After four unsuccessful phone calls, Natasha decided to take matters into her own hands by paying the doctor a house call. He needed to know that the other guy's appearance was nothing. The swelling along her cheek had gone down and what was left of her bruise was a faded, ugly yellowed blur. Natasha made sure her make-up concealed it completely. She healed fast-Bruce needed to know that. The anguished look in his eyes was a look she couldn't shake. Even after six shots of her finest whiskey, she couldn't shake those sad puppy eyes.
"Is anybody up, Jarvis?" Natasha wondered as she stepped into Stark Tower's first floor elevator. It was well past eleven, but she assumed Stark had a late night. Same for Bruce.
"Mr. Stark is working in the basement," JARVIS informed. "Shall I take you to him?"
"I'm here for Dr. Banner."
"He is currently sound asleep," the program told her.
"Mind letting me visit?" Natasha requested with a smile. "I've got something to tell him that might get him to leave the bed."
"That will be very much appreciated," JARVIS answered. "Mr. Stark had a bit of difficulty in doing so."
Natasha could easily peg Bruce as the type of guy to shut himself down when the guilt became too much. She had a bad habit of doing the same thing, only her negativities stayed bottled up unless Nick or Clint could weasel something out of her.
"The door is unlocked," Jarvis announced as the elevator doors parted open.
"Thank you." Her heels clacked down the hall as she reached the door to Bruce's suite. She allowed herself in and took a right past the living room. Natasha had familiarized herself with the tower's layout, and she knew one of the three bedrooms was close. The first door to her left was wide open. Bruce was exhausted from the night before. Natasha assumed he would go for the first available room he could find. She poked her head through the doorframe. Her gut was right. Smack in the middle of the bed was a lump shrouded in silken sheets. Part of Natasha wanted to smack him and tell him to stop acting like a heartbroken teenager. The other half knew that tenderness was the only way to get him back on his feet. She softly knocked on the door frame. "Bruce?"
His form shifted under the comforter.
"You're not gonna sleep all day, are you?"
The ball uncurled as he stretched his legs.
"I'm not angry, Bruce," Natasha announced. Awake or not, she was still going to lecture him. "I'm more worried about you." His body was still. "It takes more than a scratch to take me down. Believe me, I'm fine," she vowed. "When the other guy took over, I knew you were in control when the music started. You said you remembered the music. Mozart," she gently continued. "That's you gaining control, Bruce. You're in there-we can work to control it."
"Natasha," he groggily mumbled. "I'm not in the mood for company."
She continued to linger in the doorway as she unzipped her purse. "I'm gonna leave you something, okay?" she piped up. "Right by the door." Natasha reached into her bag and withdrew a CD in a plastic case. "Don't beat yourself up over this, Bruce." She knelt down and laid the square case against the door frame. "I'll keep in touch," she added before finally leaving him alone.
Bruce waited on the faintest click of a shutting door before emerging from his makeshift cocoon. He sat up in bed and rubbed his tired eyes. The headache from last night remained in the back of his head as a weak thumping. He turned his head towards the doorway and spotted a subtle shine across a plastic case. Bruce stretched his torso, straightened the Guns and Roses tee that felt a tad tight for his tastes, and trudged towards the door in a pair of sweatpants. He picked up the CD case and written across the grey disk in neat penmanship was "the trick is to keep breathing." Seeing the word "breathing" left him a little unsettled. Knowing Natasha, it was a Lamaze lesson, burned permanently onto a convenient disk. Bruce held the gift in his hand and tapped the case against his palm. Tony probably hadn't touched a CD in years. Luckily, he had a player in his apartment.
Natasha was right. He couldn't stay cooped up all day.
His first order of business was to ask Tony for a more presentable outfit to wear home… and ask if he knew where Natasha lived. The unsightly evening hued blotch across her cheek made his stomach churn. He did that to her. Had she not been so agile, he would've killed her. Bruce stared down at the CD and did just as her advice stated.
Breathe…
Last night made Bruce realize his newest goal.
