We Need to Quit Meeting like This
AN: Thanks to Maymayliu for reviewing the last chapter! Sorry I've been gone so long! I've been buried in notebooks and story ideas outside of Fanfic xD. I was recently re-inspired to tackle Bannerander when I downloaded a Bruce shimeji ("desktop buddy" for those of you that are unfamiliar) from DA (user is: ecokitty). I tried to download a Tony or Steve one, but none of them would work for me.
I found it ironic that Bruce is the only one that worked xD. It's like the cosmos saying, "Pandii! Get to work and write something about Bruuuuceeeee!" so here I am.
This one is based off the notion that Bruce and Cori haven't met, but fool around thinking, "Why not? This person's not bad. And, hey, when's the next time I'll run into them?"
WARNING: Somewhat angsty and primal.
Note: Thinking of starting an amusing mini-story called Avengers .VS. Aunt Flow. Because, honestly, don't some of us want to know how superheroes would react? I mean...they can't be prepared for EVERYTHING, right? If I do make it, I'll need some female fillers for some of the symptoms. Shooting for four to seven chapters. I'll be using Cori, Pepper, Natasha, and Liberty for sure. Feel free to submit your own OC. Just tell me:
Who do they like?
Do they have a job?
What's their personality the rest of the month?
How tall are they?
What do they weigh?
What's their eye, hair, and skin color?
How old are they?
What's their name?
Do they have any talents?
and, lastly,
How did they meet their Avenger?
Strangers in the Night
It was a reflex of Bruce's to hide amongst people and go to places others might not look for him. That reflex was battling with his habit of finding quiet places to lie low. The club was hardly quiet, but he didn't totally hate it. Part of him missed such a boisterous and over-decorated sign of society.
The partiers were healthy, as evident by their various states of undress. He saw no bones threatening to protrude through thin, sickly skin. No, these people were quite confident with their bodies. They were confident and oblivious, grinding against one another, making out, or fighting their way towards the bar for more drinks.
He kept his head down for the most part. Bruce didn't want to make any eye contact for fear of being spotted. The doctor felt wildly out of place, and feared his age was just as obvious to these people as being a nerd was in school. Being smarter, just like being older, seldom attracted company. Not the company he desired, at any rate.
Bruce hunched shyly over his glass of water, fingers lightly tapping the side. Turning his back from the sea of bodies sprinkled with women kept him calm. It kept him and the Hulk in check. Banner usually endured a small window of irrationality and emotional oddness when moving to a new place. He chalked it up to his 'fight or flight' systems finally calming down.
But, somewhere inside, he knew it was a lie. He was merely trying to cover up a sad and understandable reality with lies and science. The heart of Bruce's frustration and stress was owed to his celibacy. It had been years since he'd so much as smelled a healthy woman. In areas like India, where he'd freshly dodged military forces, his libido was infected and shriveled by the peoples' sickness.
It was wrong and impossible to find a woman who was – probably – sixty pounds highly attractive. Gaunt figures and a lack of fat evident enough to mask sexual characteristics left Bruce frowning, not frisky. Though he didn't like drinking, and found it a potential breaker for any possible relationships, he liked it in this atmosphere. People would be more willing to talk to him and approach him with the aid of the drink, he thought. His usual company – graphs, charts, Latin, and his own blood – left him out of practice where women were concerned.
Bruce was a brilliant man – a doctor, a scientist, a practitioner of nuclear physics. He'd learned multiple languages on the fly during his mad dash across the globe. And yet…his brain and tongue did nothing to attract the women around him. The realization was frustrating because women were supposed to adore men of a decent height with dark hair like his. Being able to speak foreign languages should be icing on their mental cakes.
But, of course, these deductions and beliefs were gleaned from romance novels. They weren't totally incorrect, but they weren't totally accurate. Something odd, but not his radiated DNA, acted as an invisible warning sign to the female populous. If he was glanced at, at all, it was brief. Painfully brief.
