"Trouble in Paradise"

Chapter 8

Clint and Natasha decided to stay inside that afternoon. Natasha slowly rubbed lotion onto Clint's mildly sunburned shoulders. He let his eyes drift shut, focusing on her remarkably strong hands kneading into his eternally sore muscles.

A few minutes into the massage, a loud groan escaped Clint's mouth.

Natasha grinned, "Enjoying that?"

"Oh god, yes…" He murmured, unable to quite think straight.

"Well, then…" While one hand continued to work at his shoulder, the other snaked around his chest, pulling him closer to her. Slowly, she planted a kiss on his shoulder.

Clint smiled.

She left a trail of kisses, moving up his shoulder and neck. Once she reached his ear, she began to lightly lick just behind it.

"Oh, jeez, Tash." Clint gasped. He shuddered, as he felt her grin against his skin. She began to let her hands wander across his chest and stomach.

His breath became more and more shallow, and when she took his earlobe in her mouth, sucking hard, he cried out, "Oh god, I love you!"

Suddenly, her hands and mouth froze. Clint's eyes snapped open, as she pulled away. It was just a small distance between them, but it felt like miles after the intimacy.

"What did you say?"

"That–I love that…" He mumbled quietly.

"Did you just say 'I love you'?" She had stood and crossed the room, panic flashing behind her eyes.

"I meant 'I love that.' I love that!" Clint, for the first time, felt very exposed, even though he had been with her in considerably less clothing many times before.

She regarded him carefully. After what seemed like an eternity, she let our a relieved laugh, "Oh thank god. You scared me for a minute there." She shook her head and ran a hand through her hair.

Clint swallowed and felt his heart stop.

Natasha was smiling, her beautiful, easy smile again, which, for once did not soothe away any of his fears. "Well, shall we continue then?" She walked towards him, lightly laying her hand on his shoulder.

Not quite sure of what he was doing, Clint whispered, "What if I meant 'I love you'?" and flinched away from her touch.

"I'm sorry?"

He wasn't surprised she didn't hear. After all, he couldn't hear himself over his heartbeat, which was now pounding hard in his ears. "What if I did mean to say 'I love you'? What is wrong with that?" He wasn't even sure how loudly he was speaking, but judging by the look of horror spreading across Natasha's face, he guessed she heard him.

"Clint, don't even start that." She fled to the other side of the room again.

He felt himself shaking, "Start what, Tash?"

"Any–any talk about love, god–dammit." Her face seemed akin to what he would guess a cornered animal would feel. She was stammering, which he had never seen in his years of knowing her.

In a very quick moment, Clint felt a lot of anger bubble up inside of him. "Tash, what's wrong? My god, what's wrong with saying 'I love you'? For christ's sake, I'm not trying to tie you down or anything. I don't mean we need to elope tonight; and, even if it hurts, I don't even need you to say it back right now, and maybe one day I'll move on, but right now, in this moment, I am in love with you. What the hell is wrong with that?"

"Stop it–stop it–stop it!" Natasha nearly shrieked.

"WHY?" He bellowed, almost sure that Bruce, Tony, and a good deal of the hotel patrons heard him.

"Because, love is insane!" She pushed herself from where she had been leaning against the wall. "It infects your reason and judgement. It's a toy! A fucking toy, Clint! You can enjoy it and play with it, but eventually either you let it go, or someone needs to rip it away from you! It's not a way to live!"

"Well, I'm sorry if I can't turn off my feelings as quickly as you can in Soviet Russia!"

"Don't start that now!" She threw up her hands and began to walk to the door.

"What? I can't start about love; I can't start about Russia! What the hell do you want me to say? Is there anything about you I can ever talk about?" He was still screaming.

"No!"

"That's bullshit!" As she passed him, he caught her by the arm.

Easily, she twisted his arm, flipping him and throwing him against the wall. "Don't even try." She snapped, as she left and slammed the door behind her.

He stayed against the wall, nearly upside-down for several minutes. Slowly, he crawled, righting himself. He let himself sit on the floor, his back on the back of the bedpost, and very unsuccessfully tried to stop himself from hyperventilating.

