18. Costumed Heroes

One of the few perks of Bruce's condition was that mission debriefs seldom bored him like they did the others-with the exception of Thor, who lived to re-live the glories of the battlefield. ("Although it would be better with flagons of mead," he suggested, an idea which Tony was completely onboard with, but which Steve met with a flat no.) Not that Bruce enjoyed hearing about the Other Guy's exploits, but at least having no memories of Code Greens meant that debriefs were all new information. He didn't have to think about them any more than was necessary.

Usually.

Before he put on his headphones and steadfastly ignored everyone on the flight back from Congo, he gathered enough between Tony's bouts of laughter to know that this was one meeting he'd rather not be present for.

"I'd call Congo a success." Maria Hill put down the tablet with the mission report and the notes she'd added to it during debrief, and looked around the long table in the conference room. Bruce glanced away before she could catch his eye and saw Barton lean back in his chair, swing a foot onto the table, and fold his arms across his chest.

"Except for that part where our mission was to find Loki's scepter…"

"…and we returned yet again empty-handed," Thor finished for him, unnecessarily, in a voice like a building storm.

"So basically the opposite of success," Tony offered.

"A failure," Thor said.

Stifling a laugh, Bruce glanced across the table to find Natasha already looking at him, the corner of her mouth curved slightly upward, clearly sharing his thought: Did Thor really think Tony didn't recall the word? Their gazes held across the table until, abruptly, she turned her head at Cap's voice. Bruce looked down at the table, aware that his heart was racing and his palms left sweaty imprints on the glass tabletop.

"We still cleared out another Hydra base. That's never a failure in my book, even if it wasn't our primary objective."

"Steve's right," said Hill. "In the absence of SHIELD, that's just as important for world security as finding the scepter. And it's only a matter of time before we do."

"God, I hope not much more time," Barton muttered, unfolding his arms to pass a hand across his brow.

"Being on call like this is really cramping Barton's vibrant sex life." Natasha cast a sidelong glance at him, which he met from between his fingertips. One of their secret, silent conversations.

"No," Tony snorted, "that would be his puny arrow."

"You laugh, Stark," boomed Thor, "but to a creature like the Hulk whose sole weapon is the might of his own bare hands, a bow and arrow would, indeed, seem unimpressive."

"Dude, seriously?" Barton's feet thudded to the floor. "After I stuck up for you in New Mexico?"

"I'm so lost," Hill said, looking at Steve. "What's this about? Or do I-?"

"No. You really don't."

Tony gave a cough which sounded suspiciously like giant green dicks. Could Bruce say he felt a cold coming on? Or the flu? Or something he'd picked up in Congo? Excuse me, I'm just going to go quarantine myself in the lab…

Of course, Tony's outburst compelled Steve to explain. "Hulk kept interfering with Barton's targets."

Hill's chair creaked as she sat forward. "Interfering? How?"

Bruce felt her eyes on him-everyone's eyes-but he shook his head vaguely and stared at the handprints on the table.

"Wouldn't let me get a damn hit," Barton said.

"Deliberately?"

"Sure seemed like it."

Natasha leaned toward him and asked in a low voice, "Did we consider the angle that the Big Guy has a crush on you?"

"He insulted my arrows."

"Maybe he just thought you couldn't protect yourself from the big bad Hydra soldiers. Like a damsel in distress."

Bruce's collar felt like hot pinpricks at the back of his neck.

"I just want to know if it's going to be a problem, Hulk and Barton on the field together," Cap asked so pointedly that Bruce had to meet his eye.

"No. Of course not." That sounded a little too definitive when the truth was that Bruce just didn't know. He scratched his neck, raked his fingers up through the shaggy hair above his collar, and tugged at the roots. "I mean, it never has been before."

"You can't think of anything I might've done to piss the Other Guy off?" Barton asked. "Or you?"

"I don't think we've ever talked enough for you to piss me off."

"Ouch," Tony said.

"No, it's a valid point," Clint said, thankfully not offended; it hadn't sounded that mean in Bruce's head.

But he had other things to worry about now than his own social awkwardness, as several things hit him at once.

The first was that while he and Clint hadn't talked enough to piss anyone off, Clint and Natasha had. The second was that Tony, while crude, was not wrong. Neither was Natasha, not totally, even if she had been joking about the Other Guy having a crush.

