Author's Note: Sorry for the less than speedy update that I had promised you guys. Had to go away for a family event for the last few days so I never had much of a chance to write. As usual, you guys are all quite amazing! I think you guys enjoyed Natasha sneezing on the Hulk a bit too much, haha. Nearly every review mentioned it and I laughed each and every time.

This one is for CottonCandy, don't think I've shouted one out to you yet :D

Without further ado, picking up right where we left off last chapter.

Chapter 15:

It seemed someone higher up, or maybe just Natasha herself, took pity on him. Just as Bruce got over his racing heart at the far too intimate realization that he needed to remove her clothes, Natasha's hand shot out and caught his wrist just as his hand drew closer to the hem of her shirt.

"I got it..." came her grumble. She sounded miserable, but he couldn't help the relieved breath he blew out as she opened her eyes into slits and looked at him, "I really look that bad?"

Oh no... "You don't... I mean you—you look fine, it has nothing to do with h-how you look."

There was the smallest little smile planted on her lips against his shoulder and her hand was still on his chest. She was teasing him, "You're stuttering in my shower again..." and he certainly was.

"This is...weird for me," he really couldn't think of any other way to put it, but it was stupid now that he thought about it, because he doubted she thought this was 'normal'.

"Yeah..." Natasha proved his last thought valid with that one single word, because her hand shied away and her head slowly rolled back to lean against the wall of the shower. It made it more awkward for Bruce now, because he sort of missed both the moment they were gone.

"You can go, I'm fine," it was impossible to believe that with her voice croaking the way that it was. He had a feeling that admitting this was weird for him had been a bad idea. She had shown him some semblance of trust in letting him help her in the first place and he had belittled it by saying he felt weird about it.

"You're not fine," he reminded her with a sigh. "And honestly, your method of taking care of yourself is a little terrifying and not helping you get any better." She was quiet for a moment other than the part where she sniffled and cleared her throat, so he finally dared to look at her. It was hard to believe that someone could have such a vacant expression when they had the flu, but she was doing it like a pro. He figured he was going to have to get 'pushy' with her again, "Now will you get up?"

Natasha remained silent at first before she started to attempt to move and he knew it couldn't be easy for her, since he was having a difficult enough time doing the same on the wetness of the shower floor. Once he was on his feet he got her arm over his shoulder and dragged her up to her feet as well, though it almost turned into a disaster when her feet slipped. He counted ninety-eight seconds and some extra beats of his heart as he was stuck against the shower wall with her pressed against him. Then she spoke, "Sorry..."

"It's alright..." his voice came out hesitant because he knew better and he wisely knew that she did too. No matter who the man, when a woman like Natasha was dripping wet in a shower in said man's clothes, that man was by no means alright. Brutish green alter-ego aside, he was still a man, and a woman fifteen years his junior was plastered to him at the moment. Sick or not, she was impossible not to notice.

Even so, he managed to get her out of there without any further hassle, and she never said a word about his increased heart rate, though he knew she noticed it. Her next comment was a clear attempt at levity, "You know...when I said we would work on things with us—not what I had in mind."

It worked, sort of, and he forced out a small laugh to acknowledge it, "I figured..."

Bruce watched as she put her hands on the sink to steady herself further and then that hoarse voice crawled back out from her lips, "You can go get changed or something. I'll be a few minutes."

"Are you sure?" It must have been a stupid question, because Natasha settled him with a rather profound look that told him she was. "Okay then, I'll uh... I'll be back in a few minutes," he told her. Before he left, he couldn't help the next words that left his mouth, "No more shower therapy," and she did look at least a little amused by that.

"I'll wait until you come back, I doubt it would be as much fun without the stuttering..."

He had a feeling Natasha had been holding back her teasing until now since he mentioned this being 'weird', which he was more than grateful for, but he did give her a small smile and shake of his head before he made his escape. Of course, that escape was short lived when he walked out the door of her mini-apartment and Tony was standing there with the most cheeky grin he had ever seen on the other man.