Ridding himself of the monster might've been impossible, but taming him…Taming him seemed plausible.
Natasha was busy folding laundry when the doorbell buzzed. "Looks like you can nap a little longer," Natasha told her black cat, currently sleeping soundly in a pile of her shirts. She left her bedroom and padded over to the entryway. There was a gentle tap against the door and Natasha peered through the eyehole to discover who her mystery guest was. As she opened the door, she thanked herself for not washing the make-up from off her face. "Dr. Banner," she greeted.
Bruce clutched the CD in his hands as he smiled at her. "I started listening to this." He held up the thin case. "It's funny," he awkwardly continued, eyes shifting from her feet, to his shoes, then to the compact disk. "I was thinking about downloading some Tchaikovsky. Among other composers..."
"Great minds think alike." She stepped aside to welcome him in, but he shook his hands and declined.
"I'm fine here. But thank you." He started to weakly laugh. "You know, the title of this had me thinking it was Lamaze techniques."
"You clearly didn't hear the whole thing, then," Natasha winked.
Bruce's smile wavered. "Oh, I really hope that's a lie…"
"How about you come in and I tell you?" she playfully wagered.
Bruce peered past her shoulder and into the dining room. "You aren't busy, are you?"
Natasha stepped aside to open the door completely and outstretched her arm.
"Thank you," he nodded as he shuffled past her.
"Thirsty?" she asked, leading him over to the living room couch.
"I'm fine."
Natasha plopped down onto the leather couch and drew her legs close to her body.
Bruce sat after her, allowing for a couch cushion to separate them. "I'll never forgive myself for last night." The plastic case began to bow beneath his tense fingers. "Or the helicarrier, for that matter."
Her cheerful tone dropped to a grave warning. "Don't do this to yourself, Bruce."
"No." Bruce shook his head and the CD slipped from his grasp as he raised a hand to her. "I've hurt so many people, Natasha." His firm gaze locked with hers. "I've… hurt people." The mention of killing failed to pass his lips. "I can't control what I've become… But I hope that I can control it. Somehow…"
Natasha's features softened when she spotted the burning flame of determination in Bruce's eyes. She uncurled her legs and leaned forward to pick up the CD. "You're working with what you've got," she said, offering him the case. "And doing it for a good cause. I know you've got this."
He kept his eyes focused on hers as he absently reached for his music. His thumb grazed the smooth plastic and his forefinger aided in a successful grab. "Thank you." He found himself particularly drawn to her left cheek. "I really didn't hurt you?"
"I heal fast," Natasha promised. "One of the perks of being like Cap."
"I at least frightened you, didn't I?"
Natasha blew off his comment with a laugh. "I was too pissed to be scared. But you really put up a fight." She noticed him lower his gaze as he clutched his CD. "No one got hurt. That's what really matters. Baby steps."
"Right." His voice was distant as he nodded.
"And we handled you at your worst," Natasha added. "If it happens again, then we'll all have to team up and let Stark fry your brains out."
Her advice wasn't as settling as he would've liked, but her heart was in the right place. Between the CD and the deep breathing class, Natasha was giving him her all. Bruce stared past the CD's technicolour rays to eye his own reflection. She was following Betty's footsteps, in her own unique way.
He had grown eerily silent. Natasha observed as his focused gaze remained glued to his mirror image. She knew he was thinking about her. The nostalgic look of pain and longing in his eyes screamed of heartache.
The fog clouding Bruce's mind was lifted after an urge to blink. Natasha wasn't Betty, nor would she ever be. Betty was gone, and her memory was better left locked up until his grief reached acceptance. "Before I get the other guy under control, I should work on myself," he mumbled.
"That's a good start," Natasha replied. "Sound body, sound mind."
"Sounds about right." Bruce raised the corner of his lip. "Thank you for this, Natasha. You have a way of cheering me up."
"It's good to be of use, Doctor." Natasha reached out to pat his knee. "Let me know if there's anything you need."
"I'll keep in touch," Bruce promised. "I think I should let you go now." He rose from the couch and Natasha mimicked his gesture.
