Nat wrung her hair out and hung the towel up in the bathroom. She eyed a tank top she had dug out of the pile on the planning table. She hadn't worn it since arriving on the island. It had spaghetti straps, not like the ones she usually wore. It would show her scars. That was the whole point, wasn't it? Letting him see them? She pulled it over her head and tried to breathe through the anxiety that accompanied it.

Bruce had breakfast ready outside. He had plucked some bright orange and yellow flowers and put them into one of their wooden cups. Of course, he would be a romantic.

"Feel better?" he asked as she approached.

"Much," she smiled. He sat across from her and began serving himself food.

"You didn't go green last night," she mentioned casually as she set about serving herself. "Were you ever worried?"

"When do you mean? During the fun part, or the not so fun part?"

"Both," Natasha smiled wryly.

"The uh, fun part," Bruce's cheeks reddened. "I was a bit worried. I haven't tried anything . . . like that for a while."

"And?"

"I think I've come a ways since I first met the other guy," he shrugged evasively.

"And the other part?" Nat asked, hiding her enjoyment at his discomfort.

"Well, let's just say I had a compelling reason to keep my cool," his eyes twinkled as he said it.

Now it was Nat's turn to blush. "That's good," she stumbled.

They ate in silence for a few minutes.

"What made you change your mind?" Nat broke the silence.

"Huh?" Bruce asked.

"I was chasing you so hard before Ultron. You wanted nothing to do with me. Then last night. . .What gives?"

"Ok, I didn't want nothing to do with you," Bruce countered. "I honestly didn't believe you were interested."

"Really?"

"I thought you were flirting!"

"I was," she smiled. "A lot."

"Yeah, I just thought, I don't know. That it was normal or something."

"You thought I was easy? Flirted with any old guy who came along?"

"Steve might have mentioned something along those lines. . ."

"Excuse me!?" Her eyes flashed.

"No, no! He didn't, I meant to say, it wasn't like that—" Bruce spluttered. "He uhh, just mentioned that you guys had, uhh, worked together, and he, uhh, I don't know—"

"Oh my god. The look on your face right now," she crowed with laughter while he glared at her. "We worked together right after New York—that was when we found out Hydra had infiltrated SHIELD. When we were on the run there were a few times where posing as a couple meant evading detection."

"So you didn't. . ."

"I'm not sure what idea Rogers got," Nat replied smoothly, "but I prefer my men a little less. . . peppy."

Bruce spat out his coffee and covered his mouth with his hand to hide his laughter.

"If you ever tell him I said that I will deny it," Nat threatened him across the table. He held up his hands in mock defeat.

"Ok, ok, your secret's safe with me," he chortled.

"But that doesn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"Why did you change your mind?"

"Oh. Uhh, I mean, I never didn't want to be with you."

"Oh?" Nat raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, not that I was in love or anything!" Bruce backpedaled. "I mean, not that I wouldn't be, it just uhh—"

"I'm messing with you." Nat deadpanned.

"Ok, yes, well," Bruce stammered. "I just didn't think it would ever happen. Like, ever. Just. . . it didn't seem in the realm of possibility."

"Why not?"

"Are you serious?" he asked, his voice heavy with disbelief. "Natasha, look at you. Jesus. I meant what I said last night—you are this, this, this all-encompassing vibrant ideal of a human being. We were not—are not—in the same league."

"Are you calling yourself ugly?" Natasha leaned forward onto her hands and knees and crawled over to where he sat.

"No, I just, uhh. . ." Bruce faded out as Nat draped her leg over his lap, straddling him.

"Because if so," she whispered in his ear, "I have a bone to pick with you."

"You can pick however many bones you'd like," he breathed. Then he blushed, realizing what he had said. "I mean, uhh—"

She kissed him, not letting him finish his flustered sentence. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in closer. She smelled of shampoo and the bouquet of flowers that had sat on the crate between them, now forgotten.

After a moment, Nat pulled gently away. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "you ready to go practice?"

"What?" he asked, dazed.

"Come on," she stood up over him and held her hand out. "I think you could use some kickboxing right now."

"Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack. Come on big guy, up and at em."

