13. What Once Was Lost
It wasn't just pie in the park.
They did go back to Greenacre Park-nearly every day, in fact, if the weather allowed, to talk or to read or just to be quiet…and doze off on a bench, in Bruce's case-and they did have more apple pie-although he went off it slightly after he found out it came frozen from Costco.
"Did you honestly think they were baking pies from scratch in a snack bar?" Natasha asked, trying not to reveal her amusement at his disillusionment, but not quite succeeding because this was apparently something of a betrayal to him, and that was hilarious to her. "Anyway, does it matter if it's actually fresh if it tastes like it?"
Bruce's vaguely horrified expression only made her want to tease him more. Or ruffle his hair, though she resisted the urge and settled for the former.
"What's more American than apple pie and warehouse membership stores?"
"Only Steve Rogers and baseball," he replied with a heavy sigh.
Natasha smiled-at him and at an idea that came to her.
After the next morning's workout, he said, as usual, "Park for lunch?"
"Do we need to find a new one, since Greenacre let you down?" His mouth opened in retort, but before he could get it out, she went on, "Because if we do, I know one. A ballpark, anyway."
She produced two tickets.
"Are those Yankees tickets?"
"This afternoon's game. Are you game?"
He was, which both pleased and intrigued Natasha; she hadn't been sure he would go to as crowded a place as a major league baseball stadium, even though a day game wouldn't be as well attended as a night one. Then again, his most recent cities of residence, Rio de Janeiro, Kolkata, and New York City, weren't exactly sparsely populated, and it wasn't as if General Ross would be hunting for him at a Yankee game.
Nevertheless, she watched him closely on the train to the stadium and in the line to enter the ballpark. An uncomfortable expression crossed his features as he passed through the metal detector, which reminded her of the search at the Fridge. She grasped his wrist, ostensibly to keep from getting separated in the press of fans through the gates, but his pulse seemed to be beating at a normal rate, if slightly erratic when her fingers first closed around it.
Bruce must have understood her intention, because he said, "I was just thinking…it's funny, isn't it? They're trying to make sure no one's carrying a weapon, but they just let two people inside who are weapons."
"Your definition of funny and mine are kind of different," Natasha replied.
"Sorry." He tugged at the bill of the Yankees cap he apparently owned, pulling it lower down on his forehead.
She rubbed his wrist with the pad of her thumb. "Let's try to keep it light, shall we?"
Bruce didn't speak again till they found their seats-third base side, second deck, not great but not bad, either, on an unemployment budget. "I have to say, I'm kind of surprised you're a baseball fan."
"That's not technically true."
He let out a puff of laughter. "What does that mean, not technically true?"
"I don't watch baseball, but I have a fantasy team."
Had might be more accurate; the SHIELD league only got as far as the draft this year before there was no SHIELD league. Ignoring that, Natasha focused instead on Bruce's expression, which clearly said he found this even more surprising than her being a mere baseball fan.
She shrugged. "I like statistics and programming. I track player stats, and I wrote a program to help me pick a good team."
"You realize how incredibly nerdy that is, right?"
He looked boyish, with the ends of his hair curling out beneath the uncharacteristically casual baseball cap, brown eyes warm and glimmering in the sunlight.
Natasha watched grounds crew water down and rake the infield following batting practice. She propped her feet on the back of the as-yet empty seat in front of her, taking advantage of the chance to stretch her legs while she still could.
"Is it nerdy to always win, though?"
"What was the prize?"
"Cash."
But the real reward, she told him, was annoying her fellow agents who were true blue baseball fans. Grant Ward's killer jawline did this neat thing when he was irritated, and Coulson had a particularly good rant he trotted out after a couple of beers when she took the losers out for drinks, about how baseball wasn't a game of the mind, but all about the heart. His Field of Dreams speech, they called it.
"If you like programming," Bruce said after the game when they were on the train back to Manhattan, "I've got a kind of buggy one I wrote to organize some of my data."
This was definitely a change from the way he'd regarded her from a careful distance that first day she came to his lab and asked if he minded her staying at the Tower.