The comment was equally as bad, "You're supposed to get the woman all wet, Bruce, not the other way around." Between Tony and Natasha, he almost believed they were collaborating to make him as uncomfortable as humanly possible and it must have shown, because his friend swept any further comment under the rug, "So, I take it Romanoff is a bad patient."

"Not a great one, but she could be worse," and it was true, Natasha must have felt worse than he thought, because she wasn't putting up nearly as much of a fight as he would have imagined from her. "She's uh—she's changing. Could you just look in on her in a few minutes?" and this time Tony was the one who looked uncomfortable.

"Me?"

Bruce sighed at the exasperated voice and shook his head, "You don't have to. I just need to change, but she—she needs to eat something and she won't if I don't get it for her." Tony still looked completely ill at ease with the request and he knew he was going to have to persuade him into it. "She's making herself worse, I don't feel comfortable leaving her alone," that was a more effective argument.

Tony sighed and folded his arms over his chest as he mulled it over. "I'll do it because you're my friend, but when she stabs me for going in there, you better save my life and stitch me up," came his rather unwilling agreement.

"Deal, she really does have a knife in there somewhere though, so watch out for that," Bruce couldn't help the shameless grin he had on now as he sidestepped Tony and quickly made like a bandit for his own room.

But he did glance back and watch Tony open Natasha's door and go inside with his hands over his eyes, and he heard the shouted comment, "Romanoff! You better be decent!"

Even though it was his tower, there was no more uncomfortable of a moment than entering Natasha's personal quarters. For Bruce's sake, Tony had done it with his usual gusto and sarcasm, but the redheaded assassin scared the living hell out of him. Unlike Bruce, he and Natasha weren't friends, or if they were then no one had thought to inform him of it.

"Go away, Stark."

Definitely not friends, and there was a definite threat in that simplistically small amount of words that he deemed to be coming from somewhere in the bedroom area, so he slowly moved that direction. "Like I said, you better be decent and if you're not, you better tell me. I don't want to explain to Pepper why I saw your naughty bits."

Natasha never said otherwise, so he blew out a breath and forced himself to enter the bedroom. She was nowhere in sight, though he remembered Bruce's soaked clothing and figured out her location easily enough. He grimaced a little when the theory was proven by the sound of dry heaving for a minute or two and he dared to stand just outside the doorway.

"I know you're still there..."

On some level she still sounded pissed off, but on another level, her voice was so broken that Tony wasn't sure if she was more pissed at him, herself or maybe even Bruce. "Well, yeah. When you tell your friend you'll do something, you do it, and Bruce asked me to," he informed her.

"Fine..." came her mumbled response, and apparently pulling the Bruce card had been the right call to make. He heard something drop and break in the bathroom and a foreign word that he assumed was something vulgar before her voice rang out again, "But if you walk in this bathroom, I'll end you before you ever get the chance explain to Pepper why you saw me naked."

"Duly noted," he didn't bother to mention having already seen her in her 'ladywear' back in India months prior. Curiosity, as usual, got the better of him in that moment, "I do have a question."

She never answered, but he could still hear her moving in the bathroom and he assumed she heard him.

"I mean, you were pretty terrible at the whole, trying to be a friend thing most of the time," he mentioned as he leaned against the wall with his arms folded. "Not to say you didn't have moments where you actually did a hell of a job, but most of the time you weren't very good at it," he tacked on next for good measure.

Tony heard the sound of something wet hitting the linoleum of the bathroom and then her voice decided to answer, "I thought you had a question, not a play-by-play of my inability to be a friend, and we already had this discussion."

Screwed that up already, and he figured she would probably just prefer it if he were blunt about it, so he just hammered the question out, "Why'd you pick Bruce?"

"You picked him," she answered within a second. "I was perfectly content with being miserable on my own, then you went and pawned me off on him," came her added explanation. It was a little raspy and she cleared her throat a few times to try and rid herself of the discomfort.

Tony actually chuckled a little at that and he stood there in silence for a moment. He never heard another noise from the bathroom and after a few minutes he dared to glance inside, "Romanoff?"

"I'm fine."