While he technically fit the stereotype of attractive – nice height, dark hair, moderately attractive in his own quiet and scholarly way – he technically didn't at the same time. Bruce wanted eagerly to blame it on the Hulk, but couldn't. The scientist quietly and mentally admitted that he had his own shortcomings. One was being generally suspicious of the interest of people. People like General Ross and the girls who charmed him into doing their homework were mostly to blame.
Doubts about his age and how that would go over in a conversation were also responsible for his isolation. His inability to have a normal conversation – how could an abnormal man have one, anyways? – that strayed from science and didn't rely on a sentence more than eight words failed to help. Bruce's self-test seeking to determine whether or not he was ready to be reintroduced into complex, modernized society felt like a failure. The more he thought about it, the more he didn't match up to his idea of a worthy and functional city-dweller. Triggers are everywhere, Bruce noticed, I shouldn't have come.
In places like India he had the luxury of silence and distance. Manhattan was crowded and noisy, just like the nightclub. Part of him relished places like this, though. Clichés about mysterious strangers blowing into town, into the arms of a curious, beautiful huntress desiring exoticness, never ceased to make him laugh and loathe. He laughed because the nature of that relationship was predictable and understandable; he hated it because he could be that man if someone ever gave him the change.
No one ever did, and he hated it. For all his caution and doubt, Bruce knew he would be a good lover. Memories of his father taught him how not to act. His imagination, fueled by years of abstinence, primed him for heated encounters that would make Penthouse no better than a laughable child's book on how children were created. I just need a chance to prove it! he frowned down into his water.
"Hey, bartender, give me two Washington Apples, a Strawberry Kamikaze, and a Michelangelo." requested the impolite and cocky-sounding youngster at Bruce's left. Bruce resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Suaveness had clearly gone into hiding when he did. The man had poorly combed hair that resembled bedhead, didn't use manners, and was practically waving his money around.
Yeah…this was a bad idea. Bruce subtly rubbed the bridge of his nose. He decided to be nice to SHIELD and gradually enter their territory. Banner noticed a few operatives carrying the eagle-like symbol tracking him. They didn't get close – due to orders or the want to preserve their life – but they made themselves known. Being a brilliant man, Bruce knew he could play one government agency against another and earn safety.
This night would determine whether or not he bartered and played that card. If he could handle the irritations he'd forgotten existed with cars, electricity, and a higher population, he would allow one of the SHIELD agents to find and guide him to their organization. But that was only if this night turned out to be worthwhile. And, so far, it wasn't.
"This is a fine way to come back to Manhattan." growled a young female voice. Bruce detected a light southern drawl. "Now I'm starting to remember why I left." grumbled a dark-haired woman.
"Why did you leave?" Banner couldn't help but ask.
"Idiots." replied the woman quickly and thoughtlessly. Her tone was dry and flat. Bruce chuckled, straightening slightly. At least someone shared his pain. "I didn't come back to hear cheesy pickup lines." explained the young woman.
"You should be flattered." Bruce assured. "Maybe not by the monkey in a suit, but by the fact people want to give you such compliments. I certainly don't get any." he mused, sipping the water.
"Hey!" the woman sounded lightly wounded. Why, he couldn't imagine. He hadn't insulted her. "You're a fine fella! Don't discredit yourself like that!"
She was most definitely southern. It made Bruce chuckle. As much as he liked the flattery, he also had to admit she was either naturally sweet or overly generous. The doctor raised his head to make contact with the flatterer. His dark-haired supporter was deemed as out of place as him in a matter of seconds.
Instead of wearing something revealing or sequined, she went casual. Her face wasn't overly painted or tackily dewy like those who layered on cosmetics. A long-strapped and somewhat bulky purse hung securely and crookedly across her slender body. She looked too rural for the metropolis.
