"Ever visit Ross' place before?" Natasha wondered as she left the Director's office with Bruce at her side. She straightened the sleeves of her sleek black jacket as they walked.

"Three, maybe four times…" Bruce recalled the first time he ever met the man in his home. The second Betty showed him through the door, Bruce experienced a chill that made him want to run straight back to his apartment.

Natasha grabbed her bag that was sitting in the hallway. "Can you tell me how updated this is?" She unzipped the bag and presented him with a manila envelope.

Bruce opened it to find a floor plan that was vaguely familiar to him. He began to mentally replay his blur of a first "meeting my girlfriend's dad" experience. The living room's location on the map matched, same for the kitchen… The bathroom was the room he remembered most. He spent a good amount of time in there panicking and splashing water on his face after Ross' interrogation became too much to bear. "Main floor looks right," Bruce quietly mentioned. "I've never been upstairs."

"So it all looks up-to-date?"

Bruce answered with a nod.

"You wanna bring your music?" Natasha wondered.

He shook his head and handed her the floor plan. "I don't think that's necessary. I'll only be waiting outside."

"Maybe we'll need you," she winked.

If that was meant to make him feel better, it didn't. "I'd rather not become the other guy, especially in front of Ross… He'll accuse me of attempting to kill him, or something ridiculous of the sort," he breathed.

"You seem unsure about doing this," Natasha noticed.

Bruce rested his eyes on her face. "I'm only going to make sure you and Clint are safe. No one's getting hurt again because of me." His eyes rested on her left hand, conveniently covered up by a leather glove.

Natasha offered him a gentle smile. "Sooner or later, you'll see that not every mission ends with pain."

"Keywords being 'not every.'"

She gave his cheek a light smack. "You gotta have more faith in me, Bruce."

Clint spotted the two from down the hall and shouted "hey" to the couple. He approached them and dropped a heavy duffel bag at his feet.

"Better have a change of clothes in there, Barton," Natasha remarked, side-eying his signature jeans and T-shirt combo.

"I do, I do," he replied with an eye roll.

"Get dressed and we'll hurry over."

Clint nodded and turned to Bruce. "Joining the fun, Doc?"

Bruce sheepishly grinned. "I'll be on the sidelines," he promised.

"This it?" Clint's borrowed car slowly eased up to a beige house surrounded by pristinely trimmed hedges.

Natasha expected Bruce to pipe up from the back seat, but he remained silent. "Yeah," she replied. "This is it."

Clint pulled up behind the black Mercedes in the driveway. "Glock's concealed and in safety mode. I only shoot unless you give the signal," he recited.

Natasha nodded. "Small talk. We heat things up, then I'll go in for the attack."

Bruce listened, twiddling his thumbs as the assassins did what they did best.

Natasha unbuckled herself before turning in her seat. "Keep your phone on," she instructed Bruce. "I'll give you a call before we leave."

"Yes. Alright," he agreed.

She gave him a wink before opening her door.

"Last question," Clint added. "If he offers a drink, can I accept?"

Bruce watched the two leave him alone. Dressed to the nines, the duo ascended the driveway until they reached the door and were out of his view.

Natasha knocked at the white door while Clint peered into a stained glass window decorating the door's frame. She stepped away from the door and double checked her partner to ensure that his tie was straightened and his shirt was tucked in.

"Want a picture, Romanoff?" he winked.

"I'll get one later," she answered. "You dress like this, what, once a year?"

Clint immediately straightened as he heard footsteps approaching.

Natasha kept her eyes on the door until the lock clicked and Thaddeus opened it, dressed in a grey button down and slacks.

The General suspiciously eyed the two agents standing before his home. "I take it your boss was too busy to visit?"

"Nick Fury asked us to schedule an appointment," Natasha falsely smiled. "As well as discuss your intentions with Dr. Banner."

Thaddeus stepped aside, welcoming the agents inside. "I'm busy tomorrow. How about Thursday?"

Clint pulled out his phone and pretended to look busy. "I'll pencil you in. How does eleven sound?"

The older man nodded and showed the couple into his living room. "I didn't think he was so willing to give up his asset," he commented, taking a seat in a leather armchair.

Natasha nodded as she took a seat on the couch across from him. "He's skeptical, especially considering the Abomination . Who's to say Dr. Banner won't help you create more Hulks?"

Ross crossed his legs. "The World Security Council has a soft spot for the Abomination. Thinks he should be part of your "Avenger" team..."

