Chapter 37: Sleeping with Strangers
Summary: This is not the the Betty chapter I had planned. It's my Brucenat Week piece that is essentially a flashback to Sept. 15th of last year. It stands by itself and also fits right in with the rest of this sprawling story. Essentially, it's the Liminal Grande episode Natasha describes as being her fault because she has a nightmare way back in Chapter 5, "Liminal". There's a lot more than that, but you get the idea.
Notes: Sorry, this really isn't the Betty chapter you were looking for because I have too many things coming due and having to be done all at once, so what's here is at least a double-size chapter with lots of feels and interesting things going on. It would not have gotten done if not for Autumn_Froste who made some really great suggestions and pulled parts of this back out of the weeds for me. Many, many thanks as always!
I have to get grades in this week, but I'm hoping to get back to the story as planned next week. I'm not going to say I promise because it's jinxing things.
((0))
Bruce knew as soon as Natasha stepped off the Quinjet that this had been a rough mission. When his texts hadn't been returned except with a terse arrival time, he'd suspected she and Barton and their team either had their hands full or worse. As she wordlessly stalked past him with barely a glance to acknowledge his presence, Bruce noted she didn't appear to have been injured, at least physically, but he hardly had a chance to assess her before she was past him and disappearing down the hall. Clint had followed her out of the jet at a safe distance, and he beckoned for Bruce to holdup a moment rather than immediately follow Natasha down the hall.
"Hey, Doc, we ran into a sleeper cell no one was counting on. She's convinced she was chasing a ghost, the one who's tried to take her title at least twice."
"Yelena Belova?" Bruce interrupted, "That can't be. She was vaporized from the inside out. There wasn't enough of her left to even get a good DNA sample."
"I know. I've seen the tapes. Anyway, things got messy before we could even infiltrated the place and there were kids and old people involved. All we could do was deal with the aftermath, and she's pretty pissed off. This kind of thing really rattles her cage," Clint tried to explain."
"Oh, boy," Bruce sighed. "This may not to be a fun evening."
"Sorry, man," said Clint, shaking his head. "If I didn't have commitments elsewhere, I'd offer to go a few rounds with her in the gym. You know how she operates; just give her some space and wait till she's ready to talk."
"Right," Bruce replied. "I guess having a rival try to steal your name makes it personal."
"With Nat, when she loses, which isn't often," Clint held up four fingers to indicate the number of "loses", "it's always personal."
Bruce nodded. "So what happened? Can you tell me anything?"
Clint ran a hand through his short spiky hair and blew out a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks. "Oh, fuck it! You deserve to know. Bruce, she likes to take the lead, especially when there are any rookies involved. This was supposed to be recon for her and three other agents—two of them were green and needed field experience. All the recon team had to do was go in and act like tourists in a shopping area, spot the Hydra dupes, and come out clean so the tactical team with the muscle could do their thing. Her team did the first part—spotted two squids in a restaurant—and then Nat sighted her ghost. She sent the others to report back and bring in the tactical squad while she followed the woman out the rear door with no backup on the ground. Unfortunately, the squids spotted Belova too and half the kitchen tried to follow her out the back door, effectively blocking Nat. By the time she fought free of them, the ghost was gone, some idiot had panicked and set the building on fire, and the only squids left were the calamari in the melted down freezer. We got everyone out of the upper floors, but there were kids and old people from the six families living there sent to the hospital with injuries and nothing left to come home to."
"God, another fire and kids. That's a horrible combination, especially for her," Bruce said shaking his head. "Did she get hurt?"
"She mostly got a good workout, but I wasn't there to see what all happened, but you can see why she's not happy. We also got a good dressing down, despite minimizing the damage. It kind of rubbed salt in the wound." He shook his head, "I'm sorry, Bruce, but I need to get moving."
"I appreciate the heads-up. Give my best to Laura and the kids." Bruce reached out and shook Clint's hand and the archer pulled him in and gave him a side hug and a pat on the shoulder as well. "Thanks for getting her home safe, Clint."
"My pleasure, man. You two will be fine. Make her take some time off."
Bruce nodded, "I just might," and shouldered Natasha's abandoned duffle that Clint handed him and waved his thanks to the archer as the hatch closed. Bruce was halfway back to their apartment by the time the Quinjet was airborne. To his chagrin, Natasha wasn't there, but he knew where to find her without even asking Friday to track her down. He dropped the duffle in the laundry room and paused long enough to note the smoke and dried blood smell coming off it. He'd have to make sure it wasn't hers. He ducked in the bedroom to take off his usual lab-type dress clothing and throw on his athletic gear before heading down to the larger gym.
He heard her long before he saw her striking and kicking away at one of Steve's punching bags that was probably as heavy as she was. She'd tied her hair back and stripped down to a sports bra and tank top with compression shorts. Her uniform and her boots were tossed aside on one of the benches with the hand-wrap tape. He watched her land a flurry of whirling blows that made even the oversized bag swing. Bruce set his jaw and stepped in to spot and brace the heavy bag for her. Neither of them said anything because they both had done this often enough to be comfortable with what they were doing. They weren't regular sparing partners—Bruce knew his limits and limitations—but he spotted for her on most weekends when they had the gym to themselves and she'd put him through a few rounds of Parkour or weight training.
Thwap-thwap! Thud. Thud. Thwap-thwap-thwap! He lost count when she'd reached around a hundred blows. She'd hardly slowed down during her assault, but now Natasha sank down to her knees and knelt there staring at her hands, watching the blood start to seep through the binding on one knuckle.
Bruce knelt down in front of her and leaned low enough to make eye contact with her. He smiled tentatively and she gave him a weak one back. He took her bound hands in his lap and removed the wraps. She had skinned her knuckles and they were starting to swell a bit, but that was all the damage he found as he gently probed each finger and joint. They'd need to get some ice on them soon. The bleeding had already stopped, so he just needed to apply a topical after she got cleaned up. He brought her left and then her right hand to his lips and kissed them.
Natasha finally looked up and gave him a half-hearted smile. When she wanted to talk, she would talk. He just hoped it was sooner than later.
"Are you hungry yet?" he asked her.
"Maybe."
"Pepper and I did the Buy-Local Market this morning and picked you up some real cow. I can make us a couple of burgers pretty quick," Bruce suggested.
She nodded. "That actually sounds pretty good. Let's get cleaned up."
Bruce was on his feet first and gave her a hand up. "Should we put Steve's bag away?"
"No, the turkey left it there last week, so I'm going to let him deal with it," she said huskily. "No blood on it—no foul."
