A/N: Here you go! This isn't a done deal or anything: I don't have any chapters written, and with school starting up again next week, I expect things to get pretty hectic pretty quickly. However, if you like my writing style and enjoyed Poor Girl: All We've Got, follow CuriousFlynn or just check back every once in a while to see what I'm working on!
The shop owners puttered around in the back of the store, brooms in hand. Menu board hung loosely on their screws; a thick layer of dust covered the floor. Their one table of customers didn't seem to mind as they munched quietly on their food. Clint sat with his leg propped up on Natasha's chair. Their eyes continually flicked back and forth between each other. Steve rested his head wearily on his fist, not even bothering to care that his elbow rested on the table. Bruce chewed away, quickly devouring his third order of shwarma.
Steve threw his balled napkin into his empty plastic basket. "I've got to say, that wasn't bad."
"Shwarma. My idea," said Tony.
"Eh, I've had better," said Clint.
"I rather enjoyed your Midgardian fare."
"Ha. Asgard approved," Tony replied with a finger in the air.
Even as the group collapsed back into silence, it was a moment before anyone registered the crunch of footsteps on glass over the muted sirens outside. A young woman in a flowery blouse took a few careful paces into the shop. Long brunette hair flowed down her back.
"Sorry honey, this is a private party, but we'll be signing autographs later. At least, I will be," said Tony.
"Relax Mr. Stark, I work for S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Do you guys have some sort of hotness requirement?"
Natasha shot him a glare.
"What? You, her, Hill — It's a little suspicious." Tony looked back at the newcomer. "Who exactly are you, Agent . . ."
"Not Agent —" she began.
"Doctor." Bruce finished for her. In his eagerness to chat, Tony had failed to notice Bruce drop what remained of his food and stand up as the woman walked into the shop. "Everyone, this is Doctor Elizabeth Ross, my . . . my girlfriend. Or, well, she used to be."
"Bravo Banner, I'm impressed."
"Shut up Stark," Steve warned.
Bruce and Betty's eyes locked together. They stood frozen for a moment, searching for any words that would come.
"I didn't mean to interrupt," she managed. "I just . . . I had to see for myself that you were alright."
"Betty . . ."
"I'm sorry. This was a mistake." She turned, glass crunching beneath her heels as she tore quickly out of the restaurant.
Silence settled back over the table.
"Whoa," said Tony.
Steve shot him a glance.
"Relax Old Ironsides, all I was going to say was dear god, go after her."
"What?" Bruce jerked like he was going to move, but instead let himself fall back into his chair. "I can't. Things are . . . complicated."
"No more than for anyone else."
Five matching frowns met Tony's eyes.
"Okay, maybe a little more. But seriously? Go."
Bruce rose a few inches from his seat.
"That's it, go. Now. Run."
The chair scraped against the dust-covered floor as Bruce jumped up. He ran a few paces then stopped, catching himself on the open door frame. He braced himself on the doorframe and hung his head. "I can't."