"Maybe lunch or dinner one of these days," she offered.
Bruce nervously chuckled. "My past two dining out experiences got me in a bit of a predicament."
"Third time's the charm," she confidently smirked.
Bruce wasn't willing to take that leap just yet. "I can cook for us," he suggested. "I'll have to do some research for cooking meat," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Don't go out of your way for me," Natasha promised. "You can't eat meat all the time."
"I'll do some shopping, then," he decided.
"Don't rush yourself," Natasha insisted.
"I honestly enjoy cooking," he promised. "Would you like to come over this Saturday?"
"I'll bring a drink," she offered. "Nothing too strong."
He smiled. "I'd like that." She had a surefire way of cheering him up that was different from Tony's upbeat small talk and joking around. Natasha had a gentler approach unlike Tony who liked hearing his own voice.
As he rummaged through his fridge tossing out expired condiments and frostbitten containers of freezer leftovers, his newest CD played. The classical music was familiar (he recognized one of the songs from "The Nutcracker") and soothing. If the other guy was listening, he would learn that these gentle sounds would ease him.
Bruce rationed his time for the remainder of the week between helping Tony in the lab, purchasing a new phone, cleaning, and most importantly, practicing breathing exercises and yoga techniques. He found that meditating before bed was most helpful, most likely due to him keeping busy during the day. Sleep came easy as he drifted off to Natasha's mix CD. Bruce welcomed the dreamless nights. No dreams at all were a blessing as opposed to his post Battle-of-New-York nightmares.
He settled on a penne pasta with Portobello mushrooms for his dinner with Natasha. The dish was simple and he had made it plenty of times in the past. While cooking, he enjoyed listening to his music. As he stirred in shredded cheese to his bubbling sauce mixture, his phone began to buzz. He left the stove to grab his phone that rested beside the night's dishes and silverware.
"App's recognizing everything. Drop by anytime."
Bruce was happy for Tony's success, but he couldn't cancel his dinner. He started to text "I'll try to stop by after 9," but he didn't want to rush his dinner. Two hours seemed like a reasonable amount of time for two people to talk and eat, but he wasn't sure how much Natasha would talk. Or if she'd even talk at all. Bruce settled on sending out "I have plans. See you in the morning." He then started to regret the message. Tony loved company-would he be offended that he didn't invite him over? Surely, he would understand that he wanted to privately thank Natasha. Besides, a good portion of his afternoons were spent in Tony's lab. Bruce deserved time to see other people. He set the phone down and tended to his sauce. The mushroom penne casserole needed half an hour to bake, giving him just enough time to have it ready for Natasha's seven o'clock arrival. His next order of business was prepping the asparagus for baking. He grabbed his olive oil and parmesan cheese just as his phone started buzzing again. This time, it was a phone call. Unable to turn his friend down, he answered while coating his bowl of vegetables.
"Plans?" Tony lightly accused. "Banner, scientific breakthroughs far surpass plans," he continued.
Bruce chuckled. "Not when dinner with a friend is on the line."
"Is it Steve?" Tony didn't hold back on his bitterness.
"Natasha," he corrected. "We haven't really talked much since that night…"
"She can come over, too."
"She thinks your demonstrations are a bit much," Bruce warned with a laugh.
"Must be a woman thing," Tony replied. "After dinner, then," he nudged. "You're gonna wanna see this in action."
"The app can't wait until tomorrow?" Bruce sighed as he lightly salted the asparagus.
Tony was quiet for a moment. "Is it really just dinner?" he accused. "Cuz if it's more than that, I don't wanna know."
The comment went over Bruce's head at first, but after re-thinking Tony's insinuation, he was forced to defend himself. "I'm apologizing over dinner," he clarified. "I hurt her… Not injure her, technically, but I never apologized-and I should," he sputtered. "I'm making her dinner. Just dinner."
"Then swing by after dinner," Tony snidely answered.
"I'll see," he promised.
Tony indignantly huffed.