"We're well aware," Natasha replied, "but Dr. Banner is different-a better asset, in my opinion, seeing that he's only volatile when angered."

"More reason to be curious," Ross mused.

Natasha shot him a warning glare. "Bruce Banner is human, Sir. I ask that you respect that."

"Have respect for a man responsible for the death of thousands? Not to mention the destruction…"

"We were both part of that battle," Clint interrupted. "Those alien guys did a hell of a lot more damage than Dr. Banner."

Ross shot them with an ugly glare. "If you came to defend that monster, you've failed. Now I'd appreciate it if you see yourselves out."

Natasha sighed and slowly stood up. "Nick Fury is still keen on talking with you."

"Eleven o'clock Thursday," Thaddeus recited. "I'll be there, ready for more of this argument." He got up, ready to escort the agents out, when a feeling of uneasiness struck. The archer was following his heels at an uncomfortably close distance as they neared the door. He was aware that S.H.I.E.L.D. played dirty. He wouldn't hold it against them to engage in foul play in his own home. Thaddeus craned his neck back to catch the archer reaching for something hidden behind him. A gun, Ross assumed. He whirled around on his heel, hand reaching out in preparation to seize the agent's wrist when something stung the side of his neck.

Clint smirked as he withdrew his phone. "Next time, keep both eyes open," he warned Ross.

Natasha pulled her wrist away from the General's neck. Her sleeve was rolled up, displaying her black stinger bracelet. "That's for attacking Dr. Banner." She pressed a button on her bullet bracelet to power it down.

Ross' eyelids grew heavy and his vision began to blur. His legs soon felt like lead and his knees buckled, but Clint caught him before he could hit the floor.

"You mind telling us where Dr. Banner's blood is?" The Black Widow growled.

Ross' tongue felt swollen, making it hard to speak.

"Looks like I'm rummaging through every nook and cranny," she warned, though her intuition told here where to look first. "Call Banner. Have him come in and help carry Ross out," she instructed her partner. "Have him make sure the street's clear." Natasha decided to give the General another hit of a sedative to knock him out cold.

"You sure you don't want any help?" Clint offered.

"I don't think this'll take long," Natasha promised.

Clint let Ross' limp form hit the floor while he gave Bruce a call. He answered after half a ring.

"Is it over?" Bruce wondered.

"Almost," Clint promised. "Do me a favour-check for any cars or people."

"Uh…" Bruce cracked open the car door and peered to his right, then left. "No cars are driving by…" He did a double take, this time checking the neighbors' yards. "No one outside, either."

"Great," Clint replied. "Now come inside. We're good to go."

The call ended and Bruce quickly did as he was asked. He hurried to the door and allowed himself inside to find Clint dragging the General across the floor. "What did you do?"

Clint laughed. "Just gave him a little sedative. He should be out for a few hours."

"I mean…" Bruce knelt down beside Ross and helped Clint lift him up. "How did you inject him? His drink?"

The archer smirked. "He had his guard down."

"Where's Natasha?" Bruce scanned the room, but she wasn't anywhere in sight.

"Getting you blood. Leaving us with the fun job." Once Ross was upright, Clint let his arm drape across his shoulders while he trudge towards the door. "Check the streets again," he urged Bruce. "And get the back door open."

Bruce nodded and stepped out to find that all was clear. His hand gestured for Clint to proceed before he opened the car door.

Clint groaned in relief once the General's body was seated.

Bruce found himself constantly checking the neighboring homes for any signs of life. He felt as if he was part of a murder movie and any second now, the cops would come driving up. Someone was bound to notice a strange car parked in Ross' driveway accompanied by two lingering men. "Should I get Natasha?"

Clint shook his head and plopped down beside Ross. "Just sit and wait. Shouldn't be too long."

Bruce moved to sit in the passenger's seat. "Doesn't this look suspicious?"

Clint laughed. "If we see someone come over, I'll drive off."

"Without Natasha?"

He shrugged. "I can come back for her. She'll understand."

Bruce sighed and shook his head. "I could never do this for a living." He glanced around, checking that Ross was still unconscious.

Natasha emerged from the house moments later. She stepped into the car and Clint handed her the car keys.

"Did you find it?" Bruce asked.

She reached into her breast pocket and handed Bruce a bundled up handkerchief. "Easy," she announced as she started the car.

Bruce unfolded the white piece of fabric to find a silver blade and a glass slide with a splotch of red in the middle. "Was it difficult to find?"