He groaned, but let her drag him to his feet. He stood bent over for a second, waiting for the blood to return to his head. She was already walking briskly north along the beach when he looked up.

"Can't we have a break? Some sort of rest or something?" he asked as he followed her. "Last night was kind of exhausting."

"Work first, play later." She turned and looked at him through her lashes. "Unless you didn't want to play at all?"

Bruce reddened. "You are cruel."

"What else is new?" Nat laughed.

When they were a safe distance up the beach, she set her stance and held up her hands, ready to begin. He looked at her grudgingly again, clearly distracted, before holding up his fists and punching, once, twice, again.

Thirty-five minutes later and he was gasping as they sparred. Bruce had developed a leaner, wiry sort of muscling on the island, and he was starting to make Natasha actually have to work for her sparring victories.

He kicked her in her quad, hitting the mark right where he was supposed to. She smiled and hit him once in the ribs, again on his shoulder, once in his bicep, and then kicked him behind his knees, dropping him to the ground. It was all at fifty percent speed, but he groaned and pantomimed extreme pain anyways. Her 50% was still pretty damn hard.

"Take pity on an old man!" he exclaimed, breathing hard. The sand was wet beneath him—the tide had crept in while they worked, lapping just inches away from where he rested his elbow. It was a nice counter to the increasingly hot midday sun.

"Here," Nat reached out to help him up. He took her hand, but as he used it to haul himself up, he swiveled on his feet, whirling her around until she reeled backwards into the water, squealing.

"I can't believe you did that!" she shrieked, landing with a splash in the shallows. In a moment she was up, prowling towards him. He backed away slowly, but he was no match for her. She yanked him into the water, laughing maniacally as he fell.

"You're in for it now," he threatened, setting out after her.

They kept splashing each other, wading out further in the water until they were at waist height. Natasha tried to dunk Bruce, but he grabbed her around her legs and lifted her in the air instead. They both seemed to realize in the same moment how close they were to each other.

Bruce lowered her gently, sliding her along his front to slow her descent. When her feet touched the sand again, she didn't move away. She looked up at him to find him smiling. Nothing behind it, no second thoughts or inhibitions, just a happy smile. A playing in the ocean, laughing in the sun kind of smile. She leaned in and kissed him.

The kiss tasted of salt, and she could feel his lips grinning under hers still. After a minute, standing there in the water wasn't enough. Nat grabbed his hand and pulled him behind her, running back to the cabana. She giggled as she ran, sand flying beneath her feet, water dripping from her hair.

It was fast, and fun, and so simple—they shed their wet clothes as they went til they were down to their underwear and lying on the reed mattress inside the cabana, kissing once more. Bruce trailed his fingers down her neck and Natasha sighed, letting the buzzing feeling of it run through her body. Her heart raced and she was almost giddy, reveling in the simple pleasure of each touch. It was when she began reaching down towards his boxers that Bruce froze.

"Are you gonna go green?" Nat asked, suddenly cautious.

"No, it's not that, it's just—do you have a condom?"

"What?"

"A condom. We have to use one."

"I thought we covered this already."

"Not for that. I don't know—the radiation. I'm not sure if it's transmitted. . .that way. I've never tested."

Natasha rolled onto her back and peered at the ceiling. Of course. They lay there for a second, both mourning the moment, when Natasha sat up suddenly.

"What?" Bruce asked.

"We have a Quinjet parked right outside."

"You really think Tony Stark put condoms in a Quinjet?" Bruce asked, his voice thick with doubt. They looked at each other for a moment before simultaneously leaping to their feet and running outside. Of course he had.

It took them approximately 2 minutes to find them—in the compartment Tony had specially built for his suit. Natasha turned around, victorious with the foil packet in hand. Bruce smiled and reached for her again. Nat had forgotten how fun just kissing could be. Actually liking the person made it so much more enjoyable. After a minute, Bruce took her hand, ready to head back up to the cabana. Nat had a different idea.

She kissed him again, pressing her body against his and pushing gently, driving him backwards until he bumped into the planning table. Soon he had no choice but to lay back against the pile of clothes Nat had been sorting through earlier.

They never did end up making it back to the cabana.