"Goodbye, Tony," he smiled. Bruce hung up, allowing himself to finish preparing dinner and set the table. The doorbell rang four minutes before the microwave timer was set to go off. He answered the door and Natasha greeted him in a sleek black cocktail dress and a bottle of wine.
"Hey," she grinned, offering him a bottle of Riesling.
Bruce felt a tad underdressed in his khaki dress pants and pale blue shirt rolled up at the elbows. "Thank you," he smiled back. "Dinner's almost done. Come in."
"It smells amazing in here," she commented as the scent of garlic and cheese welcomed her. Natasha placed her purse and coat on a hanger in the entryway before following Bruce into the kitchen.
"I'll open this up and pour you a glass. Please, make yourself at home." Bruce set the wine on the counter and rummaged through a drawer of kitchen tools until he found a bottle opener. "You look very nice, by the way."
Natasha leaned against the counter, observing as he shifted through a set of measuring cups and a spatula. "It's always fun to get dressed up for nights out." She allowed her eyes to wander over to the fridge. A mini calendar occupied the freezer door and she spotted her name in the current Saturday slot. "This place suits you."
"I've always preferred small homes," he answered, pouring them each a glass of pale golden liquid. "I really just don't see the point of living in a huge mansion." He handed a glass to Natasha.
"Is that a jab at Stark?" she asked with a raised brow.
"To each their own," he smiled. "Tony's very proud of his home."
A shrill beep from the microwave beckoned Bruce to the stove. "Please have a seat, Natasha. I'll be a minute." He pulled down the oven door and carefully removed two baking trays with his oven mitts.
Natasha sipped on her wine as she watched Bruce kneel before the scorching oven. She noticed his eyes dart back and forth before he went to check the drying rack by the sink. "Spatula?" she asked.
Bruce nodded as he lifted a dish towel. He could've sworn he had it out. Unless he set it on the table… His eyes darted towards his dining room table, but he didn't see it.
Natasha pulled open the drawer Bruce was previously searching through and grabbed the spatula. She approached him from behind and tapped his shoulder with the piece of plastic.
His hand reached for the flat end and he laughed. "Did I drop it? Thanks, Betty." Bruce pulled, but a force prevented him from taking the spatula with ease. He turned his head to find Natasha's worried eyes focused on his face. "Oh," he breathed as the realization hit him.
Natasha quickly released her grip on the handle.
Bruce guiltily clutched the spatula. "My head must've been somewhere else…" He slowly turned away to begin cutting up the steaming casserole.
Natasha took another sip of wine while continuing to observe Bruce. "What did you make?" Food felt like a safe and simple way to break his discomfort.
He slid the spatula across the tray, then started making vertical slices. "Penne and mushrooms," he said quietly. "And some baked asparagus."
"Someone's quite the chef," Natasha acknowledged.
"I wouldn't say that…" The spatula was dripping with cheese as he rested it on the stove.
"Well, it smells amazing." She lifted his glass and brought it over to him. "Let me help with something."
Bruce accepted his glass and took a small sip. He was glad Natasha was pretending his comment never happened, but at the same time, he wanted to bring up his awkward slip of the tongue and apologize. Bruce wondered how far his mind had wandered that led him to call her Betty. Not that there was anything wrong with Natasha-she was lovely. And Kind, and understanding… His brain connected the dots from there. Like Betty, Natasha was a security blanket, protective and reassuring. Only Natasha wasn't Betty. She was her own woman, one whose friendship he didn't wish to lose over his own careless mistake. "Smack me if I ever do that again," he mumbled.
"It's not a big deal," Natasha reassured him. "You miss her." She didn't wish to linger on the elephant in the room if it would lead to another Banner meltdown. "You know…" She sauntered towards the dining table to pick up the two plates to help Bruce serve their food. "Early in my career with S.H.I.E.L.D., I felt like Fury and I were really warming up to each other." She handed Bruce a porcelain plate to fill. "So one day I called him 'Fur-eye.'"
A wide smile formed across his lips as he found his laugh. "You didn't." He set the first plate of food on the counter and accepted the next one.
