Author's Note: Alright, well... needless to say you guys completely blew up the last chapter at the speed of light. So, I hope this next one came equally as fast for all of you!
Welcome to the story Golfbabe87 and Fritae. You picked a good time to enter the fray xD
Chapter 19:
It took what felt like ages before Tony searched and realized Bruce wasn't actually in his room. Jarvis had to inform him that Bruce had come out of the room two minutes and twenty-two seconds before Natasha and had made an instant beeline for the lab. He did what he originally intended to do when he came to the shared floor of the two and quickly located and removed several of the planted devices from Bruce's quarters.
"Jarvis, can you alert Natasha to the ones in her own quarters?" he questioned his AI.
"No need, sir. Miss Romanoff is already doing so."
Tony supposed he should have known she would be, but it never hurt to make sure. He made his way back to the elevator and pushed the button to bring him back to the lab. That was exactly where he found his friend. Bruce looked crestfallen and confused at his desk with his hands over his face and Tony frowned before he dragged his chair over and took a seat next to him, "So, want to tell me what happened?"
"Not really..."
"Well you might need to anyways," Tony informed him. "I saw Red and she looked..." and that was the problem right there. Natasha had looked not just neutral, but beyond neutral, something he hadn't quite seen on her before. When he first saw her escaping Bruce's room, his natural assumption had been that she had done something to Bruce, but when she had unknowingly and quite nearly run directly into him; her face had told him it was, in fact, the other way around. His initial thoughts with these two were that it was Natasha who would make the mistake and hurt Bruce, he hadn't imagined that the odd scientist before him now actually had to power to instead hurt her, "Did you sleep with her?"
"What?! No! That's not even—no! Not like that..." Bruce rubbed disparagingly at his face and his shoulders had a haggard slump to them that Tony hadn't seen in quite a while. Natasha had driven the haggardness out of the man in the more recently with her friendship, until the last several days when something seemed to have shifted, particularly last night. His friend was typically a little more upbeat, a little more down to earth, hell, Bruce even smiled on multiple occasions lately. It was something he had gotten so used to seeing that this disgruntled mess of a man in front of him was downright worrisome.
Not like that? Tony frowned at that and watched his friend carefully. "I'm failing to see what you could have possibly done to her then that you have this wounded look on your face. See, first I thought Natasha did something..."
"She didn't do anything," Bruce defended instantly.
"Yeah, I figured that out, but thanks for proving me right," Tony replied with a roll of his eyes. Still, he could see that Bruce was flustered on an entirely new level than the norm for his best friend and the realization hit him within seconds, "She kissed you." A shake of the head and Tony rethought it, "You kissed her."
Nothing.
That dreadful silence said it all and Tony groaned. Natasha was certainly wrong. She had quite obviously failed in her attempt to make Bruce 'get over it'. He could have slapped Bruce for this level of stupidity, "Please tell me that you did not kiss her and then take off." More silence. "You did... you—you kissed and ran. Bruce, you do not kiss a woman and run away, have you completely lost your mind?"
"I wasn't—I didn't..." Bruce was mumbling and rambling unintelligibly, "She was just—she was so close...it just happened..."
"Well, why did you run? Did she push you away? Kick you? Threaten you with bodily harm?"
"No..."
Tony narrowed his eyes a little before his next question, one he thought to be what likely transpired, "Did she just sort of sit there like a stiff board?" Bruce shook his head at that and the question Tony wished he had asked earlier finally formed from his brain to his voice, "Did she kiss you back?"
There was a slow nod.
"So—she didn't smack you, or slap you, or stab you, or threaten to maim you for it in any way then?" Tony questioned. He felt like he needed to be certain, especially given Natasha's previous attitude about this attraction that Bruce seemed to have for her.
Bruce shook his head.
Tony sighed, "You're an idiot..." It seemed that the 'attraction' wasn't all that one-side like he originally assumed it was. Even Tony had to admit to being surprised that she went with it, she didn't strike him as the type to be interested in someone like Bruce; someone who was broken, who was quiet and a generally good person. Current situation not included...