On their way out of the gym, Natasha picked up her soiled uniform and boots and slung them over her shoulder, while Bruce grabbed a couple of cold-packs from the training room freezer and then handed them to Natasha as he exchanged them for her uniform and boots. "Here, I'll clean up your hand when we get upstairs, but you better apply the cold on them both now." She surrendered her equipment and took the small bags without an argument, but she didn't say anything further as they continued back to the apartment.
He wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be all right, that a good night's sleep would put the ghosts to rest, but he knew she wasn't ready for that. "Anything hazardous in your duffle I should know about?" he asked.
"No, for once it's just dirt, sweat, and a little soot. Don't worry, I'll take care of it," she said.
Bruce punched in the entry code and let them into their apartment. Natasha headed for the bathroom, and he swung by the kitchen to grab a basin and dumped some ice into it. At the last second, he grabbed a couple of bottles of beer and brought them along, too.
She'd only taken her socks off by the time he got there, so he helped her strip out of her clothes. There was no blood, except for her hands, but she was bruised in spots and he could see her neck and shoulder muscles were knotted up and tense. He wanted to lay her out on the bed and massage and manipulate all the tension out of her, but that would have to wait, too. To his surprise, once he had her stripped down and ready for the shower, Natasha pulled his t-shirt up and off over his head. "Join me," she whispered and slipped her injured hands beneath the waistband of his sweats and slid them down along with his boxers. He toed off his shoes and stepped out of his clothes.
Natasha ran her hands across his chest. For someone she'd initially thought of as a "fixer-upper" or a colleague with a work project, he'd turned into so much more. The day it had dawned on her that she didn't want a smooth-limbed pretty boy with no clear understanding of the world and its joys and cruelties, that she wanted a man with real honest scars and the gray hair he'd earned, she knew she wanted Bruce. Like no one else, he understood her and her contradictory motivations for doing what she did. She savored his complexities and commitment to helping others, and Bruce respected her efforts to do the same in her own way. They both held a dangerous monster whom they had not created but fought for control; for good or ill, both now accepted that part of themselves. Because of this common ground, they could be raw and vulnerable and honest with each other. They knew the ugliness and the beauty each were capable of doing and embraced each other all the harder for it. She had suspected they had all this painful bloody ground in common back when she was assigned to watch him at Culver, and she had known there was a spark between them if they both found the nerve to kindle it as far back as Kolkata.
"Tell me what you need," he said, his brown eyes so earnest it was almost painful for her to linger on them.
"I need you to help me feel alive," she whispered.
Bruce smiled. This he could do. "Let me start here," he said as he stroked her jaw and then delicately traced her lips with his right forefinger. She was so beautiful. He reached around her with his left arm and pulled her close as their lips met. He waited for her to open up to him before his tongue tasted her mouth. He supported her head and neck with his right hand, tangling his fingers in her hair. She reached around him with her left hand, stroking his lower back with that triangle of fine hair some men have just above and between the glutes. She pressed her hips into his and felt him stiffen in response as he began to rub against her naked warm skin on skin. She wrapped her right leg around his hip.
"Is this helping?" he asked. "Is this what you want?" His breathing had grown ragged with raw desire.
"I want you," she breathed in his ear. "I want you, Bruce, right now."
He'd maneuvered them to the vanity counter, so she hopped up on the edge while he grabbed a condom from the drawer and handed her a small applicator with the anti-radiation foam. They'd faithfully stuck with this practice since they'd first made love earlier that summer in the safe house, but as the data piled up that he wasn't toxic, she'd begun to plot a rebellion against the condoms. Her goal for him was to prove one element at a time that he couldn't harm her—not by his presence nor by his physical contact. However, today was not the day to argue her case about the condoms. She tossed the used applicator in the trash and used his phone to take a radiation scan (negative again) and watched as he unrolled the prophylactic over his sizable swollen cock. She took a moment to appreciate the "package" Bruce came in. In his frumpy over-sized professor clothes, he was easy to overlook or dismiss, especially beside their flashier teammates, but now that he'd had a real home and months of stability again, much of the stress-induced graying was gone from his curls and he carried himself straighter and with a more confident attitude. She now knew that with his metabolism he'd always tend toward thin, but he'd added muscle mass to his classically symmetrical build over the past few months. She had to smile as she watched him, Bruce could retreat into being shy and awkward in a heartbeat, but he'd mostly gotten past that with her. She was amazed he was so oblivious to how wonderfully masculine and beautiful he was, but Natasha certainly didn't overlook any of his charms whether they were obvious or subtle.
"Where do you want to take this?" he asked her.
For the first time that evening, she broke into a grin, "Why, Dr. Banner, I want to take you and your gorgeous erection to orgasm right here and now after a good long fuck."
Bruce laughed but didn't miss a beat, "Not the bedroom, not the shower, not the couch, not the coffee table, not the piano bench?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Not the kitchen, not the rug in front of the fireplace, not the laundry room, and not the foyer," she finished.
"Hey, we have not done it in the foyer," Bruce said with mock seriousness.
"No, none of those places will do, I want you right here, Big Guy," she said, taking his hands and guiding him to stand in front of her. She wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him closer. "This is the spot right where I want you, Bruce."
"Good," he said, "because this is where I belong." He gently touched and cupped her breasts, circling her areolas with his thumbs as he leaned in to kiss her. "You're sure about this, right here?" he teased one last time.
"Shut up and kiss me, Banner," she ordered with a growl.
He moved his hands from her breasts to her hips, loving her softness and curves over firm muscles. Bruce kissed her lightly, moving from her mouth to her face and neck. "I'm going to mark you," he said and leaned in to slowly bite down on the tension-filled muscles at the base of her neck on the right side. Natasha couldn't help herself, she moaned, almost collapsing against him. He held her tightly to him and let her relax before he sucked hard to mark her.
"How did you do that? You turned me to jelly," she whispered as she felt the brief sharp pain of his bruising and claiming of her as his own.
"Ancient Vulcan love bite," he teased before repeating the process on her left side, taking his time as she moaned. He was biting just the right spot and not letting go until the tightness eased out of her.
"You are so warm," she said languidly. "It's like you sucked the tension right out of me."
"I hope there's still enough left to have sex," he said, pulling back a bit to give her a look with puppy-dog eyes and a pouty lower lip.
"Oh, don't you worry, Doc. You're not getting out of fucking me good and hard," she said with a smirk as she reached down between them to stroke him. He was still rock hard. "My, you have missed me!"