He looked too old and scholarly, he thought. Maybe a bit odd considering he hadn't shaved in a few days. Bruce was still wearing his suit from India (but, thankfully, it had been cleaned). "You don't think I'm old?" he wondered meekly.
"Are you? You don't look it. I like 'em older, anyways. Wait…now I'm curious. Are you?" her rapid transition from skepticism to honesty to intrigue had Bruce chuckling. He was definitely the older one between them; he could tell. Aside from her comments and mannerisms, she had a slight glow to her naked face. One that hadn't been stripped and weathered by the world.
But…it was cute. The fact that she didn't believe him, and questioned him, had Bruce feeling a bit proud. All of his yoga and running had him fitter than most boys that would pine after her, he imagined. And, obviously, she was looking at him! It was delicious.
She wasn't blatantly predatory in her poorly disguised evaluation of him, but Bruce could tell she was drifting that way. Her curiosity was swiftly meandering down the sultry path instead of the unsafe one. He resisted the urge to shudder. That look, though innocent, was all primal. It struck heavily at the lock holding back the beast that wished to shame Penthouse.
Everyone deserved happiness, right? If only briefly?
"You don't think I look…scruffy?" Bruce felt like some kind of pitiful teen relying on his friends for reassurance. But, of course, she wasn't a friend. He scratched lightly at the dark fuzz on his throat and chin absently.
"Honestly?" and here it comes! Bruce thought, preparing himself for rejection. He was never enough. There was always a flaw. "I was distracted by your eyes. Wow…that's stupid. Sorry, but it's true! They're like milk chocolate with hints of caramel—and now I want a Milky Way." she sighed wistfully, scoop-neck tee relaxing with her posture.
Bruce politely averted his eyes from what he thought was an obvious but not obnoxious chest. Her blue-green bra matched her shirt, he noted.
"Thanks." Bruce grinned. "I like your eyes, too. Green's a…uh, huge part of my life, actually." he pushed the emptying glass nervously between his hands.
"Any room in your life for me?"
"Excuse me?" his heart fluttered. She was being so…so blunt! So forward! It was sexy. And a relief; one of them being awkward was enough, and he easily claimed that.
"Preferably in the next five minutes?"
"Wh—"
"Kind of rude, babe. You splash me with the Michelangelo and run off! How about you make it up to me?"
"By putting my foot in your ass? Gladly. Turn around." invited Bruce's conversation partner. Rage and sarcasm rolled off of her in palpable waves. She was exciting his sensitive hormones and radiated DNA. He felt overly focused and alert; it was in response to her maliciousness and her boldness. Bruce would let her handles this – he was too charged to intervene and have it end cleanly.
And, truth be told, he'd rather turn that charge on her. Bruce watched the scene with interest.
"Are you at least going to give me the money back for the drink?" grumpily asked the young man.
"If you hadn't been so insensitive in our conversation I wouldn't have thrown it at you!" hissed Cori.
"You were casual about it! I thought a joke was harmless!"
"It is if it's good!" Cori crossed her arms angrily. "But, I'm sorry. Yours sucked. I tell you I had brain surgery and you respond with 'Then maybe I can ruin the rest of it tonight at my place.'? The only thing you ruined was my libido, pal! If anything, you owe me money for that travesty!"
"A woman such as yourself being dateless is the true travesty." Bruce joined in her gleeful humiliation of the man, toasting the young lady. She smiled gratefully, a hint of pink on her cheeks.
"Leaving those sweet lips lonely sounds worse." teased Cori, batting dark lashes at him.
Right in the lock! Again! Bruce barely stifled his groan. He had to kiss this woman. Now. If he didn't he would surely Hulk out with rage. It would technically solve her problem of Lame Larry whining behind her.
Good god! 'Lame Larry'? I AM old…Bruce grimaced lightly.
Coriander took advantage of his absentmindedness. Bruce's heart began to thunder as he realized her face was drawing nearer. She grasped him firmly by the collar of his undershirt and planted her lips to his. The kiss was sweet, close-lipped, and drove Bruce wild. It was the spark that started an inferno.