"I panicked..." came Bruce's haggard voice, "I got—I went a little green..." he embarrassingly explained. Oh crap... Then another sad and distressed look came across his face, "Wait... you saw her? Was she mad?"
Tony opened his mouth to answer that, but the truth was, he wasn't sure what Natasha had felt over it. He closed his mouth again and pursed his lips as he tried to debate the best answer. "Hard to say," he finally answered, "She didn't say anything, I didn't ask."
"Why not?"
It was a good question, and he only had one answer, "I couldn't read her, plus...I don't think I'm her favorite person right now," he admitted, not daring to mention that it was more likely Bruce might have just dropped below himself on the 'likable' scale that Natasha internally hid in the back of her mind. "She was a little more..." he paused to try and think of the word but he couldn't find anything to foot the bill, so he simply changed the statement entirely, "Her expression was a little more lacking than usual." This wasn't good, it wasn't good at all and his question from earlier finally rose out, "You said you didn't sleep with her like that... what did you mean?"
And Bruce's face was beet red all over again, "I need some air..."
"Whoa—whoa, whoa, whoa! Bruce!" Tony called out quickly, "Was she in your bed? You're sleeping with her, but—but not 'sleeping' with her?"
Bruce looked horrified at having given away something that was so clearly personal, not just to himself, but to Natasha as well. Tony wasn't entirely sure he blamed him for that as he made a horrible attempt to sort of fight off a smirk, "So uh... tell me then. How uh—how long have you been, you know... Platonically sharing your bed with our resident master assassin?"
"Air... I was—I was going for air."
"Bruce," he called again, all teasing gone from his tone as he grabbed hold of Bruce's arm. "Fix it," was the only thing Tony could really think to say. "You went a little green, you ran... just explain it. She'll understand if you do."
But Bruce just shook his head at that, "I don't know how to explain that. I—I don't know how to fix it..." and he tugged his arm away and disappeared into the elevator down the hall.
Tony sighed as he tried to decide what to do next, because he couldn't imagine Bruce trying to deal with this anytime soon, and knowing Natasha she wouldn't either. "Jarvis?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Where's Natasha? Still in her room?"
"Miss Romanoff entered the lounge several minutes ago."
Tony gave it a few seconds before he blew out a breath, "Well... suppose there's less of a chance she strangles me for egging this thing on with Bruce if she's already got vodka in her hand, right?"
There was silence from his AI for several beats before Jarvis responded, "I don't think you have near the ability you think you do to influence Miss Romanoff's decisions."
"Gee, thanks, J-man."
"A pleasure, as always, sir."
Tony sincerely doubted that Natasha wanted his company but that didn't stop him from making his way to the lounge and placing himself on the seat beside her at the bar. The redhead didn't even spare him a glance as she sipped at the clear liquid in her rather large glass. He wasn't entirely sure where to even start this conversation with her, let alone if he even should, he just knew that bringing up the 'fence' theory he had with her was the only thing he shouldn't do.
He hoped maybe she would at least acknowledge his presence but even that came to be a fleeting thought when she emptied the glass in her hand, refilled it, and began sipping again. Right on her temple were a few speckled spots of red that he associated to likely be from the glass of the shattered window on his own floor. Her arms had a few small splotches of purples and blues marring the skin and he could see another larger one trailing at the small amount of her collarbone that he could see from the top of her shirt.
Natasha likely knew he was scoping out her injuries, but even so, she remained vigilant in her silence. The refilled glass of vodka was nearly halfway empty again, and although he had seen her through back quite a few, this was more than he had ever seen from her. Tony supposed he didn't need to inform her that silent, impassive and well on her way to drunk didn't exactly reek of the stoicism she was pretending to have in this very moment.
Frankly, he didn't think she really cared about that either, which was a little more unsettling. It seemed that her plan was to get well and unbelievably smashed, especially given the rate of consumption. That glass was meant for mixed beverages, certainly not for an entire glass of vodka alone, and she was now refilling it a second time in five minutes.
"Natasha."
She capped the bottle and sipped at the drink, eyes dead set on the wall behind the bar, still ignoring his presence even after he finally spoke. Tony wasn't sure if he should defend Bruce's running away, try to explain his running away, or just sit here silently and let her drink it off. She finished the third glass at faster pace and when her hand reached for the bottle, he watched as she shook it, saw that it was empty and then she sighed.