"Horribly," he said, pulling her hips closer as she guided him into her and wrapped her legs tighter around him. Her breath caught and she cried out as Bruce began to thrust into her. Natasha moved her arms to his shoulders and began to pant in rhythm with his thrusts. "Oh, Bruce. Don't stop. Don't stop." She wound her fingers through the curls at the back of his head and neck. He smelled so good as she breathed in his milky sweet and salt caramel scent. He ground his hips into her deeper, biting his lower lip in consentration. "Yes, Bruce, yes!" He kept up his insistent rhythm, bringing her closer and closer to the edge of bliss.
"Come for me, Nat!' he said hoarsely as she tightened up on him. "You're my girl! Come for me!" He pushed into her hard and dug in with his fingers into her glutes, avoiding her fresh injuries but knowing he was adding to the bruises.
Natasha cried out, "Oh, Bruce!" and he felt her inner walls clamp down hard on his shaft and she spasmed in waves. A blush rose in her pale neck and chest. "Give it to me, Bruce," she urged him. "Come for me, Lover!"
"I'm coming, Natasha!" he roared out and his body jerked. He let go and prayed the condom would hold. He felt a new wave of pleasure roll through him as he emptied into her, so he knew he was going into a Liminal state at the edge of Hulking-out. He groaned as the agony and pleasure washed over him in equal measure, and he threw his head back as a growl escaped him. Normally, they would have been in bed and he could have curled up, watching his hands for signs of green, but this time he pulled out of her and grabbed the counter to steady himself.
Normally, she wouldn't have touched him more than necessary in his Liminal state because he was in limbo between pain and euphoria, but she grabbed him around the torso with her right arm supporting him and held onto the base of the nearest faucet fixture with her left in order to steady them both. In a few seconds, it was over and they leaned into each other in a panting, trembling heap. He was almost hot to the touch and still flushed a bit green along his throat and chest, but it was fast disappearing from his hands. When he opened his eyes, they were still dark green, but the glowing green of the transitional phase was gone. As she watched, the warm browns returned to his pupils and he smiled at her. "Thank you, Natasha. Just when I think I couldn't love you anymore, you surprise me again."
She reached up and stroked his curls out of his eyes and they nuzzled foreheads. "I love you, Doc," she said and kissed him once again. They separated a bit, still grinning at each other and trying to catch their breaths.
"Well, if we're getting in the shower next, I'm sticking the beer in the ice," he finally said.
"Ah, we should have played with this," she teased, running her right hand through the basin of melting ice.
"Try it," he said with a smirk.
She fished an ice cube out of the basin and ran it across his forehead. It wasn't instantaneous, but it melted quickly. "You are my heater," she said shaking her head at him.
He gave her an I-told-you smirk. "Let's get cleaned up. I'm sure you're getting hungry now."
To tell the truth, she was, so they didn't waste time while showering or getting dressed in some comfortable clothes. Bruce insisted on treating her busted knuckle, but he still beat her out of the bedroom and headed to the kitchen. He'd already asked Friday to play "Happy Mix 1" in the background, so she knew she was in for Beatles and 80s music.
"You really ought to ice those hands some more," he said as he tossed her a bag of frozen peas from the freezer.
"Peas? Really?"
"Would you rather have corn or mixed veggies then?"
"I'm just surprised you use these and not the cold-packs," she noted.
"Those things refreeze solid, but the frozen veg fit the contours of your hand like a bean bag. Just don't let them get too mushy and keep changing them out."
"Ah, Dr. Banner's Practical Tips to Avoid the Emergency Room. We just need to get a publisher. I'm sure it will be a bestseller."
Bruce snorted from behind the refrigerator door. "With impractical ideas for keeping your temper during the Robot Apocalypse."
"If only you were a real doctor or an engineer or a rocket scientist," she teased.
"Ah-ah! I am a real doctor, twice over in fact, just not that kind of doctor." Bruce shut the refrigerator door and brought his armload of ingredients over to the counter and started organizing them. "But, I wanted to tell you, I'm only 15 hours of practicum away from having the EMT certificate now. I just don't know when I'll have a chance to get back to Kenya to finish it, especially with the political situation there."
"So they gave you credit for your hours at the Nairobi hospital?"
"Yah, Jenn got the letter yesterday and called me. Don't forget, we all have a meeting with her the day after tomorrow to go over some of the Reconciliation Meeting's details."
"It's hard to believe it's less than a week away. Have you heard anything from Wanda?"
"No, and Clint and Steve have both talked with her. She hasn't returned my calls or the emails," he said as he started the stove's grill function and turned on the ventilation hood system. Although he thought this setup was all too elaborate, he had to admit that it came in handy when you wanted to grill from the comfort of your own kitchen rather than hike up to the rooftop.
"Is the Big Guy cooperating?" she asked with interest.
"Grudgingly, but yes. He's talked to Cecily about the process and is pretty impatient to go and do what he can."
"That's our Big Guy," she said with a fond smile.
"Cecily says he offered to talk to Wanda, too."
"Wow, now that is a turnaround. I had the impression he would have liked to have done some serious roaring and breaking of things in her presence, so talking to her is certainly an improvement."
"I've tried about everything I can think of to get her to say she'll participate," Bruce continued. "You, Tony, and I, and the Big Guy of course, are the ones she affected the most. You and I have hashed it out with her. Tony is at least on speaking terms. We've presented her with all the reasons for participating in the Reconciliation process. She'll just have to make her mind up."
"I don't know what to tell you," Natasha said sadly. "Wanda is certainly an adult. We've all done our best, Bruce." She sighed and stared at her feet. After a bit, she looked up and focused her attention on his food preparations. "Okay, what are you doing here?" Natasha asked looking at his lineup of ingredients.
Bruce gestured with his hands toward each side, "Salad on the left. Cow products and associates on the right."
"You just put three whole heads of romaine in that gallon zip-lock bag with the dressing."
"Right, it's marinade. I'm going to grill them with the onion slices and the burgers."
"You're grilling the lettuce?" she said with raised eyebrows and enough vinegary skepticism to marinade something else.
"Yes. Just trust me. It's better than it sounds," Bruce said. "If I'd thought to get a pineapple, I'd grill fruit for dessert, too. I bet bananas would work."
"I leave you alone for fewer than twenty-four hours and you go grill crazy on me," she said with a smirk.
"Not crazy, I just want to try out something new. By the way, the meat is from the same farm on Long Island as we bought from before."
"If it had a name, I don't want to know about it this time," she said.
"Okay, just trying to honor the steer's life," he replied, needling her a bit.
"You are so mean," she teased back as she opened both beers and handed him one.
He took a swig and set the beer aside as he washed his hands one more time before working with the raw beef, adding the seasonings, and forming the patties on the waxed paper to keep the surfaces sterile. "Hey, would you check the grill please, Nat?"
She dunked the fingers of her uninjured hand in the ice water and flicked a few drops on the grill to watch them hiss and dance across the surface, "She's hot to trot, Doc."