"He made me scrub toilets with the new trainees for a week."
"Fury seems like the kind of guy to hold a grudge," Bruce commented, scooping a generous helping of asparagus onto each plate.
"He can," Natasha shrugged. "But after all we've been through, we're closer than ever." She gave Bruce a knowing look as their eyes met.
"Those are always the best kind of relationships," he replied.
"I'd say you and I are off to a good start, then," Natasha hinted. "How about eating?" she suggested. "I'm starving."
Bruce nodded in agreement. He hurried over to the table and pulled out the chair adjacent to the head of the table. "Can I get you something else to drink? Water, soda?"
"I'm fine with this." She grabbed her wine before taking her place at the table.
"I'll bring the bottle over," he grinned as he went to get the plates. "Ladies first." Bruce presented her plate, then set his own down before grabbing the wine.
Natasha set her paper napkin on her lap and admired the cheesy pasta on her plate. "Who said vegetarian food had to be bad?"
"I believe it was Clint," Bruce laughed as he scooted his chair in.
"Mind if we send any leftovers his way?"
"There's plenty, so be my guest." He reached for his glass and raised it towards Natasha. "How about we toast to friends?"
"To friends," Natasha agreed, clinking her glass to his. They both drank, then Bruce set his glass aside to begin cutting up his asparagus while Natasha stabbed a penne noodle and mushroom with her fork. She noticed Bruce watching her chew her first bite and she flashed him an approving smile. "You can cook, Banner," she remarked after swallowing. "It's delicious."
"Did you doubt my culinary skills?"
"No." She shook her head and dragged a piece of asparagus through the pasta's cheesy sauce. "You seem like a kitchen guy."
"'Kitchen guy,'" he laughed. "Is that what we're called?"
"Would you feel more flattered if I called you a Master Chef?"
"Maybe that's a bit extreme. But I'm flattered."
"You should be," she winked before going for another bite.
The two were quiet while enjoying their meal. Bruce re-filled Natasha's glass and topped off his own when both plates were nearly licked clean. "You and Clint seem to be very close," he noted. "Was he your first friend at S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
Natasha swallowed the last of her vegetables. "Yeah. You could say that. We kinda had a rocky start."
"Just like us?" he teased.
"He tried to kill me," she shrugged, relaxing in her chair and taking a sip of wine.
Her nonchalant manner made him wonder if she was joking.
"Fury ordered him to make the kill, but he couldn't do it. Clint's just an all-around good guy."
She is serious. "That's, uh, quite a story," he replied in disbelief.
"And we've been attached at the hip ever since!"
"As friends?" Bruce prodded. The two seemed to work well together. He also sensed a strong chemistry between them.
"Friends," she repeated. "More like family."
"That's nice," Bruce gently smiled. He didn't wish to press her for anything about parents or siblings.
"And then Stark and I knew each other for a couple of years now," she continued. "I was undercover. He suspected nothing until it was spelled out to him."
"I can imagine," Bruce nodded. "You're very skilled at what you do."
"I try," she smirked before finishing her drink.
The conversation came to a standstill and Bruce eyed her empty plate. "Would you like seconds?"
Natasha leaned back in her chair shaking her head. "It was amazing, but I'm stuffed."
"I'll make a plate of leftovers for Clint, then."
"Can I help with dishes?" she offered.
"No, no." Bruce waved a hand. "You're my guest."
"You sure?"
"Are you that eager to get out of here?" he teased.
"Who said the guest had to leave after the dishes were done?" she countered, laughing when Bruce gave her a puzzled look. "I'm not gonna stay all night, Bruce," she swore. "You'll never have me over again."
"Not at all," he chuckled. "Stay as long as you like, Natasha. I really enjoy your company."
She winked and poured herself another glass of Riesling.
"I'm a little unsure about having you walk home after these drinks, though."
She laughed as if he told an inside joke. "Can't get drunk," she answered. "Call it a perk of being a Super Soldier."
"Impressive."
"Impressive would be seeing you drunk," she challenged, eying his empty glass.
