Thor and Steve were quietly talking in the corner. He figured it was about strategy, but when he listened closer, Steve was questioning the specifics of Thor's hammer, Mjölnir. Tony had his feet propped up on the dashboard, conversing with his A.I. masterpiece, J.A.R.V.I.S. She was worn out from the fight, curled up on the floor. Bruce had draped his ripped pre-Hulk shirt across her fragile-while-sleeping frame. He focused on her hand, cupping her face, and hadn't noticed Bruce sidling up besides him.
"Hey, Barton," Bruce greeted carefully, "How are you doing? You got tossed around a bit out there..."
"We won, so. But, I'm… ok," he answered, just as careful.
"Are you?" Bruce raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, seriously. Um," he cleared his throat nervously, "Good, uh, good job out there today." Bruce's face changed, hardened. Shit.
"I don't know how to take that…"
"Oh, jeez, I'm sorry, Banner," he stammered, caught up in how well that face mirrored hers, "I didn't mean any offence by it. I know Code Greens suck, I wasn't-"
"It's ok," Bruce broke in, glancing over his shoulder to where she was sleeping, "You seem… upset and distant with…with me. Is this about Natasha?"
"What?" he barked, though it sounded fake even to his ears, "No, I have no right to… No reason to be."
"That doesn't tell me anything. It really feels like you are, especially these past couple months."
He shook his head quickly. "No, no, seriously. I'm ok. I'm not upset at anyone."
Bruce was silent for a long moment, staring him down before stepping closer, lowering his voice.
"You… You love her, don't you?"
"No," he lied, because it was too new a feeling to fully admit to himself, let alone one of his teammates, "At least, not in the way you're implying. Besides… she likes you."
"You don't have to lie to me."
"Are you really going all therapist on me!?" His voice raised a notch, catching the attention of the rest of the people on the quinjet for a moment. Bruce shook his head slowly, lowering their volume again.
"You know I don't have the… temperament to be a therapist. And Barton, really?"
He dropped his head down, focusing instead on the ground. "I don't know…" His voice was barely above a whisper. "Maybe." He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up again. Bruce gave him a curt nod, eyes suddenly soft on him, before stepping away, pulling the shirt further over her body. She smiled in her sleep and tightened her grip on the fabric.
He just watched, throat tight. Bruce looked back at him for a moment, giving him a tight smile, full of sorrow and of knowledge. For and of what, he did not know.