"Yea," Bruce laughed as he washed his hands again and then retrieved his "Kiss the Cook" apron with the Hulk and Black Widow cartoon on it. The Bartons had given it to him and he'd have framed it, but Lila insisted he wear it every time he was at the farm and in the kitchen, which was inevitable when they visited. He neatly placed the four burgers and slices of sweet onion on the hot, ridged surface and stepped back. He turned the hood's exhaust to high and retrieved his beer so he could join Natasha as she leaned against the counter.
"I Wanna Hold Your Hand" was playing in the background, so they comfortably touched and then held hands by unspoken agreement. She nudged his shoulder and he gently nudged her back. That song finished and what she knew was his favorite came on. "Did you know you have 'Hey Jude' on both your 'Happy' and 'Sad' Mix Tapes lists?" Natasha asked.
"Yah, it can go either way. I just like the song." He looked thoughtful and shuffled his feet a bit. "It's technically perfect, and I think of you when I hear it."
"Oh, you're gonna make me tear up," she replied and she rested her head against his shoulder.
"Don't cry," he said and brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it. "You know it was written for Lennon's older son Julian, so it's advice from a father to his son."
"Ah, that explains some of the attraction for you," she said.
Bruce smiled in acknowledgment. "Time to flip," he said as he looked at his watch. Bruce used an Olivewood spatula to check the burgers and then flipped them along with sweet onions which were headed toward caramelizing. Next, he removed the heads of romaine from the marinade, drained them a bit, and laid them on the cooler side of the grill with a pair of tongs.
Natasha shook her head, "You've killed three perfectly good heads of lettuce."
"And a steer named . . . ," he ducked as the roll of waxed paper went zinging past his ear and skidded into the living room. "Okay, sorry, I deserved that," he quickly admitted to avoid having the pepper grinder, which was now in her hand, go airborne. "Please, not the pepper grinder. We're going to need that."
Natasha put the beloved grinder back down on the counter and went to retrieve the waxed paper roll from the living room. She made sure to give Bruce a quick swat on the backside as she walked past him. "Your ass is mine, Banner," she growled.
"Of course," he said with as lascivious a smile as he could muster while he turned the romaine. "Hey, do you want your buns grilled? If so, you better get them over here."
Natasha thought about throwing them after that bad bun pun (damn, he was rubbing off on her), but brought the package over so he could get things finished.
He slipped his left arm around her, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be giving you a hard time."
"It's okay," Natasha said. "I know you're trying to cheer me up."
"Do you want to talk about it?" Bruce asked.
"There's not that much to tell. I fucked up. We had a tip there were a couple of Hydra operatives in a certain area. My team went in and found them, but that wasn't all we found." She studied Bruce's face for a moment, making up her mind. "You've seen the file on Yelena Belova, right?"
"Yah, I've tried to help with the investigation into what AIM did to her and the extent of their so-called enhancement program. I had no idea she was still alive."
"Good luck figuring out that twisted plot. She should have been dead twice over, so you can imagine what a surprise it was to run across her. I had Markus with me and two newer field agents on my immediate recon team. This was supposed to be a really simple operation: identify the Hydra operatives and clear out. We found them easily enough, but they ducked into a restaurant, so Marko and I followed them in just to make sure they weren't trying to rabbit or go to ground, but guess who was sitting at the bar?"
"The blonde pretender."
"Right. I sent Marko and the other two back with instructions to give me a couple of minutes before I cleared out, too. Here is where I messed up. I had some new toys for tagging Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Dee, so I thought why not see if I can get the ghost marked, and maybe track her later? I started back toward the women's room and our two Hydra operatives recognized Belova and drew their guns. She bolted and I missed getting the tracker on her."
"That stinks," said Bruce.
"Oh, it gets even stinkier. As a parting gift, Belova hit me with a barstool, so she obviously had me pegged." Bruce gave her an alarmed look. "Don't worry, you saw I only have a couple of bruises, but she did slow me down. That's when the bartender pulled out a shotgun and started firing after her. By the time I got back to the kitchen, she was out the door and half the kitchen staff was doing a Keystone Cops routine all trying to follow her through the same door at once. That's when it became pretty darn clear we'd found more than two squid and a trigger-happy bartender. I was about ready to turn around and take my chances up front when Dumb and Dee came in throwing whisky bottles, which are probably what eventually caught on fire. After that I called off the second team and got serious about getting out the back exit."
"I'm no tactician, but how was this really your fault?" Bruce asked as he took the last burger off the grill and placed it on the serving platter with the condiments he'd laid out.
"We didn't have enough agents on the perimeter when we followed Dumb and Dee into what turned out to be some sort of cell. I should have left with Marko instead of trying to place the tracker. I suppose I should have shot them all the first chance I had to pull a gun. That's what this old desk jockey who planned the mission suggested."
Bruce frowned, "That's not how S.H.I.E.L.D. normally operates."
"I know. Sometimes you can't win," she said with a shrug. "It will all be in the report."
"So what happened with the fire?" Bruce asked.
Natasha sighed and stared at the ceiling fan for a minute. "Ask me that after dinner."
Bruce nodded. "Okay, grab some forks and plates, and we'll sit at the table like civilized folk." He took in the platter with the burgers, romaine, and other items while Natasha brought the rest over to the kitchen table. It took a couple of trips, but they finally got settled down.
Bruce had used some kitchen shears to cut up the grilled romaine and added an aioli and Caesar dressing. Natasha prodded the portion on her plate with her fork before taking a bite. "Okay, this is like Laura's wilted lettuce salad with the hot bacon and vinegar dressing. Why didn't you just say that?"
"I've never had Laura's salad to know what it was," Bruce admitted.
"Wait till May when the loose leaf lettuce is up in the garden. It'll happen."
"Looking forward to it," he said between bites. Prince's "Raspberry Beret" came on the sound system, and he smiled across the table at her.
She smiled back at him as she chewed another fork full of salad. "We could dance between courses," she suggested.
"Maybe for dessert," he grinned. They finished their salad and moved on to the burgers.
"So you are actually going to do this? Eat some cow, huh?" she teased.
"I grew up on cow and pig and chicken and canned tuna. I just don't choose to get my protein from animals if I don't have to anymore. If I do, I try to be ethical about it. You know that. Come on before they cool down too much," he said sliding the platter to her.
Natasha put the works on hers and slid the plate back to him. "Pardon me if I don't wait for you," she said and dug in because she was hungry and the tomato and lettuce were causing everything to shift off the bun already.