This guy had a crush.

On Natasha.

Bruce stood so suddenly that he stumbled over his chair as he bolted for the door. "Picked up something in Congo," he muttered on his way out of a debriefing which had proved more enlightening than any other to date.

"JARVIS?"

"How may I be of service, Dr. Banner?"

Can you tell me if these pants make my butt look big? he was tempted to say, eying his reflection in the full-length mirror dubiously. Of course that made him think about Natasha saying he had a nice ass, even though he knew she probably-no, definitely-hadn't given the remark a second thought.

Admonishing himself to stay on task, he asked instead, "Is there anyone in the training room?"

"The training room is unoccupied."

"Thank you, JARVIS."

"My pleasure, Dr. Banner."

Giving his mirror image one final sweep, he shook his head and turned away, grabbing a hooded sweatshirt off a hanger as stepped out of the walk-in closet. The light flicked off automatically when he closed the door behind him, and he pulled the hoodie on over his t-shirt, tugging the hem down as far as it would stretch over his hips. With a huff of breath, he exited his room and hurried down the hall for the elevator, praying he wouldn't run into any of the others. Tony had been down in SI all day, Natasha wasn't even in New York; she'd gone somewhere with Barton the day after they got back from Congo, which made Bruce's plan to deal with his newly realized crush by spending less time alone with her easy. He had no idea where Steve and Thor were, but they were the two least likely to laugh at him, so what was he so worried about? He made himself slow down and walk like a normal, not-socially awkward grown man through the Manhattan high rise where he lived with his fellow superheroes, and made it down to the gym without encountering another single soul.

Until he grabbed the door handle and saw Natasha.

"Did you lie to me, JARVIS?"

"At the time you asked if the training room was unoccupied, it was. I'm only a program, Dr. Banner. I'm not capable of lying."

"You could be if Tony told you to tell me there was no one-" Now he was just being paranoid. Tony didn't know about Bruce's crush. If he had, he'd never hear the end of it. As it was, the only thing he was currently not hearing the end of was arrow jokes, and he had to avoid cooking anything with zucchinis or cucumbers. "Never mind, JARVIS. Sorry."

"No apology necessary, Doctor. Enjoy your workout."

Bruce caught himself nodding, as if JARVIS could actually see him.

Months had passed since he'd come to exercise only to find Natasha already in the gym, and debated running away before he made a jackass out of himself in front of her. He'd never done it yet-run away or be too big of a jackass, come to think of it-yet here he was, back at the start. In their dozens of workout sessions, he'd worn sweats, not these ants Tony designed to eliminate his little post-Hulkout nudity problem.

And the Other Guy hadn't revealed himself to be a different kind of green-eyed monster than the usual raging variety.

Dear God… He leaned back against the opposite wall, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, then raking his hands through his hair. If onlyit had been as uncomplicated an emotion as rage. Now there was a wish he never thought he'd make. He almost laughed aloud at the absurd irony of it.

He did smile. He couldn't help himself. He'd missed Natasha while she was…wherever she'd been. It was understandable that she'd needed to go away for a bit; with the Avengers' presence increasing in the world security stage, the presence of reporters and paparazzi around the Tower, did too, making it difficult for them leave without being mobbed. The cosplayers were back, too, as Halloween approached. If he'd hoped absence would help him get some distance, in fact the old adage about hearts growing fonder only proved itself true. The mere sight of her made him happy. Even if that sight of her was suited up, attacking the punching bag with the same lithe ferocity she applied to Hydra agents and Chitauri. Yet there was a grace to her movements, too, almost dance-like.

Screwing his eyes shut, he chided himself for looking at her this way. She was his friend, his teammate…He hadn't always looked at her with a dopey grin…at least, he was pretty sure he hadn't. Just when that had changed-when he'd fallen for her-he couldn't say for sure. A slow descent, for him not to become aware of it until he was in over his head-head over heels-although he must've been well on his way on the Fourth of July for him to go fishing for what exactly was going on between her and Clint.

Which made it all the more ridiculous that the Other Guy apparently considered Barton a rival for her interests. One, because Bruce believed her when she said they were just friends. Two, because Natasha didn't have interest in him.