He supposed it wasn't a lie and he chuckled when he saw her sitting on the bathroom floor, chucking pieces of the ceramic tooth brush holder into the tiny trash can next to the toilet. It shouldn't have been quite so amusing, but her back was against the wall and she was almost treating it like it was a game of basketball. If it weren't for her extra pale complexion, reddened nose, puffy eyes and her shaking hand, he wouldn't have thought much if he had walked in on this any other time. "I could clean that up for you," he offered.

"I got it."

Swoosh, clink. He smirked when Natasha's next piece hit the bag in the trash can and rattled another one that was already at the bottom. "Nice of you to let Bruce help you," he tried next.

"You told me to pick a side of the fence," she answered with a shrug before she tossed another piece, then she cleared her throat again.

So he had, but he hadn't imagined she would take that statement to heart the way she had, it was actually fairly impressive. He let it go, "Forgot to say thanks, by the way, for going and bringing him back."

He watched her glance around for any other pieces that might be left, but when she found none, she made an attempt to drag herself back to her feet. He realized now she probably never actually cared about cleaning up the mess, she just hadn't wanted to get up. He stepped in, got his hand under her elbow and gave her a small pull. Natasha leveled him with a rather unhappy expression, but he hadn't been stabbed for it, so that was a bonus.

"Curious, if you're Bruce's friend, and I'm Bruce's friend, does that make us friends by proxy?"

The odd look that crossed her face in that moment actually made him laugh.

"Well, I say we are," Tony added next and she was definitely glaring now. "And as your friend, I feel I should say that you look like shit."

For a moment she didn't react at all, then she laughed, and then she coughed. By the time he helped her over to the bed and she settled herself to sit on the edge of it, she had cleared her throat of the fit that had broken out and given him a rather amused expression, "You know, if I weren't such a confident person, then you, Pepper and Bruce might have given me a complex by now."

He grinned at that, "Bruce and Pepper said you looked like shit?"

"Pretty sure Bruce said awful. Pepper said crap, but that was when I first showed up here."

"Meh, well. Those two always sugarcoat everything," Tony added with a shrug, "And I thought shit was putting it mildly."

Natasha rolled her eyes at that, but she didn't seem the least bit offended. "I look like something somebody dug out of a grave," and that made him laugh.

"That's fairly accurate," he agreed.

"So I take it I made Bruce uncomfortable again?"

That gave him pause and he studied her for a moment. So that was why she thought he was here? "Not that I'm aware of," he informed her. Then again, Bruce had seemed a little flustered when he had seen him before, "Well, maybe...but just about everything makes him uncomfortable, so I wouldn't feel so bad about that."

It seemed to work, because she smiled a little at that. It was funny now that he realized it, but typically the best responses that he managed to get from Natasha, somehow involved his best friend. He never mentioned how much of their interactions he had seen, and he figured neither of them actually knew. He had seen more of her conversation with The Hulk after the Samara incident than he had let on, though he had just sat outside and let it go on until he thought it was over. It had been fascinating to see the usually hostile Other Guy sit on his rear end and listen to what Natasha was saying, and she had been more open with him than anyone else he had ever seen.

Except for maybe Clint, since she had allowed the man to practically share her bed with her even when she couldn't figure out right from left, but even that relationship he couldn't quite put his finger on. It wasn't romantic, he knew romantic, but there was something deeper between those two that he wasn't sure he would ever truly understand. However, he had seen Natasha around Clint, he had seen her around Steve, around Thor, and two of those people she seemed to consider friends. It didn't change the fact the she was quite different around Bruce himself.

The differences were subtle, but they were there. He had come across moments where the two of them were talking, although he always went back on his merry way without interrupting. They were, in fact, two of the most closed off people he had ever met in his life, but they talked to each other even if it was just little bits and pieces. Bruce never spoke of the past to Tony himself, and yet he had heard the man tell Natasha bits and pieces, however small or large they had been. Just as he had heard her say things to Bruce, even if sometimes what she said didn't entirely make sense; or at least didn't make sense to Tony.