"Kept it in his office," she answered. "In a locked drawer."

"Tell me you found a key…"

"Taped beneath his desk," she mused. "A boring place, really. And typical."

"But it makes your job easier," he smiled.

"Sometimes I like the tough jobs."

Clint snorted. "That's Romanoff for you!"

Natasha ignored her partner as she drove. "Doesn't seem like much of a sample."

"Trust me, it's enough," Bruce tersely assured her.

"I mean…" Natasha raised her left hand, showing off her scabbed over wound. "I think that knife got more of my blood than yours."

Bruce carefully wrapped the slide back up in the handkerchief. "I've run tests, numerous tests," he began. "The Gamma in my blood can corrupt another's. My blood's poison."

Natasha raised a brow. "My blood's not exactly normal, either."

"I can run a test later if you're interested."

"Aren't you interested?" she countered. "This is something new for you."

He focused his attention on the buildings blurring by. "I'd rather not focus my studies on how I can potentially kill you."

Natasha's eyes flickered to the back of his head. "I didn't mean it like that." He didn't answer. "Look, you have your blood. And Ross is in our custody now."

Bruce shook his head and turned to Natasha. "I know. Sorry. I've been stressed over this…"

"Well you can relax now," Natasha gently promised.

"I've got a marker if you wanna draw on his face," Clint interrupted.

Bruce weakly smiled, but he had to decline. "I-I'd rather not."

"Good answer," Natasha replied. "Don't stoop to Barton's level."

Clint groaned and rolled his eyes. "Aww, Nat."

When they neared S.H.I.E.L.D.'s base, Clint called up an agent to assist in bringing Ross inside. Natasha pulled the car up to the base where two agents awaited their arrival. "Barton, you need a ride?" Natasha offered.

"I've got my car here," he answered as he slid out of the back seat. "See you tomorrow?"

"Probably," Natasha nodded. She watched the agents drag Ross' body out of the car before shutting the door.

"That's it?" Bruce blinked. "Don't we need to talk to Nick?"

"Barton can handle that." She slowly drove away from the base. "Besides, I wanna turn in early after dropping you off."

Bruce shifted in his seat. "Would you like to come in for tea?" he offered. "If you aren't too tired..."

Natasha hummed a carefree tune. "That sounds nice."

The car fell quiet and Bruce caught himself observing Natasha while she drove. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

Bruce laced his fingers together in his lap. "Yesterday you mentioned that you relate to me. Can you… Do you mind telling me how?" he softly wondered.

The corners of her lips fell. "I've read about you, Bruce."

"You've studied the Hulk. I understand that."

"No." Her tone was heavy. "You, Bruce. The you before the incident. Young you."

His lips parted as her confession sank in. "Fury has that much on me?"

She briefly glanced at his face. "I'm sorry."

He sensed the pain in her voice and shook his head. "No. No, don't be."

"Let's just say I know what abuse is like…" Natasha casually shrugged and hoped that they could drop the conversation.

Her nonchalant way of speaking broke Bruce's heart. He never would've guessed that the thing binding them were their dark pasts.

"This place that I grew up in-"

"Please, don't!" Bruce begged.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye. "It's a fair trade."

Bruce shook his head. "I don't want to know. I honestly don't."

Her features softened. "You're a good man, Bruce."

He didn't hear her comment. His thoughts were currently lost in visions of a little redheaded girl being smacked around and shouted at by a man reeking of liquor.

"Bruce?"

The silhouette of a man vanished from his thoughts as Natasha's gentle voice beckoned him. "Sorry," he murmured.

She teasingly rolled her eyes and smirked. "Don't apologize for spacing off. We all do it."

Bruce wondered if she knew that he was thinking about her.

"You're too soft, you know that, Banner?" she playfully remarked.

For her sake, he smiled. "It's just a mask. A façade…"

"I know." Natasha kept her eyes on the road. The lone letter "A" land marking Stark Tower shone brightly against the early evening sky. "We all do it, Bruce," she continued, her voice hollow. "Even Stark tries to hide his pain with a smile in hopes of letting his friends know he's fine." The heavy turn their conversation took was making the car ride unbearable. Natasha caught Bruce staring out the window as she pulled up to a red light. "So how are those neon stretchy pants going?" The corner of her lip raised.

He genuinely chuckled and nodded his head. "Tony sent the design to a tailor… I was thinking of making them a dark purple."

"Neon would be more fun."