Bruce laughed because he was happy to see her eat. He went for a more minimalist approach in constructing his with the meat and grilled onions and a little brown mustard. He forked a couple of heirloom tomato slices onto his plate to enjoy separately from the burger since they usually colluded with the lettuce and sauces in burger stacking failures. He had to admit the beef tasted good, and it had been over a year since Tony had thrown the July 4th roof party that might as well have been sponsored by Webber grills if you judged by the amount of roasted, grilled, and smoked meats. He'd had a burger and a bratwurst then and felt sluggish for the next two days, but they had tasted good, too. "Well, how is it?" he asked.
He'd caught Natasha with her mouth full, so she just gave him a thumbs up. He took his time and waited for her to finish. "Going for round two? There are two left."
"No," she said as she wiped away the last of the tasty mess with her napkin. "One was plenty. I'm done. We can save the other two for tomorrow."
"Sounds reasonable to me," he said as he got up and started bussing the table. Natasha picked through the condiments replacing lids and returning them to the refrigerator. Soon everything in the kitchen was put away and cleaned up. It was almost 9:00pm and Chicago's "Just You 'n Me" was playing.
You are my love and my life
And you are my inspiration
Just you 'n me
Simple and free
Baby you're everything I've ever dreamed of
"I think you still owe me a dance, Ms. Romanoff," Bruce said as they stood there in the kitchen, and he offered his hand to her.
She took his hand and he pulled her close, gently swaying her with the music and looking into her eyes. She smiled up at him and he smile back at her.
Give me your own special smile
Promise you'll never leave me
Just you 'n me
Simple and free
Life is so easy
When you're beside me
Oh girl
"'Simple and free,' huh?" she said.
"Yah, and 'easy.' We both know it never is. Not for long." He held her a little closer and she leaned her head against his shoulder.
Come hold me close
Never release me
Oh baby don't release me
Open your arms, let my love in
Let me in, let me in, let me in, LET ME IN
Love me tonight, love me forever . . .
"I'm here when you want to talk about it," he said.
"I do and I don't," she replied, so he continued to dance with her, kissing the top of her head and gently rubbing her back.
Just you 'n me to carry on
Simple and free my lovely
To flow as one as love's reward
Lovin' you girl is so damn easy . . .
"It's a little early to go to bed bed, but I could probably keep you amused if you want to take this in the bedroom," he offered.
"If we can go brush our teeth first, you have a deal," she said with a mischievous grin.
Bruce laughed, "I would never deny you oral hygiene, my lovely."
Natasha gave him a quick peck on the cheek and they both cleaned up in the bathroom. As she was finishing, she noticed her duffle bag in the doorway of the laundry room and decided to get the dirty clothes out before she forgot about them. Since she'd been disguised as a tourist, she had a tropical print blouse and khaki slacks that hadn't stood up so well during their evacuation of the building. She thought she'd wash them and see what was worth salvaging. Natasha knew something was way off when the clothes came out wadded into a ball instead of her neat traveler's rolls. "What the fuck!" She didn't have to be Peter Parker for her spider senses to go off. She gently set the wad of clothing on top of the washer. As she gingerly unwrapped the slacks and got down to the shirt, she was shocked to see the dried browns and still-damp reds of a bloodstain. The strong smell of iron and saltiness almost knocked her back a step. She felt something hard in the middle of the cloth, so she took a breath and finished unrolling it without touching it. The object was metal and only about four inches long and a half an inch wide. Once she'd looked past the dried gore, she recognized it as a double-bladed pocketknife, which had obviously been put to use. "Bruce," she called, "do we have any of those forensic kits here in the apartment?"
"Uh, yah. Give me a moment." He walked past her back down the hall to the second bedroom. In a moment, he returned with a gallon-size plastic bag with a variety of containers for various sizes and types of evidence samples and the equipment for gathering them. "What do you need a forensic kit for?" he asked and then he saw the bloody clothes and knife resting on top of the washer. "Okay, let me get this opened up." He put on a glove and took the knife from the pile and slipped it into a small bag and sealed it. Then he held open one of the larger collection bags so she could slide the clothing in, and he sealed it, too. "I hope that's everything. What the hell was that?" he asked.
"I think it was a calling card," Natasha said as she tried to even out her breathing.
"That looks like a pen knife," he said as he examined it through the plastic. It's hard to tell with the blood on it, but it looks fairly old, like pre-WWII. I'd have to get a look at the blades to know for certain, but my grandfather had one a lot like it."
"Okay, I'm going to text Clint and Steve, and I'll get this turned in tomorrow. Right now, I don't even want to think about how it got there," she said in exasperation. She took an empty laundry basket and completely unzipped the duffle before shaking all of its contents out into the basket. She poked through them briefly. "Good, no more surprises from that bitch or whomever!"
"When did you change out of the street clothes and into your uniform?" Bruce asked.
"Not till we'd gotten everyone safely out of the building. Someone must have put it in my bag after that." She shook her head, "We are not going to solve this little mystery tonight, Bruce."
"Nope, not tonight," he agree. "Why don't you go wash up and get your texts sent, and then let's go to bed?"
In a very few minutes she was done, and they were in bed cuddling and kissing since Natasha really didn't feel like talking now. Bruce was okay with that, but he'd hoped to unburden her of a little of what was weighing her down. She finally laid her head on his chest and started to relax and then breathe deeply as she drifted off to sleep.
It wasn't long until Bruce nodded off and began to dream. He was walking through a wooded area, a lot like Tony's property upstate, which they'd visited the week before. It was a summer evening, and the insects and frogs were in full song. He had to be near the lake that had been a quarry. After a while, the trees thinned and he walked into the meadow that was near the lake. He could see someone sitting on one of the boulders near the shore, dangling a foot in the clear water. He was bare from the waist up, but had on a pair of Bruce's purple uniform pants. As Bruce approached, the person looked up and smiled in recognition. "Bruce!" he cried in a high-pitched voice and jumped down from his perch on the rock and splashed through the shallows to meet him. Bruce knelt down as Adam ran into his arms and knocked him on his backside, landing on top of him at the edge of the meadow grass. They grinned at each other and Adam leaned forward and gently head-butted Bruce before he kissed him on the forehead and climbed off Bruce's chest. The boy's hair was all wild, dark curls today and the freckles across his nose stood out as if he'd been spending the summer in the sun.
"What are you doing, Adam?" Bruce asked.
The child laughed as if it were too obvious, "Waiting on you of course." He looked at Bruce and became more sober. "I'm sorry. I can see you're worried about something. What's wrong with Tasha?"