"I can take a look at it, but…you are aware if I help you out in the lab, we'll be doing exactly what Stark wanted."
Lovely lab assistant; she could practically read the words in Bruce's eyes.
"It'll be our secret," he said.
Natasha wasn't entirely sure how much that transpired in Avengers Tower actually was secret from Stark. She'd have to see what she could do to override his surveillance-but of course she didn't mention any of that to Bruce. He probably suspected, anyway.
He coded much the same way that he cooked: not quite as effectively, but just as sloppily. Debugging his program was only a morning's work, but she continued to come to the lab regularly afterward. She found it as much of a sanctuary as Greenacre Park with the sleek design and the background hum of computers and equipment. She was even learning to appreciate the opera arias Bruce played while he worked. She worked on her own projects, but more often than not when he wandered past her workstation he caught her fiddling with the fantasy baseball team she'd brought out of retirement, convincing Clint and Maria to do the same. "Just in time for the All-Star break," Bruce teased.
She realized with some surprise that her days had become so full that they'd turned into weeks, slipping by almost without her noticing. It was July.
Steve came to stay at the Tower. Unlike her, he didn't show up unexpectedly and put anyone on the spot, but called first to ask whether they'd mind having another roommate. She relayed the question to Bruce, curious if he'd be as uncomfortable with Steve as he initially was with her, or if he'd warmed to living in close quarters with other people in general.
"It's Avengers Tower, not Black Widow and Hulk Tower," he joked, though his voice sounded taut, as though putting on a polite smile required enough effort without forcing his lips to form the words, too.
"That's a crying shame," she replied. "Hulk-Widow Tower has kind of a nice ring to it."
He ducked his head, expression easing into a grin as he peered at her above the rims of his glasses which had slipped down his nose. Natasha returned his smile-briefly-then went to call Steve back, a question turning over in her mind:
Was it normal to feel so pleased about putting another person at ease?
She felt the pull of the same smile the next night as she watched Bruce's lingering insecurities be absorbed by Steve's firm handshake and sincere, "Good to see you again." Just like when they'd met on the helicarrier. They'd seemed to understand each other on some unspoken level from the start, maybe because they were two men who'd given up everything to become something that wasn't at all what they'd intended. Or maybe it was just that they were men.
"Movie night?" Steve asked after they'd exchanged greetings, nodding toward the large flat-panel screen, paused on the black and white MGM logo.
"Just about to start," Bruce said. "Want to join us?"
"It's actually from your decade," Natasha added, resuming her seat on the sectional, one leg curled beneath her, popcorn bowl in her lap.
Steve shook his head, a small grin playing at his lips. The playful rapport they'd developed hadn't been changed by his time away, or by the sadness of being confronted with his past in the form of the altered Bucky Barnes. Of course that emotion was present as his gaze left hers to glance at the TV again.
"It's this decade's movies I need to brush up on."
"Got anything in mind?" Bruce asked as he sidled between the coffee table and Natasha's leg toward his end of the couch. "As you can imagine, Tony has an extensive collection…Gives movies on demand a whole new meaning."
He started to sit, then paused and pivoted back toward the table. He bent over it, looking for something, frowned and scratched the greying patch of hair at his temple. "Now, where did I leave the-?"
Natasha held out the remote.
"Well," Steve said, "Sam found out I haven't seen the Dark Knight trilogy yet and insisted I bump it to the top of my list."
"Don't you deal with enough eccentric crime-fighting billionaires with daddy issues in real life?" Natasha asked, putting a few kernels of popcorn into her mouth.
Bruce grinned as he lowered himself onto the sofa beside her, "Even Tony doesn't do dark and brooding quite like Bruce Wayne."
"Maybe that's more my thing," said Steve, with a weak smile.
"I hope that means you've taken up recreational dating since the last time I saw you," said Natasha.
"You never give up, do you, Romanoff?"
"You wouldn't want me on the Avengers if I did."
"That's true," Steve said. He straightened up. "You two had first dibs on the TV. I can watch The Dark Knight on my laptop."
"No way," Bruce said, twisting on the sofa as Steve started to go. "You have to see those on the big screen with surround sound."