That wasn't the problem. Bruce resigned himself long ago to a solitary, celibate existence. He'd even gotten used to living with unrequited love-or at least love that could never be.

No, the problem was that even if Natasha didn't return his feelings, she couldn't be unaware of them. She was an intelligent woman-it was one of the qualities that attracted him-and read people like books. She'd been so quiet on the flight back to New York. Doing the math? If she hadn't then, she surely would have while she was gone. The result would ruin their friendship, and probably their dynamic on the team, as well.

Bruce jolted at the sudden crackle of light as she used her Widow's Bites on the punching bag. Her lips parted in a grin, then she spoke to someone just out of his view. Momentarily. Tony stepped around the bag, eyes snapping from Natasha to meet Bruce's from across the gym and through the glass. Every fiber in his body screamed at him to run, but he was caught, like the proverbial deer in the highlights. "Hey," Bruce read his lips, "look who decided to join the party."

Natasha turned her head. The corners of her mouth did, too, upward in that barely there little smile of hers which nevertheless made his stomach do gymnastics at the thought of her being pleased to see him, and set him into motion. He pushed off the wall, pulled open the door, and wracked his brain for something to say that didn't sound like something a friend wouldn't say.

"Well now I know what electrified punching bag smells like."

He anticipated the upward twitch of Natasha's eyebrow before it happened. That definitely sounded like something a friend wouldn't say-although at least in his favor, not in the way he wanted to avoid.

"New suit?" he added, only to realize he'd really swung from one side of the pendulum to the other.

If it perturbed Natasha, her face gave no indication of it as she countered, "New pants?"

Bruce rubbed the back of his neck, as if that would stop the prickle. "Your seams glow."

"That's the charging system for the Widow's Bites," Tony explained. "Her old ones didn't have quite enough oomph, but these-well, see exhibit A." He swept his arm toward the punching bag. "Also, I thought they'd really make her eye color pop."

"Her-" Bruce began as Natasha said, "My-"

"-eyes are green," they finished on top of one another.

Tony's darted back and forth between them, mischief glinting in the dark irises. Bruce pleaded silently to anyone who might be privy to his thoughts not to let Tony realize…

"Okay. If you're done finishing each other's sandwiches….I didn't take Bruce's eye color into account when I designed the stretchy pants. Or the Big Guy's. An oversight which I now deeply regret. But Mark Two can have glowy piping-that would be the correct fashion design term."

"I would be more than okay without glowy anything."

"Does that mean this pair's all good? How do they feel?"

Resolutely not looking at Natasha, Bruce replied through his teeth, "Tight."

Tony gave a hmm of unconcern."Well, you know. It was a fine line between preserving your sense of modesty and depriving Natasha of the sight of your shapely derrière."

"I appreciate your focus on aesthetics," she deadpanned.

"I just don't believe in function over fashion," Tony said after her as she sauntered back to the punching bag, adjusting her gauntlets around her wrists.

"I mean in the ankles," Bruce said. "Do the legs have to be…" He looked down where his sneakers emerged from the narrow openings, and cast about for the correct fashion design term. "…tapered?"

"Yes. Yes they absolutely do."

"I don't believe you." Shaking his head, Bruce moved to help Natasha take down the punching bag she'd literally beaten the stuffing out of. "There is no way they have to be cut like skinny pants to grow and shrink back to normal sized pants. I'm not a twentysomething hipster."

"That doesn't mean you can't look a little cooler than a fortysomething nerd. That's my contribution to this team, you know."

"You know, Stark," said Natasha, as she dragged the bag to the wall, where a couple of spares lay, "you're kind of reminding me of the costume designer in The Incredibles right now."

Bruce boggled that Natasha had watched an animated film, then jumped to grab one end of the bag and help her carry it over. Her lips curved in a small smile of thanks.

"That reminds me," said Tony, "I should speak to Thor about his cape…"

Bruce boggled even more that Tony had watched an animated film. But getting back to the matter at hand…

"If you're trying to make me look cool, you failed, because I'm pretty sure I just look like a mid-life crisis."

"Natasha…" Tony's voice was heavy with longsuffering-there was a rare role reversal. "You have the most fashion sense on this team next to me. Is there anything wrong with Bruce's pants?"