"She had a rough mission and I couldn't get her to talk about the part that's really bothering her," Bruce explained as he lay there on his back. "She apparently had another run-in with the other Black Widow, Yelena Belova, who has tried to take her out to claim her name several times. Belova's nearly killed her twice before and this time was kind of weird. Natasha found a bloody penknife in with her gear right before we went to bed. Belova may or may not have left it there, but someone is trying to rattle her," Bruce concluded. "Oh, and there was also a fire and she helped evacuate people, but she really doesn't want to talk about it." He sat up and gathered his legs up to his chest so he could hug his knees. Adam sat beside him comfortably sprawled and leaning back on his elbows like the truly young.
"It probably reminds her of some of those incidents out of her past you refuse to read about on the Internet," Adam suggested. (Of course he didn't add that he had surreptitiously gotten Bruce to download it for him when Bruce was distracted.)
"You may be onto something," Bruce acknowledged.
"I hate to tell you this, but you may be stuck waiting her out and she's just as stubborn as you are," Adam speculated as he pulled a stalk of grass and selected the inner stem to chew.
"Speaking of stubborn," Bruce said with a smirk, "I hear you are willing to talk to Wanda. I'm impressed."
"Against my better judgment," Adam mumbled then continued, "but I've been thinking about what you said about the bigger picture. Don't get me wrong, I want to be petty, but it's stupid. This shouldn't be about us; it's about the people who really got hurt in Johannesburg."
"That's really very mature of you. I know it's hard."
"I'm taking the highroad," the boy said looking Bruce in the eye. "That's my story and I'm sticking to it."
"It's a good story," Bruce said, ruffling Adam's hair. "I'm really proud of you."
Adam grinned, "Now what else is bugging you?"
"I never thought I'd say this, but I wish we'd been out in the field with her or at least on the Quinjet. Clint was there, but he was on the opposite side of the perimeter."
"Seriously, do you think we could have helped? As Hulk I'm not exactly made for stealth-mode, and you're definitely not a trained field agent, even if you do a decent enough job of blending in with the scenery. Besides, what could you do against someone who is basically a younger and more desperate version of Tasha with all of her ruthlessness and spy training? No contest. Game over."
"I've been thinking about that, but it's almost like I'm plotting against Natasha to do it. I've been thinking about ways to use her mixed DNA to identify and track her."
"I'm pretty sure I could crush her if I could get ahold of her," Adam mused.
"Her first move would probably be to blind you and then she'd go for the throat to take the air or blood out of you. It's not like gentlemanly sparing with Steve. If Steve were serious, he'd go for the throat or spinal column with the shield. Cripple us or decapitate us."
"Wow, you have been thinking about this. How morbid of you," Adam said with a cheeky grin. "That's probably why you've been working so hard to update VERONICA."
"You're out of bounds. You know that's off limits to you, Adam," Bruce said as he leaned forward to look the childlike being in the eye. "I'm serious. You're on your honor not to go there."
The boy stared at Bruce with his deep green eyes and nodded. "Cross our heart," he said and gestured with his right thumb crossing his chest.
"Good man. I have to count on you to be my better half," Bruce said.
"I'll stay out of VERONICA, but if we ever have a chance, I want first crack at Belova."
"That's not our call. If we're going to be on the team, we work together and follow orders."
Adam puffed out a very Hulk-like breath, "I understand. Play nice if we ever want to be invited back to the next party. Blah-blah-blah."
In case it's not occurred to you today, Big Guy, we're usually singled out as the weakest link, and I'm kind of tired of it. Going crazy and being a rogue is partly to blame for that."
"You're preaching to the choir here, Bruce. I'm fed up with it, too. We're halfway through our training stint with Logan and it's helping. You're doing well with the Parkour and martial arts."
"Yes, but is it helping you or not?" Bruce asked bluntly.
"I think so. They're both, in part, forms of discipline and that's what I have trouble with when I can't focus. It's not like we've been able to do much field-testing since everyone who's not on the immediate team pees their pants when there's even a mention of a code green."
"Can't exactly blame them," said Bruce.
"Sometimes I feel like we're at a dead end with this or we're being blocked. I can't figure out why you become so distant and shut off from me when you're not dreaming. Why does most of what we talk about here leave your head when you wake up? It's like I don't exist for you."
"I know. I don't understand it either. I stood in front of the closet mirror a few days ago and just stared, knowing something huge was missing. I pulled the brain scans up from last month and just looked at the deviations in the neural cells. It may be something as small as scar tissue building up over time to reinforce the mental blocks I've used to deal with early traumas. Tell Cecily to bring that up with me and maybe we could trip something."
"All right. It won't hurt to try that. The other thing I was thinking about was what Logan suggested about not going 100% Hulk. He thinks that if we go to 50% or 75% that the pain won't be so bad. I'm not sure which one of us would be in charge or if both of us would be there and able to better access our intelligence and fine motor and muscle control. . . ."
Bruce suddenly gave a sharp intake of breath and reached for his throat, gasping for air. Adam immediately knew something was happening in the real world, and he dove into the void where Bruce normally passed off control to him as he stepped aside and let Adam take on his responsibilities as the Hulk. It always meant taking on a lot of pain during the physical transition, even when it was relaxed and voluntary it was blindingly painful, but it was much worse when it was forced by one or the other of them. Bruce was in physical pain and in a panic, so they were doing this old school tonight. Amazingly, Bruce had enough presence of mind to know he needed Adam's help and make room so Adam could take over without having to fight for control. As Adam comfortably slid into control of Bruce's expanding body, he made up his mind to control his size since he knew Bruce's body had been asleep in bed with Tasha. The room wasn't that big, so %75 of normal Hulk size ought to still be huge and strong enough—just maybe that would leave room for some added brain power, too.
Hulk was lying on his side and curled up in a tight fetal position, shoving Natasha away with his right hand and clutching his throat with his left. Adam started to straighten his spine with the idea of sitting up, but he couldn't catch his breath. The bedroom was dark, but he recognized Natasha's low, guttural attack cry in his ear as she launched a knee right at his crotch. Thank God, his reflexes and instincts for self-preservation were quicker than her nightmare-fueled attack, and he successfully blocked her, throwing blankets and sheets over her to slow her down. "Damn it, I've put way too much time into fixing those for you to bust the family jewels now, Tasha!" was what he tried to say, but he realized nothing was coming out because she had probably hit Bruce in the throat and broken their windpipe. As the Hulk, it would repair itself quickly, but it would still take a few minutes to heal up. In the meantime, he'd didn't plan on giving her anymore free shots, even if she probably couldn't do that much damage to him in this mostly Hulk-out form.
"Tasha," he wheezed out hoarsely. "Wake up! This is Hulk. You're having a nightmare. Wake up!"