"I could be up for a dark and brooding hero," Natasha said.
Bruce chuckled, but there was a strained quality to it, and he pressed himself against the arm of the sectional. Interesting. Drawing her other leg beneath her, she inched closer to him, as if to make room for Steve. Not that it was strictly necessary, as there was plenty of space for him to stretch out on the chaise.
They made it through the first two movies. Besides the Chinese food they ordered after Batman Begins, Steve's main take away was the likelihood of people turning on the hero.
"For some reason, that rings really true to me," he said. Then, glancing sideways at Natasha, he added, "Also, I bet Lucius Fox was secretly working for SHIELD. The cell phone surveillance was right up Nick Fury's alley."
Bruce barked out a laugh, but when he saw that Natasha wasn't amused, he abruptly fell silent.
After a few minutes, he pushed up from the couch with a groan and announced that he needed to check some simulations he'd left running in the lab, then turn in. He took the empty popcorn bowl with him- offering to make more if either of them wanted it, which neither of them did-and padded sleepily from the lounge.
Alone with Steve, Natasha retrieved her unfinished beer from the coffee table, then shifted to sit back against the arm of the sectional where Bruce had sat. His warmth still clung to the upholstery.
"So…" She eyed Steve down the length of the sofa, "I take it identifying with brooding superheroes means you didn't find Barnes."
It was odd to refer to him as anything other than the Winter Soldier; she did it for Steve's sake, but couldn't bring herself to go so far as calling him Bucky.
Intent on his beer, Steve replied, "Sam has a few more leads to check up on. The less likely ones." He raised his eyes, the ghost of a smile forming as they met hers. "Thought I'd see how you are. Figure out a new cover yet?"
"Well, there's Susan Vance," Natasha said, slipping into the light drawl she'd worked up for the alias, "science prodigy and protégé of Dr. David Huxley."
"Aren't those Hepburn and Grant characters?"
"Good thing Banner and I weren't trying to slip past you undercover."
She swigged her beer, then filled him in on everything that had transpired since Stark and Pepper told them about Agent Coulson's girlfriend. Steve was, predictably, pissed off about SHIELD's lack of transparency.
"But honestly," he said, "what can we expect from an organization whose director is playing possum?"
This wasn't his biggest bugbear, though. When she told him about her most recent conversation with Maria, he got up and paced the room.
"The Avengers stopped an alien invasion. It's not right for us to be reduced to the role of SHIELD's attack dog, heeling until some invisible master says sic 'em. Are we Earth's Mightiest, or aren't we?"
"Yes," Natasha said, sitting up and swinging her feet to the floor, "but the Avengers Initiative was never meant to replace SHIELD. We're more the special forces."
"The Avengers Initiative never accounted for SHIELD being infiltrated by Hydra and collapsing. Hydra, on the other hand…They're still out there. They have a scepter that can control minds and God only knows what else? Are we going to let them do to more people what they did to Barton? To Bucky?"
Natasha didn't answer right away. She sat, elbows on her thighs, dangling her beer bottle between her knees. Part of her-a very large part-wanted to stand up with Steve, every inch Captain America even if he wasn't dressed in the spangled suit brandishing his shield, and tell him that yes, she agreed.
Another part of her thought of Bruce in the lab, wanting to be an Avenger but not ready to rampage into battle.
Steve shook his head, as though to bring himself back to reality, and sank onto the couch, massaging his brow between his thumb and index finger.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to get all Uncle Sam wants YOU on you."
"You are the poster boy." She resumed her earlier position, legs stretched out, and nudged his knee with her toe.
Steve looked up, lowering his hand. "What else have you been up to? Breaking into an USAF facility can't have taken much of your time."
Natasha nursed her beer, considering her reply. "Loki's scepter and Barnes aren't the only things on my mind. I've been told to shift my priorities. So I'm going to cafes and museums and theater in the park, listening to street musicians and eating apple pie from Costco. Basically, getting a life."
She found herself unable to meet Steve's eye, although as she contemplated the mouth of her bottle, she could see him in her periphery, watching her.