Still, the most impressive thing had been when she convinced Bruce to leave the tower and go out, even though it had ended horribly, it was something neither he nor Pepper had ever managed to accomplish. That moment where she had shouted 'Code Green' over the phone at him had been one thing he never forgot. She had told him where, then a moment later he had heard the impact of her hitting that brick wall and the sharp gasp that she made as she hit it. He had honestly been afraid she would be dead before he ever got there, regardless of whatever bond she had formed with The Hulk.

She proved Tony wrong, of course, like she had with many other things. The truth was, her wariness about this friendship with Bruce wasn't entirely her fault, his awkward friend had brought it on as well. The original comment of someone like her not being good around him, and when she offered her friendship and help to him before he ran away to India. He supposed that from Natasha's viewpoint, Bruce had turned her down flat by making that escape.

"You alright?"

It jerked him out of his reminiscence and he glanced down at Natasha before he took a seat on the edge of the bed, though he did keep quite the distance between them. "You make him uncomfortable because he likes you," he finally told her.

"Friends typically like each other," she added dryly and he rolled his eyes at that.

"Not what I meant," and he was pretty sure she already knew that, "You're not dumb, Natasha, so don't play it."

She coughed, it was straight from the lungs, and his own chest hurt just hearing it. "I'm used to that," she finally stated, voice still a little raw from the cough. "It complicates things, but... he'll get over it," came her next comment.

Tony honestly hadn't expected that to be her answer, though admittedly, he hadn't expected her to really reply to it at all. "He doesn't tend to get over things, in fact, you and I both know he usually just dwells on it for a lifetime or two," he reminded her. He watched as she looked over at him again and it would seem he had just made the infamous Black Widow a little uncomfortable, "I'm sure it wasn't your intention but you're sort of growing on him, Natasha." She gave no answer and this was one of those moments where he just wanted to smack some sense into her, "He turned all red in the face when I asked if you flirted him back to the tower."

"He'll get over it," she assured him again.

Tony wanted to roll his eyes, because that was the same thing she said about sneezing on The Hulk, but she sounded pretty certain of it and it threw him off a little. "What makes you so sure?" he finally dared to ask.

The answer definitely wasn't what he expected, "They always do." He supposed it was a fair enough statement, he had seen her files, browsed through them but never thoroughly going over them. Snooping was sort of his thing, and she likely already knew that. Natasha Romanoff and her many former aliases were just a fleeting thought and memory in the lives of many people, or at least, the ones who lived to remember her. She was good at being a wisp in time, something that was there, but went away as though she never was. She was a lasting impression in many ways, but not in the way of past lovers or romantic interests, she was a ghost in those regards.

The little bullet notes on her from when she first joined SHIELD, things that he supposed shrinks and doctors had put down in her file, still stood out quite well in his mind.

Subject: Natalia Alianovna Romanova
Age: 20

-Assassination
-Espionage
-Seduction
-Infiltration
-Apathetic
-Indoctrinated

The first four had been Natasha's basic skillset for the KGB, and then for SHIELD, the last two he concluded were one worded notes from whom he assumed were psychologists. That last one had always set him a little off-kilter with her, but not so thoroughly until the incident in Samara a few months back when she had very nearly been forced into it all over again. Seeing the effects of the attempted 'Re'indoctrination had been the moment where he finally accepted that who she was, the way she was, it was all for good reason.

All that considered, he still didn't think she was right about this particular circumstance, because around Bruce, she was less apathetic and more empathetic and it was the only other reason he had actually started to grow fond of Natasha. Not enough people bothered to see past the monster that lurked inside the rather mellow scientist that he had befriended easily enough, and not a single one ever dared to take most of the liberties that the woman next to him had, not even himself; though he certainly pushed some of the boundaries when he got the opportunities to do so.

Tony heard the main door open and he could tell that Natasha noticed it too. Her hand had inched under her pillow for a brief moment before she eased it back onto her lap with nothing to show for the maneuver. He knew it had been a reflex for her to reach for whatever weapon she likely had hidden beneath the pillow, but that did add to the uneasiness he felt when he saw her do it. Apparently even in his tower, where she was likely as safe as humanly possible, old habits died hard.