The anxiousness in his eyes faded. "Maybe the next pair."

Natasha soon pulled up in front of Stark Tower and followed Bruce inside.

"Take a seat anywhere while I get the water boiling," he mentioned when they reached his floor. Bruce allowed her into his home and set his blood sample and knife on the kitchen counter. "What about the hostages?" he suddenly wondered.

Natasha chose to sit at the bar overlooking the kitchen. "Once they realize Ross isn't coming for them, they'll leave on their own. That, or they'll watch the news to discover his whereabouts."

"Fury plans to exploit him, then?" He grabbed a tea kettle and filled it with tap water.

She shrugged. "It's that or the public learns he's become a missing person case."

Bruce set the kettle on the stove before moving to grab two porcelain cups.

"How does it feel to finally get revenge?"

Bruce placed the two cups before Natasha, followed by spoons and napkins. "It doesn't sit well with me."

She watched him in interest. "Even after what he's done? A guy stabbed me under his orders…"

He winced at the mentioning of the earlier incident. "I'm angry. Believe me, I am… I just don't want to let that fuel me." He grabbed a glass container of sugar and passed it to Natasha. "Going after the Hulk made him bitter. I feel like the hunt controlled him."

"And that's all he's ever cared about," Natasha mused.

"No." Bruce shook his head. "There were times Betty attempted to stop him. Like one time, Ross ordered his men to shoot me, but Betty shielded me." His eyes lowered as the memory replayed. "I was so terrified that he would make his men follow through and shoot." He paused. "But Ross called them off. Turns out his love for his daughter outweighs his hatred for the other guy."

"That's good to know," Natasha murmured. "He's not a complete monster."

"I'm not so sure…" Bruce rubbed the back of his neck. "With Betty gone, I don't think he has any compassion left."

"You can always ask him."

The tea pot began to angrily hiss. Bruce shut off the stove and carried the pot over to the counter. "I suppose I could. Would you like any milk or honey?"

"I'm fine with sugar." Natasha handed him her cup and let him fill it to the brim. "So are we still on for dinner Friday?"

Bruce filled his own cup, then went to grab a box of various teas. "Dinner," he parroted. Dinner dates were the least of Bruce's worries as of late. Naturally, it slipped his mind. "I'd like that."

"Good. I'll pick you up around six."

Bruce chuckled and took a seat beside her. He opened up a cardboard box filled with rows of tea bags and slid it to Natasha.

"You're a big tea guy, huh?" She chose a blueberry tea and ripped open the paper packet.

"In the evenings," he nodded. "I definitely need coffee in the mornings." He settled for jasmine tea and let the bag seep in his steaming cup.

"Late night science parties that rough?"

Bruce laughed. "On most nights, yes."

Natasha grabbed a napkin to rest her soaked tea bag on. "How's life here?" She added a tablespoon of sugar into her drink and stirred the contents. "All settled in?"

Bruce inhaled the pleasant and calming scents of their teas. "By this weekend, I should have everything unpacked. I'm grateful to be here."

"Good to hear." Natasha carefully blew on her drink. "So I'm taking you somewhere nice Friday. Any ideas?"

"Somewhere nice? Italian's nice…"

"If that's what Bruce wants," she winked. "It's the least I can do for the fella who saved my life."

Bruce brought his ceramic cup to his lips and chuckled. "I thought it was just a scratch…"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "I can't be dramatic, Banner? I'm trying to make you sound good!"

"Well." He sipped his tea. "By all means, please continue…"

She eyed her reflection in the cup of dark liquid. "He's a nice guy to be around." Her palms hugged the cup for warmth. "Except he apologises too much."

Bruce arched a brow. "You really think that?"

Natasha sipped her tea and nodded. "I hear 'sorry' way too much-even when something isn't his fault."

"I meant…" He paused. "I'm nice to be around."

She shrugged. "You're easy to talk to."

"Is that all?"

"Fishing for compliments tonight, huh, Banner?" she teased.

Bruce reached out to place his hand over hers. "You've given me a very rough idea of what you've been through, Natasha."

She wrinkled her nose. "Don't start pitying me."

"I'm not," he swore. "I just…"

She wondered if he was aware of the sad puppy eyes he was giving her.

"I want you to be happy." He had hurt her more than once now. It was only a matter of time before he did it again.

"Are you saying this because you're not?" She pulled her hand away from his grasp to have another drink.

"I know I'm unhappy," Bruce acknowledged. "Not constantly, but… Happiness never lasts for me."