He went with defend and explain, "He wasn't trying to hurt you—"
The bottle shattered in her hands and he grimaced at not just the sheer force that must have taken, but the fact that she was now not only bleeding, but had a rather large shard of the bottle in her palm. Natasha plucked it out without so much as a wince, tossed it expertly into the tiny trash bin on the opposite side of the bar, then stared at the damage.
Tony stood up and pulled a wad of napkins over that lay on the bar before he pressed the clump of them over her hand.
"You know, being here is sort of like an emotional roller coaster," she finally spoke, and much to his surprise, she didn't pull her hand away. Apparently, smashing the bottle with her bare hands had been cathartic, at least a little. She also slurred just a little, it was the first time he heard that, and she must have threw back a few before he had ever arrived. That was unnerving given the fact he had only been about ten minutes behind her entry into the lounge. "I don't like the ride," she added next.
Natasha still hadn't looked at him, but even he had to say that alcohol wasn't that fast at getting someone drunk, and she had the tolerance of a rather large mammal when it came down to it. "Nobody does, just that most people don't notice that they're on them," he offered with a shrug.
She looked rather indifferent at that, "Well, I pride myself on avoiding said roller coasters."
"Can't avoid them all," he told her quietly. He finally dared the question, "Are you drunk?"
"Not yet."
"You're slurring."
She paused at that for a moment, shrugged indifferently, then answered, "I'm concussed."
He blew out a breath at that, "Wonderful...anything else?"
Natasha lifted her shirt for him to see that the bruise at her collarbone he noted before went all the way down to her hip, "Think I had a bad landing with the Big Guy."
"Did you tell Bruce?" he questioned, prodding the ugly coloring gently with his fingertips.
"No." Her eyes remained fixed on the wall, "Pretty sure if that kiss didn't send him sailing off to India, this might. And it wasn't exactly the Big Guy's fault anyways, I'm lucky that I'm not a splattered mural of blood and guts on the pavement."
Tony supposed that was fair enough, "That could be...you know, bleeding internally."
"I'm not." He settled her with a look until she finally turned her eyes on him, "Fine. I'll saddle you with my best kept secret, Tony."
He was honestly afraid of what that might be, "Something not in your file?"
She shook her head, "Not everything went into SHIELD's file on me. There are things I don't tell anyone, besides Clint."
"And you're going to just share it with me?"
Natasha inclined her head a bit to the side, "Only so you don't go running to Bruce, he's got enough to deal with right now."
He narrowed his eyes a little at that, but conceded to the point, it was just strange to realize she cared that much. He hadn't seen exactly how much until she shattered the vodka bottle at the mere mention of his friend. Bruce affected Natasha much more than she had ever let on, maybe even to herself. "Alright... but only if I think you're right and that you're fine."
She nodded a little at that. "Also, don't bother asking if I'm drunk, you have no idea how much that would actually take," she informed him, "I've never gotten more than a buzz."
He opened his mouth to speak but she gave him a look that forced his silence.
"I was injected with a variation of the supersoldier serum," she finally told him.
That floored him, completely and utterly, Tony wasn't sure how to respond.
Natasha merely shrugged as though it weren't all that impressive, "It's a pretty shabby version really, if you compare me to Steve. Mister 'heals fatal injuries in days, can't catch a cold, can't even get a buzz' Rogers. But I can push through most of the same injuries like it's nobody's business."
"You had the flu..." Tony couldn't help but point out that little tidbit of information.
"Mmhm."
He gave her a look of disbelief, "You can barely get drunk, but you can get the flu?"
She chuckled, "It was a potent strain, I'll give it that. Never actually got sick before, not since I was little. Had my spleen removed when I was nine. Internal bleeding due to being on the wrong end of a wooden kendo stick."
Tony felt a little piece of him just shred at that comment.
"Don't give me that look," she waved him off, "They only give the surgeries to the best," and she sneered out the last word like it was venom. "Anyways, no spleen makes me more prone to infections, otherwise, I'd be golden."