"He doesn't have to get over it, you know?" Tony questioned quickly. He watched her eyes as they shifted from the bedroom doorway to him, but if she agreed, he couldn't tell one way or the other. He gave her a nonchalant shrug as he stood up, "Just saying, whether he does or not is up to you."

Natasha didn't give him a reaction, visibly or verbally, but she was shivering after a moment. He pulled the blanket over her shoulders and thought he heard a mumbled, "Thanks..." as she pulled it tighter around her. He sighed as he walked out and met Bruce in the hallway.

"I don't see any stab wounds," came his friend's immediate joke.

"Still a few more hours in the day," Tony answered that with a false grin, and it was an effort to hide the conversation he had just had with Natasha from one of his only friends. He leaned over and took a whiff of the soup in Bruce's hands and at least that gave him a reason not to bring it up, "Good God, you're not actually going to feed that to her are you?"

Bruce rolled his eyes at the comment, "She ate it this morning."

He whistled and blew out a breath of disbelief, "She's a better woman than I."

His friend was giving him a rather dumbfounded look. "Well, you have the wrong anatomy to be a better woman than her," Bruce deadpanned.

Tony snickered at that but the next fit of coughs in the other room resounded and he moved aside for Bruce to head in there, "Have fun." The reality was, he was pretty sure had had just made this more uncomfortable for them by acknowledging to Natasha that he had noticed. He was going to have learn to keep his mouth shut around her a little bit more.

It wasn't that she hadn't noticed Bruce's reactions to her on occasion, it was just something that Natasha had chosen to ignore. She was trained to notice the reaction she had on people and she wasn't so pathetic as to not know that she was the type of woman to draw attraction without any real attempts at it. It was, however, a bit of a surprise when Bruce had shown the signs. He usually seemed rather indifferent around her in the beginning, a little flustered by her occasional stunts of being half-dressed, but nothing more. It wasn't until she showed up in Bahir to tell him to come back to the tower that it really made an impression on her.

It was mostly little moments like that, that she hadn't put too much stock into, not until there was that moment earlier where his heart had been racing. The truth was, she was a little unsure of what to do about it, because telling him she knew was definitely not going to work in her favor, and backing off even a bit would likely make Bruce think she was ending this semblance of a friendship they had only just now formed.

With Tony and Bruce talking in the hall, she had a few moments to think it over and come to a conclusion; the conclusion being that she had somewhat lied to Tony. Yes, Bruce's new attraction to her did complicate matters, but it also worked in her favor, and her life of training in these matters came to a more rapid process of it all.

The attraction was more of an advantage than it was a drawback, mostly because she was approximately ninety-eight percent certain that Bruce wasn't nearly forward or bold enough to make a move on her. Loathed as she was to admit it, that microscopic and sudden interest in her on a more-than-friendly manner would actually help them get closer. It was horrible to turn Bruce into some sort of mission like that, but it was the easiest way she could process this entire fiasco, at least without having it turning into a spectacular failure at both friendship and trust.

She was more inclined to keep his friendship and manipulate whatever feelings he grew for her into something that would work out better in the long run. That was the thought that left a sour taste in her mouth and almost instantly the violent fit of coughs decided to ruin her moment of being alone and left to the inner-workings of her mind.

It brought Bruce into her room and into a sitting position beside her that was much closer than Tony's had previously been. It took another moment for her to notice that something was being held out in front of her, and then another before she took the offending object into her own hands. She took a sip from the glass of water and caught Tony's eye as he glanced in from the hallway, then she watched as the billionaire disappeared altogether. More bridges were going to be burned if she screwed this up.

"You alright?"

Natasha glanced over at Bruce when his words finally invaded her senses and she gave him the barest of smiles. "Sure..." it was a bald-faced lie, but he didn't seem to notice, or maybe he was just ignoring it.

"Still cold?"

"Freezing," was her honest reply.

He handed the bowl of soup over, "Maybe this will help."

She took traded the water for the soup without hesitation, and even took a few hated spoonfuls.

"I was thinking that besides this, there are better ways for us to work on the whole friendship thing," came his next comment. That hollow little pang hit her again, but she said nothing of it and merely gave him a curious glance. "You talk to me, I talk to you," he offered up a bit hesitantly. "No matter what, and we're honest with each other," and that made it so much worse, "What do you think?"