Natasha set her cup down with an audible clack. "Then make it last," she urged with more force than necessary. "Don't assume that you can't be happy based on the past."

Bruce lowered his head in shame. "The other guy won't let me."

"That's bullshit."

"He's already hurt you…" His voice wavered as he tightly laced his fingers.

"He didn't hurt me. You've gotta stop this, Bruce..."

"What if he hurts you again?" His leaned forward, his forehead now resting against his folded hands.

Natasha left her chair so she could stand close to Bruce. "Remember to breathe…" Her fingers lightly grazed his back before rubbing slow circles over his shoulder blade. "Think of a happy place…"

He laughed in contempt.

"You said you'd make one," Natasha reminded him. "Bruce…" Carefully, she slipped her arms around his neck. His muscles tensed as he took in a sharp breath. "I triggered something, didn't I?"

"No." Her breath felt warm against the side of his neck.

"Listen, Bruce," she calmly urged. "I can't tell you it's gonna be okay from here." Natasha's arms remained locked around his neck. "But you've gotta stay positive. Don't push anyone away…" She felt his shoulders begin to relax. "Me, Tony, Clint, Steve… We're your friends. You need friends, Bruce. I've had times where I wanted to push Nick and Clint away thinking it'll protect them, but… I know they can protect themselves, but still… I want to protect everyone, too, but at the end of the day, I'm just one person…"

Bruce's body was still as she spoke. Having her speak to him with that much honesty and pain in her voice floored him. She was willingly letting her guard down. For him.

"Promise me that no matter how bad it gets, you'll never turn anyone away."

He rested his hand against her arm. "I will," he vowed. "I'll do my best to talk things through with you or Tony…" Her soft cheek rested against his neck. "I really appreciate what you're doing for me, Natasha. The Lamaze class, the music…" She quietly laughed. "I know what I want my happy place to be."

Natasha loosened her arms and returned to her chair. "That's a good start. Am I there?"

"You are," he replied, a kind smile across his lips. "Of course you are." Bruce needed her in his fictitious happy place. She calmed him, helped him, and most importantly, she was there to ground him when it felt like his world was crumbling. Betty would have approved of Natasha. She would've told Bruce that Natasha was just what he needed.

"Do you want me to give you a ride to base in the morning?" Natasha wondered. "I need to meet with Fury, anyways."

Bruce wrapped his fingers around his cup's handle. "I'd like that."

"How about nine?"

"Whatever works best for you."

Natasha took a sip of tea. It was still nice and warm.

Bruce watched her and felt the restlessness that had built up over the past few days ebb away. Right here and now was his happy place. He wouldn't have it any other way.

She felt his stare but said nothing. He was at peace, she was at peace-Natasha preferred things that way. When the last drop of tea left her cup, she knew it was time to go. "Getting a little late." Natasha had no worries. Bruce was going to be okay.

"I suppose it is…"

Natasha got up and straightened her jacket. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Bruce's chair nearly toppled backwards as he rose to his feet. "Right." He took both of their cups and carried them to the sink. "How about I save a cup of coffee for you?"

"I'd like that."

"Okay." Bruce left the kitchen and blocked Natasha from the door's path.

She took a tiny step forward, but Bruce remained in place as if his feet were glued to the floor. "Night, Bruce." She stepped to her left and Bruce mimicked the motion, blocking her once again. Natasha lifted a brow and smirked at him. "You giving me a hint, Banner?"

"What?" he blinked. "No, no!" He quickly stepped aside to let her pass. "Sorry. Good night, Natasha!"

She chose to step closer to Bruce. "I think I know what you were hoping for." Natasha admired the innocent look in his eyes before stealing a kiss.

Bruce's hands subconsciously reached for her hips, but the moment he touched her, she pulled away.

"Relationships are a dangerous game," she breathed, her voice low. "Good night, Bruce."

He watched her leave and let his brain process what she had just told him. For someone against a relationship, she seemed awfully intent on getting close to him. He rubbed his lower lip with the back of his finger and contemplated if he was ready for romance. The other guy definitely wasn't up for it, intimacy, in particular. The negatives far outweighed the positives as Bruce recalled his years with Betty. He could never make Natasha truly happy. Sex was completely off the table. Granted he could control the Hulk, he would never be able to give Natasha children… if that was even something she wanted. Bruce shook his head and told himself it was time for bed.

Natasha was right.

Relationships were a dangerous game.