She was still tangled in the sheets, but struggled to her knees and went for his jaw with a double uppercut, not what he'd predicted, but he had both her fists in his massive right hand now and his left was ready when she swung her feet toward his gut. He caught her lower legs, and as she tried to kick free, he swung his left leg over and neatly pinned both of her legs between his thighs at a safe distance from his crotch. How's that for irony, Adam thought, but he wasn't about to say it out loud. He had her immobilized, but she was still struggling. Much more of this and she was going to hurt herself. He thought about forcing her under the shower, but that would expose him to the not so tender mercies of her kicks again. "Friday, would you please turn on the lights to low?" he said a little more clearly than a few minutes before.
"Certainly, Hulk," chimed the Interface's perky voice.
At least Friday could understand him. "Time?" he asked.
"1:14am EST."
As the lights came up, Natasha blinked and shook her head, "What. The. Fuck. Just happened?"
"I think you were having a nightmare and punched Bruce in the throat, so he needed me to come referee a few rounds. Do you think you're done trying to kick the shit out of us?"
"I'm so sorry! Are you okay? Is Bruce all right?"
Adam let go of Natasha's hands and released her legs, "I can breathe and swallow, so Bruce should be fine. Just don't ask either of us to sing tomorrow."
"And you TALK!" she said as she rubbed the feeling back into her hands and rolled to a sitting position. "You're saying things in full sentences. You're sarcastic. I love it. I mean, I knew you could do it. How'd this happen, Big Guy?!"
"I don't know," Adam stammered. "Maybe Bruce would." Adam looked inwardly for Bruce, but couldn't immediately find him. He looked deeper and retraced his path back to the meadow by the lake. Bruce hadn't moved. He was lying there curled up with his arms around his middle. There was some blood drying on the grass where he'd coughed it up. Adam knelt down and touched Bruce's shoulder, "Bruce, wake up."
To Adam's relief, Bruce stirred though he didn't open his eyes. "Tired, so tired," he croaked in a raspy voice.
Adam bent down and picked Bruce up. He didn't want to just leave him, so he switched to his replica of the apartment and gently laid Bruce on the couch with a pillow under his head and covered him with a blanket. "Rest up, Big Guy. I'll be back to check on you after a while."
Only a few seconds had gone by in the real world. He looked at Natasha with some concern, "Bruce is really tired, Tasha, so we're going to have to let him rest a bit. I think finally being able to talk has something to do with me being three-quarters Hulked-out instead of 100%." He didn't add that he thought Bruce was willing him all of his control while he recovered. Bruce couldn't get the answers from Natasha, but maybe Adam could with the communication and intellectual tools Bruce had just sacrificed to give him.
Natasha nodded, "Okay, that seems sensible. So, talk to me, Big Guy. There's always so much going on behind your eyes. Tell me what you're thinking."
"I'd like to talk to you about what just happened. Was it a nightmare? What's going on to cause this?"
"Are you sure you aren't Bruce because that's what he's been trying to get out of me since I got back from the mission?"
"No, I'm not Bruce. I just share the occasional bit of headspace and poor judgment calls with him. Now, quit changing the subject. I just found him curled up in a field where he coughed up a puddle of blood as a result of your physical handiwork. You would have killed him with a couple more hits like that. You owe it to him to get this out."
She looked both shocked and horrified. Adam wasn't sure if it was because the words came out of him or if the truth of what he'd said had hit home. "Okay, I deserved that," she said, "but . . . "
"There's always one of those," Adam said with more sarcasm than playfulness.
"BUT you don't know what weeds we're going to get into. You have no idea what I've done," she said, showing more raw emotion than normal.
"Try me. I'm not sweet, confused Bruce," he said raising his voice and then dropping it low. "I protect him from this shit. I'm the one with blood splattered across my face and caked on my hands and feet like mud. I'm my father's son. Bruce hasn't looked at your records on line because he loves and trusts you. I've looked at every one of them because I love him. Now, tell me what's driving you to this."
He had finally hit a nerve. "I shouldn't have to tell you I'm afraid. YOU of all people should know and understand that. I have put my past in the grave too many times to count and still it comes back. I can't walk by a hospital that I don't hear screams. I can't see that damn Yelena, that I don't remember how the Red Room broke and controlled me. I can't protect myself, so how can I protect anyone else? I am fucking useless if I can't do that! Who the hell am I if I can't do that! Who the hell am I?"
Adam reached out carefully and touched the side of her face, gently wiping the tears away with his thumb. He wanted to tell her everything would be okay, that this catharsis would fix things, but he respected her too much to lie. "I promise you, Tasha, I will always have your back, and I won't hesitate when a job needs to be done. Bruce and I would both take away your pain if we could. I'm sorry to have to push you like this, but you and I are both lethal while Bruce is, well, Bruce."
She nodded. "I understand what you're saying, and I'm glad I can count on you, Big Guy. I promise I have your back and Bruce's."
"Thank you," he said, giving her a lopsided smile. "Okay, now that I've made you feel like crap—you're welcome—what would make you feel better?"
Natasha laughed ruefully, "To tell you the truth, I'm pretty exhausted. Would you stay and make sure I'm safe enough for Bruce to be in the same bed?"
"I can do that," said Adam. He had been so intently focused on Natasha that he'd barely examined himself or the room. He was about a foot too tall or long for the bed and his hands looked to be just a bit paler than his normal green. Bruce's pajama shorts were tight around the waist, and as he sat up to get a better look, they came apart with a ripping sound. "Whoops," he said, and Natasha laughed.
"Don't worry. Those shorts' days were numbered. Do you want me to see if he has a bigger pair or maybe some uniform pants?"
Adam was a little uncertain, "Is this what Bruce normally wears?"
"That or boxer shorts or nothing," she said with a raised eyebrow. "I've seen you naked, Big Guy. You don't need to impress me or be embarrassed."
"I'll take the uniform pants," he said. For the first time he noticed she was only wearing a spaghetti-strap tank top and very small panties. They both were a forest green with just a little bit of lace. The top was slightly tight across her breasts and only went down to just above her navel. Her hair was tousled and fell to just below her shoulders. He was overwhelmed with the desire to touch it. He knew it had to be soft. As she dug through Bruce's dresser looking for uniform pants for him, Adam looked at her scars and suddenly felt the desire to track down every spy, soldier, and mercenary who had put a mark on her skin and make short work of them.
As Natasha handed him the uniform pants, he found himself wanting other things from her, and part of him panicked as these unfamiliar thoughts and desires. This was just wrong of him. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Adam normally oriented toward the asexual end of the scale while Bruce was a highly sexual person who had found his match in Natasha. As a being without a real body, Adam had never had a reason or a means to be stimulated that way because he'd never felt a connection to the "pleasures of the flesh" or had a desire to reproduce. He understood these things in connection to and through Bruce, but they weren't of much interest to him, except when they affected Bruce. If this was another "gift" Bruce had given him along with the ability to speak during this transformation, Adam prayed he would take it back.