The make or break moment was right there. Manipulate the feelings, hope it works out, or tell him the truth, and ruin the friendship before it even really got to start.

Ruining the friendship would wreck her chances of ever helping him.

Manipulating the feelings had equally as unpleasant side-effects and outcomes.

But manipulation also held the best chance of success.

"Figure you can answer that by answering this..." She wasn't sure she was ready to start now. "How's the soup?"

Moment of truth...

"Tastes like shit..." Natasha figured she was screwed either way, so she might as well try to get somewhere with it.

Bruce gave her a rather endearing shit-eating grin in response, "Well, that's about as honest as it gets."

"You asked..."

"So how do you really feel?"

Well, he wanted honest, "About as shitty as the soup tastes," but she took a few more spoonfuls anyways.

Bruce laughed at that, "Well... glad you're eating it regardless of that minor detail."

The chill that coursed through her now, courtesy of the ridiculous fever, shook her hands and Bruce's settled over hers to steady them before she spilled it. Then there was the matter of that racing pulse, she could feel it immediately and she quickly removed herself from that situation by putting the bowl in his hands.

Freezing was putting it mildly, and she had half a mind to try her shower stunt again, though it hardly helped her feeling any semblance of warmth the last time, so she shoved the idea to the backburner.

Instead she just laid down and tucked herself into the covers and wished the chills away. Apparently, the flu cared nothing of your nationality; Natasha was Russian, she was used to the cold, it never bothered her.

Being unable to shake the cold feeling made her want to strangle somebody.

"I'll go."

She shot her hand out and grabbed his wrist before he ever got the chance to move and she felt that pulse racing again and it was a horrible thing to ask, but she was freezing and the words came out before her brain told her it was wrong, "Could you stay?"

Bruce looked well and thoroughly confused by the request and it seemed to take his genius mind a moment to comprehend what she actually meant. Eventually his IQ came to his rescue and shoved the meaning into his head because he got a little flustered.

"Nevermind..." she added quickly, she never should have asked that.

It was clearly too late for take-backs, because Bruce put the bowl of soup down on the end table and awkwardly maneuvered himself over to her side, and she was just cold enough to take advantage of that. She shifted more towards the center, tugged him further into the bed, and then pulled his arm over her as she laid her head on his chest.

Now his heart was pounding in her ear, but she'd be damned, she was warmer.

He was quiet for a bit too long before he finally spoke, "Um... b-better?"

"Yes..."

Chills-wise anyways. Now she felt terrible for completely different reasons. And she felt not just worse, but also weirder when she realized that at some point, she had fallen asleep. When she slowly blinked her eyes open and saw the clock over his chest, it read 12:03am.

Bruce had never left.

He had let Natasha use him for body warmth for the last nine or ten hours that she slept. That was the part that made her feel worse, and when she glanced over at him, he was fast asleep.

The part that made her feel weird, was the part where she hadn't dreamed or had nightmares, not even the smallest of them whatsoever. There was nothing good, although there was never anything good, but nothing bad either.

It was the first time she ever slept so long and the first time in her life that woke up feeling somewhat rested.

And that rattled her to her core, because now she felt like maybe this manipulation into friendship was going to be less of a manipulation. She was never that comfortable with someone before in her life, and she quickly disentangled herself from him and inched as far to the other side of the bed as humanly possible. There wasn't really an escape for her. It was her bed.

This wasn't good at all.

It was a web of her own design, except she caught herself in it rather than the intended target and she should have ended it, but now it was too late. Natasha turned her back to him just in time, because she knew that he woke up when the air shifted with his sudden awareness. She closed her eyes in an instant, felt his eyes on her back for a minute, and then he awkwardly vacated his place on the bed after he wrongly deemed that she was still asleep. She listened to his footsteps as they retreated and she didn't move until she heard the main door of her personal space open and close.

The breath of relief shuddered through her in an instant.

Now she would just have to pretend none of that ever happened and that was something she knew she could easily do.

Hmmm... uh-oh. Some plans backfire spectacularly, don't they?