"Honestly I'm with Tony on this one." She cringed a little, clearly hating to admit it. "I don't get why you're so self-conscious. You could walk into any yoga studio in the city and see dudes wearing pants just like that."

"Not just like that," Tony said, "those are unique, a fabric I invented based on some old Pym research I dug up from the depths of deleted files, but I see what you're trying to say, Romanoff."

She rolled her eyes and resumed setting up the punching bag as he prattled on.

"Broga pants. It's a portmanteau. Yoga and bros-Science Broga pants." Tony paused, face lighting up in that way that made Bruce simultaneously dread and look forward to what was coming. "Oh my god…Do you know what this means? We can start a whole athletic clothing line."

"We?"

"I'd design, you'd model."

Bruce's mouth opened and closed. "I would?"

"You're always grumbling about how no one wants Bruce Banner merchandise, it's all Hulk hands and action figures that say, Smash! Well. Problem solved."

"Speaking of problems solved," Natasha said, "you made pants that grow with the Big Guy but shrink back down for Bruce, but not a shirt?"

"The Hulk can't wear a shirt! It would be brand suicide to hide those rippling pectorals."

"So when he changes back to Bruce and we're in Siberia, he just gets to be shirtless and cold?"

Bruce appreciate Natasha's concern about his physical comfort, but said, "In fairness, I don't think the Other Guy would really go for a shirt."

"You can bring him one when you do your thing," Tony said. "Speaking of, are you two gonna test out the pants?"

Bruce was tempted to steal Rhodey's line about how Tony always had to make it weird, but decided against drawing attention to the fact that things could be weird between him and Natasha when, for the moment, they were actually pretty normal. A team united against Tony's crazy. Maybe that was the secret to saving their friendship, just having Tony around as their third wheel. Then again, neither of them would ever get a word in edgewise.

"You mean do a controlled transformation?" Bruce asked. "Right now? Here?"

"Why not?"

"I can think of so many reasons. One being not collapsing Stark Tower."

"Hm. Good point. It was a real pain in the ass finding an insurer when you moved in." Oblivious to Bruce's reddening face at that reminder, Tony breezed on. "We do have a jet, you know. We could go someplace remote-Pakistan. Pick up some more shawarma from that place in Kabul on the way back."

"I think I'll just stick with my plan to hop on the treadmill and break them in and hope for the best next time there's a Code Green."

"Ballsy. Pun intended. I like it. Romanoff?"

"The pun, or Banner's trust in your fashion design?"

Tony grinned. "Shawarma Palace it is."

Steve checked his wristwatch. "You know, this may be the first time I've ever sat around waiting for Romanoff. She's normally pretty low-maintenance."

"She defies a lot of stereotypes." Bruce put on his glasses and looked at his own watch, as much to confirm the time as to avoid Steve's honest gaze, which always knew when other people's wasn't, entirely. "We've still got time to make the first show."

They were going to Lincoln Center for the annual Monster Mash-inee. Horror wasn't normally Bruce's genre of choice, given the stress factor and general dislike of vioence, but he did like old school monster movies. Anyway, Natasha really wanted to go to the double feature of Frankenstein and The Bride of Frankenstein, and when Steve and Thor expressed interest, as well, it seemed like the perfect chance to hang out with her with a group. Barton was away on another mysterious trip, and Tony refused to see any movies that were older than he was and stayed at the Tower to plan a proper horror fest for later that night.

"If I were a betting man" Bruce added, "I'd put my money on her beating Thor down."

"Well, he's got those flowing locks to maintain."

At that moment, the elevator arrived, and the doors parted to reveal Natasha. Dressed as Bruce had never seen her, in ripped jeans, a clinging purple t-shirt, and a bubblegum pink wig.

"Is this some sort of punk Shakespeare?" he asked, gesturing to the text emblazoned on her shirt: The Weird Sisters. He didn't allow his eyes to linger on her chest as she approached.

"You're Tonks from Harry Potter, aren't you?" Steve said.

Natasha whipped a wand out of her back pocket and pointed it at him. "Ten points to Gryffindor."

"I don't remember that character," Bruce said. "Granted, I only read the first couple books to teach myself Hindi, so. A lot was lost in translation."