"Oh, no." He shook his head. "I won't be making an ass of myself for you."
"How about with Stark?"
"I'm honestly terrified of whatever drunken science we'd come up with," he laughed.
The idea of two scientists in a lab after one too many shots was something Natasha never knew she needed until now. "Ohhh, Bruce," she sang. "We're planning a get together with everyone."
"You really are hilarious, Natasha," he playfully shot back.
She smiled and took a sip of her wine.
"Speaking of hilarious," Bruce continued, "you must've forgotten that Lamaze lesson at the end of the CD."
"So you listened to the whole thing?"
"I enjoy the music." He sat back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. "And I hope the other guy finds it relaxing."
Her voice took on a sincere tone. "I'm sure he's listening."
He lifted his chin to meet her face. "I'm really sorry about that night… About both times, actually." He lowered his head in shame.
Natasha stretched her arm until her fingers grazed the doctor's cheek. "I forgive you," she promised, intently focusing on his dark eyes. "You really shouldn't beat yourself up over it."
"You're too good to me," he murmured as the warmth of her fingers left his face.
"Only because you're a good man, Bruce Banner." She reached for her plate and rose from her chair. "How about those dishes? I've got an idea."
Bruce stacked both sets of silverware and glasses onto his plate as he warily followed her to the kitchen. "Your ideas terrify me."
"I actually think you'll like this one." Natasha ran some warm water and took advantage of making herself at home as she started scrubbing her plate.
"Really, Natasha, I've got this."
She handed him the plate and stood off to the side while Bruce went to work. "There's an ice cream place on the way to my apartment. How about it?"
"That sounds nice," he agreed. "I like walking."
"You know, Stark texted me earlier," Natasha mentioned when the water stopped running.
"How early?" Bruce quizzed.
"Before I came here."
He added some extra soap to his washcloth. "He texted me around the same time."
"Apparently, I'm keeping you apart," she snorted. "Looks like Stark's got a serious man crush."
Bruce rolled his eyes. "He can wait until tomorrow. I'd like to get to bed after dessert."
"You sure I'm not keeping you?"
Bruce stopped scrubbing and turned to his guest. "I specifically reserved this night for Natasha."
She smiled. "Glad I booked a reservation early."
Bruce hurried to finish the dishes so he and Natasha could begin their nighttime adventure. "Then you're a cat person?" They took it slow as they moved with the flow of the crowd.
"Yep," Natasha answered. "I picked up a stray-she's sweet. I call her Liho."
"Is that Russian?" he wondered.
"Yeah. She's a black cat, so the whole 'bad luck' deal made me think of this mythological character that brings misfortune."
"That's clever."
Natasha shrugged. "So are you a dog person?"
"I prefer cats," he smiled.
"Thought so."
"They're just too loud." Natasha began to snicker. "What?" he wondered.
"I just remembered that thing you said about Loki. 'His brain's a bag full of cats.'"
"You can smell the crazy on him!" he finished with a chuckle. "He really was crazy."
"Crazy, and a pain in the ass," she agreed. "Kinda miss the guy, though."
Bruce furrowed his brows as he re-evaluated Natasha's sanity.
"He was clever. I think he's the perfect competition for me."
"I think I'm hearing wedding bells," he joked.
"Absolutely!" Natasha mockingly exclaimed.
Bruce stuffed his hands into his pockets. "May I ask if the Black Widow has any love interests? She's seeming like the 'bad boy' type."
"Definitely the bad boy kind of girl," she smirked. "But I go solo. My codename even screams 'man-eater.'"
"Too bad the bad guys never get to see what a big heart you have."
Natasha rolled her eyes. The accusation made her want to vomit. "You still think I've got a big heart after dragging you into a class of pregnant women?"
Bruce shrugged his shoulders. "I'd call that an instance of having your heart in the right place."
"It's not every day I hear that."
"You should. I mean, you deserve to."
Natasha watched him in her peripheral vision. He was a horrible judge of character. The "glass half-full" guy. "Then do me a favour and remind me every so often. And I'll do the same for you."