He openly stared at her with that.
She smirked, "Come on, did you even hear me so much as sniffle or cough after that third day when I came into the lab and helped out with the Hulkbuster suit?"
Tony hated to admit it but she was right. Not once did he hear or see any remnants of the flu that had bedridden her for three days. She just got up on day three and moved around like it never happened.
"What? Nothing to say to that?"
He waited a beat, "So you're a superspy?"
Natasha's lips quirked into a slanted smile, "Nothing super about me. I'm just...me. Whoever that is these days, since I can't even figure it out anymore."
Control was a valued commodity for someone like her and Tony knew it. Whatever this thing was with Bruce had thrown her completely out of whack, at least for the moment. "Alright... I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt that you know that 'shabby serum' better," he finally agreed. "Now about Bruce—"
"I'm not talking about that."
She sounded pretty keen on that and he sighed a little, "Just, let me talk here this time?"
She didn't stab him with any of the broken pieces of the vodka bottle, so he supposed that meant it was safe to continue, but then she foiled his plan with her words, "Look, Bruce and I, we're alright." He must have given her a look of disbelief because she continued, "It was a mistake. I'm not angry with Bruce, not really."
"But you are angry?"
"At myself."
That didn't make sense. "Why would you be angry with yourself? He kissed you," he reminded her.
Natasha rolled her eyes, "I was there. I remember." She tugged her napkin wrapped hand from his and pulled the sticky clump away to peer underneath. He noted that it was almost done bleeding, which was actually impressive given how large it was. "Hand me a few more napkins?" and he did. Tony watched as she wrapped them a little more neatly than his former clump job before she spoke again, "I'm angry at myself because it was stupid. I said I wasn't going there and then—then I did. I let emotions cloud my judgment and it won't happen again."
"Natasha, emotions aren't a bad thing," Tony tried to explain to her.
She scrunched her nose up a little in distaste, "My line of work, they get you killed." Tony frowned a little at that as she stood up and headed towards the elevator, "Just tell Bruce that me and him are fine."
"One question!"
"Just one?" she threw back with a more amused look for the first time in their conversation.
He chuckled, "If you can't get drunk, why drink at all?"
She didn't even have to think about it, "I said I never have, I didn't say it couldn't happen. The getting a buzz thing is still alright enough. And if you tell anyone my secret, you won't have to wonder if I'll kill you with whatever is handy next time, you know I will."
He frowned a little at that. He hated secrets. He did, however, value his life. "Wait, wait, wait!" he called out. "One more question!"
Natasha turned with one hand on her hip as she settled him with a quirked eyebrow, "I knew there couldn't be just one."
"How old are you really?"
She smirked, "That's one thing that hasn't changed."
"Well, that's good. I'm not sure what I would do if you were actually an old woman, those fantasies I had from your PA days would have become really awkward," he quipped.
Bruce wasn't sure what he expected when he went into the common kitchen of the tower, but seeing Natasha at the table wrapping bandages around her hand wasn't near the top of the list. He almost turned around and ran right back out before he remembered that she was perceptive, she already knew he was there, and running again would probably seal the nail on the coffin of a friendship he had already screwed up earlier this morning. There was also the added fact that the gash on her hand required a lot more than bandages, though she seemed to have decided otherwise.
It was an internal fight right now to decide if he should say something, go about his business like nothing was wrong, or leave. Natasha didn't seem to be interested in talking, in fact, she wasn't even acknowledging his presence. Worse than that was that he could smell vodka from the doorway of the kitchen.
He supposed that being nervous and fidgety about this entire thing was with good and sound reason, for those few seconds he had actually looked at her face before he bolted, she had no mask on. Bruce had seen the slightly hurt look that crossed her face when he took off and that only served to make all of this worse. It wasn't that he thought she was unfeeling but he never expected any of that to happen. He definitely never would have dreamed she might return the sentiment, let alone the suddenness he had kissed her with, yet she had done both with an equally sudden fervor.