He wasn't surprised Steve had read Harry Potter, given his mission to catch up on pop culture, but Natasha? Then again, she'd revealed a number of nerdier interest than he would've expected from someone as cool as her.

"Tonks shows up in Order of the Phoenix," she explained. "She's a Metamorphmagus-a shapeshifter-and she's in magical law enforcement."

Bruce grinned. "I see why you're a fan. Sorry, I didn't realize we were wearing costumes."

"It's Halloween, guys. Always dress up for Halloween."

Steve shook his head. "I wear a costume to work. You, though, Bruce-you got no excuse."

"He has a work costume now," Natasha said, waggling her eyebrows at Bruce.

"No way am I wearing the stretchy pants out in public."

"Here, carry my wand." She pressed it into his hand, leaving him no choice in the matter. "You'll pass for Remus Lupin."

Bruce trawled through his memory for the character name. When it came to him, his smile faltered. "The Werewolf? I guess there's a parallel. We both turn into monsters."

For a moment Natasha and Steve stared at him, an awkward silence hovering over the trio. Then Natasha rolled her eyes. "I meant because you're a professor wearing a tweed sport coat, you emo dork."

"Don't Lupin and Tonks end up secretly dating?" Steve asked in tones too innocent, even for him.

Natasha took the wand back from Bruce's suddenly slackened fingers and flicked it casually at Steve. "Silencio. No spoilers for Banner."

She said it coolly enough that Bruce decided not to read deeper into the exchange than Steve getting back at Natasha for her constant nagging about his love life. Nevertheless, he was grateful for the timing of the elevator doors opening again. Thor strode out in full regalia, complete with his seldom-worn helmet.

"See?" Natasha elbowed Steve in the side. "He's wearing his costume."

"Jane said that if I wish not to be recognized on the street, I ought to go as myself. Then everyone will think I am simply a regular Midgardian dressed as Thor for Halloween."

"We'll see how that plan works out for you," Steve said, patting him on the shoulder.

Bruce's plans to enjoy a day out with his friends and not think about his more-than-platonic feelings for Natasha didn't seem to be working out at all. She sat by him, which in and of itself wasn't a problem, but as the lights dimmed and the first film rolled, she leaned over and whispered, breath warm against his neck, "Will you hold my hand if I get scared?" They shared a tub of popcorn, and more than once they reached into it at the same time, and their hands brushed.

At least Thor was there to break any romantic tension Bruce might have been imagining between them. He talked loudly throughout the films, perplexed about why they were in black and white instead of color, and scoffing at the monsters. "Are these creatures meant to be frightening?"

"They probably gave Steve nightmares," Natasha murmured.

"For weeks," he admitted.

As they exited the movie theater after the marathon, a couple dressed as Batman and Robin approached Thor. "Dude, that is an amazing cosplay. Will you take a selfie with us?"

He readily agreed, not without shooting a triumphant look at Steve. They didn't ask for pictures with Natasha, but they did compliment her Tonks costume and guessed Bruce was supposed to be Professor Lupin, and suggested next time to be a little shabbier. They just shook their heads at Steve, and told him never to be too cool for Halloween.

"Well it is Tony's goal to make us all cooler," Bruce said, in an attempt to console Steve, which was undermined by Natasha's snort of laughter.

The look Tony gave them when they arrived back at the Tower later said they were anything but coo. "Why are none of you wearing slutty costumes?" he asked. "That's what Halloween is for."

"Funny, I always thought it was an excuse to eat candy, and pretend to be someone you're not," Bruce murmured to Natasha.

"We saw many dressed as Avengers," Thor announced; on their walk home, trick-or-treaters and party-goers were out in force.

"Slutty Avengers?" asked Tony.

"We counted thirteen Hulks, twelve Captain Americas, and-"

"-eleven Widows dancing?" Tony interrupted. "And Iron Man was the big winner with…?"

"We counted just five Iron Men. There were fewer Hawkeyes," he added, as if to make his comrade feel better.

"A lot of Katniss Everdeens though," said Natasha, "so it's not like archery's out. I can't wait to call him and rub his nose in it."

"The Avengers are a culture, not a costume," said Tony with a shrug. "So! Who's up for horror movies?"