"With Banner? Sounds like the plot of a romantic comedy."
Lowering the beer bottle, Natasha looked him in the eye, and gave him a sharp jab in the knee. "Shut up, Rogers."
Despite his teasing, Steve didn't hesitate to accept Natasha's invitation to the Met with her and Bruce. She hadn't really thought he would, knowing he was something of an artist himself; she had, however, feared he might say something like, Are you sure I won't be a third wheel? to indicate that his romantic comedy wisecrack had been something more than just that. She was relieved that he didn't.
He did stand out, though more because he was six foot two than because he was the odd man out. Thankfully, he only attracted attention at the end of their visit, as they browsed the gift shop.
Natasha perused the prints, debating whether to get one for her room at the Tower. "The trick is finding something that goes with my other artwork."
"You mean the drawings from your little fanclub?" Bruce turned from a stationery display nearby to grin at her, knocking over a couple of journals with his elbow. As he twisted to stand them upright, Steve came up beside her.
"Obviously the only way to go is with a Jackson Pollock," he said, holding up a reproduction drip painting.
"You know you can get prints a lot cheaper online," Bruce said in a low tone as he joined them, then glanced back over his shoulder at the cash register. His eyes widened behind his glasses as he saw the saleslady with a severe grey bun peering at their trio over the rims of her own.
"Relax, Bruce," Natasha murmured, lightly touching the cuff of his rolled-up shirtsleeve. "She's a cashier, not a librarian."
"Excuse me, young man," she said, and Bruce audibly sighed as it became clear she was addressing Steve and not him. "You're Captain America, aren't you?"
Natasha observed how his shoulders went a little straighter, his chest puffed just slightly. "Yes, ma'am, I am."
He gave his winning smile, but she wasn't won. Instead, she turned her critical gaze on Bruce and Natasha. Maybe she moonlighted as a librarian, after all.
"I suppose that makes you Iron Man and the Spider Woman?"
"I-" Bruce spluttered. "She-"
"Black Widow," Natasha corrected, "and he's the Incredible Hulk."
"Only some of the time," Bruce said hastily, his face nowhere near green due to the deep shade of red it had turned.
"You look taller on the TV," said the woman, then addressed Steve again. "Why aren't you working?"
"When we're not battling aliens, which fortunately we're not today, Avengers enjoy art just like civilians."
"So do some villains," she replied. "That Devil of Hell's Kitchen could use a hand with the mob, if you're so inclined."
She swept off to assist a customer who'd just approached the register to buy a tote bag, and by wordless agreement, they made for the exit. So much for decorating her room, Natasha thought. But Bruce was right; the prints were overpriced.
"Devil of Hell's Kitchen?" Steve asked as they made their way down the broad steps, squinting against the summer light reflecting brightly off the light stone.
"You haven't heard about this guy?" Bruce replied, flushed from their mad dash, but otherwise calm again now that they were a safe distance from the museum shop. "He's been all over the local news."
"Local for Steve's been DC," Natasha reminded him. "Among other cities not called New York."
"Right." Bruce took off his glasses, tucking them into his shirt pocket as they kept up their brisk pace. "Hell's Kitchen took a lot of damage from the Chitauri invasion. Reconstruction's been slow, and organized crime has flourished. This one mob boss, Wilson Fisk, got taken down by a masked vigilante-"
"Masked vigilante?" Steve stopped in his tracks on the sidewalk.
Natasha saw the disbelief etched on his honest face, and smirked. "They 're calling him Daredevil."
Shaking his head, Steve resumed walking and muttered, "Sure he's not Batman?"
A/N: Ever since I watched Daredevil, I've been so tickled by the idea of him doing his thing just right across town, while the Avengers chill in their tower, that I couldn't resist working in a reference. I'm fully aware this chapter is pretty much a nerdfest. Natasha says chicks dig dorks, and while that's certainly true, her ability to appreciate Bruce is helped by the fact that she has her own nerdy side beneath that cool surface. I hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it...and if you have a moment, do let me know. :) Thank you for all your wonderful feedback so far! You make it such a pleasure to share this fic.