Bruce finally settled with moving towards her and taking the half-bandaged hand into his own. He was sure she could and would have stopped him if she actually wanted to, so he wasn't too fearful of her in that moment, but she still wasn't looking at him. "What happened?" he finally asked quietly, unwrapping the job that she had accomplished. "You didn't have this when..." he trailed off on that when it left a small pang of regret. When I kissed you...when you kissed me back...when I ran away...
Natasha was quiet only for a moment longer before her eyes shifted and met his. Nothing. He couldn't read her, not in the way she normally allowed him to at any rate. "Got glass in my hand," she finally answered.
He had a feeling there was more to it than that, but he didn't have it in him to push, and he didn't exactly feel like he had the right to at the moment. "It needs stitches, not just bandages..."
"I'm aware."
Maybe he didn't have a right to be doing any of this at all if the frigidness creeping into her voice was any indication. "Okay—okay... well, just wait here a second..." he told her quietly before he left the kitchen. Bruce wasn't sure that she would still be there when he came back with the tiny suture kit from the lab, but she was, eyes vacantly staring at the wall before they moved back to him. Just to make things more awkward, Steve was there, frying bacon and eggs.
"Morning, Doctor Banner."
"Uh...morning, Captain," Bruce offered in return before he moved to drag a chair next to Natasha. He sat down and set the kit down, setting up the sutures before he pulled her hand back into his.
If Steve was at all surprised to see someone getting stitches at the kitchen table, it certainly didn't show, but his comment was surprising, "You get that during the window crash, Romanoff?"
Bruce could see Natasha giving the supersoldier's back a dirty look and he frowned as he looked over at her, "Window crash?" The last thing he remembered before Hulking out was the bullet about to be shot into Natasha, not even a fragment of what happened afterwards.
"Nothing," Natasha stated quickly, "Just stitch it up."
He could see the odd look that Steve was giving the redhead and that only made Bruce frown more, "Jarvis?"
"Yes, Doctor?"
"Show me."
Natasha blew out a sigh when Jarvis responded with, "Of course, Doctor."
He watched the feed from the room, watched Natasha get pulled off the roof, even watched as his greener half nose-dived over the edge a moment later. Bruce watched the feed switch to Tony's floor where Pepper was, then watched as the Big Guy came smashing through the window, releasing the grip on the redhead as she hit the floor. It looked painful and watching her roll across the floor and struggle to stand was worse. But then his angrier half turned on Pepper with a sudden hostility and Bruce was afraid of what might happen up until Natasha stepped in between them.
He turned his head back to Natasha, "He hurt you."
"He saved my life," she corrected.
"She's right," Steve piped up from the stove. "If it wasn't for The Hulk, she would be dead on the pavement, not sitting in the kitchen."
Bruce watched as Natasha inclined her head in Steve's direction with apparent agreement. He was quiet as he pushed through the last couple of stitches before snipping the end of it. The Other Guy had practically thrown her when he landed, hurt her, how could she possibly kiss him back after that? He tossed everything back into the bag before he picked up the bandage and re-wrapped it around her hand.
"Bruce..." her voice was soft again, gentle, and he couldn't deal with that. He tied the end of the bandage off before he stood up and retreated to the elevator.
He didn't make a very grand escape when Natasha squeezed through the elevator doors at the last possible second and he looked anywhere but at her. It was effective right up until the part where she slammed her palm on the emergency stop button and jolted them both a little with the sudden loss of velocity.
"You're not being fair to him, Bruce," she stated quickly, "The Big Guy did his best, he didn't mean for any of that. He was saving me, not hurting me."
"But he did hurt you."
Those peerless green eyes settled him with a not-so-friendly look now, one that reeked of the unspoken words, so did you. He grimaced at that and looked to the floor, but her fingertips settled on his chin and raised his head ever so slightly until his eyes were back to greeting hers. "Things happen, Bruce. Sometimes those things aren't what we meant to have happen, but they do happen," she said softly.
Natasha didn't look angry, or upset, or hurt. She just looked like she understood, and somehow that just made it all worse. "I didn't mean to..."
"I know," she told him before he could finish. The heat rose to his face in an instant when her hand came to rest with a ghost-like touch on his cheek, "People make mistakes, Bruce. You made one, I made one, and now we get past it."
"Just like that?" he questioned.