Bruce stared down at his feet as they continued walking. "I'm not really up for praise after my incidents."
"If no one gets hurt, I'd say that's worthy of a little praise."
Bruce turned to smile at her, but found himself distracted when he noticed a couple walk past them eating ice cream. "We must be close."
"It's just up this street," Natasha told him.
"I've been here a few times."
The evenness of his voice made Natasha wonder if she accidentally triggered another Betty memory. She was going to have to have a long discussion with her boss regarding her role as "The Hulk Whisperer." Heartbreak was far from her specialty. "They recently put up some pictures in the window-I think you'll like this." She grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the display window where a family and group of teens were seated around tables, eating and chatting. Natasha pointed to a row of crayon drawings posted for passerby to see.
The first picture said "Thank you, Avengers" scrawled in a mix of upper and lowercase with backwards "E's." The next one was a red and yellow stick figure at the top with a green blob with a smiley face towards the bottom. "Is that how he looks to kids?" Bruce wore a smile despite an uneasiness in his tone.
Natasha pointed to another child's drawing of a smiling Hulk, this one with large rounded muscles and purple pants. "Where you see a monster, they see a hero."
Her words struck him in the kindest possible way. A lump formed in his throat as he turned to Natasha. "Th-that's very kind…"
"It's true," she said softly. "These kids don't know what I've been doing before the invasion." She eyed a stick figure with a tangled mess of orange hair standing next to a purple man with a blond Mohawk (she figured it was Hawkeye and thought the hairstyle suited him). "They see me shooting aliens with those guns, but they don't know the number of times I've pulled that trigger on actual people." She folded her arms across her chest.
"Bad people," Bruce reassured.
Natasha swore that the only ounce of hatred in Bruce Banner's body was the Hulk. "We're heroes now, whether we choose to believe it or not."
Bruce stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I'm a sucker when it comes to children."
"I can tell. You fell for my trap in India pretty easily," she reminisced.
He bowed his head to laugh. "You've found my weakness."
Natasha uncrossed her arms and strode towards the door. "Come on. My treat tonight."
He refused to let her buy, but in the end, she was quicker with whipping out her credit card.
"You can buy next time," Natasha promised, licking her chocolate fudge cone.
"I'd like that. Ice cream and walks work well together." He dipped his spoon into his Styrofoam bowl of mint chocolate chip.
"Like the Hulk in yoga pants," Natasha teased.
"Stretchy pants would actually be quite useful," Bruce thoughtfully commented. He made a mental note to further look into that idea.
They quietly ate dessert as they crossed onto Natasha's street. "You gonna be okay getting home?"
"I'll be fine," he promised. "Thank you for visiting, and for dessert." He raised his bowl to her.
"And thank you for dinner," she grinned.
"I'll get those leftovers to you."
"Thank you, Doctor." Natasha gave him a chaste peck on the cheek. "Get home safely."
Bruce laughed as she approached her apartment complex. "Good night, Natasha."
"How is he?" Nick wondered as his employee took a seat before his desk.
"Unstable." Natasha announced. "He called me Betty last night."
Nick lowered his gaze, eying a stack of manila folders. "You don't think his grief will trigger anything?"
"He should be fine," she assumed. "He's a good guy. Too naïve." Natasha found herself staring at the same set of folders.
"You've been teaching him how to relax," Nick confirmed. "How long until you think he's ready to be put to the test?"
"Give it a week," Natasha suggested. "I'll see where he's at."
Nick fixed his eye on Natasha and noted the uncertainty in her stare. "I'll let Stark know."
"What a team effort," she dryly remarked.
"If Dr. Banner is in control, we shouldn't be too concerned."
Natasha turned to her boss and shook her head. "Either way, he's gonna want out."
"Stark can play off his betrayal as a drunken accident. Banner will understand."
"And what happens when it's my turn to betray him?" She raised the corner of her lip.
Nick heavily sighed. "How deep are you sinking your teeth, Romanoff?"
Natasha was quiet for a moment. "Fairly deep."