One of her hands floated cautiously to rub gentle circles on his stubble-laden cheek. Bruce roped an arm loosely about her petite waist, forcing her to stand against his chair. He needed her close. The smell of a musky citrus perfume invaded his nostrils. She uttered a surprised, quiet mewl against his lips.
"Not in here! Not in here! Take it elsewhere!" demanded the bartender, prepared to spray them. Coriander gripped Bruce's shirt tightly, letting him know he wouldn't get away. He dropped a few dollars down for the water and let her drag him outside.
"I don't—I don't usually kiss women in dingy alleys. It's an insult to the woman, really. I-I like to show them that they matter and—"
"Adorable." she breathed, shimmying up against him as she struggled to meet his eyes, all but throwing him against the wall with her demanding and willowy frame. "And noble, really." Cori pushed his slipping glasses up his nose. "But if you don't kiss me I'm going to be insulted." her lips seemed hypnotizing and plump. His body was still burning from their last kiss.
Part of Bruce was shy. Part of him was hungry for the company and touch he'd lacked for years. "Kiss me or I'll kiss you." warned Cori.
"Why does that sound like a threat?" Bruce laughed nervously, wishing he had a sultry timbre to his voice. It was the wicked and steamy situation he'd always wished would happen when he entered a new area. Now that it was…well, he was anything but that handsome stranger. He was more or less a flustered virgin schoolboy.
"Because I intend to be evil and seduce you into compliance. Or a stupor. Or something similarly evil-sounding." Cori fearlessly kissed up his neck. She wasn't usually so reckless and loose, but this man hit her in all the right mental feels. He had glasses, was older, and his eyes were drop dead gorgeous and loveable.
They screamed sensitive cuddler. And his attire? That of a dapper gentleman. He appealed to her long-standing fantasy of a charismatic older man who could be as energetic as she was eloquent. His type was perfect. Pepper would easily classify him as a Tony Stark type, what with his way of speaking and all. Tony Stark types, according to her dear lady friend, were absolutely delicious animals in bed.
At twenty-six she'd had some less-than-stellar romance experiences. Hardly enough to call them all less than stellar, but they all honestly sucked. Though opinionated and hard-headed, she'd never done anything reckless. Cori was sexually and emotionally frustrated. She wanted to find the person; she wanted a taste of love.
Fuck, she was tired of everyone else having it! She wanted it! And she'd definitely want it from him.
Bruce's laugh turned into a low, shocked moan as her lips sucked at the base of his throat. She nipped the end of his clavicle. His musky scent was encompassing and comforting. And yummy. He felt her straining to shorten the distance between them so she could kiss the soft spot beneath his jaw.
Bruce wanted more. He lifted her up, hands squeezing at her jeaned rump. She mewled again, the same sound he'd heard against his mouth. The scientist endured the delicious agony of her ravishing lips, waiting until she approached his mouth. Then, when she did, Bruce turned the tables.
Cori found her back pressed to the opposite wall. Bruce formed as comfortable a cradle as his hands could provide while his lips massaged hers. She leaned into him, inviting him to take her bruising lips. He was a passionate kisser, but didn't seem to have any other technique besides an adamant kiss. Bruce trembled lightly when she took his lower lip between her teeth like it was a piece of candy to toy with.
She broke away, grinning victoriously. "Just trying to spice it up." she winked, playing with his curls.
Spice it up? He was all heat. She just didn't know. Their kissing resumed innocently, like it had in the beginning, but quickly built up into a needy fight between tongues and hands. Bruce was pleased to note she grabbed at him with as much zeal, if not more.
This one night was enough. It would be bittersweet, but it was enough. Bruce knew returning to the city – to cities in general – was a bad idea because of something precisely like this. Answering the call of temptation, the desire to love as all people should be able to, would only drag someone else into the awful reality that was his life.