"May I use your bathroom? I promise I'll be careful," he requested.
"Of course you may," Natasha said, a bit surprised he felt it necessary to ask.
"Thanks," he said and eased carefully off the bed and held together what was left of the shorts with one hand. After he closed the door, he let the tatters of the shorts fall to the floor and stepped out of them. He could count the number of times he'd seen himself in a mirror on one hand before he'd started working with the therapy team, so he took a moment to study himself in the large, well-lighted mirror. Well, he was certainly big and green—even if he was a few shades lighter than normal—and apparently he'd become a little excited. As he stepped closer to the mirror, he studied his face for a few moments, looking for traces of Bruce's familiar handsome features. There were a few but mostly he thought his face looked distorted and crude, but he looked more acceptable when he smiled and made faces.
"How are you doing in there?" Natasha asked.
"I'm fine," he said, realizing he'd wasted too much time at the mirror, and he went ahead and relieved himself before pulling on the uniform pants. He washed his hands in the sink and flushed the toilet before opening the door.
She had lain down on her side of the bed and seemed to have already gone to sleep. Adam sighed with relief. He carefully turned off the light switch and slipped in as quietly as he could. He'd never shared an actual bed with anyone before—platonically or otherwise. Adam had to angle himself a bit, but it was a large enough bed to do that. He nearly jumped when Natasha's foot touched his and she rolled over next to him, draping an arm across his stomach. He lifted his arm out of the way and she snuggled closer, running a hand across his thick abs and stroking the hair on his chest. In her groggy state, Natasha clearly thought he was Bruce. He settled his arm around her shoulders and held her close. After an internal debate, he finally succumbed to curiosity and temptation and touched her hair. It was soft and he gently stroked it with a finger before he made himself stop and moved his hand back to her shoulder. She stirred again and resettled herself higher on his chest. He stroked her back and leaned his head forward to smell her hair. He felt his chest tighten and he laid his head back on the pillow. This was enough. He looked inward and found Bruce sitting up on the couch.
"What's going on?" he asked with a yawn.
"I need you to take this back. I don't know how you boosted my communication skills, Bruce, but you've given me your feelings, too. I can't take the temptation."
Bruce rubbed his face, "Slow down, I don't know how I did that."
"Please, I'm going to ruin everything if I follow through on how I feel."
"All right, let's the two of us switch back then, and hope that puts things to rights," Bruce said and he slipped back into his body as it began to contract. That woke him up a bit and he stretched as Natasha resettled herself on his shoulder. He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. "I'm home, Babe. Please don't punch me again without a little warning."
"I promise I won't," she said. "I think I gave poor Hulk a hard-on."
"I think you've scared the shit out of both of us tonight," he said yawning sleepily.
"Then my work here is done," she said and closed her eyes again. "Don't wake me up till 7:00am or I'll kick your butt all over again."
The only answer Bruce offered was a soft snore. Inside, he was checking on Adam. Bruce found him lying on the couch wrapped up in the same blanket he'd laid over Bruce. Instead of looking like he was six or even like the Hulk, Adam looked like Bruce in his painful, awkward teens. "Are you okay?" Bruce asked sitting down beside him.
"No," he said, "it still hurts. I hate this feeling. I'm completely confused."
"Adam, it's okay. It's taken a long time, but you're growing up. She's a beautiful woman and she cares about you. It's not that unusual to develop a crush on someone."
"Why does it hurt like this? I'm going to ruin everything. I can't even look at her again, and I promised I'd have her back. I'm an idiot."
Bruce rubbed Adam's back. "I know it feels like the world is over, but this is going to pass. You may return right back to the status quo or you might find developing emotional attachments isn't such an awful thing."
"Fine, give me some time, so I can figure this out," Adam said sullenly and rolled over, putting his back to Bruce.
Bruce leaned over and quickly kissed the top of Adam's head before he could protest, and then he rose and left. Bruce kept walking until he found the woods he'd been walking through at the start of the night's dreams. He decided to keep going to the lake and soon he was in the meadow and crossed it to find the spot where they'd sat and he bled on the ground. He continued on to the shore where he retrieved an abandoned child-size bucket and filled it with water so he could disperse the blood.
As he turned around, he saw Adam walking toward him out of the woods. At first, he looked like Bruce's twin, but he grew younger as he got closer and started to run. "I knew you'd be here."
"I'm that predictable?"
"Yes, when it comes to cleaning up, you are completely predictable, even if it's all just in your head."
Bruce laughed and bent down to wash the blood into the earth as Adam watched. "Well, are we good, Big Guy?"
"We're good," Adam said in a much deeper voice. "I just have some questions so I won't embarrass us too much the next time I see Tasha." Adam wasn't full on Hulk, but Bruce had to look up to speak to him.
"Are we clear she's my lover?" said Bruce looking at Adam hard.
"Yes. And she's my friend and my colleague as well as yours," Adam replied in return.
Bruce smiled, "Agreed. I have one more question."
"Shoot, Doc."
"Where were you in sixth grade when all of us boys had to watch 'My Body and Me for Young Men' and get the STD lecture?"
"I was probably napping in the back of your head."
"You, sir, are the predictable one," Bruce said tapping Adam's massive chest. "Listen up then because we already have an adult body, so we'll start this lesson with secondary sex characteristics and arousal or would you find it more useful to start with something less academic?"
"Just don't make me sorry I asked," Adam rumbled. "Come on, let's got sit on the rocks if this is going to take a while."
End Notes: Congratulations, you have made it through the longest chapter I plan to ever write for this saga. Please ask me any questions you might have because it involves a lot of odd Liminal things going on with Adam and Bruce that make this transition to Hulk exceptional because of the unique circumstances. (As all good scientists know, sometimes you have a breakthrough, but afterward you have to find out if you can replicate the results again.)
Also, this is my brief ode to Joe Fixit and the Gray Hulk; admittedly, they are not my favorite versions of the Big Guy because they are a long way from what Adam is. Here, they are a persona that he tries on, but he's not comfortable with it in the long run.
Yelena Belova, the other Black Widow, is all Autumn_Froste's idea and we might just be seeing more of her in the future since there is still a mystery left unsolved.
Finally, there is a collage cover associated with this that I'll put up on Tumblr just in case you want to see a munchkin who reminds me of Adam. I'll also have it up on WattPad and in a bit as a separate entry.
Questions, comments, and conversations always welcome!