Tony found Bruce leaning against the railing of the the hotel fountain. Tony marveled that the man could maintain an expression of such calm. Only Bruce's hands, which were nearly white from gripping the rail so hard, gave him away.

With a sigh, Tony slid up next to Bruce. He ignored how Bruce's jaw tensed slightly, when he noticed him. Bruce kept staring forward, eyes following the water shooting out in different patterns.

Tony cleared his throat and pulled the apple from his pocket, "Um, here. I thought you may have gotten hungry."

Still, Bruce said nothing, so Tony set the apple on the stone rail in front of him.

"What are you thinking about?" Tony urged, before pleading, "Bruce?"

"Water tension." He muttered in a low tone.

Tony looked thoroughly confused, "I–wha…Water tension?"

"When the water shot from the fountain falls, it beads midair. As the drops fall, they become little spheres, even resisting the air pressure that threatens to split the drops and flatten them out."

"Ah…" Tony nodded slowly. Without really being able to help himself, Tony turned to watch Bruce. Gently, Tony laid his hand on Bruce's wrist.

Bruce quickly flinched back, trying to back away

Tony clutched onto his wrist and pulled him closer, "Bruce, please–"

"No!" Very quickly, Bruce worked his hands free, and shoved Tony hard, so that he stumbled a few steps back.

Tony swallowed, more than a little shocked at how strong Bruce was, even when he wasn't the Hulk. A small part of his scientific brain wondered if it was an effect of the Hulk itself.

Tony finally got a look at Bruce's eyes. They were blazing angrily, and Bruce held a hand out, "Do not touch me." He said with a scary calm. "You do not get to touch me. You do not get to comfort me, when you run away when I try."

Tony reached for him again, "Please–"

"I said no, Tony!" Bruce snapped. "You didn't take 'no' last night, and I'll blame that on alcohol and my wanting you, too, but if you touch me again, I swear–"

"Bruce, listen–"

"No, Tony, you listen." A long silence stretched between them, but Bruce's posture didn't change. By the time he continued, he was shaking, nearly vibrating. "How dare you. How. Dare. You."

"Bruce–"

"I don't even care that it was a drunken mistake, Tony!" Bruce was finally raising his voice, and Tony found it oddly comforting. "I don't care that you don't want to broadcast what happened last night. I don't care that you're ashamed to be seen with me! God knows, it's happened to me before, even before the–the–th–"

"Hulk." Tony suggested, unable to stop himself.

"The Other Guy." Bruce gritted out.

"That's not–"

"But, I deserve a fucking conversation, Tony!"

"What?"

"Did you think it was a mistake? Fine, sure. I get it. I get you don't want to be seen in public with the Thing, but for crying out loud, tell me, TO MY FACE!"

Tony mouth fell open, and he willed his brain to make sentences, "No, no, God, I–"

"Did you not think I was worth a conversation? A few minutes of 'Sorry, man, this isn't going to work'? Did you think I wouldn't understand? Because, I would have! We're staying in the same room. It's not like people would talk. WE'RE IN THE SAME ROOM ANYWAY!"

"I didn't want–"

"People to know about what happened? I figured. I said, that I was okay with that. I just really can't believe you think the Hulk is so repulsive that you won't even dignify me with an explanation."

Tony tried, "I don't think–"

"Don't think? I know. That much is clear. Jesus, Tony, for all your talk about liking the Hulk, I thought you'd be better than this. I mean, you're obviously okay with the entire world knowing about your exploits. There were so many stories about you and Pepper, every girl you've ever fucked has been mentioned in at least three tabloids, and there have been rumors about so many guys, including freaking Jude Law, which you have never even tried to deny, so honestly, I had really hoped you could at least be civil about this."

"But, Bruce, no, you're different."

"Yeah. I got it. I didn't need you to inform me of that." Bruce held Tony's horrified gaze. "Thought you were better than that."

"I–"

"Really fucking disappointing." Bruce watched Tony's heart break for a split second, before he turned to walk away.

"Bruce…" Tony whimpered to the other man's back. "Bruce, please–"

Tony was cut off, when the fountain exploded.