That was unacceptable. The doe-eyed deceiver didn't deserve that. Her lightning-quick sarcasm would provide relief, but he feared she'd be too changed to make conversation like they'd done in the bar. No…it was safest to let this – as wondrous as it may be – stay here. Her hands smoothed devotedly up the small of his lean back, traveling his semi-broad shoulders until her fingers pointed towards one another to start climbing the sides of his neck.
Bruce shivered as her pinky finger skipped along his earlobe in its quest to join the others tangling at the nape of his neck. He pulled up from the hickey, hating the feeling of his ears being messed with. It was a heinous but necessary end to their lusty, whirlwind adventure. "Sorry." Bruce kissed the mark.
"Me too." breathed the young woman, fixing a wayward curl. "I have to get going. I'm staying in-town with someone and I don't want them to worry. I'm not a one night kind of girl, though. Can I get to know you, you know…outside of this?"
"I'd love that." Bruce grinned. "But…"
"Oh you ass!" Cori couldn't help but jump to conclusions. "You're married, aren't you?!"
"N-No. No! Not at all. No tan line, see?" he pointed to his ring finger. Cori relaxed slightly.
"Then what is it?"
"I...I'm kind of on the run. Some people are after me." admitted Bruce. "I'd tell you my name if it wouldn't get you killed."
Did I just make out with a convict? Shit…it was fun, though.
His confession hit her in the sympathy spot. Handsome, gentlemanly, and pursued? She sincerely hoped it was a case of mistaken identity. Or that he was a total sexpot doubling as a crafty evil genius who would spirit her away for some intimate and wholesome times. Showing a side only she would know and all the horrific clichés she couldn't believe she acknowledged or wanted at that moment.
She squeezed his hands gently. "I hope you stay safe, then."
"I hope I come back." Bruce tilted her chin up to kiss her lips.
"Hey, Squirt!"
"Hey Tony." Cori yawned, hugging him. She lost her will to reunite with the troop after her mysterious gentleman bowed out. His absence created an ache and fatigue that drove her to Stark tower. He'd done well to make her a pile of boneless mush ready for sleep.
"Have a good flight?" Pepper inquired.
"It was fine. Got stuck next to a drunk guy." she shrugged. "I played with his mustache while he slept."
"I don't think that's a good thing, Cori." Pepper didn't see the appropriateness in that.
"Sure it is!" objected Tony. "Cori, go fall asleep so I can show her!"
Cori rolled her eyes. Sleep was tempting. Tony giggled mischievously as she waved him off and trudged to her waiting bedroom in Stark Tower. She collapsed thoughtlessly into the sheets.
"Coriander? Ms. Coriander?"
"Shut up, JARVIS." demanded the girl before her eyes even opened. She'd forgotten about the robot and how he ruined wonderful things like sleep.
"Mr. Stark requests your presence in the living room, Ms. Coriander."
She was most certainly awake. The robot inspired rebuttals and threats that forced her mind to wake up. "Why?" she groaned out like a bratty child.
"Because he wants you to meet the new housemate, Ms. Coriander."
"Fine." she kicked off the sheets and rebelliously refused to make the bed. It was punishment for the AI, as he was programmed to keep the house tidy. Cori threw on a pair of cotton pants and combed her hair out with her fingers as she moved towards the living room. There, grinning ear-to-ear, was Tony Stark.
"Nice of you to join us!" he teased. "Squirt, meet Dr. Bruce Banner. He's a fellow brother in science Fury wants to keep an eye on." Tony clapped the man's back.
It took all of five seconds to place Bruce as the smooching stranger. The glasses, wild curls, and choice to wear nice dress pants clued her in. Milk chocolate eyes that reminded her of Milky Way bars also helped. His now clean and stubble-free cheeks heated as they locked eyes. He'd been caught, and he knew it.
"Coriander Henson." she extended her hand. He shook it.