She gave a small nod as she retracted her hand, "Just like that."
She moved her hand to hit the button of the elevator once more but he stopped her quickly. "And we—we're okay?" he finally dared to ask.
Natasha turned to look at him but once more, he found it near impossible to read her expression again, even as she nodded.
"Because... you don't look like we're okay," he added quietly. She pushed the switch anyway and Bruce released a frustrated breath. He followed her off the elevator when it opened up to their floor and finally spoke again, "Natasha, maybe we should just talk about—"
She turned to him again with that unreadable face and he frowned at her words, "There's nothing left to talk about, I thought I made that clear, but if you keep bringing it up then I might change my mind about us being okay."
Bruce nodded just barely at those words, "Then... what about Niko Constantin?"
"What about him?"
"A few months ago he was trying to capture you, make you flip sides," Bruce reminded her. "So why the sudden change of heart? Why try to kill you now?" It was the one question eating at him since he walked onto that rooftop.
Natasha shook her head, "It wasn't about killing me." She sounded pretty sure but it didn't change the fact that it almost happened, "He had an ulterior motive. I just...haven't figured out what it is yet."
"Something besides the sudden desire to shoot you dead?" he questioned and he winced a little just at the thought of it all over again.
She sighed a little and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jeans, "Killing me was an afterthought. I just happened to be standing in the way of his escape route," she explained. Her eyes narrowed a little as her head tilted to the side slightly and he could see her brain working at a mile a minute. "He was planting bugs, all over the tower," she finally told him. "I pulled several from my room, Jarvis said Tony snagged three from yours."
"Mine?"
Natasha nodded.
"When?" Her face said it all and he rubbed at his eyes, "So...after?"
"Yeah." She rolled the stiffness from her shoulders as she leaned against the wall, "Intel gathering at that massive of a scale? Tony's been yanking bugs all morning from a lot of different places in the tower," she informed him. "You don't go that in depth for a personal vendetta. He had an hour long open window to take me out when I was alone after I left the party," she explained with a shake of her head, "This was something else."
Bruce frowned at that, "Ross?"
Natasha inclined her head a little but she didn't agree or disagree, "You know him better than I do. I've only had one run-in with the guy, though admittedly, I wanted to punch him in the face even then."
He chuckled a little at that before he ran his hand through his hair, "I don't know for sure. I mean, maybe. It wasn't coincidence that he was there when your guy—you know..."
"Yeah, I remember," came her dry response. "Jarvis, don't suppose Tony has you trying to back-trace these devices to see where the info is being fed?"
"He is, Miss Romanoff. Though, I've also noted that you are attempting the same thing from your own computer."
Bruce smiled a little at that.
"Yep," was her simple response to Jarvis' words, "Going any better for you?"
"Unfortunately, no results yet."
She nodded her head a little at that, "Yeah... get the feeling if we do get any results, they won't lead anywhere." She scrunched up her nose slightly before her eyes came back to meet his, "I'll figure this all out, Bruce."
He really wanted to believe that, but so far they hadn't had a whole lot of luck when it came to Ross or Niko, specifically Niko who seemed to be the one to continuously nose around in their business. "Was there a bug on the floor that you and the...Other Guy... crashed into?" he asked. When she nodded he sighed, "Video or audio?"
"Both."
"So they saw—"
She nodded again, "The lullaby. Yeah..." Natasha seemed to know what he was thinking, "It's a little late to worry about it all now, Bruce. Whatever they hoped to accomplish with those bugs, I get the feeling they got more than they expected in a few short hours."
"Seeing the lullaby?" Her eyes shifted away just slightly, "And the ki—Natasha...I'm really sorry."
"Yeah, me too," and now Bruce knew for sure they weren't 'okay'. She still had her hands stuffed into her pockets as she walked away and disappeared behind the door to her room. Maybe he should have emphasized on the apology a little better.
That kiss had been... amazing, unintentional, but amazing.. He rubbed at his temples as he leaned against the wall and sat on the floor. This was all one giant disaster and he wasn't lying when he told Tony he didn't know how to fix it. He just needed to come up with something, something that would make it all really be okay, he just didn't know what that something was yet.
:)