Barton spirals the liquor inside his bottle, "You realize if you left, it'd break her heart."

He sighs, "I can't stay Clint."

"Stark would probably bore himself to tears...Bruce, why are you talking like this?"

"Because it's true! Clint I've made up my mind."

The archer just nods, at a loss for words;

"I think you're running away is a big mistake. You are safe here...Tony would give his right arm to keep you in one piece. We like you Bruce...' he keeps talking the instant Bruce opens his mouth, 'Listen, you do what you feel is right, I just hope you've given it enough thought. When are you leaving?"

He shrugs, "Soon. I've got some things I've got to take care of first. You can't tell Natasha."

"Doesn't matter. She'll just get up and follow you, you know."

"She won't know about it."

"Nat's..."

"Clint, you've got to help me here, for her sake."

Barton covers his mouth, nodding hesitantly;

"What do I tell her when she asks? A lie? She reads through those like clear crystal."

"Nothing, because you'll know just as much as she does."

The archer grips his shoulder before he stands up;

"Don't go running off to do anything stupid Banner! You're so busy protecting everyone else you forget you're far from being invincible! You know what, just sit down. You had to throw this on me tonight...dammit. Bruce what is wrong with you?"

He removes Barton's hand from off of him, "Nothing is wrong with me. Clint please, trust me I know what I'm doing."

He thinks for a moment, waving his forefinger expressively, "Alright. But you've got to promise that you'll keep me in the loop!' he sighs, 'And you said you don't know when you're leaving."

"Soon. Before the week is out."

"That soon?...Did you talk to Stark."

"I'm not telling anyone but you. And you're going to keep this to yourself."

He nods, spilling a bottle of whiskey down his throat in a groggy haze. He can almost hear Natasha screaming at him for answers, crying herself to sleep, or shooting everyone who rubs her the wrong way.

Miss Romanoff was ready to throw her hairbrush into the mirror as it tangled the ends of a curl. Her lips clenched together mumbling Russian swears under her breath. Natasha breathes a heavy sigh when she hears the lightest tap on the door and his sweet request for permission. She makes a crooked smile, one hand still tugging on the hairbrush as she opens the door. He's dressed at a reasonable hour, standing there in his typical button down and khakis.

He smirks when he sees her problem, shaking his head, "Can I help you Miss Romanoff?"

She smiles sarcastically, "Yes, please."

Bruce steps behind her, slipping on his glasses for the intricate 'project.' He gently taking the brush from her hand, carefully loosening the end of her damp hair.

Natasha tries to stay cooperative, tugging on her top while he works out those nots. She snickers;

"Well Vrach, you finally get to see another side of me. The ridiculously childish, clumsy, Natasha Romanoff."

He chuckles a bit, working out a small clump and blending it with the rest of her bright red hair, "As opposed to who..."

"The stuck up know-it-all, arrogant, twisted, and merciless spy."

He shakes his head 'no' finally freeing the brush from her hair, "Never met that one."

She rolls her eyes, "Yeah, you have, you just chose not to remember the Natasha Romanoff who persuades at gun point."

Bruce removes his glasses leaning in the door frame still standing behind her, "Ah, yes, that one I remember."

Natasha reaches her hand back to take her brush from him;

"Thanks Vrach."

She looks in the mirror, half expecting/hoping he'd wrap his arms around her in a sweet embrace. Her eyebrows lower when his eyes shift towards the ground, head bowed low as he steps out of the room. Her smile vanishes, glancing over her shoulder as she watches him head down the hallway, lost in thought.

The words he couldn't come out with, sentences he couldn't form. He should've just avoided her room to begin with. Pulling away was going to be harder then he thought.

Natasha leans her side in the door frame, sighing with a little worry and concern. She lets him be, tugging on her fingers when she decides it's better to leave him alone. There was a familiar sense of fear in those expressive eyes of his giving her an uneasy feeling she found impossible to ignore.

She headed down the hall, body colliding with the demigod. She groans, interrupted in her mission;

"What Thor?!"

"Excuse me Lady Romanoff. Master Stark wishes to see you. Director Fury has a problem that requires your assistance."

"Yeah okay. Can he wait a minute?" She's ready to walk around the tall gentleman before he sighs;

"No Lady Romanoff. It is urgent."

Natasha rolls her eyes, "Do me a favor and stay with Dr. Banner. Just keep an eye on him for me?"

He nods, "As you wish."

She rolls her eyes a second time before storming down the hallway, restraining any film reference she's inclined to make, knowing it will go over his head.