Stacked with: Cluster

Individual Challenge(s): Red Wave [Y]; Happy Birthday; Gryffindor MC; Metahuman MC; Magical MC; New Fandom Smell; Old Shoes [Y]; Comics; In a Flash;

Representation(s): Bruce & Hermione allies; 9 Avengers fics; 50+ HP fics

Primary & Secondary Bonus Challenge(s): Jet Fuel

Word Count: 645

It had been a brutal fight. No one had expected Doom to put up such a fight, or for his minions to be so technically enhanced. Hermione's magic hadn't protected her as well as she'd hoped or expected – being an Avenger was harder than it looked, and it had looked pretty hard.

She approached the lab timidly. Bruce was working alone today, hunched over a pile of papers with a probably long-forgotten cup of tea off to the side. How he managed to find anything on that desk, she would never know.

She knocked, and his brow furrowed deeply when he saw her. He waved her in and she stepped in slowly. She wasn'tâ€Ĥ keen to admit to an injury, especially to Bruce.

"Could you do me a favor?" she asked quietly. He nodded, clearly upset, and she kept her voice calm. "I have a black eye," she said unnecessarily, "and a bit of a headache. I'd like to make sure there's no injury beyond the bruising."

"Of course," he said softly. As though his voice could make her headache any worse than it already was. "Would you like ibuprofen for the inflammation? It looks swollen already."

"Please," she sighed.

He leaned down and opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a large bottle of prescription-strength painkillers. He looked embarrassed and explained, "My metabolism is pretty high; I need a lot more than most people to feel the effects."

"Despite the healing factor?" Headache or no, she was curious at heart.

"Healing factor helps heal faster. It doesn't help with the pain."

"I'm sorry." She eyed his tea – full, just as she expected, and not steaming. "Do you mind if I use that to take some?"

"Use what?" She looked back at him and caught his gaze flitting away from hers. "Oh, sure." He passed her two tablets and she took them quickly, sipping from the mug his lips may or may not have been on in the hours before. It felt intimate, even more so when he leaned in to inspect the bruising. Their faces were inches apart and she felt deconstructed under his inspection.

"How does it look?" she asked almost breathily.

He made eye contact then and seemed to finally realize their proximity. "Pretty bad," he admitted, "but your pupils look alright. Do you have any bruise balm?"

"No," she said reluctantly. He hadn't moved away. "Would you like to help me make some?"

He hummed. "Sure, give me a second though." He leaned back and grabbed a pencil from his desk. "Can you follow this without moving your head?"

Familiar with concussion tests, she dutifully followed instructions.

"You seem fine except for the black eye." Hermione sighed gratefully. "Want to head to your lab?"

Like most of the research staff, they had individual labs decked out for their particular areas of study. She still worked in his lab occasionally, and he in hers. The company was good, even when they worked in silence. "Yes, let's."

He stood and offered her a hand to help her up. She very intentionally didn't react when their hands met. This idiotic crush was getting out of hand, but – did he just smile?

He didn't let go for a moment and she recognized the look in his eyes from when he'd been too focused to remember his tea. But he was always too focused to remember his tea, she thought ruefully. (Not on you, said a traitorously hopeful voice somewhere in the back of her mind.) She smiled, too, pulling herself up by his hand. She was close to his chest, their hands grasped between them, and she dropped his quickly.

"Thank you for the help," she murmured.

"Of course." He gestured for her to lead the way to her lab, and she could swear she felt his eyes raking over her from behind.