Only Thor wanted to join in, complaining about the lack of gore in the monster marathon and defying petty mortal entertainments to frighten the Son of Odin. Steve bowed out, saying he'd watched enough movies for one day. Bruce noticed the slope of his broad shoulders as he left the lounge. Maybe it had been too much for him, watching movies he'd seen what felt like not that long ago, perhaps even with Bucky Barnes.

"How do we want to celebrate your big costume contest win?" Natasha's voice rasped into his musings.

He looked up to see her stepping behind the bar, and realized that Steve's exit left them alone.

The exact situation he'd intended to avoid.

"I saw a recipe for a caramel apple martini," she went on, back to him as she took down two glasses, "and I'd be very surprised if Stark doesn't have all the ingredients for it."

Her t-shirt rode up above the low waist of her jeans as she stretched to reach the liquor shelf, baring the curve at the small of her back.

"I don't know if I should really be celebrating kids dressed up as tiny rage monsters."

"Oh." The monosyllable was underscored with a clunk as Natasha set a vodka bottle down, too hard, on the bar top. She turned her head, just enough that he could see her profile between the strands of vivid pink wig. "Then I guess I shouldn't have been happy about the seven tiny assassins, huh?"

Heat streaked upward from Bruce's collar. "That's not what-"

"You know Black Widow costumes are always kind of hard to find. Unlike those big foam Hulk hands."

Bruce stared down at his own hands where they rested on the bar, fingers laced together too tightly, too tense. He let out a long slow breath, tried to relax them, but it was difficult with those big green hands in his mind.

"After everything that's been on the news about me," she went on, selecting another few bottles, filling the cocktail shaker with a small measure of each, "I can't believe they even made any at all. Maybe they didn't. Maybe those were the handiwork of seven nutjob Pinterest moms who didn't mind letting their daughters dress like a former KGB killer for Halloween." Ice cubes rattled against the stainless steel as she mixed the drinks vigorously. When it stopped, she added, "Or maybe it's seven amazing parents who want to teach their daughters about giving people second chances. Or maybe they just think the utility belt's cool."

"It is," Bruce said as she rimmed the martini glasses in caramel sauce. "I wish I had one. Think Tony'd make me a stretchy one?"

One corner of Natasha's lips hitched upward as she poured her mixture into each glass, only to draw into a serious expression once more as she turned to face him fully, offering him a drink. The tips of their fingers touched as he took it from her.

"They don't put on Hulk masks to be rage monsters. They put them on to be the big green hero who saved New York from aliens. Who rescued a bunch of blind kids who were Hydra slaves. Who took out Hydra soldiers in Congo."

"Rocinha, Culver…Harlem…It's not always bad guys, Natasha. The first time I Hulked out, I hurt the woman I...I hurt Betty."

Natasha didn't reply to that, just watched him with her unblinking green eyes, waiting for him to say his piece.

"How can you be sure I won't hurt you? That this plan of yours to help me change back will work?"

"Because I see a lot more of kids in Hulk masks in the Big Guy than this monster you keep insisting he is. Seriously," she said over him when he tried to laugh it off, leaning on the bar. "Didn't you see that toddler Hulk having a meltdown? It was exactly like the real thing in Congo."

"Don't downplay-"

"And he listened to me. Eventually. We have a connection."

He felt the brush of her fingers on his wrist where their hands lay on the bar.

"He listened to Betty, too, didn't he? In Harlem?"

Bruce nodded, and picked up his drink. He needed it.

Because he didn't just have a crush on Natasha.

He'd fallen in love with her.

A/N: You guys really overwhelmed me with your response to Chapter 17. It's lovely to know so many of you are reading and enjoying the fic and don't want it to end. I don't want it to end, either! It's just been so much fun to write and share. Especially coming up with headcanons like Science Broga pants during silly conversations with katla (whose BruceNat fics are awesome). For those of you who saw the Bruce and Natasha as Remus and Tonks fanart on the askbruceandnatasha tumblr last week, I solemnly swear I'd already drafted this scene before it appeared there! Just couldn't resist a shout-out to one of my past fandoms; from the moment I started shipping BruceNat I thought how they have a lot in common with Remus and Tonks (though hopefully a happier ending). As always, many thanks to everyone who's read and commented, and most of all to my beta, malintzin.